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Crowley was acutely aware that he was drunk off his lid. He was acutely aware that this was a horrible idea and he would likely get himself killed. He was acutely aware that he was better off trying to stop Armageddon while he still could.
He didn't care.
The church Crowley found himself at was a miserable affair. One of those colossal megachurches, probably run by some corrupt minister. It didn't matter. It was still consecrated ground.
He opened the locked doors with a snap of his fingers and stepped inside.
The pain was immense. Crowley hadn't felt anything like this since the forties with the whole affair with the Nazis and…Yes, since the forties. He stormed down the aisle, looking up at the stained glass windows. Noah, looking wise and clean and not at all like the haggard man Crowley knew. Jesus staring down benevolently at him, blue eyes and pale skin gleaming as light reflected off the panes of glass. A joke. What a big fucking joke it all was. Why would She let…this be what so many humans believed in?
It didn't make sense.
Nothing God did made sense.
Crowley found himself in front of the altar. He stared up at the crosses, the paintings of God and angels and saints.
“Is this what you wanted? Was this your whole wonderful fucking plan? Is this all you hoped for? Stupid fucking plan it is if you up and decide “Oh yes and now I’ll kill Aziraphale. How clever of me!”” he snarled.
“He was the best fucking thing you ever created and we both know it. So why’d you kill him? Why’d you let it happen? What was the fucking-” he ripped off his sunglasses, looking up at the popes with furious gold eyes. “- What was the fucking point of it all if he’s gone?”
Crowley stumbled back into a pew, the sensation of burning spreading to his whole body. He tipped his head back, looking at the ceiling until colors swirled in his watering eyes and laughed bitterly.
“He loved you, you know. He loved you so much. So much it hurt. And what do you do for him? You go and- and throw him away. Like trash. You can toss me out. You can love me and leave me and cast me from the fucking heavens just for asking a few fucking questions, I don’t-i don't care. But Aziraphale?” He stood up walking to the altar, slamming his hands down on it despite the burn.
“He’s better than you. He’s better than me, he’s better than all of us. Of every angel, every demon, every human, he deserved this the least. And you go and kill him. He’s gone.”
The church was silent, aside from the sound of Crowley's flesh sizzling.
“Well? Don’t you have something to say? Some holier than thou statement like “oh yes Crowley, causing you incomprehensible pain and taking away the only being you’ve ever truly loved was all a part of my divine plan. Don’t worry, soon the earth will be destroyed and you can fight in a war you never wanted to fight in in the first place!”
The demon smiled, his eyes empty of any mirth. Empty of anything. “Of course. Of fucking course. I don't know what I was expecting”
Crowley stalked out of the church, knocking down the candles that lined the pews on his way out. The eyesore of a church would be gone soon anyway, but still Crowley wanted it to burn.
He got in the silent Bentley and drove away. He needed another drink.