Chapter Text
Three angels stood together around a clean crystal desk.
They were the Archangel Michael, the Archangel Uriel, and the Archangel Saraqael. Their eyes were glued to a translucent glass screen, watching as the second Supreme Archangel fled. On the video, he muttered to himself and carefully watched his surroundings.
In his hands was a brown leather book. He tucked it into the front of his suit and pressed the elevator button down multiple times. His hand shook so violently that it could be picked up over the video feed, hovering near the button for fear it might not work.
He practically jumped into the elevator the moment the doors opened. The Archangels watched this with dread, frowning.
Michael groaned. They sighed, deep and frustrated, running a hand down their face.
"Not again." They said. "How long ago was this?"
Uriel shrugged, standing behind Michael to their left. "A few hours, I expect. No one noticed his absence until now."
Michael clapped their hands together and called the other two into action. "All right, then. Find him !"
Uriel put their hands on their hips. They furrowed raised an eyebrow, their expression a challenge, one which felt all too familiar to Michael. "Who said you were in charge?"
Michael shot them a glare. They crossed their arms. "Not this again, Uriel. Just listen , would you? I am Duty Officer."
"Yes, but what gives you the authority—"
Michael and Uriel continued to argue, debating the pros and cons of each of them taking the initiative.
Saraqael ignored them. They left the others to actually lead the charge, shaking their head as they approached the model globe of Earth.
As they began toying with it, they said, "Maybe there is an institutional problem."
#
Crowley sat curled on his bed, a glass of whiskey nearby, and his sunglasses discarded on the bedside table. It had been hours since he’d landed here, yet the tears wouldn't stop. After a blurry drive, a deflated burst of lightning, and the weight of his despair, he was exhausted. Yet sleep didn’t come.
It never did these days. Aziraphale’s absence made the world feel cold. Even when the season was at its warmest, the heat never seemed to touch him.
He rotated between his newly-reclaimed apartment and the bookshop, remembering, recounting, and regretting. Today, the bookshop was too much for him. He tried, several times, to go up to it. To walk through the threshold, but something held him back.
Instead, he made for the pub, bought all the whiskey he could get his hands on, and miracled it all back to the Bentley for the drive home.
Now, he sat, drinking and despondent, grieving a loss he couldn’t seem to process.
Each word repeated in his head. Every phrase Aziraphale had muttered in opposition to their side. To their group. To his… confession , repeated, again and again.
Nothing lasts forever .
You go too fast for me.
There is no "our side."
Six thousand years. Six thousand fucking years. For nothing. No happy ending.
No nightingales.
He couldn’t handle it. He took a swig from his glass, and suppressed the urge to throw it against the nearest wall. He helplessly wiped at his eyes and closed them, arm resting against his forehead. He idled like that for as long as he could stand it and finally fell into a fitful slumber.
He slept for what had to be minutes, but felt like hours. A crash, almost like thunder but closer , interrupted his tentative rest. He was so taken aback by it that he all but forgot about his pain, sitting up in bed to listen for another.
Something knocked. He got up, out of curiosity, to check. It was probably some drunk human with the wrong apartment, or an over-zealous salesman trying to grab his attention.
Good. Crowley felt like some mischief, if only to dull the sting for a millisecond longer.
He stepped out into the hallway and paused, suddenly aware of a familiar presence in the atmosphere. It took him a moment to recognize who it was, but when he did, his mind froze .
Something angelic stood on his doorstep, angelic and utterly familiar. The brief distraction retreated from his mind and he felt his composure slip once again. His breath hitched in his chest. The tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision. His teeth clenched.
He opened the door.
“You have some nerve, Angel—” he stopped short, hand on the doorknob, standing face-to-face with Aziraphale. Something was off about him. Crowley noticed it almost immediately. In both his eyes and the way he carried himself.
Something was wrong .
Aziraphale didn’t say anything. He stared at Crowley, standing straight and proper. More like a soldier than the angel he knew. He was too stiff. Too naive in a way that made Crowley's blood run cold. Too much of a… fresh slate.
He blinked away angry tears and scanned his old friend up and down. “Aziraphale?”
No recognition. No familiar mannerisms. A blank smile. Crowley’s heart sank.
“What’s… Aziraphale ?” Aziraphale said, looking briefly conflicted.
Crowley felt his entire being skip a beat. He quickly took Aziraphale’s hand and pulled him inside, suddenly much more sober than he had been seconds ago.
Oh, God . What had they done to him?
“ You ,” Crowley breathed, spinning to get a good look at him. He snapped his fingers and the door slammed shut behind them. Aziraphale jumped, and looked back to puzzle out the source of the noise. “ You’re Aziraphale. Don’t you… don’t you remember?”
Aziraphale shook his head. He looked around, curious.
“I don’t remember anything,” he said, idly. “Where are we?”
“My apartment,” Crowley said. “You’ve been here before, Angel. We spent the night together after Armageddon, remember? We came up with the plan to switch bodies.”
Aziraphale tapped his chin. “Doesn’t… doesn’t ring a bell, I think. Are you sure it was me?”
“ Yes ,” Crowley said, anguished. He ran a hand down his face and stared at Aziraphale through his fingers. He seemed mostly unchanged, save for the blank look and a clean white suit. He summoned his glasses and shoved them onto his face, hiding his eyes in a desperate attempt to calm himself. “You’re… you’re Aziraphale . My beh… best friend . Of course I bloody know it’s you.”
There were so many conflicting feelings bouncing around in his head. He wanted to send Aziraphale back to Heaven. Shove him out the door and out of his life again, if only to keep from looking at him. But he couldn’t.
Six thousand years of feelings didn’t go away overnight. Something had happened to Aziraphale and he was determined to find out what.
“Am I?” Aziraphale asked. “I don’t recall. I’m sorry. Who are you again?”
Crowley’s heart broke in two, but in a completely different way this time. He sighed, deep and sad.
“ Crowley ,” he muttered, dropping his hand from his face. “My name’s Crowley.”
" Oh ," Aziraphale said. "Do you know why I'm here?"
Crowley shook his head. " No , though I have an idea."
"What's that?"
"I'll explain it to you tomorrow."
Crowley led Aziraphale deeper into his apartment and parked him on the throne in the middle of the sitting room. He disappeared back into his bedroom and returned holding a book with dark letters on it. He placed it in Aziraphale's lap and turned away, unable to look at him any longer.
He waved a hand. "For now just stay here and read this. I'm gonna go get drunk. I can't cope with this right now."
He left the book in Aziraphale's hands and stepped back into his bedroom, miracling all the doors locked to keep Aziraphale from wandering off.
Aziraphale didn't seem to know what to do with the book. He turned it over in his hands, curiously thumbing the pages.
"I wonder what this is?" He muttered, stroking the deep red binding. The title on the spine read Dracula . Aziraphale wondered what that meant. He opened it, and found the pages full of words.
He began to read. The first words turned his world into a landscape, sucking Aziraphale into a universe otherwise unknown to him.
#
Crowley opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. He rubbed a hand over his face and dropped it, staring at the ceiling.
He didn't want to move. Moving meant confronting the elephant in his sitting room, and he was never much good at confronting things. He buried himself deeper into his pillows, deciding a few more hours couldn’t hurt.
"Hello?"
Crowley jumped so hard he nearly fell off the side of the bed. Aziraphale stood not too far away from him, watching with interest as Crowley gathered himself and once again hid behind his sunglasses.
"What're you doing , Angel?"
"Angel?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Who's 'Angel?'"
" You …" he waved a hand, rubbing his eyes. " You're Angel. It's uh… a nickname I gave you."
Aziraphale pursed his lips. "I thought I was Aziraphale?"
Crowley groaned. "You're both . Aziraphale and Angel. I just… I call you 'Angel' 'cause that's what you are."
"I am?" Aziraphale gave Crowley a wide-eyed look.
Crowley sighed, nodding. "And I'm a demon. We're friends. Have been for thousands of years. Blah, blah, blah ."
" Blah, blah, blah ?"
"Yeah," Crowley jumped up. He snapped his fingers and straightened his appearance, clapping his hands together. "Let's get going. We have a big day ahead of us."
"For what?" Aziraphale asked.
"Getting your memory back." Crowley said. "I have a plan, but first I have a few things I need to ask you before we leave."
"What things?"
Crowley once again took him by the hand and led him back out into the main room of his apartment. He sat him back in the throne and slid his sunglasses down his nose, leaning forward to look into Aziraphale's eyes.
"Important things," Crowley said. "What's the first thing you remember, Angel?"
Aziraphale seemed to think for a moment. “I remember you. And that book. It was very interesting.”
“Not about this morning. Think hard . What’s the very first memory you can recall? It might shed some light on what’s going on here.”
“I… I don’t know.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows creased together. His hands shook, ever so slightly, on the armrests of the throne.
Crowley tightened his grip on the front of the chair. He scowled, conflicted. “ Think , Angel. Think. What’s the first thing you remember?”
A look of distress overtook Aziraphale’s features. He shook his head, slowly. His voice trembled. “I remember… fear . I remember running. It’s all so blurry . I can’t… I can’t remember more than that.”
“Running? Running where?” Crowley crouched down to get a better view of Aziraphale’s face. His heart ached as he watched Aziraphale’s distress, but he had to push. He had to know what Aziraphale knew, even subconsciously. “C’mon, Angel. Just a little bit more.”
“There was a flash of light,” Aziraphale said. “When I opened my eyes, I was here.”
“ Why ? Why did you come here? Were you in danger?” Crowley asked.
Tears gathered at the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes. He squeezed them shut, and a few tears fell. “I can’t . It’s too much. I don’t— don’t know . Not anymore.”
“Okay, okay.” Crowley said, fighting the urge to wipe away Aziraphale’s tears. “It’s okay, Angel. I’m sorry for pushing you.”
He stood away from the throne and returned his glasses to the proper place on his face. He retreated as Aziraphale trembled, drying the tears with his hand. Crowley came back holding another book. He gave it to Aziraphale, with a small comforting smile on his face.
“Here, take a few deep breaths.” He said. “I grabbed this. Thought it might help."
It was Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. Aziraphale looked at it with interest, petting the cover like it was something precious.
It hurt Crowley to watch. Seeing him like this reminded him of before . Of every quiet night spent in the bookshop, simply content by Aziraphale's presence and the colorful expressions on his face as he read.
He wasn't content now. Not one bit. His heart ached and he didn't know what to do to make the feeling go away.
He marched off and made himself a strong cup of coffee.
When he came back, Aziraphale was absorbed in the book. Any trace of anguish had disappeared from his face, replaced by the familiar focus Crowley had come to recognize. He downed the cup in a few quick gulps and stepped up to Aziraphale with newfound confidence. He slammed his cup down on the nearby table, and Aziraphale looked up at him, a little shocked.
He sighed, and gave his angel a smile. "Onto phase two of the plan. Sushi ."