Ah, so if you read this letter, congratulations, you survived. I picked up painting since you’ve been gone. However, angel, I do need to tell you one thing. It’s been 30 years since I’ve last spoken to you. That offer of going to see Alpha Centauri is still up. I do want to go somewhere with you. Whether it be France or back to England.
I miss you since you’ve left. I want to hold you again if that makes sense. I liked it when we were in the car together. When we dined at The Ritz. I can’t believe after 6,000 years heaven and hell finally got their shit together and their main priority was us.
I grew out my hair again for you. If I ever see you again.
I’ve been living alone, and it’s made me realize that I’ve taken you for granted. I always expected you to be there. I always expect to go on a different adventure with you. I want to pick up the phone just hear your voice. Then, I remember the fucking bookshop burned down because I wasn’t there. Why won’t they let back? I just miss you so much, and I never got to say I love you. How did you feel? That’s what I wanted to know after 6,000 fucking years.
Crowley never finished the letter. Just kept it in a box on his deck. He kept it there, forgot it sometimes. It felt like a cheap thrill when he stumbles over it when cleaning. He remembers why he wrote it.
Oh, he was so pissed, but collectively decided that he didn't have a single person to be mad at. Sure, yes, he was mad at Aziraphale for not listening to him in the first place.
But then again, he wasn't going to keep Azira against his will. He wanted to keep his morals and do what he thought was right.
He could be mad at the archangels, but he couldn't really do anything.
Heaven can't do anything, but Hell will always reject him. He's just stuck.