Chapter Text
God doesn’t make mistakes, except for when she does. Hers and Lucifer’s lights were snuffed out just a fraction of a second before Aziraphale and Crowley’s. They weren’t supposed to live, nothing was.
Then the rebirth hits, the big bang rockets around them, bright and consuming. Crowley can stop time, has on several occasions throughout his long life. He doesn’t do that now.
Instead he takes hold of Aziraphale, still wide eyed and expectant of a death that’s no longer approaching, large black wings shield them both and for the first time, Crowley soars forwards in space and time. The laws of this universe are young and malleable and he’s doing well until the exhaustion takes root and he blacks out.
Crowley wakes to gentle words from Aziraphale. “It’s okay, please be okay. I’m here, I’m here.” There’s sorrow laced with hope.
They don’t know what would happen if they found themselves discorporated. There is no Heaven or Hell to stitch them back together, maybe they would die like they were meant to, like they planned to.
Earth comes into focus after that. He hopes it’s far enough ahead that things are habitable, comfortable. He doesn’t think he can pull that trick again.
Aziraphale also has his wings out now, stark white and never failing in their beauty. He had said Crowley was the best of the angels, he never imagined to relish in a compliment of that caliber, but here they are. They start descending to Earth. It’s gravity pulling in the only two things in the universe that ring familiar, even when they shouldn’t.
The landing isn’t fantastic but their wings help to lessen the impact. It’s dawn or dust and takes him a few moments to realize the sun is setting.
Crisp air blows through the field where they’ve landed, he observes structures in the distance. He’s caught them up to humans at least.
“H-how are we alive, Crowley?” Aziraphale whispers where they lay tangled in the damp Earth.
“Don’t know, think God got Her timing a bit off, I suppose.” He shrugs, not sure of what else to do exactly.
They put their wings away, no use in frightening the locals if they’re stumbled upon.
“We wasted so much time.” Aziraphale holds him tight, head on his shoulder and sobs, openly, like he never had the chance before, maybe he hadn’t.
Crowley spent a lot of time in that alleyway, a lot of time overly drunk or sobbing, on occasion he did them both together.
He tries not to think about the wasted time, the Earth that’s gone, everything and everyone they know, just gone.
Crowley can tell Aziraphale hasn’t gotten to thinking about that yet.
“No regrets, remember?” Crowley reminds him when Aziraphale pulls back.
He stares for a few long moments, takes in his disheveled clothes, bow tie askew, and that sad fucking look on his face. It’s disarming and Crowley hadn’t even drawn weapons.
“I-I thought we were going to die, Crowley. But the only thing I sa-saw was you. I couldn’t imagine a world where you never got to exist. I didn’t care about what happened to me.” Aziraphale is breathing too hard, eyes trying to lock on to every part of Crowley all at once, like he’s afraid of him disappearing by inches.
“Hey, feel that.” He takes Aziraphale’s hand and places it to his chest, gives him a moment to register the steady beat of his heart there. “Alive.” He places his own palm to Aziraphale’s chest, stretches it over the left side and makes eye contact with his favorite shade of blue. “Alive.”
“They’re all gone now aren’t they? Heaven, Hell, oh God, all the people?” Aziraphale is starting to panic, he stands up, looks around frantically, searching for things that have long been extinguished.
Crowley stands as well, dusting off his dirty clothing, space is a bit messy. He thinks he’s compartmentalizing well, can’t afford for them both to be in a panic. “They are. This is a new universe, can’t you feel it?” Crowley can almost mark the differences, having practically created the last one on his own.
“I am afraid I cannot tell.” Aziraphale says with not a small amount of panic in his eyes, like he failed a test he never had the opportunity to study for.
Crowley takes a step back, paces in a few small circles, he’s restless. “Trust me, it’s different.”
“What do we do now?” Aziraphale needs some guidance, he’s been in charge of Heaven for so long now and it’s all gone, all done.
“Alcohol.” Crowley doesn’t know what to do, where to go but he thinks this will help them both relax.
“There is no Heaven or Hell, no miracles, no money. The fermenting process will take ages and I was hardly an expert to begin with. Not to mention that was centuries ago now.” Aziraphale is still a little too much on edge.
“I can hear humans.” Crowley says instead “Don’t look at me like that, you know my hearings always been better than yours.”
Crowley thinks Aziraphale makes a comment about snakes, he ignores it and continues. “We will find a pub and someone will buy you a drink that we can share.”
“Me? Why me?” He says, practically shouting the two questions.
Crowley thinks about it briefly, looks at Aziraphale in all his shining and warm grace. “Best if I don’t say.” And he starts the slow walk to what he thinks may be a small town.
“What does that mean?” Aziraphale asks in his rush to catch up with him.
Crowley looks at him over his shoulder, tries to pull himself together enough to channel his old self and winks, he only half manages it. “I’m sure after a couple rounds you’ll able to get the information out of me.”
The town is indeed small, just a pinprick on a map. People are milling about, several stare at them, Crowley pretends it’s the way they are dressed. It’s only half a lie.
In a row of buildings he spots what he was looking for. The sun has set and low light pours into the street. “Fancy a drink, angel?”
“Still no money.” Aziraphale reminds him for the second time.
“Then at the least we can find a table to get off our feet.” He holds the door open for Aziraphale.
The pub/tavern, whatever, is small but not overly crowded and they do successfully snag a table. The drinks do start pouring in, not overtly fast but several people purchase rounds for their table. Aziraphale looks uncomfortable and Crowley feels guilty for not giving him all the information.
They don’t speak, there’s too much to say that they never thought they would have the chance to and it makes him feel sick, he drinks that feeling down, looks like Aziraphale does as well.
Sure enough and true to his word, Aziraphale does ask him what he meant after people do seem to want to buy Aziraphale drinks.
“Well, angel, you’re being an angel. That’s not exactly supposed to exist here. People gravitate towards the divine.” He wouldn’t really be noticed in their true home, humanity had come to see angels mostly as other humans, that can’t be the case here.
Aziraphale looks aghast which is definitely something only he could do and quickly reigns in everything he was unknowingly projecting, people disperse after that. It’s a subtle change but it’s enough.
“Why didn’t you say anything? I was manipulating them.” Aziraphale asks, both hands flat on the table, drink long forgotten.
“I just told you, didn’t I?” Crowley doesn’t feel great about interfering but they will find a way to make this work, make being here work. He hopes they will at least. “Just, enjoy your wine.”
Aziraphale doesn't enjoy it, doesn’t even care to drink more of it.
From what they gather, it’s the early sixteen hundreds. He shot for modern day, but this will do. He can’t skip ahead again.
“Could have been worse,” Crowley tries to entice conversation again, tries to make Aziraphale smile. “at least we managed to skip the fourteenth century.”
“This is not the time for jokes, Crowley.” Aziraphale admonishes, he decidedly does not smile.
“Oh, I’m definitely not joking.” Crowley tries again and is met with a small eye roll. That will do for now.
The place closes for the evening and they leave, they leave and they walk. The space between them quiet again.
They are way on the outskirts of town, couldn’t afford a room at the Inn. The tree they rest under is large and blocks out the light from the moon. They sit side by side against the large trunk.
He thinks it’s autumn, the trees just starting to change their coloring, a small amount of leaves litter the ground around and beneath them. The air is clean and cool and his eyes are impossibly heavy.
“You should sleep.” Aziraphale tells him sometime later, minutes, maybe hours.
A long sigh escapes Crowley. “You’ll be here when I wake?” He wants to be sure of it, but Aziraphale has been distant and mood a little unpredictable. He’s worried.
Aziraphale takes his hand, his hold honest and tight. “There is no where else to go.”
That isn't exactly what Crowley wanted to hear but he’s too beat down to argue about that now. His eyes close to this new world and is not ashamed when his head falls to Aziraphale’s shoulder. He sleeps.
Neither of them have had a chance to process that they have already said goodbye.