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It had been sometime in the 80s that giving mixtapes to other people had become a thing. Originally, mixtapes were popularized by DJs in the 70s, where they would use them to show off their skills with mixing, but also just making recordings of their live shows that they could sell.
Then in the 80s, people began giving each other mixtapes that were carefully crafted to give a special message or mood to the person receiving it. It was a painful process that needed careful planning, and with CDs and home computers becoming increasingly more popular, it was not the easiest option to give other people musical gifts.
Crowley had thought it was a great idea. Giving other people gifts with things that reminded you of them was really nice and the careful planning to make it all perfect was just an added bonus to the sweetness of it all.
He of course had to try it himself, since he was incredibly bored*, and he knew exactly who to make one for.
He also wanted to make it in a somewhat human way without just wishing it into existence. And for once, his plan wasn’t secretly some evil scheme to make everything worse for everyone.
Instead it would be a “sorry i haven’t seen you in like ten years, i was busy doing evil stuff or something. Please don’t be annoyed or worried for me since last time I saw you, you gave me a bottle of holy water and I'm 100% fine” kinda thing.
*= He hadn't had any big temptations to do in a while since the humans had figured out how to be terrible on their own. But that was not anything new
He had started with making a list of songs that reminded him of the angel.
It had been a mix of The Velvet Underground, various classic jazz/soul numbers and just whatever songs he had heard in the last weeks. He then took an empty cassette and popped it into a radio cassette player, that miraculously had appeared in his apartment. He waited some time while all the songs played, not understanding how humans found it so difficult to get the right songs in the right order*
*= He had failed to understand that humans don’t just get the songs on the radio that they want in the exact order that they want them in.
While he waited for all the songs to be played, he strolled around the apartment, checking up on his plants, making sure none of them had any spots and such. He began getting bored after 45 minutes*.
He had now rearranged all his music two times**, checked up on his plants four times and looked through his books once.
He sat down in front of the radio and stared deep into it. The radio had probably felt it, since it began playing the music faster and faster to get done quicker. After three minutes of intense staring at the radio, it finished up. He picked it up, almost fell over the not so plugged in chord and put it into a closet filled with random things that he accidentally had made appear over time.
*= Halfway through, since he used a C90 cassette
**= First after bpm, then back to alphabetical since sorting music after bpm was idiotic
The next step in his plan to cure his boredom (and totally not making a gift for Aziraphale) was, of course, to give the mixtape to the angel. This was the easy part of it all. He got into his car, who happily began playing Queen.
There was only one issue. When he got to the shop, there was a piece of paper on the door.
Closed for the week, since the owner is away
Crowley felt something that he couldn't quite put a finger on, all he knew was that it for sure wasn't happiness. He then decided to drive back to his apartment and sleep for a couple weeks without saying anything to anyone.
When he got back he went up the stairs feeling pretty disappointed and just wanting to sleep.
But in his determination to go to bed, he forgot the mixtape in the Bentley.
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A couple of weeks later he woke up with a newfound determination to visit the angel. He quickly got up and into his car, driving through west London, reaching a top speed that would get anyone arrested on the spot, the Bentley clearly feeling his excitement.
When he got to the bookshop he practically jumped out of his car. He opened the door to the (almost) empty bookshop with the cassette in hand.
“ANGEL!” he yelled out into the room. “I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU”
Aziraphale popped his head out of the backroom “It's good to see you too Crowley”
He entered the main room. "It has been years and the first thing you do here is ye-” He stopped mid sentence.
“Crowley, what has happened to your… Well your hair??” He asked after staring at him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds.
“Oh this” Crowley said pointing at his mullet and mustache combination. “Well it is quite fashionable at the moment and i actually try to fit in”
Aziraphale exhaled. “Well, Jolly good then, I thought it was a new way of scaring people, but that is not important. You said you had something for me?”
Crowley lit up “Yes, yes, here you go” he said proudly, handing him the cassette.
Aziraphale took it, read the title and looked very confused. He looked up at a very excited Crowley and gave him a small smile.
“Well this is very nice and all, but i do think that this is more your type of music, since it is what you listen to all the time”
“What??” he exclaimed, taking the cassette from Aziraphales hand. How on earth had his carefully crafted mixtape turned into the best of Queen?
And then it hit him.
He felt incredibly stupid for leaving the mixtape in his car while he slept the disappointment away. He had liked the album* so much that he bought it for the car, and the Bentley had liked it so much that it began turning every other album that had been in it for over two weeks, into the best of Queen.
*= The best of Queen
“I…” he stammered. This wasn’t the plan. He had spent so long on the mixtape and now it was all ruined. He began feeling something and it was for sure not happiness.
They never spoke of this again
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He felt something that could only be described as sadness, loss and disappointment.
Aziraphale had left him for heaven.
He was alone.
He was driving the Bentley somewhere. It didn’t matter where that somewhere was, as long as it wasn’t anywhere near the bookshop.
The Bentley felt sad as well. It didn’t reach top speed, There wasn’t any music on and the engine made some weird, almost sob- like noises every now and then.
He reached somewhere outside London. He didn’t really know where this somewhere was, but it was quiet and it was getting dark outside.
He sat in the silence for a while. It was nice. Gave him room to think, but after some time the thinking turned into spiraling. He needed some noise to distract his brain from everything that had happened.
When he turned on the radio he was met by the velvet underground's Pale Blue Eyes.
He sat through the song, just staring into the darkness.
He had discarded his glasses somewhere in the backseat halfway through the song. He could feel the tears starting to form.
The next song that played was Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me To The Moon. It was easier to sit through than the previous one.
After that it was followed by The Penguins’ Earth Angel. It was then it hit him that this was the mixtape he made for Aziraphale all those years ago. The Bentley had sensed how much he missed him and tried cheering him up by playing something that he happily associated with his angel.
It didn’t work. He was trying to forget, just for a bit. But having to hear songs he associated with him made it a lot more difficult. The tears were growing bigger and a single one fell down his face. He hadn’t cried in so, so many years. It was a weird feeling.
After that, it was followed by Vera Lynn's A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square.
He broke down. Tears started streaming down his face. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop.
His sobs drowned away in the music after a while.
He was lightheaded.
He listened to the music.
He didn’t recognize the song.
He looked outside.
He didn’t recognize where he was.
He looked in the mirror.
He didn’t recognize himself.
The only thing he recognized was that he was utterly alone.