Chapter Text
Three years. Three years had gone by since Aziraphale had left, and Crowley had only recently resigned himself to a life of personal misery and suffering.
Heartbroken. World broken. What was the point of anything?
Having lost any semblance of pride he may have had, he had committed himself to a life of drinking and gambling. Focusing his energy on getting his car back was a welcome distraction from the far greater loss he had suffered. At least this way he could pretend he had some kind of purpose again. A goal that was worth chasing and that gave him something to do with his days. And thus, a routine had formed. He would drop off his last remaining plant with Mrs. S and saunter to the casino with the money he was able to get out of her. Promptly after losing said money he would pay her back what little bit he could and take his pathetic plant under his arm to his piss-drenched patch in the alley. Once there, he’d indulge in his daily passing-out-drunk time in an effort to forget the Bentley and everyone– no, everything else he had lost.
Months of this had gone by. Brian Cameron had bled him dry of his money, miracles, and hope.
And then, a familiar voice had called his name. If he hadn’t been sober he would’ve thought it was another one of his dreams. Or nightmares. He’d had countless of both over the years. Some nights the return of his– the angel would bring him such joy and relief that it felt like the other half of his soul had finally returned home to him. Other nights it was as if a plague had descended. One that would hold him down and torment him for daring to think that anyone or anything would ever come back for him.
His head snapped up on a sharp intake of breath and he fought the urge to scrub his eyes clear and test if the shape before him was only in his imagination. When he spoke again he knew it was real. In all his dreams he had never spoken to him. Not so earnestly at least.
He would also be remiss if he didn’t acknowledge to himself that there was a beauty about the angel that his dreams could never get quite right. Something that transcended any ability to recreate him, as any attempts would pale in comparison to the real thing. Seeing him in front of him, taking in his full ethereal form took his breath away. This couldn’t be a dream.
And he didn’t know if he was better or worse for it.
As angry as he had been to see the angel back after all these years, and asking something of him no less, he knew he couldn’t stay angry at him. He never could. There were times they had spent longer apart and there were times they had gotten into worse, more explosive arguments. And yet this break felt categorically different from any other they had endured before.
Begrudgingly, he had agreed to help the angel. Well. Not entirely begrudgingly. Because if he was truly honest with himself? He had never been so relieved to see that the angel was still himself. That he hadn’t been entirely corrupted Up There. While he was surely a fool to leave him and think he could actually change anything, he wasn’t such a fool to allow them to change him. And for that he was willing to agree to help him find Jesus.
Ha. The thought of an angel needing help from a demon to find Jesus. How ironic. The universe truly did play impossible games and sometimes all you could do was laugh and go along.
So he did. He went along with it. He let the angel rescue him and get their– his car back. He let him beat Brian Cameron at his own game. Which he had to admit was quite fun to watch. The cheeky old sod hadn’t even gotten one answer in the time it took Aziraphale to finish the whole damn crossword. He couldn’t help himself from the smug and somewhat proud smirk that crossed his face. Even if he was completely bewildered at how the angel could have possibly known any music from David Bowie. Is that not “bebop”? Who’s to say anymore. He had long since stopped being surprised by how often the angel surprised him.
After that, their adventure took off in a blur. They worked their way through conversations awkwardly, knowing how hard they were both hoping to avoid a very large elephant in the back seat of the Bentley. Crowley didn’t think he could handle that conversation yet. So instead he would give the angel the occasional jab in order to feed the bitter part of him that wanted the angel to hurt in the way he had these past years. At seeing the shadow of that hurt on Aziraphale’s face, though? Crowley had to fight the burning in his chest to apologize, take every word back, and make everything right again between them.
But he wasn’t the only one who had apologizing to do. And he didn’t think he was the only one who had a reason to be hurt. So he went along with this too. He kept the elephant covered in a sheet that didn’t reach its feet and pretended he couldn’t see them.
This tactic had served him well enough at first, but now? They had been searching for Jesus for over a week now and still had not even found any leads let alone found the Light Of The World himself. Crowley began to feel desperate. The quicker they found Jesus, the quicker Aziraphale would be able to continue his business and they would go their separate ways again.
The thought made him shudder and cracked his heart open. Even so, his brain told him that it was a good thing. Aziraphale was only here because he needed his help, anyway. Once the task was done he wouldn’t need him, and he doubted he would have any need to stay on Earth either at that point. He could wipe his hands clean of the demon again and return to his universal happiness and saving the world. Or whatever.
But his heart? His heart sang whenever the angel looked at him. Every time they held each other’s gaze just a beat too long his heart beat solidly in his chest. A tinge of pink would warm his cheeks and he had to look away quickly in the hopes the angel wouldn’t notice. It was his heart’s fault that he continued to call him ‘angel’. Each time he did so the butterflies would stir in his stomach and he fought the urge to wince. But he couldn’t help it, could he? Thousands of years had a way of leaving their mark on habits. His heart told him it was a relief to finally be able to say it out loud again. Like warm, golden sunlight breaking through dense fog. His lips had craved the taste of the word and his heart fed his gluttony. If the angel left again, how could he go back to such banality? How could he go back to a world so devoid of flavor, color, and light?
Crowley jumped as a voice shouted over the cacophony of thoughts racing around his head. One hand on the steering wheel, he turned to look at Aziraphale in the passenger’s seat next to him. The angel’s eyebrows were raised and he leaned forward to study Crowley’s face. As if he could read his thoughts if he looked close enough. Confused as to what he missed, the demon found his voice.
“Sorry– what?”
Seeming to only just hold himself back from rolling his eyes, Aziraphale repeated, “I asked you, ‘where do you think we should try next?’ I’m beginning to think Jesus might not be here in London.”
Crowley noted the curious tone in the angel’s voice, but he also marked a bit of panic as well. He couldn’t help but agree, though. Looking back to the road whizzing by them, he agreed, “Yeah our luck he’s not even in the country anymore. Probably made a run for it. Like we could have. But–” Crowley cut himself off with a shrug and a mocking smirk.
Aziraphale closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before saying on a sigh, “Crowley, I’ve said–”
“Yeah, yeah I know, angel,” A small wince before the demon continued, “it’s whatever.” Another shrug. Clearing his throat in an effort to shake this off, he offered, “But, okay. What if he is actually out of the country? How far could he have gotten?”
“Well, as you said, it is a big world. Lots of places he could go. He did like the desert, I suppose? I don’t know.” Aziraphale reached for the roof of the car as Crowley sped through a hard turn. “Crowley, you can’t go that fast through those!” the angel practically screamed. Crowley bit his lip in an attempt to hide the small, fond smile that threatened. Taking a beat to collect himself, he turned his face away to hide the blush that crept up his cheeks at hearing his name on the angel’s tongue.
“Why not?” Crowley asked as he turned his head back to the road in front of him and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
Aziraphale only glared at him, although he could swear he saw the smallest bit of mirth in his eyes. Choosing to ignore him, the angel asked, “He really did speak kindly of you, you know. He even remembered your “kingdoms of the world” routine. Maybe he went to one of those? Which did you show him?”
The line of Crowley’s brows smoothed as his eyes went wide. Panicking, he pulled off the road sharply and parked on a side street. Crowley ignored the yelp Aziraphale let out at the abrupt stop. Jaw slackened, he gasped dramatically. He groaned, “Ohhhh. Ohh my– Oh he was here!”
“He what?”
“He was here! In Soho! Aah, that was him! I talked to him!” Crowley spoke frantically, waving his hands wildly.
Brows high, Aziraphale put together, “Under our noses this whole time? And you didn’t recognize him!?”
“Hey, hey, okay before you get all judgey, in my defense, I was astonishingly drunk.”
“Well that’s hardly an actual– no, no, I won’t do that.” Aziraphale let out a quick breath to steady himself. “This is good news.” The angel reached out and put a hand on Crowley’s forearm. “Now we have some options for starting places.”
Crowley could feel the warm weight of it burn through his suit jacket. His eyes betrayed him and traced the movement, looking down to the point of contact. Dragging his eyes back up, he was met with a gaze that almost seemed fond if he looked closely. The angel repeated, not unkindly, “Which kingdoms did you show him again? Let’s see if we can identify one he might have started with.”
His eyes flicked down to the small smile spread across Aziraphale’s lips before going back to his eyes just as fast. The angel’s smile faltered just enough to no longer reach past his cheeks. Crowley felt that familiar panic race through his veins and turned his gaze back to the street in front of him. At the same time, Aziraphale snatched his hand back as if burned. The demon ached at the loss of the warm touch as he saw the angel begin to wring his hands together in his periphery.
Crowley swallowed. “Er, umm. Well, it’s been a long time…” His voice trailed off in a mumble at the end.
“Sorry? You really need to speak up, my–”
“I don’t remember!” Crowley spoke louder than necessary as he blurted out the truth. Shaking his head at himself, he continued, “And anyway, it’s been a long time, y’know? Everything’s different now and none of the old kingdoms are there anymore. Whole continents have moved.”
“Ahh, yes.” Aziraphale repositioned himself, turning towards Crowley. He felt the angel lean in as he went on, “What was a major kingdom then is thousands of years gone now.” Crowley turned to Aziraphale in time to see his brows knit together and his shoulders sag. Defeated. “So how do we know where to go, now? I suppose we could just start making our way to major cities? Road trip through the UK and then elsewhere?”
Aziraphale continued his ranting and musing but Crowley stopped listening. Lost in thought, he turned back to stare out the front window of the Bentley and watched people walk by at the end of the road. This was as much of a lead as they had gotten so far. Kingdoms of the world. But how would they even begin to narrow down the search? It had already been a week and they had only covered London and a few outlying villages.
A loud group of voices caught his attention and he watched intently as the voices grew louder. As the group walked across the street in front of the Bentley, he assumed they had to be tourists, if their American accents were anything to go by. There were four people, one of which was a child of perhaps 10 years old, practically running laps around the rest of the group. As the child turned to face Crowley, he noticed that they were wearing an “I <3 NY” shirt.
Huh. Crowley thought on this for a moment. New York City. That’s a major kingdom of the new world isn’t it? But what would make Jesus go all the way over there? Crowley had spent time in America and would admit he had enjoyed his visits to New York. Talk about the ultimate tourist trap, though. The Empire State Building, Central Park pedicabs, bus tours, and even boat tours around Lady Liberty herself.
Crowley felt his blood go cold. A bucket of ice water poured through his veins as the rest of the conversation he had had with Jesus in the alley came back to him. Find the lady.
Turning to face Aziraphale, who was somehow still wittering on about something, Crowley held up a hand between them. Aziraphale cut himself off and searched Crowley’s face.
“Oh my god.” Crowley squeaked.
“Crowley? What’s happened?” Aziraphale furrowed his brow and made to reach towards Crowley’s outstretched hand but seemed to think better of it.
Utterly thunderstruck, all Crowley could say, mostly to himself, was “Find the lady…”
“I’m afraid you’ll need to give me a bit more than that, my dear.”
“Find the lady!” he repeats emphatically. Shaking his head, he says again, “Find the lady. It’s a game, angel. Cards. Find the lady. A bloody rigged game I tell you that much. But that’s what I told him. I had just lost again and I was drunk and angry.”
“Right… How does this help us exactly?” Aziraphale was totally lost.
“He went to find the lady. New York City. Lady Liberty. That’s it. We gotta go!” Crowley moved to turn the car back into gear, only stopping when the angel grabbed for his hand.
“You’re sure? How would he have even heard of New York? Of all the places in all the world…? You’re certain?”
“Well… Look. D’you have any better ideas? Got one. Single. Better idea?” Crowley lifted a brow over his glasses. Waited pointedly while the angel opened and closed his mouth like a fish.
Finally settling his face and only giving him a small roll of his eyes, Aziraphale acquiesced. He took a deep breath before he asked, “So. New York, then?”
Crowley nodded far longer than was necessary, his eyes flicking rapidly between the two blue ones looking back at him. He nodded one final time as he responded resolutely, “New York.”
The two maintained eye contact for several beats and Crowley only broke it when he felt the angel’s thumb begin to trace slow circles across his hand. Butterflies fluttered wildly against his ribs as his heartbeat began to pound in his ears. Looking down to Aziraphale’s hand covering his, he felt the angel give his hand the smallest squeeze. At this, he fought the overwhelming urge to turn his hand over and lace their fingers together. Instead, in a panic he took his hand out from underneath the angel’s and brought it to rest in his lap. He allowed himself only a moment to mourn as the ghost of the angel’s soft, warm touch lingered.
Looking back up to those blue eyes he was met with a soft smile that knocked the wind out of him. Beautiful. Only this word clamoured around his brain and he thanked someone that the angel finally spoke again.
The airy, calm tone in his voice juxtaposed the anxious wringing of his hands as he said, “Well, my dear. Shall we? We ought to get a wiggle on, I think.”
Crowley wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of the light or not, but he could have sworn he saw a deep pink color the tops of Aziraphale’s cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself from letting a small chuckle bubble past his lips and a fond smile take over his face. With one corner of his mouth still tugged into a smile, the demon put the car back into gear and replied, “You got it, angel.”