~ Aziraphale's Perspective ~
Heaven, before Earth's Creation.
Day and night had not yet been invented. The Cherub Aziraphale flew alongside his very best friend in all of Heaven, Crowley. He had the feathers of a dove, and beautiful red hair. They flew so close their wing tips brushed, soaring amongst the stars.
"Where shall we go?" Crowley asked, "We've got a whole galaxy to explore. Wherever you want to go, we can go."
"I'm not sure, Crowley. You chose." Aziraphale said, dripping slowly underneath the red haired angel.
"We could make stars," Crowley suggested, "If you'd like," he added.
"Of course." Aziraphale agreed, brushing his feathers over Crowley's.
They two best friends stopped flying, gently flapping their wings to keep them airborne.
"So... what kind of stars?" Aziraphale asked.
"Bright ones... three. Together. Like... us."
Aziraphale said nothing, just nodded. The angel was unwilling to admit he was slightly taken aback by Crowley's choice of words, though he couldn't say he minded. In fact... one might say he rather liked the thought of being together.
He liked it a lot.
"I've never made a star with another angel before," Aziraphale commented.
"Really?" Crowley seemed surprised, "It's not hard."
"If you say so."
"Just... put your erm - hands in mine." Crowley finished awkwardly. Aziraphale felt heat prick at his cheeks and he lifted a pale, warm hand and placed it in Crowley's palm. The angel's hands were soft, and Aziraphale found he liked holding it. It brought him comfort, and...
"Right." Crowley said suddenly, clearing his throat. "Now, we close our eyes and think of whatever it is we like best..."
Aziraphale pondered over this for some time, wondering what it is he liked best. He loved the Almighty, of course. And Heaven too. He liked soaring high above the planets and feeling the cool air on his feathers.
But none of those were what popped into his mind first. Instead, a familiar red headed angel did, his wavy hair falling to his shoulders and his white wings brushing Aziraphale's.
"...Now," Crowley continued, "What feeling do you have when you think of whatever you like the most? Think of that, take that feeling, and wrap it around your mind."
Aziraphale's heart swelled with a golden light, a feeling that he's never known he felt.
Love.
So he did as Crowley said, and snuggled the feeling to his mind.
"Then spread it out, and imagine stars." Crowley instructed. Aziraphale did so, feeling Crowley doing the same. Light poured from where their hands touched, and spread amongst the dark part of the sky.
Aziraphale heard Crowley's breath of awe. Aziraphale opened his eyes to see the stars, burning brighter than any others Aziraphale had seen. Aziraphale gently let go of Crowley's hand, not missing the flash of disappointment in his eyes as Aziraphale let go.
"It'll be here forever." Crowley said proudly, "Stars we created."
"And so will we." Aziraphale said.
They had the promise of forever, and six thousand more.
"What should we call it?" Aziraphale asked quietly.
Crowley seemed to think, placing his hand on his chin and narrowing his eyes. Then, finally, Crowley smiled.
"Alpha Centauri."
~ Crowley's Perspective ~
Crowley had gone home. He was sitting on the throne in his flat, the blinds closed and his feet swung over the armrest of the chair. He had taken Aziraphale's favourite books home with him, and they were neatly arranged on a shelf, perfectly dust-free.
This was because Crowley dusted them by hand (no demonic miracles involved) twice a week. He knew that was what Aziraphale would have wanted.
He had just returned from one of his daily strolls around St James' park, from sitting on he and Aziraphale's bench alone. He'd been feeding the ducks, like he and the angel used to do together. He hadn't been able to cry in public.
Now he was alone in his flat, fidgeting slowly with his pen and staring at a blank piece of parchment. Crowley was going to write a letter, addressed to Aziraphale's bookshop.
Dear Aziraphale.
I have been in love with you for six thousand years. I will write you six thousand letters, but there aren't enough words to describe how much I love you. Nor are there enough words for me to tell you how much I wish you would be able to see this one day.
And he sent it. The following day, he wrote;
Angel.
I was angry when they took you. I blamed everyone but you. I blamed the war, I blamed Heaven and Hell, I blamed myself. There was nothing I could do that would make it better.
I even prayed to God. But nothing can bring you back. I love you.
And the day after that;
My love.
My angel no longer in Heaven, nor down below, I wanted you to know,
I wish every day you didn't have to go.
My angel, I hope you understand,
That I would give anything if I could hold your hand.
My angel, I have loved you forever.
And we could have spent it together.
My angel, when they took you away, it broke my heart in two.
I will forever be missing you.
I will forever be loving you.
The demon did this everyday, for all the months that followed.
~ Aziraphale's Perspective ~
Present Day.
It had been seven months, two weeks and three days since Beelzebub had put the chains on Aziraphale.
He had counted.
The angel hated them. He hadn't even realised, being an angel and all, that he could hate things, let alone other beings. Beelzebub had done this to him, to Crowley... Made Aziraphale's beloved demon cry like this. The angel hated them. Hated Beelzebub. Crowley was asleep, finally, after hours. The sun was shining as it dawned upon mid afternoon, the light brightening the dark walls of Crowley's flat. The angel had his wings wrapped around a gently sleeping demon, feeling Crowley's heart beat rapidly. He mumbled something that sounded scarcely like 'Angel', tears gathering in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. Aziraphale frowned, wishing he could do something, anything.
They promised that they would have forever.
Even forever was a lie.
Suddenly, a loud voice boomed from down the hall. Aziraphale whirled around, feeling Crowley's heart jump and begin racing as he jerked awake. The demon Beelzebub sauntered forward, a smile painted onto their face. They spared Aziraphale a glance, giving the tiniest wink.
They can see me, he thought, They can see me! They broke the chains the first time, they can break them again!
"Crowley," they greeted Aziraphale's demon, holding their hand out. Crowley hissed, his eyes wide as he stumbled to his feet. A gust of wind from Beelzebub knocked him back, and he was thrown into a wall, nearly missing a painting. Crowley's head came into contact with the sharp corner, and he let out an impossibly tiny whimper. He slumped to the floor, unmoving and limp.
"Beelzebub!" Aziraphale cried, racing over to Crowley. He would be fine, of course, being a demon and all... but the angel couldn't help but worry.
"Sorry," the Duke of Hell buzzed, "Did I hurt him?"
Their tone was dry, yet soaked with sarcasm. The angel glared.
"Y-you've already hurt us enough!" Aziraphale protested, his heart caught in his throat.
"It'll never be enough." they slurred, brushing away black hair to reveal a dried gash of blood on her forehead, "Not after what he did to me."
"C-Crowley... did... Crowley did that?" Aziraphale stuttered.
"He should have killed me," they spat, "But he's gone soft. He made me beg. He stripped me of my dignity. And then he let me live. He is a disgrace to Hell."
Aziraphale didn't see how that was a bad thing.
"Y-you're alive. How was Crowley's mercy a disgrace to you?"
"He's a demon. Demons don't show mercy. Demons don't beg. Demons don't cry. Demons aren't nice. Demons don't fall in love, you foolish angel. What Crowley apparently 'feels' for you - it's impossible. He cannot love you."
"B-but he said -"
Aziraphale was cut off by a hysterical laugh.
"He doesn't love you! He's fooling you - maybe fooling himself, too! Honestly, Aziraphale. You really believed that?"
"I..." Aziraphale didn't know what to say. His gaze slithered to Crowley's unconscious figure, pale and thin.
"He drank himself until he was wasted," the angel breathed.
"So I've seen." Beelzebub sneered.
"...Why?" Aziraphale asked, "Why do this?"
"Why?" Beelzebub echoed, "You want to know why?"
A small nod.
"Because I serve Hell."
"You serve no one but yourself." Aziraphale shot back, astonished by the words that just left his mouth. He raised a hand to cover his mouth.
"Let's get on with this, shall we?" Beelzebub yawned, picking their way around books and going over to where Crowley was.
"On with what?" the angel dared ask.
"Crowley failed to kill me," Beelzebub said calmly, "In Hell, such weakness gets you nowhere. Crowley failed, and now it'll come back to bite him."
"No! Crowley's mercy isn't weakness -"
"You aren't a demon. Your kind is pathetic. Crowley knew what would come when he let me go. He knew it was suicide. And you know why he still let me go?"
Beelzebub pointed to the red haired demon, who looked incredibly small on the floor.
"Because he wants to die." they answered, "He never cared about earth. He just wants to be free of Hell. No amount of running can outrun the war. Demons in Hell cannot hope. Not even for death. Most of us wish we were created mortals. I'll be doing him a favour."
"No!" Aziraphale repeated, "Y-you can't -"
"What are you going to do to stop me?"
Aziraphale recalled how his hand had gone right through Crowley's. How no one but Beelzebub could hear or see him. How no one but Hell's second in command could remove Hell's chains that bound him to earth.
"P-please," Azirahale whispered, "Please. I'll d-do anything."
Aziraphale knew the mistake he made when he said that last word.
"I know." Beelzebub said, "And that is why it does not matter to me."
"Y-you need me," Aziraphale cried, trying his best to convince the demon, "You took these chains off the souls with hellfire. I'll - I'll take them off myself!"
"That's ludicrous," Beelzebub snapped, "It's suicide."
"It's just as you said." Aziraphale said, straightening, "A war so brutal we'll wish we were created mortals. I can leave here whenever I please."
"You wouldn't," she sneered, "You're too much of a coward."
Oh good lord, what am I doing?! The angel thought frantically, Crowley -
"I am no such thing. I will not hesitate."
"You wouldn't!"
"I will." Aziraphale's heart was racing now as he tore his teary eyed gaze from Crowley. The angel didn't want to die. Beelzebub was right. He was afraid.
But Crowley. Aziraphale needed to save Crowley.
The truth was, Beelzebub needed Aziraphale under their command. He was always an angel who would bow to anyone, kneel and follow orders, do as he was told. He would do anything for his beloved demon. But if he'd learned anything from Hell's inhabitants, if he knew Crowley at all, it was that he never, ever bowed to anyone. Being disobedient had never been one of Aziraphale's strengths, and had usually gotten him into trouble. Now, it might just be the only way to save them both.
Aziraphale couldn't lose Crowley. He couldn't. Crowley meant the world to Aziraphale, and the angel had to save him. Aziraphale opened his white wings, his gaze burning into Beelzebub's. They growled as he took off, the door to Crowley's flat swinging closed. He raced down the stairs, not bothering with the elevator. Once he reached the ground, he took off into the sky.
They'll follow me, Aziraphale thought, They have to. They need me alive.
The angel really hoped that was true.
Aziraphale's breath turned ragged as he flew on, shooting up into the sky and beating his wings as hard as he could. This was a war. There was bound to be hellfire somewhere nearby. He could hear Beelzebub shouting at him, not sure how they were following. But he knew he hadn't lost them. Aziraphale's chest ached as he flew forwards, the wind filling his lungs and ruffling his feathers. He could smell the smoke now, the intoxicating fumes filling his nose and making his eyes water. The bright orange flames were within his sight now, and Aziraphale dove into them. He flew into it, further into the flames. They caught onto his feathers and began to singe them, white feathers withering away to black. Aziraphale could feel the fire scorch his back, his shoulder blades burning. The searing, white hot pain tore through him. Aziraphale cried out in pain, unable to breathe. He tittered in the sky, flying slowly towards the ground.
He didn't really fall the rest of the way. Not exactly. He just... well, to put it into words, he sauntered vaguely downwards. His wings burned away, and Aziraphale began to scream. Only , the air was choking out of him, so it became terrified gasping. He could feel flesh blistering and bubbling, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his racing heartbeat in his ears as he curled into a small ball. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his vision blurred, black spots beginning to form. He coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe.
Aziraphale slipped into unconsciousness moments after.