A/N: it's one in the morning and I felt *tempted* to write something sad because I get like that at one in the morning. It's also came to my attention that me, a common agnostic person, doesn't know smack about how angels were created.
It had been five years since armageddidn't. In those five years Aziraphale had grew so much closer to Crowley. Maybe even a little too close. They were more than just friends, they were definite lovers. The love they shared caused Aziraphale to go with whatever Crowley would say. After a while evil things didn't seem as bad. Aziraphale couldn't even smell the evil, he just smelt the all so familiar smell of Crowley.
He would have gave up everything for Crowley. It was good that Crowley would do the same for Aziraphale.
The only difference was that Crowley was literally at rock bottom. He was a demon. He couldn't downgrade.
Aziraphale could.
It was a very rainy Saturday night. Aziraphale was feeling under the weather. Crowley noticed this, and couldn't help but ask what was wrong with his angel. Of course the angel didn't know.
Crowley couldn't help but think about the worst possibility. It was something about the fresh smell of burning sulfur in the air. It was something about the way Aziraphale's eyes began to look. He was beginning to wonder.
"Hey Zira, you don't happen to be in contact with heaven still, do you?"
Aziraphale responded, "No, they don't want me there. Remember?"
Of course Crowley remembered. Knowing how Aziraphale could have died still gives him nightmares. Another one of his nightmares was about his angel falling. He hoped that Aziraphale didn't have nightmares about Crowley in holy water. Crowley happened to be on better terms with hell. Not perfect, they still hated him, but they hated him less.
As the days went on Crowley's nightmares were becoming reality. When Aziraphale started to take a turn for the worst Crowley woke up in the middle of the night to find black soot and half burnt feathers covering the bed and Aziraphale in the bathroom, throwing up and crying. He would sat on the floor and held him close, whispering comfort into his ear.
"Zira, angel stop crying. It's going to be alright."
Aziraphale curled up against Crowley.
"I'm not an angel anymore. I was a bad angel. I wasn't good enough, Crowley."
Crowley held onto Aziraphale a bit tighter. He whispered, "Aziraphale, you'll always be my angel, no matter what. You're everything to me. You're good enough, because you're good enough to me. Don't feel bad."
Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand and softly sang the words to You Are My Sunshine.
During Crowley's time as a nanny he occasionally sang that song to Warlock. It hardly meant anything to him then, but now it meant the world to him.
It was in the later hours of the night when Crowley and Aziraphale were finally able to go to bed. Crowley let Aziraphale hold him as close and as tightly as he wanted too.
The next morning Aziraphale wasn't there when Crowley woke up. All Crowley was able to think of was how Aziraphale could have fallen in the middle of the night. His thoughts were calmed when he found Aziraphale trying his hardest to put out a smoke detector that set off.
Crowley just smashed the thing. He knew that as Aziraphale started to burn, he would let off more smoke. Crowley knew that Aziraphale probably had the worst headache imaginable, and a constant beeping would make things worse.
The best thing for Aziraphale was to be held. Crowley intended to cuddle with the angel until he truly fell. This was Crowley's version of being nice, and demons weren't nice. It was hard for Crowley to believe that he'd now have Aziraphale who wouldn't be nice. An Aziraphale who wouldn't be the kind, joyful angel that he's always known.
Crowley thought this was the only time he couldn't save his angel.
He tried though. When a hole opened up in the ground underneath Aziraphale, Crowley held on as tightly as he could to the angel. He didn't want his angel to go.
It was only when Aziraphale whispered, "Let go, it's okay Crowley. I love you, and always will. It's okay," that Crowley let go. Aziraphale was sent plumiting into burning sulfur.
"I love you too, Aziraphale."
It was that night that Crowley cried. It was the kind of serious cry that says you'll never get over it. A definite ugly cry. The kind of cry that you never let anyone see.
God was watching Crowley cry. She actually had her eye on Crowley the whole time. Ever since she created all her angels she knew she had a plan for Crowley. It was the basic, bland kind of thing that she did.
Crowley on the other hand had no idea he was being watched. Crowley was just a demon who yelled at houseplants and loved an angel.
That all changed when Crowley was attempting to take care of Aziraphale's book shop one day. He figured that the thing needed care. God decided that Crowley deserved a second chance. The whole thing about being unforgivable was just a joke.
It was a total shocker when Crowley was miraculously raised up. He couldn't fathom suddenly having white wings and wearing pastel colors. Luckily Crowley was aware of the "pastel goth" trend. Given time Crowley had grew to like the style.
Six years later Crowley was the kind of laid back angel who mostly stayed at home and sewed. Most of everything he made was donated.
Aziraphale on the other hand had found his way into doing the bad. Honestly he was quite bad at it. It was in his doing bad that he found Crowley.
Both Crowley and Aziraphale had stopped what they were doing. They decided to go on a walk together. It was quite the quiet walk until Crowley said, "I thought I'd never see you again."
Aziraphale responded, "I could say the same for you."
Crowley nodded, knowing that they needed to talk about what Aziraphale said before he fell. They both could feel it.
Aziraphale knew their talking needed more than words. He just grabbed Crowley's hand and said, "It's more of your job requirements to be the loving, but I would like to let you know that I still do love you."
Crowley smiled and said, "I love you too," before kissing the angel.