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the archangel raphael

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"Same again." Demanded Crowley with a drunken slur, his long, skinny fingers wrapped around a wine bottle as he held it up. He leaned in his seat, watching as the bartender moved over.

Crowley sniffed, face pulled down in despair as he tipped back the last drops of liquid from his small glass.

He had escaped certain death from Hastur and Ligur, killing one Duke with Holy Water, and trapping the other Duke in his answering machine, he had driven to Aziraphale's old book shop only to see it up in flames, and no Aziraphale... his angel was nowhere in sight, wasn't answering to his calls, he knew he should have trusted that numbing, tingling feeling up his back. It was the same feeling he got when Aziraphale was trapped in the Bastille, it was the same feeling he got when Aziraphale was in the middle of a face off with Nazis, he always got that feeling, always, and he... he began feeling it when he hung up on his angel, and he ignored! It all made sense when he arrived at the shop. 'Why didn't you just flee to Alpha Centauri with me?!' Crowley thought in sadness.

Maybe, if he had stayed on the phone he could have saved Aziraphale.

"I never asked to be a demon!" Crowley reasoned, eyes filled with red bloody tears as he looked to the bartender who set the bottle down.

The bartender gave the red haired being a look of sympathy. He thought the demon was just drunk, and having had a rough day. He had no idea, of course, just how bad of a day it really was. He walked off immediately after.

Crowley wrapped his hands around the bottle, desperately trying to stabilise himself in the moment, bring him back to reality. This was happening, this was actually happening. Aziraphale is dead...

'So, this is what the end of the word feels like...' He thought, sniffing and rubbing his eyes under his glasses.'What's the point without Aziraphale?'

"I was just minding my own business one day." Crowley slurred out, looking up to the sky drunkenly, "and then..." He wiggled in his seat with a sneer, "oh, lookie here, it's Lucifer and the guys!" He cheered, drunk and sarcastic. He looked to his left, "oh, hey," he shrugged, "the food hadn't been that good lately." He looked to the right, "I didn't have anything on for the rest of that afternoon!" He looked down, voice choked and thick with tears, "next thing, I'm-m-m, ah, uh, ngk, doing a-a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur!" He wailed out, voice broken and bloody tears down his face. (Not that anyone saw the blood of course, even in his drunken state he made sure of that. (Technically, demons don't cry. They aren't meant to, at least.))

He grabbed the bottle, and began trying to open it, as lightening stuck, and rain thundered. He looked up and paused, a frown on his face and he squinted letting out a drunken groan, "Aziraphale?" He whimpered out with a drunk groan, seeing a wobbly figure, transparent and warped in the seat in front of him, and it reflected onto his glasses. I mean, it looked like Aziraphale, but he could be wrong, "are you here?" He asked, seeming a bit more sober, as he pulled up his glasses, placing them on his forehead, fully squinting his golden serpent eyes. He was less sad now, maybe Aziraphale was there!

"Good question." Came the posh, British voice... "Not certain. Never done this before." The wobbly, transparent figure looked around in confusion and thought. "Can you hear me?!"

It can't be Aziraphale, Aziraphale is gone! Dead! That fire killed him! "Of course I can hear you!" Crowley's eyes were wide in shock, and his glasses fell over his eyes again, loosing the friction from his frown lines, and he let go of the bottle.

"Are you okay?" Aziraphale asked, eyes shinning in worry, "when I called, I felt that feeling up my back and I—"

"I-it was, uh, ngk... uh, Hastur and Ligur..." Slurred Crowley, leaning forward on the small, wooden, round table, "they were, uh, gonna kill m'..."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, leaning forward, "what?! Are you alright, my dear?!"

Crowley smiled, his lips sharp, and let out a watery laugh, "'m now..." Was this Aziraphale? It sounded and looked like him, but he's known the angel for six-thousand years, he's made an impressive hallucination. "Wot's happened?"

"Afraid I've rather made a mess of things." Aziraphale admitted in a broken voice, eyes sad and soft, "did you go to Alpha Centauri?" He asked, all nice, and soft, kind, just the way he always his.

Crowley truly has made a nice imagination, and he smiled, lips pursed in a sad wince, "nah, I changed my mind." He explained, calm, relishing the angels kindness. He paused. "Things happened," he explained, his features turning soft and sad, seemingly heartbroken and he held back a sob, "I lost my best friend." He admitted, choked up, lips pulled into a sad, pain filled grimace, as fresh tears formed, rolling down his cheeks in hot, sulphur smelling pelts. They rivalled the rain outside. 

Aziraphale's face fell to a look soft sadness, "I'm so sorry to hear it." He apologised, wishing he could just reach out and hug the demon, "listen, back in my bookshop there's a book I need you to get."

Suddenly, Crowley's face crumpled to one of sorrow, regret with a hint of distress all over again. Worse than before, somehow. "Oh, look," he rested his chin on the palm of his hand and leaned forward, "your bookshop isn't there anymore." He informed, sadly, and softly, as if that was the saddest thing to happen at the moment.

Aziraphale frowned confused, "oh?"

"I'm really sorry. It burned down." Informed the demon regretfully, being as soft, and gentle as possible. His voice was wavering and quivering.

The angels face fell more, voice broken slightly, "all of it?"

Crowley sniffed, "ngk, nu, em, erm, uh, yeah." He was again, cradling the drink to his chest, "what-what was the book?"

Aziraphale took a deep, shaky breath, as he looked down sadly, "the one the young lady with the bicycle left behind." He explained, his voice wavering in emotions as he thought of his home gone, "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of—"

"Agnes Nutter!" Choked Crowley in a triumphant yell of delight, pulling out the book from his jacket, "yes, I took it!" He held the book out to the ghostly figure, it was burned and tattered, and he pointed to the title, jabbing his finger into it. His voice was croaked and scratchy, choked and despaired. He practically shoved it in the angels face.

"Oh, you have it?" Asked Aziraphale with a smile, looking around, not able to see.

"Look, souvenir!" Cheered the demon, drunk and hazy, still pointing to the title, his eyes basically screaming; 'be proud of me!'

"Look inside. I made notes." Explained Aziraphale, wiggling in excitement. Crowley looked through the notes, flipping through the book carelessly, and he pulled out a folded piece of paper and began unfolding, looking through the notes. Luckily, they weren’t too damaged. "It's all in there. The boy's name, address. Everything else. I worked it all out."

"You brilliant angel, you! Look," Crowley said, looking up, eyes soft. He need Aziraphale, "wherever you are, I'll come to you. Where are you?" He asked, desperately squinting, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at, trying to figure out where his friend was. But he paused, his mind catching up with him. Right, he's drunk, and Aziraphale might not be here in front of him, and he's more than likely seeing things, and the angel is actually dead.

Aziraphale looked around, eyes glazed, "I-I-I'm not really anywhere yet. I've been discorporated." He explained with a frown.

"Oh." Nodded Crowley in remorse, still drunk.

"You need to get to Tadfield Air Base." Aziraphale explained.

Crowley looked down at the map, and saw the airbase circled with a pencil, and asked, "w-why?"

"World ending." Aziraphale answered, and the demon looked up. "That's where it's all going to happen," he said sad. "Quite soon now. I'll head there too. I just need to find a receptive body." He sighed annoyed, "harder than you'd think." He reasoned.

Crowley sneered, "I'm not going to go there." Why should he go when Aziraphale isn't actually there? It made no sense, his world has already ended, why save the world when he can die, and join his angel?

"I do need a body." Sighed Aziraphale, "pity I can't inhabit yours."

"Oh." Crowley hummed in thought, with a sneered shake of his head.

"Angel, demon..." Smiled Aziraphale, "probably explode."

"Blehh..." Crowley grunted. Aziraphale inhabiting his body... it is dangerous, that's for certain, and who knows what would happen, but... it would be enough evidence, enough proof that the angel was there, that Aziraphale is alive, and then they could save the world together, though Crowley's world would already be saved, life will have been brought to his dark, cold corporation, and if they do explode, then it wouldn't be too bad as they'd be together! I mean, the world is ending as it is...

"So I'll meet you at—"

"Let's do it." Crowley cut the angel off abruptly, head snapping up to him.

Aziraphale froze, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Let's do it, you can share my body." Crowley said, drunk and dazed, needing proof that Aziraphale is there. If he's there, he'll save the world.

"What if we blow up, my dear? Have you not been listening?!" Aziraphale asked in a mad panic, his eyes wide.

Crowley rolled his eyes, and admitted, "angel, I'm drunk and I need t' see you're there. Not made up." He explained, "'n' if we blow up, then fine... worlds ending isn't it?"

"Crowley—"

"My worlds already ended without you..." Choked the demon, and he sniffed, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Aziraphale frowned, his eyes soft, wanting to reassure Crowley. In anyway he could. "Okay... alright, just... Crowley, if I hurt you, you have to kick me out..."

"I will, just," Crowley held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Come on. Please..."

Aziraphale nodded, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, turning into white, bright smokey mist, and phased into Crowley. The demon's eyes widened, and mouth slack, jaw open slightly and he fell back off his chair, limp. The stool clattered to the ground with a loud slam, and his back hit the ground with a thud, as he stared at the spinning and hazy ceiling.

The bartender looked up in shock, eyes wide and rushed over from behind the counter. He knew he should have slowed on those drinks for him! He fell to his knees, and supported the mans head, "hey, you okay?" He asked, getting no response, "can you hear me? Say something!"

Crowley slowly closed his eyes, the mans voice fading into background noise, as well as ringing. Until finally nothing...