Inside I'm Falling Apart

Chapter One

Disclaimer: New disclaimer to go with the new season! Obviously, I don't own Good Omens or its characters, locations, etc., or else I wouldn't have let Neil Gaiman destroy my entire soul. I love the characters he and Terry Pratchett wrote, and I wouldn't change them for the world, except maybe to make them a bit smarter and more observant. But, alas, that's what fanfiction is for.

Summary: Aziraphale learns what Heaven is planning for the "second coming" and realized Crowley was right, but he didn't realize that Crowley might not want to hear it. Language warning.

A/N: This is a fix-it fic, because Neil Gaiman (aka The Devil Himself) has destroyed my soul and my sanity and I cannot wait several years for a potential season three without writing my own attempt to fix what he did to us.

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Inside I'm Falling Apart

Chapter One

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Aziraphale, former Angel of the Eastern Gate, was finding it rather shocking to be welcomed back into Heaven. And he was finding it rather devastating that it cost him so much to get there.

He had been back in Heaven for about a week, or at least a week in Heaven time, and he found that he couldn't quite settle comfortably. Did he still belong here?

The other angels, or at least the higher up ones that knew exactly what had caused him to be ousted from Heaven in the first place, had given him a rather lukewarm welcome, and his thoughts strayed to Crowley and how he always seemed to brighten whenever he would lay eyes on Aziraphale.

He was assigned a desk, which was shocking considering there were about four of them in all of Heaven. He thought back to when the Metatron had asked him to take a walk, and how he had looked back at his cluttered desk and Crowley sprawled in his desk chair as he walked out. He tried not to think of how Crowley looked after he walked back in and explained everything, especially with other angels watching.

He was given some paperwork to go over before he truly started working on the second coming, and he thought back to his dusty bookshop and how Crowley was always careful not to knock them over, and how he would never sell one of Aziraphale's books, even though he didn't particularly care for them himself.

He looked through the windows across the earth (or what earth looked like from Heaven) and thought of Crowley down there. Alone.

And Aziraphale felt so very alone, all the way up here in the cold, sterile office space that constituted as Heaven. He was surrounded by his own kind, some of whom (those who didn't know about what, or whom, had stopped the Apocalypse from happening) were very kind to him. They helped him acclimate to being back in Heaven after so long on Earth.

Those, like Michael, who knew him weren't so kind, but they tolerated his presence because the Metatron had deemed it God's will.

But none of those people were Crowley, and Aziraphale wasn't entirely sure that this was his home anymore.

He stayed where he was, bringing himself up to speed on everything going on in Heaven, if only to try to make the world a better place for the humans. And for Crowley. If this was what it took to make the world into a new paradise, then he could make sacrifices.

Heaven worked around the clock, having no need for things like sleep, or even rest, but Aziraphale still tried to carve out a little time every day to just sit with his thoughts. He would sit and think about how Crowley had bared his heart, and he had thrown it back in his face. He thought about how, when Crowley kissed him, all he had wanted to do was pull the demon closer and stay in that moment forever. But Aziraphale needed Crowley to understand that going to Heaven was the right thing to do, and if he didn't want to come with him then, well...

He sat and thought about how he had made the worst decision of his life, pulling away and "forgiving" Crowley (not that there was anything to forgive, but what was he to say?). He tried not to think about the look on Crowley's face when he said not to bother and walked away. He still felt the ghost of that kiss on his lips, and struggled not to bring his hand to his face every day and let his fingers linger over the spot where everything had felt right, even if only for a moment, before everything went horribly wrong.

Aziraphale wasn't sure, in hindsight, if he had done the right thing. He had been so excited to go back to Heaven, and so happy for Crowley that he would be able to be an angel again. But did he really want the demon to change? He loved Crowley for exactly who he was; fiercely protective, caring, and a lot kinder than he cared to admit (not that Aziraphale would admit that to anyone but himself).

And he should have known that Crowley wouldn't want to go back. Why would he want to go back to the place that cast him out for asking a few questions? As far as Aziraphale was concerned, he had done far worse things that Crowley ever had, and he was still an angel. In fact, he was effectively in charge at the moment. But Crowley had been cast into Hellfire and made into a demon because he dared to ask about the point of it all.

Crowley always listened to Aziraphale, was always kind to him, and Aziraphale never bothered to return the favor. Instead, he let Crowley love him from afar, rejected him, and left him in the dust. And he was still an angel?

Aziraphale tried to push all of that to the side every day and he always failed. He would think about Crowley every time he did anything. He missed the demon so much that, even though he didn't actually need to breathe, he felt like he was struggling with the task.

He wasn't sure he could ever go back even if he wanted to. Would Crowley ever forgive him? He was a very forgiving person, even though he was a demon, but could the ever recover from this? Aziraphale had taken Crowley's love and practically spat in his face. He regretted parting the way that he did, but could he fix it? Would Crowley want it to be fixed?

He wanted to go back to earth and find Crowley, to beg for forgiveness and try to turn things around. But he was doing God's work, and he couldn't walk away.

A/N: The title is from the song Falling Apart by Caskets, which is an amazing alternative rock song about depression, and I personally think that's very relevant right now considering what Neil did to us. Anyway, if you like alt rock, give it a listen!