'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 22

"Eleven Years Ago" (circa 2008)

The Bentley sped through the darkness of the night, slicing through the solitude of the empty roads. Y/N sat in the passenger seat, her thoughts drifting like shadows as Crowley skillfully navigated the winding path back to London. The radio played yet another Queen song that filled the void between them.

In a sudden burst of urgency, Crowley's fingers deftly tapped a few buttons on the car's sleek dashboard, initiating a hands-free call. The voice command system whirred to life, and Crowley's voice filled the car.

"Call Aziraphale." he barked at the dashboard.

The disembodied voice of the car's AI announced, "All lines to London are busy. Please try your call later."

Crowley let out a frustrated sigh and glanced at Y/N. "What is wrong with this thing?" he muttered.

Y/N knew exactly what was wrong with the phone system. Their venture earlier in the day had resulted in the entire phone system for London being wiped out. She contemplated reminding Crowley of this information but decided against it after seeing the look on his face. Quiet anger rolled off of Crowley's features, his mouth set in a frustrated scowl, yet his gaze was fixed with a sense of nervousness and fear.

The night swallowed the town they had just entered, its streets lined with quaint buildings that stood in somber stillness. Crowley pulled the Bentley over and climbed out of the car, leaving Y/N waiting in the comfortable darkness of the vehicle.

He found an old-fashioned phone booth at the edge of the sidewalk, a relic of times gone by. Crowley fished out some coins and inserted them into the slot, dialing Aziraphale's number with a sense of urgency.

Inside his bookshop, Aziraphale was in the process of tidying up, the shelves of rare and ancient tomes casting long shadows in the lamplight. The phone's shrill ring pierced the quiet of the shop, and he hurried to pick it up.

"I'm afraid we're quite definitely closed," he said with a hint of weariness, not expecting anyone to call at this hour.

A voice crackled on the other end, and Crowley's familiar drawl broke through the receiver. "Aziraphale, it's me. We have to talk."

Aziraphale's heart skipped a beat as he recognised the voice. "Crowley? What on Earth is going on?"

Crowley's reply was sombre, laden with gravity. "Armageddon has started."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and he could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Armageddon? Are you certain?"

Crowley's voice was laced with certainty as he replied, "Quite certain. We need to meet. Usual place. 1 pm tomorrow."

Aziraphale nodded, his mind racing as he realised the magnitude of the situation. "Very well."

As Crowley hung up the phone booth's receiver and returned to the Bentley, Y/N sat in the car with her own thoughts. The vision she had seen, those disjointed fragments of memory, swirled in her mind like pieces of a puzzle. She knew now that they were more than just fleeting glimpses, they were echoes of a past she had been part of.

She glanced over at Crowley, who was back in the driver's seat. The urge to share what she had experienced tugged at her, but she hesitated. The impending Armageddon weighed heavily on their shoulders, and she decided to keep her newfound knowledge to herself for the time being.

With a deep breath, Y/N focused on the road ahead, the darkened London skyline drawing closer with every passing moment. As they sped toward the city, the gravity of their situation hung heavy in the air, and the shadows of the past and present converged in the inky darkness of the night.

.......

St. James's Park lay bathed in the warm, afternoon light, and its tranquillity provided a stark contrast to the tumultuous events that had unfolded. Aziraphale sat on a weathered bench near the pond, a small bag of breadcrumbs in hand, ready to share with the ducks.

As the ducks waddled closer to the edge of the pond, their feathered forms glistening in the gentle sunlight, Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a momentary sense of calm. The world may have been hurtling toward an impending Armageddon, but here in the park, time seemed to stand still.

It was then that he heard footsteps approaching, and a warm smile tugged at his lips as he recognised the familiar presence. Crowley and Y/N emerged from the path, and Aziraphale's face lit up with genuine delight.

He rose from the bench, and without hesitation, Aziraphale opened his arms and embraced Y/N warmly. "Ah, my dear," he said with affection, "I'm so glad you're both here."

Y/N returned the embrace, feeling the genuine warmth of Aziraphale's affection. "It's good to see you too," she replied.

Crowley, leaning on the bench with his trademark swagger, simply offered a nod and a wry smile as he joined the pair. The trio began to amble through the park, their conversation inevitably turning to the ominous spectre of Armageddon that loomed over them.

Aziraphale, his expression more sombre now, started, "I do believe that our side, Heaven, will prevail in the war."

Crowley couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Aziraphale's confidence. "You really think it'll be as nice as you imagine it to be?" he questioned, his tone carrying a hint of scepticism.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, considering Crowley's words. "Well," he began slowly, "Heaven is a place of perfect order and harmony. There will be no more discord, no more suffering."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, and he let out a disbelieving chuckle. "No more music by famous composers, angel. Just 'Celestial Harmonies,'" he remarked dryly. "And do you really think there'll be fine foods in that paradise? No more sushi."

As the two continued their discussion, Y/N listened intently, her thoughts drifting to the implications of their words. The idyllic image of Heaven that Aziraphale painted seemed appealing on the surface, but Crowley's scepticism had a way of highlighting the potential downsides.

She couldn't help but ponder the consequences of Armageddon and what it would mean for humanity and the world they knew. As the trio strolled through St. James's Park, the weight of the impending battle settled on her shoulders, and she realised that the stakes were higher than she had ever imagined.

The trio arrived at the Bentley, parked inconveniently in a no-parking area. To make matters worse, a parking warden, donned in a fluorescent jacket, was attaching a stubborn wheel clamp to the sleek black car. He scribbled away on a ticket, seemingly oblivious to the urgency pressing down on the afternoon.

Crowley, who had been eager to reach Aziraphale's bookshop, was growing visibly frustrated. He didn't have time for parking violations and fines, not when Armageddon loomed overhead. He turned to Aziraphale with desperation in his eyes.

"Angel," he implored, "we need to stop this. Help me."

Aziraphale, however, hesitated, torn between his celestial duties and his affection for Crowley. The weight of the world was pressing down on their shoulders, and the angel couldn't bear the thought of defying Heaven's orders.

Y/N, sensing Crowley's frustration about to boil over, intervened with a timely suggestion. "How about we go for lunch together?" she proposed, trying to diffuse the tension that hung in the air.

Crowley's features softened, and he considered her words. "Lunch, you say?"

Y/N nodded, hoping to steer the conversation away from the impending crisis. "Yes, a nice, leisurely lunch."

Aziraphale, too, was swayed by the idea of a respite from their predicament. He chimed in, "And I believe I owe you one from Paris in 1793. We had crepes if I recall correctly."

With their agreement to have lunch settled, they climbed into the Bentley. As Crowley revved the engine and pulled away from the parking warden and his clamp, something remarkable happened. The stubborn wheel clamp burst off with a metallic clang, and the ticket fluttered to the ground, forgotten and unimportant.