'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 37

Friday, One Day to the End of the World

The early afternoon sun cast a warm golden glow over the bandstand in the quaint park, where Crowley and Y/N had been waiting for Aziraphale. Crowley's agitation was palpable as he paced back and forth, while Y/N watched from her perch on the weathered wooden fence.

Aziraphale finally appeared, strolling in with the serene countenance that typically characterised the angel. His eyes met Crowley's, and he could sense the tension in the demon's movements. Aziraphale offered a polite nod to Y/N before addressing Crowley.

"Well? Any news?" Crowley's voice dripped with impatience as he posed the question.

Aziraphale sighed softly, his gaze drifting upwards towards the heavens. "No, not yet. But you must understand, my dear Crowley, it's all part of the Great Plan."

"The Great Plan?" Crowley practically spat the words out, his frustration and disdain evident. He couldn't suppress his expletive-laden thoughts. "Great pustulent mangled bollocks to the Great Blasted Plan!"

Aziraphale raised an admonishing eyebrow. "May you be forgiven."

Crowley scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I won't be forgiven. Not ever. That's part of a demon's job description. Unforgivable, that's what I am!"

Their argument escalated, the two ethereal beings clashing with their opposing viewpoints, mirroring the eternal struggle between Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale, with his deep-seated faith in divine order, and Crowley, the defiant demon who had always danced to his own tune.

As the heated exchange continued, Y/N felt a growing sense of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew the identity of the Antichrist and where he could be found. She had averted their attention from the truth, concealing it like a carefully guarded secret. The time had come to decide whether to reveal the secret she had been carrying or keep it hidden to preserve the fragile balance between Heaven and Hell.

But as the angel and demon continued to argue fervently about the fate of the Antichrist, Y/N remained silent, uncertain of the right course of action, torn between the loyalty she felt for both of them and the knowledge she possessed. The bandstand, once a place of serenity, had become a battleground for divine forces and ethereal arguments, all hinging on the fate of one very special child.

Their voices grew louder, laced with frustration and anger. Y/N, standing nearby, tried to mediate, her voice gentle and soothing as she attempted to steer them toward a resolution.

"Please, Aziraphale, Crowley, let's not fight," Y/N implored, her voice a calming presence amidst the storm of their disagreement.

But her efforts fell on deaf ears, for in a moment of misplaced frustration, both Aziraphale and Crowley turned on her. "Stay out of this, Y/N," Crowley snapped, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

Aziraphale, equally frustrated, echoed the sentiment. "Yes, Y/N, please stay out of it."

Baffled and hurt, Y/N backed away, retreating from the heated argument that seemed to have no end in sight. She watched as the two entities continued to bicker, feeling like an outsider in a clash that she never wanted to be a part of.

The argument raged on, fueled by their fundamental differences and the mounting strain of their shared mission. It was a conflict of perspectives, a struggle for control and influence over the Antichrist, and neither was willing to yield. The tension reached its peak when Crowley, in a burst of exasperation, muttered, "I thought you, Aziraphale, of all people, would understand. I thought we were friends! I don't even know why I'm still talking to you."

Aziraphale retorted with equal annoyance, his composure fraying. "And I don't know why I ever agreed to work with you in the first place."

Crowley, feeling defeated, turned to leave. His footsteps echoed against the ground, growing fainter as he walked away. But Aziraphale couldn't let him go without a parting shot.

"I don't even like you", Aziraphale said, his voice firm. "And we're not friends. We're an angel, a demon, and a human."

The final words, ones meant to wound, hung heavily in the air as Aziraphale turned and walked away. Left behind, Crowley couldn't help himself. "You're wrong, you know," he called out to the retreating figure of the angel. "You do like me."

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, torn between his anger and his feelings. His eyes welled with tears, his vulnerability laid bare. He turned back to face Crowley, who had taken a few steps toward him. The tension was palpable, an unspoken yearning for resolution.

With a tremble in his voice, Aziraphale delivered a harsh truth. "Even if I knew where the Antichrist was, I wouldn't tell you. We're on opposite sides."

Crowley closed the remaining distance between them, standing just inches away from Aziraphale. He regarded Aziraphale, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and desperation. "We're on our side," he pleaded, trying to break through Aziraphale's resolve.

Aziraphale, tears glistening in his eyes, shook his head. "There is no 'our side' Crowley. Not anymore. It's over."

Aziraphale took one last fleeting glance at Y/N, who was fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from her own eyes. And with that, Aziraphale left. His footsteps echoed with finality as he walked away from Crowley, leaving their partnership fractured.

The park had once been a place of solace and peace for them, but now it felt like the stage for a battle of wills.

Crowley and Y/N, left behind by the escalating discord, retreated to Crowley's apartment. Their silent journey back served as a stark reminder of the fragile balance they sought to maintain. The weight of the argument, the biting words, and the strained atmosphere filled the space between them. It was an awkward and uncomfortable tension that neither of them was eager to address.