'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 43

2 hours to the End of the World

The pub was dimly lit and filled with the murmur of conversations, a few patrons nursing their drinks in sombre reflection. Y/N and Crowley found a secluded corner, seeking solace in the dim ambience. Y/N had recovered from the smoke and was no longer coughing, but the events at Aziraphale's bookshop still weighed heavily on their hearts.

They sat at a worn wooden table and ordered drinks, each lost in their thoughts. Y/N couldn't help but ask the question that had been gnawing at her since the fiery destruction of the bookshop.

Y/N mustered the courage to break the silence. "Where's Aziraphale?" she asked in a small voice, her eyes pleading for a more hopeful answer.

Crowley's gaze fell into his drink, the tone of his voice heavy with sorrow. "I don't know."

The two shared a look, the unspoken words hanging in the air like an unfillable void. Y/N knew without him needing to say it. Aziraphale was gone. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she turned her attention to the drink before her.

They drank in silence, one glass turning into two, two into three, as the pain of Aziraphale's absence pressed upon them. Their glasses clinked softly as they were refilled. The alcohol served as a temporary escape, offering a hazy barrier between their grief and the real world.

Crowley finally broke the silence, his voice subdued. "What happened at the bookshop?"

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her eyes misted with tears as she recounted the dreadful events. "Aziraphale was talking to the Metatron, and he... he called you," she began, her voice quivering. "But then... Shadwell entered the shop." Her voice grew shaky as she continued, "Shadwell accused Aziraphale of witchcraft, and he tried to exorcise him. Then he just... he disappeared."

Y/N explained how Shadwell had also attempted to exorcise her but had been interrupted by a sudden flashback, causing her to hit her head as she fell. Her voice grew distant as she confessed, "I don't remember anything after that. But the next thing I knew, you were saving me from the fire."

Crowley sighed, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. He ordered another drink, the glass trembling slightly in his grasp as he slowly allowed himself to get lost in the numbing embrace of alcohol. The world outside faded away as they shared their pain and their drinks, drowning their sorrow in the dimly lit solitude of the pub.

Crowley nursed his drink, the glass clinking against the polished wood as he raised it to his lips. He turned to Y/N, his eyes a little bleary, and leaned in.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, the alcohol lacing his words, "you mentioned flashbacks. What are they all about?"

Y/N sighed, her eyes focused on her glass, the amber liquid swirling inside. She hesitated momentarily, then began, "Ever since we delivered the Antichrist, I've been getting these flashbacks. They're like fragments of memory, but they're vivid and powerful. And they've gotten more frequent recently."

Crowley furrowed his brow, his mind racing as he connected the dots. "Did you have one the other day when I was looking at places to escape to?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze finally meeting his. "Yes."

Crowley leaned in, his concern palpable. "What are they about?"

Y/N's brow furrowed as she considered the question. "They're about my past. Scenes from my life, moments that seem to hold some sort of significance. But the thing is-"

Before she could elaborate further, the air in the pub shifted. A sudden chill swept through the room, and a faint whisper of celestial presence caught their attention. Before their very eyes, Aziraphale's apparition materialised, surprising them both.

"Aziraphale?" they exclaimed almost in unison.

Crowley leaned forward, asking cautiously, "Are you... here?"

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, his expression still slightly disoriented. "Good question. Not certain," he mused, his voice echoing in a peculiar manner. "I seem to have been... discorporated."

Aziraphale took in Crowley's sombre demeanour, the regret in his eyes, and the weight of the recent loss that hung in the air. "Did you go to Alpha Centauri?" he asked.

Crowley shook his head, his voice heavy with emotion. "No, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend," he admitted, his voice trailing off as he glanced at the empty chair where Aziraphale should have been sitting.

Aziraphale's form seemed to waver slightly, as if he could feel the weight of the moment even without his physical presence. "I'm so sorry to hear it," he replied sincerely, his concern etched on his ghostly features.

Aziraphale looked at them with a mixture of concern and urgency. "Listen, back at my bookshop," he began, "there's a book I need you to get."

Crowley and Y/N exchanged sombre glances. Y/N's voice was heavy with sorrow as she informed the apparition, "I'm sorry, Aziraphale, but it's gone. The bookshop burnt down. Everything is gone."

Aziraphale looked genuinely disheartened at the news. He started to express his disappointment, saying, "Oh, dear. That's rather unfortunate."

Y/N leaned forward, a pained expression on her face as she inquired, "What was the book?"

The angel, tears in his otherworldly eyes, began to answer, "The one the young lady with the bicycle left behind. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of—"

But he couldn't finish the sentence before Crowley burst out in excitement. He interrupted Aziraphale with an ecstatic exclamation, raising the charred book high above his head for all to see. "Agnes Nutter! Yes, I took it!"

Aziraphale couldn't help but smile, even in his ghostly form, and a tear of gratitude sparkled in his eye. "Look inside, I made some notes. It's all in there. I worked it all out." he admitted.

Y/N's heart was heavy with anxiety, and desperation dripped from her words as she asked, "Aziraphale, where are you? We'll come to you!"

Aziraphale's spectral face bore a melancholic expression. "I'm afraid that's not possible, my dear. I- I'm not really anywhere yet. I don't have a physical body."

Crowley chimed in, his eyes locked onto Y/N. "You just need to find a receptive body to possess." Aziraphale turned to face her. Y/N felt their gaze, a realisation dawning upon her.

"You mean me," Y/N said, her voice low with apprehension. It was a daunting prospect, to let Aziraphale into her body. But she understood the urgency of the situation.

Aziraphale gazed at her, a solemn expression upon his face. "Indeed, my dear. We need to move quickly if we're to prevent Armageddon."

She nodded, though fear still gnawed at the corners of her mind. Aziraphale's apparition hovered closer, attempting to enter Y/N's body, but it was as if an invisible barrier stopped him.

Y/N could feel the presence, like a gentle touch, but it did not take hold. Aziraphale withdrew, a hint of concern in his ephemeral features. "It seems I can't possess your body, Y/N. It's as though your vessel is already occupied."

Her heart sank for a moment, uncertainty clawing at her resolve. However, there was no time for hesitation. Aziraphale needed her; the world needed her.

Aziraphale spoke once more, the urgency in his voice echoing through the bar. "Listen, both of you. We need to get a wiggle on. We must go to Tadfield Airbase. That's where the end of the world will occur. I'll meet you there."

As Aziraphale's apparition gradually faded, Crowley asked in bewilderment, "What?"

The last words they heard from the departing angel were a reminder of their destination: "Tadfield Airbase."

Crowley couldn't help but mutter to himself, "I heard that it was the wiggle on."

Downing the rest of his drink, he tucked the scorched book under his arm and declared to Y/N, "Let's go. We've got a world to save."

With determination in their hearts, Y/N and Crowley left the bar and quickly made their way to the Bentley. The engine roared to life, and they sped off towards Tadfield Airbase, their focus now squarely set on the impending end of the world.