The End of the World...Again? [Aziracrow]

1

"I forgive you" -he exclaimed, his eyes glassy with tears and an expression that conveyed both <<"this is a low blow">> and <<"do it again.">>

Crowley, feeling as though he'd been doused with a bucket of ice water, simply turned away. "Forget it..." -he muttered as he left the bookshop.

Metatron entered shortly after and took Aziraphale with him. Crowley watched from a distance by the Bentley, harbouring the hope that the angel, his angel, would defy heaven to join him and remain as they were for the sake of humanity. But it was not to be; they exchanged glances one last time before Aziraphale stepped into the lift that would take him to heaven. Disappointed, Crowley looked around, appreciating the street that provided him with a sense of security, knowing he wouldn't pass this way again—not without a reason, and that reason was his angel, whom he had lost.

He got into the Bentley and started the engine, feeling an indescribable anger and disappointment. As he drove, that anger gradually transformed into sadness, and his heart, which he was now certain he possessed, continued to break more and more.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid" -he repeated to himself as he gradually increased his speed, gripping the steering wheel tightly (though not too tightly, for he loved his Bentley too much to risk breaking it). He drove for hours, distancing himself as much as he could from the bookshop, the park, the Ritz—he couldn't escape the memories, for they had travelled the world together, encountering each other time and again. His mission now was to distance himself from the places they had frequented over the last century, especially the bookshop.

When Metatron told Aziraphale that they were preparing for the Second Coming, he felt torn about whether to accept the position of Supreme Archangel. Yet he sensed that if he took the role, he might be able to change things. Upon arriving in heaven, he wasn't welcomed with much enthusiasm by the other angels; Michael had wanted the position, and Uriel still regarded him as a mere traitor. However, after Gabriel had run off with Beelzebub, there were no other options available, despite their continued annoyance at the "havoc" he had caused. He was elevated to Supreme Archangel in a small ceremony, feeling a strange, slight pain within him, but nothing he considered unusual. The other archangels offered him a brief bow in respect before dispersing to their tasks.

Aziraphale could feel a tremendous power within him, which frightened him a little, but he wouldn't show it. A lower-ranking angel approached him and handed him a change of clothes; Aziraphale looked at it and refused.

"I'd prefer to stick with this for a while," -he adjusted his waistcoat.

Metatron chuckled lightly. "Ah, the habits. You'll see this was the best decision, Aziraphale, for everyone." -He patted him on the shoulder and continued on his way.
The new Supreme Archangel gazed at the Earth with longing, touched his lips, and let a tear slip down.

«I promise things will be better, Crowley.»

And without further ado, he dedicated himself to his duties. Of course, from time to time, he would spy on the bookshop to ensure that Muriel hadn't sold anything. Other times he would watch his friend, but mostly he was drinking or causing demonic mayhem—not the kind he had when Aziraphale was on Earth, but rather as if he were a true demon, one that wasn't gentle. This filled Aziraphale's heart with sorrow and pain.

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This is the first chapter of what would be a fanfic imagining the events of the third season, sorry for reliving the trauma, but it was necessary.
If you want it to continue, vote and comment.