Mhm... Ermmm... Chrchrchr... Glll... Mmm... Ngk!

Things To Do Today

Be angry at Nina for making things so difficult. Instead of talking to me, she could’ve just written more notes for me to ignore.

Ponder on Nina’s words

Overthink

Go back to sleep because my brain hurts from overthinking

Wake up and work up the courage to speak to Maggie and to Muriel

Have a few drinks to be more courageous

Sober up because I can’t very well talk to them drunk. Maggie would probably not take me seriously and Muriel would be really confused or even scared. They haven’t experienced me in full drunk mode yet.

Yell at plants to let off some steam

Drive around, not necessarily in the right direction.

Nina says that Muriel thinks it’s their fault that I’m not talking to them, not visiting the bookshop anymore and not responding to any of their notes and cards. I was so shocked I almost dropped my shades.

I can’t wrap my head around it. I couldn’t even wrap my entire body around it if I was in my snake form.

I mean, we all messed up in some way or other. The angels messed up, the demons messed up, Gabriel and Beelzebub messed up, Shax messed up, Aziraphale messed up, Floating-Head-Coffee-Or-Death-Guy messed up, Maggie und Nina messed up, and I have been walking chaos since I started walking on legs. (Might have been crawling chaos before that). The only person who really didn’t have anything to do with any of this, was former-inspector-constable, now bookseller-to-bee.

Why do they think it’s their fault? I don’t understand it at all. I know that humans sometimes feel guilty for something they’re not responsible for, but Muriel is an angel. They should think that they’re always doing the right thing.

But then, Aziraphale has experienced guilt before. Even then when things weren’t his fault. Perhaps guilt is an angel thing after all.

I wish I could tell Muriel that this has nothing to do with them. It's a good thing that they keep the bookshop safe.

I just can’t be in there at the moment because everything reminds me of him. But I can't talk about that to Muriel. I can’t be on Whickber Street, I can’t talk to Maggie and Nina, I can’t deal with this, I can’t process it. And I’m sorry for causing them pain. I don’t want any friends because I don’t want to cause others pain.

It was my damn job to cause others pain for so long.

~*~

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@aziraphalesdiaries @muriel-not-the-dim-one

Where we left off: Shax, newly anointed Duchess of Hell, jumpscared our hero in his bentley….

…. and apparently, she wants to bribe me with liquor-filled chocolates to come back to Hell. I’m not going back, but first I puncture the chocolates with a pen to drink all the liquor. Oh, and did I mention I’m small? (the puncturing and drinking thingie wouldn’t work too well if I was my usual size).

“Stop deluding yourself, Crowley. Deep inside, you already know that Aziraphale left for one reason only. You are a demon and you will never be good enough for him.” Shax tilts her head to the side in one of those familiar bird-demon gestures and watches me intently with one eye.  “How does that make you feel, Crowley? Hurt? Angry? Will you let an angel treat you this way? Break you and cast you away like a used toy?”

I clench the pen and ram into the next piece of chocolate like a tiny lance. This is ridiculous. She doesn’t know the least thing about my angel. However delusional Aziraphale may be for believing he can make a difference in Heaven, deep down his intentions are good. He never wanted to hurt me.

“You gave up everything just to be with him, and you’ve risked everything, even your own destruction. And at the first grasp of power – he’s gone!”

No. No, no, no, no! This isn’t about power. Aziraphale doesn’t care about power at all. He wants to change the system from within. He wants to turn Heaven into the place of light, he always believed it’s meant to be.

But in this belief, there’s no place for a demon. There would have been a place for the angel I was, but I can no longer be that angel.

Shax’ eyes glitter. “I’m not offering you a job, Crowley, I’m offering you a chance at revenge. Rise from the ashes and use that burning fury inside you against the one who wronged you. Unite with me and strike him down on the battlefield in the Great War to come.”

Revenge? Burning fury? I almost choke on the burning whiskey running down my throat. Course, I understand where this is going, she wants to me to direct my anger against Aziraphale. She wants me to become the big bad demon in shiny black armour raining fire and destruction in his unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Bloody Heaven, I can almost picture this. Aziraphale and me having a face-off in the midst of battle. He’s probably wearing something silvery-white and carrying – I don’t know – some flaming sword or lancea-longini-spear-of-destiny-thingie. And then we’d look into each other’s eyes and stab each other very dramatically with Heaven and Hell watching. And maybe, just maybe, we’d die even more dramatically in each other’s arms with white and black wings entwined.

There’s only one little mistake in this scenario, we did this whole silver knight - dark knight scenario a thousand years ago in King Arthur’s Court and it hasn’t become any less pathetic since then. And second – a crank handle isn’t really made for stabbing. Or fighting in wars for that matter.

“Sorry, Shax.” I’m back to normal size now, sitting in my usual seat behind the wheel. “Nice career option, just not seeing myself there. Anyway, thanks for the booze and tell Hastur, I said ‘hi’”.

She looks at me incredulously. “This choice will have consequences. If you stand aside like a coward, you will be crushed like one.”

“There are always consequences.” I shrug. “But it’s not cowardice, although you probably don’t believe me.”

“What is it, then?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I just don’t feel it, Shax. All this silly power play for rank and influence and who-get’s-the-biggest-throne-and-the-shiniest-medal. I know, we demons are supposed to live for this, but I just don’t care.  And, you know, that eternal-fiend-thing with the angels? Don’t feel that either.”

“Earth has made you weak.” She shakes her head. “All of us will assemble and take our positions in the last stand. Like on a chess board. If you don’t take yours, you will be totally insignificant in the game to come. And my offer was better than anything you could've hoped to achieve. You could’ve been my Second-in-Command, once I sit on Beelzebub’s old throne.”

She can’t know that she’s already the second person to offer me a position like that. The third, actually, if you count “The United States of Beelzebub”.

No.

No Heaven for me. No Hell for me. I’m done.

“I’m perfectly fine with being insignificant.” I want to add more, but she’s already vanished.

Anyway, I’m keeping the coffee. Or in my case, the liquor.

~*~

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Diary Entries on AO3 - Chapter 3 online

Uploaded the next part of the diary entries on AO3 :

Aziraphales Diaries and the Secret (not so Secret) Diary of Crowley - Chapter 3

Basically, it's those parts where my former boss ambushes me and I have to explain to them about pacts. Because they seem to have forgotten all about pacts in these few months out of Hell. Anyway, I can't think of any demon going for that USB plan thingie.

Thanks to @taraiha for constantly reminding me that ducks have ears and for making sure, my phone did not block the bookshop's number. And thanks to Nina und Maggie and @muriel-not-the-dim-one for not giving up on evil old me, although I am... well, maybe not evil all the time, but nasty, snarky, grouchy, grumpy and most of all stubborn.

And thanks to londondavi_2008, ineffablymiles, AMagnificentObsession, RainbowCloud31, IAmtheproblem, oboextra, CrissyCoo, Lilyfev, telekinesiskyle7, and Clorofila for leaving kudos and comments on my whiny ramblings (and Aziraphale's beautiful and poetic words).

I'll go back to missing my angel now.

*curls up in a little snake ball of pain*.

Yeah, well, sometimes I forget that I've got wings, too. Or I forget that I could just turn into a big badass snake.

There's one thing I don't forget, however: Rescuing me makes him happy, too.

Snoose the Goose. The Snoose Game. (Az wins the fuck-shit-up wingspan.)

Things To Do Today

Sleep

Burn more mail

Why is there always so much mail under the wipers? That can't be right. There never was so much mail under the wipers in the months and years before. And Shax never put the mail under the wipers anyway. She always insisted on giving it to me personally.

Seems there were notes in between the letters. Or letters with notes. I don't know. I don't care. It's all burned now.

Something or other from Nina and from Maggie. Maggy? Don't know how to spell her name. Spelling's hard anyway. Doesn't matter, I'm never talking to her again.

And Muriel obviously wrote me some glittery card thingie for Valentine's Day. That must be the reason why the ashes are so glittery.

Someone needs to explain the little bee what Valentine's Day is for.

Someone, not me. I'm going back to sleep.

~*~

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Things To Do Today

Drive.

Just drive

Nothing else.

Waking up this morning, I knew instantly that today is a driving day. I've sobered up to get rid of the hangover, but my headache's still there and it's persistent. Should've sobered up yesterday night, but I kinda like the fuzzy head. Keeps me from thinking.

If there's enough pain in my head, I suppose, I won't worry too much about the pain in my heart.

I don't want to go anywhere near the bookshop. I don't, but I need to return the CD to Muriel before it looses its song. Still, I drive around all day to work up the courage.

The song starts five or six times while I'm driving back to Soho. I try to listen, but in the end I always turn it off. My car turns it back on. I turn it back off.

At the horizon, far beyond the end of the road, the sun's going down in a blaze of red and orange. Like the whole world was about to end in fire.

The street lanterns at Whickber Street flicker on as I pass through. The stores are closed at this hour, but there's still light in most of the restaurants and, of course, the pub.

I could go there, have a whiskey. Or I could have a bottle of wine at Marguerite's or a bottle of Tsingtao at Mr & Mrs Chen's place.

No, I can't. It would never be just one glass or one bottle. Wasting yourself on your own is fine, but not in front of people you used know. Not front of people he used to know.

If I was human, I'd probably be dead in a ditch somewhere three times over. Being who I am, I know how far I can take this. This may be the worst time, but it is certainly not the first.

It's not even the first time I got my heart ripped out, but last time happened to be a bit more literal.

Do mine eyes deceive me? There's light in the bookshop. No, not in the shop itself, but up in the flat, in the very guest room that Gabriel used to live in when he was Jim.

For a brief moment I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if Aziraphale was still in there. He'd notice I was on my way and open the door for me. And then we'd sit inside and talk about something or other, have a drink or two, and maybe talk some more. He would have a snack and I would watch him eat. He would get excited about something and bounce around and I would listen to the ridiclous sounds coming out of his mouth.

And watch his smile. That beautiful beautiful smile. And everything would just be fine for a few hours.

A familiar silhouette at the window. Muriel is sitting there, probably on the inside sill, their head bent over a book they're holding. They're a fast reader, turning the pages at a quick and steady pace.

I wonder why Muriel didn't take Aziraphale's room. It's bigger than the guest room and it's not like he'll be back anytime soon.

Angels and their faith...

I drop the CD in the letterbox inside the door, trying to avoid any noises. Back on the road, I look up to the window again.

Muriel still seems busy with their book. I hope, they read all the brilliant ones first, then the good ones before moving on to the trash that they inevitably will find.

But then, these humans never can tell the difference. Goethe's Faust was a good book. Marie Corelli's Sorrows of Satan was a brilliant one.

I cross the road and signal for my car to come pick me up. Nina is still inside her closed-for-the-night-coffee shop sitting at a table across Maggie. They're talking to each other and they both look worried.

Time to get out of here. Just as the Bentley speeds around the corner, Maggie spots me and starts waving frantically. Nina looks up, too, her expression a mix and match between a sigh of relief and a death glare.

No. No talk. I don't want to talk to any of you. I did what I came for and now I'm leaving.

Just leave me alone, all of you!

~ * ~

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Smiles I will miss for the rest of my days on Earth.

Should've talked to him sooner, I guess. Before Heaven came and stole him away.

Why did it have to be so complicated to figure it all out?

Why is it always too late?

Just some wonderful smiles ❤️

Nah!

Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!

I'm not using you as a messenger angel to pass messages to the stupid git.

That would be because I've got nothing to say to him.

Noted Support me on ko-fi : http://ko-fi.com/veykun

Just a little bit of out-of-character meta

In the first scene, Aziraphale tries very hard to convince the other angels that Crowley is an enemy. It doesn't work for all of them because Michael grows suspicious, but the others seem fairly convinced, he's telling the truth.

In the second scene, Aziraphale tries to convince Crowley that the Metatron is a good guy. The phrasing he uses is similar as in the first scene, and so is his tone of voice.

I think it's possible that at this point of the story Aziraphale already feels or even understands that the Metatron is not a good guy, but he either tries to convince himself that this feeling is wrong or he tries to keep up appearances.

Of course, it's entirely possible that the similarity between both scenes is a coincidence, but in GO there are so many hidden clues between the lines that there might be some significance to it.

That's the thing with Aziraphale, he can always surprise you.

You think you've got him all figured out, sticking by the rules, loving his routines, and wearing the same clothes for over a century. And then.... BAM! I gave away my flaming sword! I took evening classes to learn French. I opened a bookshop in Soho.

I adopted five stray cats that live in my bookshop now. I gave away a corner of said bookshop to this girl who sells records. I want to borrow your car to go to Edinburgh! I did that thing with the Halo!

And you just stand there, openmouthed and think, oh I almost forgot, that you had in you. That you sometimes love to break rules, too. That you sometimes need the unexpected, the spontaneous, the chaotic. That there really is room for a 'me' in your well-ordered, well-mannered life.

Or at least, there used to be...

Good Omens S1E1 | S2E6