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He stood in front of the bookshop for quite a while; until Crowley was sure that he wouldn't turn around.
He stayed until he could no longer sense him, until every last bit of Aziraphale had left earth.
Crowley had just gotten in the Bentley and …drove. He didn’t even know where to. It didn’t matter, as long as it was far away. Far away from the bookshop, far away from the memories and far away from the pain. And he would’ve driven the Bentley to the bloody end of the world if it didn’t stop by itself at one point, not moving, despite his curses- it’s engine answering his pleas with a grumble before completely falling silent.
Stupid car.
Now that he was alone everything irrupted over him at once. He was gone. Crowley had lost Aziraphale before. But this time he chose to go; turn his back, leave him behind.
"For what?!"-
"What's your plan with all this?!", the demon almost screamed the words, his head against the steering wheel, knuckles white from gripping it tight. But they weren't only directed at Aziraphale.
…
No.
He covered his ears, not wanting to listen his trembling voice. "What is Your plan with all this?" The ineffable plan;
"God does not play dice with the universe; She plays an ineffable game of Her own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time."
He laughed. "This has to be some sort of sick joke!" The demon lifted his head, "I’m laughing! You hear that? I’M LAUGHING!", Crowley didn’t hold back his voice anymore. He could feel blood thumping in his ears, he could feel his voice; hurting as if it was covered with needles that scraped along his throat as he screamed into nothingness.
6000 years…
…
"For more than 6000 years I have been sitting out my punishment- I never-", he tried to keep his voice from breaking into another incomprehensible wave of sobs. "I never did anything else to deserve this…?", it was more a question than a statement, but Crowley knew that he wouldn’t get an answer.
He never did.
But, maybe for the angel inside him, he still turned to God when there was no where else to go.
Even though She abandoned him.
Just like he did.
The demon slung his arms around his trembling body. Despite his anger, he felt cold
…and alone.
"What an amazing ‘almighty’ you are…Still pissed because I wasn’t all up kissing Your a-", almost by instinct, he covered his mouth; muffling the words that almost escaped it. Crowley scoffed and lowered his hands, "To hell with it…can’t possibly fall a…third time right?!" Saying these words out loud for the first time made them real with no chance of taking them back. There was no denying it anymore;
He fell twice.
And yet- the second time hurt more, even though he wasn’t covered in boiling sulfur this time.
He now knew why the humans called it ‘falling’ in love.
Crowley hadn’t meant to fall…he had just hung around the wrong angel…for too long.
He didn’t talk for a while. “This was Your plan all along. You send him right?"
No answer. Of course.
"YOU PLANNED THIS RIGHT?! You planned this…just like You did back in Eden- putting a big apple tree in the middle but don't you dare touch it. Seems a bit like...like You wanted them to eat the apple from the very beginning!", he paused.
He ate the apple.
...
"I hope You're good to him though-", maybe he really was going insane, but he couldn't stop talking- he was just desperately trying to fill the void with words; because otherwise...there would be silence. Crowley could only remember a few instances of complete silence throughout his existence; in the beginning, when he was calling out to God after his Fall, when he was screaming Aziraphale's name to no avail as the bookshop burned down around him...and, surrounded by books yet again:
"You hear that?"
"I don't hear anything!"
"That's the point...no nightingales"
He could still see his face. His pale blue eyes staring at him in disbelief, hands trembling.
He probably hated him now.
Crowley buried his face in his hands. But no matter how hard he tried- he couldn't forget it. He couldn't forget him.
It started to rain. How ironic.
The rain drops drummed against the windows of the Bentley and Crowley wondered if God did it on purpose; just to spite him.
He didn't want to start any blasphemous rumors but he thought that God's got a sick sense of humor...and if he died he'd expect to find Her laughing.