Exactly! This Is How Our Story Should Have Ended! No Naked Gabriel, No Rainy Rain Miracles, No Edinburgh,

Exactly. I would give anything for this right now.

What is the key to enjoying life? (x)

Things to Do Tonight

Drink

Get drunk.

Get very very drunk

Don't want to sit in a pub. Pub's full of people and if I miracle-shoo them all out, I will just draw attention to myself. Don't need that now. I draw enough attention as it is. I'm taking out the bottle, walk over the bridge and look at the Thames.

Pretty little stars in the water. Not the real thing, but still pretty. Glittering like anything.

Why does everyone always seem to know where my car is? I keep driving the Bentley around, don't want to stay in one place for too long. Other demons can spot me, of course. But these little notes and letters from Maggie and Nina and Muriel keep finding me, too.

Bla bla bla coffee. Bla bla bla talk. Bla bla bla we're here for you bla bla bla you don't have to go through this alone.

Go away. Just go away.

I've been on my own for 6000 years, I don't plan on changing that now. And least of all with humans who shouldn't be dragged into this. Friendship with humans never ends well, someone always gets turned into pillars of salt.

Or killed. One minute Kain's a baby pulling my hair and puking all over my robes, next thing, you know, he's an angry teenager smacking his brother with a stone. Broke Eve's heart. Should've stayed away.

And Muriel keeps writing about all the books they've been reading and keeps asking stuff about customers and taxes and stockkeeping and why would I know any of this? Nina and Maggie run shops, too, they're far better with these things.

Do you actually want to get in trouble with heaven, little bee? Can you even imagine what they could do to you for hanging out with a demon?

'M not stupid, you know, I know it's you trying to reach me from the bookshop's number. I can only hope Shax was too stupid to read any of your little notes, when she put my mail under the wipers. I don't think she has back channels to rat you out to heaven, but you never know.

Did the real stars look as glittery as their reflection in the water?

Whatever. You don't miss what you can't remember, right? If I wanted to see stars, I could just go watch a Disney movie.

Now where did I park the Bentley? Why does everyone always seem to know where my car is, except for me, myself and I?

"Hello Crowley."

No no no no no no, not you. Not you, too.

Why can't you just all go away and let me wallow in my misery?

~ * ~

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Didn't you have a booping paw?

Where we left off:

Nina, purveyor of coffee, whirling into the scene like a thunderstorm, woke our hero from his precious sleep (and a weird dream) to give him - me - another telling-off.

She's quite scary when she's angry. Not demon scary, but most definitely human scary.

"Do you even understand how all of this affects Maggie?" I'm not surprised at the burst of emotion in her voice as she says the name.

"She's been worried sick about you! Trying to write to you, trying to call you, and some days even waiting by your car for you to wake up, so she could make sure you're all right."

"I'm not." How does she even find me? I drive around and park the Bentley in different places every couple of days.

"We KNOW. Do you think none of us has gone through breakup before?"

Well, maybe you have. I certainly haven't. I don't do relationships and I have no idea how to process this. Except for drinking, sleeping and curling up in a little snake ball of pain.

"Of course it's bad. It hurts like hell..."

Worse. Speaking from experience here.

"... and you have every right to be sad and mopey and angry, but stop shutting out your friends. Talk to us! At least let us know where you are and what's going on."

"I don't have friends. Never wanted friends. Completely friendless person, me."

She sighs. "Yes, you're a devil and you're evil, blah blah blah, real man solves his problems on his own. Heard all of that before, except maybe the devil part. But you've got to realize that your actions have consequences for others. You're not alone in this world."

But I am.

I've always been alone. For 6000 years on this godforsaken planet, doing the bidding of my ridiculous headoffice and trying not to go completely insane. Using every excuse to be close to my angel and every excuse not to get too close, so we wouldn't be in trouble. Missing him after every encounter, every meeting, every conversation. Sometimes positively yearning for his presence, but never ever being able to act on it.

Because that's just the way things are.

I was alone the last time I hit rock bottom. Healing one step at a time, slowly piecing myself together after my 33 years of torture. Because I allowed myself to save one human soul and got caught at it. One. Single. Human. Soul.

No good deed goes unpunished.

I never had anyone to talk to because angels are my enemies, demons are my rivals and humans wouldn't be able to shoulder all this bullshit that's been going on with me. And God doesn’t answer to any of us.

And yet, Nina has the nerve to come here, shake me awake and tell me that I'm not alone? That I’m supposed to 'talk about it'? Throw overboard all my harshly earned survival skills because now apparently, I have friends?

No, absolutely not. I don't make 'friends' with other people. It's not something demons - the word is demon, not devil - do. You can stop pretending to care now and walk away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she throws my very own words back at me. “For once in your life trust somebody!”

~ * ~

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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*.

Where we left off: Nina scolded me for being mean to Maggie...

Now she actually WANTS me to be mean to Maggie and even meaner to Muriel. People! Will you ever make sense?

But let's rewind and start... right here.

"For once in your life, trust somebody."

No, no, wait, that's too far back. A little further along.

"Fine", Nina says, although it's not. "You've made your point, Mr. Crowley."

Did I? And is my point pointy enough for you to go away, never come back and leave me to my misery?

It certainly seems so, because Nina backs away. "We can offer you our friendship, we cannot, however, make you accept it. I still think you're making a mistake, but the choice is yours, and you're old enough to take responsibility for your own actions."

She falls silent for a moment. The sun's setting with the buildings casting long shadows over the road.

"I'll leave you alone from now on." Nina half turns, looks back over her shoulder. Her features seem calmer than before, but there's still some anger in her eyes. "And Maggie will too, once you explain to her that you don't need or value her friendship. I trust, you will do this soon and won't leave her worrying about you any longer."

What? "Explain to her... what?"

"This. Do you think, ghosting is an appropriate behaviour?"

"I'm not a ghost, 'm a demon."

"Don't take it literal." She sighs. "Ghosting means not answering people's messages and pretending you aren't there. It's very hurtful to others because it leaves people worrying and they never get any closure. That's what you've been doing to Maggie and me and I haven't even started to talk about Muriel."

I didn't know there was a word for it, but I never meant to do anything. How can I do anything by doing nothing? It doesn’t make any sense.

And yet, I know she’s right. Doing nothing sometimes hurts people most of all. Simply standing by and just allowing things to happen.

“What’s that with Muriel? There’s a croak in my voice I can’t supress right now. “I don’t understand, what do they have to do with it?”

“She… wait, Muriel uses “they”? Nina seems surprised. “I assumed since you and Mr. Fell both look like guys and she… they chose to look like a woman... you can all choose what to look like, can’t you?”

Great. Humans are not supposed to know about any of these things. I hope no one tries to erase her memory or turns her into a pillar of salt.  

“Yes, we can, but Aziraphale and I have been to Earth for such a long time that we understand the concept of gender. We use the ‘he’ pronoun when we present male and the ‘she’ pronoun when we present female. Most angels don’t know or don’t worry about these things, so they go by “they” unless it feels right for them to go by something else. Muriel has only been to Earth for a couple of months and it’s their first time here, so they wouldn’t worry about gender or pronouns yet. “They” simply makes most sense in their case because it’s neutral and doesn’t assume anything. And before you ask, no, we don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Procreate. I thought that would probably be your next question.”

She tilts her head to the side, giving me a long apprehensive look. “So, you’ve had this kind of conversation with humans before.”

“Well... occasionally.” It’s not that I never had closer bonds with humans before. I just try to avoid it because it’s trouble.

Fortunately for me, Nina does not press the point.

Instead, she takes a deep breath and starts talking about Muriel.

~*~

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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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Things to Do Today

Slee.. oh, wait!

There's a missed call from Aziraphale on my phone.

Yes, that's his name on the display. Did they finally insist on giving him a mobile phone in heaven? Even if they did, how would my phone know that it's him? Wouldn't it just be Unknown Number?

The number connected to his name in my phone is the number of the bookshop. He no longer is in the bookshop. If he was in the bookshop, I would feel that he's on Earth. I no longer feel him on Earth, so he can't be on Earth and in the bookshop.

Phone, delete missed call.

Phone, delete contact Aziraphale.

Phone, block this number!

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To have known your love and lost it - it feels like Falling a second time.

"You do not know me."

(But oh, how he wishes you did.)

Anonymous asked:

"How do you know that 'Sorrows of Satan' is a better book than 'Faust' if you don't even read books?"

1. Lovely, clever human people inventing cars, and motorways... and audiobooks. 

2. Actually met Marie Corelli because downstairs was very interested in her soul. Needless to say, she thwarted me pretty much the same way her character Mavis did with Lucio/Satan. Also, needless to say, Satan in the book took the rejection much better than sulky old me. Never met Goethe though, his soul was always too sure a thing.

3. An angel I used to know got the book recommended by some Irish bloke we both used to know - Oscar - I believe. Wrote books, too, and they threw him in prison for no other reason than having a boyfriend... People, *shakes head* I will never get the hang of you.

Anyhow, said angel was head over heels for the book and went on for hours how the heroine is a clever, free-spirited, and creative author while Goethe's Gretchen is the typical two-dimensional saint-harlot that male authors used to write back in the days.

4. 'm a Demon! *snorts* I might have lied.