Have You Heard?

Alternate Ending – Never Be Lonely

Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens. I do lay claim to Angel Crowley, however. Or is that Angel Crowley vers. 2.0?

---

It was a clear and balmy day in London, but for all the warmth and overall good feelings about in the air caused by the masses of angels celebrating, it might well have been barmy for one occupant of the Ritz, sitting alone at a table and eating his lunch in silence.

Aziraphale knew that he should be feeling joy, should be ecstatic on the behalf of his friend. But he could reluctantly admit that he was not joyous, and was certainly not ecstatic. He knew what ecstasy of the divine kind felt like, and this wasn't it.

It was silly, really. Why should he, Aziraphale, feel even slightly upset that the person who had been his enemy for the larger part of their associations with each other, was now on his side? Why should he feel at all miffed about that? He wasn't miffed. Not really. Much.

But the truth of the matter was that since they weren't opposing forces any more, it was probably going to be one or the other of them stationed on Earth at any given time. Heaven didn't need two agents. They'd probably think that sending Crowley was a bad thing, even, seen as how he had spent so long there tempting people and it really was a bit of an ingrained habit by now.

And Aziraphale would be simply left there, probably forgotten about, and definitely. . . lonely. With a new demon on the other side who most likely would not take kindly to even a hint of an Arrangement, wouldn't know which wine was from 1289 and which from 1875 simply by the look and taste of it, without even having to smell. The kind of person who would, without thinking anything of it, cause irredeemable damage to his books – just to get at him.

Crowley would never have done that. But Crowley wasn't likely to be coming back any time soon.

The angel groaned in a mixture of frustration and lonely melancholy, and reached for the bottle yet again, turning the wine into another of his favourites.

His hand never reached the tinted glass. Someone else's got there before him.

Without needing to think on it, he sobered himself up by reflex and looked up in disbelief.

"Crowley?!"

The ex-demon nervously adjusted his sunglasses.

"That's me," he said, tone matching his body language. "Or at least, I should hope it is. I'm actually starting to wonder."

"But – but – what are you doing here? I thought . . ."

"What?" A little of the old confidence returned and he sat in the empty seat across from the angel. Er, other angel. "That I'd be kept up there playing halos and harps for another decade or so? Nah. They need me."

At the dubious look that Aziraphale sent him – and likely not aware that he was even doing so – Crowley spread his hands slightly and shrugged.

"What can I say? It's true. Heaven needs me. It's hardly like you'd be any use down here on your own when Down There's going to have their next agent up and about ASAP. The only demon you've ever known in the last few centuries- "

"Millennium, actually," Aziraphale cut in helpfully.

"Yeah, that, is – well, me. You know zilch nada about demons in general. Which is where I come in," he finished proudly, raising a glass full of fine wine.

The blond angel scrutinised him for a few moments. Crowley was different. He hadn't known what to expect for when they finally did meet back up again, but having the truth thrown in his face, divine presence and all, was somewhat daunting. Crowley was friendly. Crowley was reassuring. Crowley was teasing. Crowley was willing to let him cut in at the middle of a sentence without issuing mild threats.

It wasn't, actually, bad. It also wasn't actually not Crowley. There had been several times over the past thousand years or more that certain of these more angelic qualities had come out, not that the demon Crowley had been would ever have acknowledged them. Quite a few of them had happened while they were drunk. Most had occurred during the last few months since the Armageddon that wasn't. Everything was simply out in the open now, and the only major difference was that the ex-demon didn't have too be afraid of showing that he was capable of being compassionate.

The only problem with this was that he almost definitely was also very much of a serpent at heart, and had grown far too used to life among humans. Heaven probably hadn't known quite what to do with him. Crowley probably enjoyed confusing them, too, Aziraphale thought light heartedly, trying to stop a smile from coming to his face.

"I. . . see," he finally said after a few minutes of silence. Crowley only nodded vaguely and had some more wine. When Aziraphale looked down at his plate to try to gather his thoughts into something more organised, however, he noticed that it was emptier than before. He sent a disapproving look the ex-demon's way.

"What?" He actually managed to sound innocent enough to be automatically targeted as the culprit, yet not guilty enough to sound like he actually cared. Typical Crowley. "What's mine is yours, right?"

Aziraphale simply shook his head with a smile, almost content simply to exist in the moment. There was one thing that was bothering him, though. . .

"Crowley. . .?"

"Yeah."

"Would you mind telling me why, if you're an angel now, you still need your glasses?" And that amount of red and black, he mentally added. Not that he was going to criticise the ex-demon on his fashion sense aloud – angel or not, his own choice of clothes had always left something to be desired for the serpent – but really. . .

Crowley smirked.

"Felt like it," he said, taking off the glasses. Underneath were the same snake eyes as always, and somewhere deep inside Aziraphale was glad. Crowley's eyes were a part of him. It would have been strange to look at him and not have the second or third thing he thought to be 'he looks like a snake'. "Of course," Crowley said with a self-conscious cough as he continued, "All the others tried talking me out of keeping them, but I said that even though snakes were supposed to be the bad guys, I was the one who started all the snake business. Besides, snakes themselves were always still His creatures." He laughed. "Not much they could say to that."

Aziraphale smiled. He was certain that the other had put it in such terms that the hadn't been able to say very much. He always had had a way with words.

"Do you need a place to stay?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Nah. Easier just to go back to where I was and all. Still got the Bentley, too. . ." he said, drifting off with fond pride for the car that had seen him through the dreaded symbol of the M25. His expression turned to something rather more sour a moment later. "Just wish I could keep my name too," was the depressed statement.

"Oh?"

Crowley ducked his head and hissed.

"They keep calling me that other name," he said. Though to Aziraphale it sounded more like a whine.

"And what's wrong with that? Kirael's not a bad name."

Crowley snorted. "I know that. It was mine, after all."

"Then what's wrong?" asked the book-loving angel in concern.

"What's wrong is that I happen to like the name Anthony Crowley. It's mine. I like it."

Aziraphale smiled and patted Crowley's hand lightly a couple of times.

"There, there, my dear. If you like it so much then I'm sure the others will, ah, compensate for you. They're really nice chaps if you get past the whole, ah. . ."

"No taste and no sense of humour thing?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say it in those words, but yes." Taking another glance at his plate, he found that it was now empty. Admittedly it wasn't wholly due to Crowley, but for some reason he didn't feel like ordering any more. Calling the waiter over, he asked for two things; the bill, and a bag full of bread scraps. It was a wild stray thought that found him considering - maybe Crowley won't even try to drown the ducks. Maybe.

He had to admit to himself that it wasn't likely, though one could hope.

Either way, things were looking much better than they had when he had started the meal.

----

AN: There. The end of Angel! Crowley and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale ends up paying for everything, and Crowley still does dunk the ducks ;D

The 'chapter' title comes from a song by The Feeling, called Never Be Lonely. It's about people who're in love (and the Aziraphale-Crowley relationship here is much more platonic than that), but some parts just seemed to fit so well into this short story idea that I'd have been a fool not to use the reference.