Chapter Text
What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?
(Title and lyrics from the song “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?”
Sung by: Jimmy Ruffin)
“What becomes of the broken hearted
Who had love that's now departed
I know I've got to find some kind of peace of mind
Maybe”
Crowley had watched Aziraphael enter the elevator, the final look they’d exchanged showing no flicker of emotion on the angel’s side, no small spark of doubt about his decision. In that moment a part of him realized that even with everything their respective sides put them through, Aziraphael would always default to heaven, always allow the chains they wrapped around him to drag him back. He’d been a fool, a complete one hundred carat idiot to think the love they’d had for one another would trump blind duty. Given what’s happened, can you say with honesty he’d ever really loved you? If he spoke the answer balancing on the tip of his tongue, his heart would shatter into a million pieces. Yet why deny what recent events appeared to confirm? “No,” he said, the word barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t think he ever did.” Pain lanced through his chest at the answer; a nail sealing the coffin within which rested the remains of a love offered and rejected.
He glanced towards the café where Nina worked behind the counter, the look they exchanged holding a note of concern, one he couldn’t deal with. So, he turned his attention toward the bookshop. A place he’d once dared call “home.” A place now holding nothing but bitter memories, a repository of spoken lies by an angel he’d foolishly believed loved him. He couldn’t stay there, couldn’t stay in a place where every brick would whisper of “him.” No, he would leave Soho, leave London, consign everything onto a bonfire whose flames would consume every memory of what he’d believed to be the truth. Aziraphael wanted heaven, so he could have it. What bound them together now lay in ruins; the decaying remains soon blown away by the winds of change. It was time to move on, forge a new path alone. He glanced up, the pain replaced by numbness as he spoke. “Don’t look for me, Aziraphael. Don’t seek me out if things go wrong. You’ve made your choice, so you deal with whatever it brings in its wake. I’ll never help you again, never do what you want when you look at me in a certain way. You’re a chapter of my past now closed, and I never want to revisit it. I want peace, so leave me the fuck alone from this point on.” The last part left his lips wrapped in a snarl as he slipped behind the wheel of the Bentley. With no clear destination in mind, he turned the ignition, and as she purred to life he drove away, leaving the shattered remains of his hopes and dreams behind him.
~
Aziraphael couldn’t erase the look Crowley gave him before he’d stepped into the elevator. He’d wanted to explain why he’d made the offer, why he had chosen to go with the Metatron. He wanted him to know there’d been no choice, that he had to take the position. Had to? A lie will not heal the wound within your heart. It wasn’t a lie. He had no choice! You did, but you chose the easy route, the one offering the least resistance. The act of a coward. The act of a being denying a truth they know yet refuses to accept. The words created tiny cuts upon his heart, ones he knew would never heal, would remain to inflict constant pain on him. A pain deserved, earned by his actions.
Deep inside he hoped at some point he would be able to reunite with Crowley, explain to him why he made the choice he had, explain he loved him more than anything. You don’t love him. If you did you would have told him everything. “I couldn’t,” he whispered. “The Metatron watched, he would have known.” Pathetic. The single word struck as a barb, one embedding itself deep under the skin. Perhaps in the cold light of day, he was, but the choice had been made. Now he had to do what he’d planned. Only when the last piece moved into place could he seek Crowley out, explain, and hope his demon understood. This act of yours might be the one which finally cuts the tie between you for good. Are you prepared for that? No, that would never happen. They’d been through too much together to just part for good. Even the strongest of beings has a breaking point. The words stopped him dead, their barbs digging into the walls of his mind. No, not theirs, never theirs. The silent declaration seemed fragile, as if the slightest of touches would shatter it beyond repair, and for the first time he wondered if his act could truly sound the final death knell for all they’d been to one another.