Heaven was going to flood London, and Aziraphale was watching it from Heaven anxiously because his most beloved memories were there.
His Bookshop would survive, they told him. They thought that was all he cared about.
But he was thinking of the parks which he walked through with Crowley, where they chatted and laughed. He thought of Ritz where they enjoyed food and drinks and each other’s company. He thought of Mayfair where Crowley’s flat was. He thought of the beloved Bentley that would soon end up deep underneath the water.
He thought of all the innocent lives. All the friendly faces of just the people he knew in Soho. Of all the millions he’s never spoke to.
But most of all he thought of Crowley.
Metatron said the flooding would be gradual. People were told on the News how the weather would bring storms and to leave London. An Apocalypse they called it.
Some left. It was a horrifying panic and thousands of people running, cars on standstill because of miles and miles of traffic.
The Devil was blamed. Just as Heaven hoped.
Of course they didn’t, Aziraphale thought, such communities didn’t leave, they gathered to protect their home.
He watched Crowley staying with them. Moving bags of sand with Bentley, urging people to take everything precious to them upstairs, join their friends in the flats right at the top. He was carrying anti flooding items with all the other humans. One of them.
He saw all of them locking up the Bookshop, covering windows, throwing bags of sand around it to protect it.
He saw Nina making hot drinks and kids carrying small bottles of water to tired humans. He saw everyone eating together on the street, laughing, and in such moments anxiousness was overtaken by love and determination.
He saw Maggie carrying her music upstairs and playing it from the rooftop. Others were shouting out requests. Sometimes people were dancing. Their little breaks were for pretending nothing was happening.
When the rain came, when the water started flooding everything, most were hiding inside, right at the top. He saw Crowley and a few others struggling through the water, getting to a few who did not manage to get home on time. The rain was relentless and the wind blinding. They were falling into the water, not seeing what was underneath it.
He saw Bentley on a rooftop and allowed himself the smallest chuckle.
His hands had bruises on them from how he was squeezing them, nails digging into his skin. He told Crowley to run. Crowley never responded.
Crowley fell into the water at one point and Aziraphale froze, but another man was right there pulling him out. They were all running back indoors soon after, climbing on top of the cars to reach windows and be pulled in by others, realising there was nothing they could do anymore.
In the morning the sun shon again. People were on rooftops, dripping wet, exhausted but smiling. He saw Maggie drying Crowley’s hair with a towel, the Demon hissing at her as she innocently whispered what an Angel he was.
She had no idea it was Angels doing this to them.
When Heaven realised that Flood was not going to get rid of Humans, they stopped. Soon the water slowly lowered. The community was back on their legs, cleaning everything. Even more exhausted. But so proud of themselves. Even closer.
Aziraphale watched as Crowley dragged himself to the Bentley, after everything was over. Exhausted, rubbing his face once inside, nearly falling asleep right there.
But Crowley grabbed his phone first and seconds later Aziraphale heard a ping on his.
The text message was short.
Aziraphale smiled. He’s never missed him more.
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