For A Thousand Years 16

1990

Crowley had actually been doing research over the years since Aziraphale's most recent death and he found out something interesting.  His angel's reincarnation wasn't always immediate.  Sometimes there would be several years between the time his angel died and the next version of him was born.  It explained the time that he came across his angel's mother still pregnant with him.  And there was no rhyme or reason to the amount of time between death and birth.  Sometimes it was immediate and sometimes not.  Of course there wouldn't be any kind of pattern to the workings of God.  She did rather enjoy keeping people on their toes.  

He was ready to give up.  Not on actually finding his angel again but on looking for him.  Each time Aziraphale died it chipped away at Crowley's heart.  He was losing his love for humanity more with each decade that passed.  He continued to hold on to that most cruel of a mistress that everyone called hope.  Maybe he would get to see his angel again.  Maybe he'd get to be happy one more time, even if it were brief.  He truly hated that he had that hope inside him.  He wanted to be rid of it but he loved his angel far too much to just let him go.  

It had been only 35 years since Aziraphale's most recent death.  Crowley found that each time it happened it took him longer to get over, even though he knew the time would come when things would end.  He stood on the Lambeth Bridge, staring out at the water and watching the traffic on the river.  This was something he often did when he needed to think.  Watching the water always cleared his mind and let him come to a proper decision.  He held the talisman in his hand.  He looked down at the little, wooden, black snake that had been in his possession for over three thousand years.  It was one of the few things that he'd kept track of for so long.  Everything else was fleeting.  He thought back on the witch that gave it to him and he remembered keeping his promise, helping her on when her time came.  It did bring a little smile to his face.  

"Are you quite alright, sir?"  A voice asked from behind Crowley and to his left.  He jumped a little.  No one usually talked to him when he stood like that.  

"Pardon?"  Crowley asked as he looked over.  There standing just behind him on the bridge was his angle.  He knew it.  Blond hair and blue eyes and that same smile.  Dressed as a constable this time.  Crowley smirked a bit, not really surprised.  The young man looked as if he were playing dress up in daddy's police kit.  He couldn't have been more than 20 years old.  

"Are you alright, sir?"  The constable stepped a bit closer.  "We've had some calls from people that seemed a bit concerned.  Apparently you looked as if...."  The young man trailed off.  Crowley closed his hand around the talisman wondering why it hadn't let him know his angel was near.  Maybe the magic was starting to wear off.  

"As if I were going to jump?"  Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow.  

"Well, yes actually."  The constable nodded.  

"I promise you, young man, I have never had any intention of jumping off a bridge."  Crowley smiled a bit.  "Just gathering my thoughts."  

"Oh yes.  Quite.  Don't mean to disturb you."  He cleared his throat and started to turn away.  

"Though if I had that intention it seems that I was sent a guardian angel."  Crowley said softly, just loud enough for the constable to hear.  The constable turned and smiled at Crowley, but the recognition never came.  That moment of brain rebooting wasn't there.  

"I don't know that I would go that far, but I appreciate it."  The young man said before nodding and turning again.  Crowley just stared at him for a moment as he walked away.  Why hadn't that worked?  That was his angel, wasn't it?  Then it dawned on Crowley.  He looked down at the talisman dormant in his hand and then at the young man that looked so much like his angel.  There was no golden glow.  There'd been no urge to lift his head and look in the direction the angel was coming from.  

"Excuse me, constable."  Crowley started to walk after the young man.  

"Yes?"  The constable stopped and turned to look at Crowley again.  

"Pardon me for asking but.....your name wouldn't happen to be Rausing, would it?"  He hadn't really seen a name tag on the constable's uniform.  The young man blinked and stared at Crowley for a moment.  

"Yes, as a matter of fact it is.  How could you have known?"  He tilted his head a bit.  

"You have an ancestor named Abigail?  Husband died in the American Civil War?"  He asked.  

"I'm terribly sorry but do I know you?  How can you possibly have that information?"  The constable was starting to get very nervous.  

"I knew......"  Crowley stopped immediately.  He couldn't exactly tell this young man that he'd known his great great great whatever grandmother, now could he?  He cleared his throat.  "My family was very close with your family a long time ago.  My ancestor was good friends with Abigail and her son.  You look the spitting image of the pictures that my grandparents had."  He smiled a little.  

"What is your name, sir?"  He'd moved a bit closer.  

"Crowley.  Anthony J Crowley, the fourth."  He added quickly at the end.  "My family are very big on recycling names."  He chuckled.  

"You know, I do believe my mother said something about our family being friends with a Crowley quite a while ago.  There was some sort of falling out and they were never seen together again, though no one knows exactly why."  He shrugged.  

"None on my side know the reason either."  Crowley cleared his throat.  One harmless little lie wouldn't hurt.  

"Well, perhaps the two of us could do something about getting our families back together again?"  The young man smiled reassuringly.  Crowley was quiet for a long moment, then he nodded.  

"I'd like that very much."  He smiled.  Crowley had been wondering what happened to the Rausing family from all those years ago.  

"Would you be willing to stop by for dinner this weekend?  We're having a little gathering and my parents are coming.  My mother is very much into the family history and would love to meet you."  He pulled a little note pad out of his pocket and started to write down his address.  

"I'd like that very much."  Crowley nodded, taking the paper once it was offered.  "Looking forward to it."  

"And I as well."  Constable Rausing then turned and went back to his job.  Crowley stared down at the piece of paper in his hand, fully intent on showing up to the dinner.  

That weekend, Crowley showed up to the address on the paper dressed nicely but not too nice for an informal get together.  He carried with him a bottle of Chateauneuf de Pape and a bouquet of flowers.  A little ring of the bell and Crowley was surprised to see a little boy open the door, no more than five years old.  His heart sank in his chest when he saw the boy.  Curly blond hair, bright blue eyes, infectious smile and that beautiful golden glow that always meant his angel was in front of him.  Of course it would happen again.  He took a deep breath and put on a smile.  

"Are you the man of the house?"  He asked as he looked down at the little boy.  

"Jeremiah, what have I told you about opening the door?" A lovely young woman asked as she walked up.  The little boy just bowed his head a bit and stepped back from the door.  "May I help you?"  She asked.  

"Anthony Crowley.  Your husband invited me?"  He assumed this was the young constable's wife.  He was apparently a bit older than he looked.  

"Oh yes!  Mr Crowley, do come in."  She stepped aside and motioned for him to enter.  

"These, my dear, are for you."  He grinned as he held out the bouquet.  

"Thank you so much, you really didn't need to.  They're absolutely lovely.  Let me go put these in some water."  She motioned for him to go into the living room.  "Charles, dear, Mr Crowley is here."  The young constable came over to shake Crowley's hand.  

"I'm so glad that you could make it."  He smiled.  He took the bottle of wine and they decided to partake in it before dinner.  The rest of the evening was spent chatting about family histories over a very lovely meal prepared by Mrs Rousing.  Crowley put on a show of eating, though he usually didn't bother.  There were enough people for him to get away with just nibbling.  

As the night went on, Crowley kept glancing over at the little boy that was his angel.  Could he do this again?  Could he be a part of Aziraphale's life without ever letting the young man know who he really was?  He wasn't entirely sure.  

"You said that no one on your side knows why the falling out happened?"  Charles' mother said as Crowley sipped his wine.  

"Actually, after the lovely invitation to dinner I did some research.  I turns out that my ancestor was actually quite infatuated with Abigail.  He'd written a bit of a diary.  I read through it and he was quite sad when Abigail married.  He thought perhaps she'd have him as a husband but was too late to get around to asking.  He stuck around for a bit but watching her be happy with another man was a little too much for him to handle."  Crowley replied.  It wasn't entirely false.  He had deeply cared for Abigail and wasn't entirely happy when she married, though the man proved to be a good choice over time.  

"That is so romantically tragic."  The woman said, putting her hand over her heart.  

"We were so very close to being family."  Charles said to Crowley with a little bit of a smile.  

"Closer than you'll ever know."  Crowley muttered behind his wine glass before taking a drink.  

"I think now is the perfect time to remedy the situation and bring out two families close again, don't you?  It was like it was fate, our Charles being the constable that saw to your well being."  His mother said.  

"Yes, absolutely fate."  Crowley lifted his wine glass in a toast.  Now he had no choice.  He had to stay in the little boy's life or the family would wonder what they'd done to keep him away.  It took everything in his power to keep from letting the angel know who he really was.  And there he was, over a hundred years later reliving the same life.  Watching his lover grow from a small child and not being able to do anything about it at all.  It was times like these that he was convinced he was meant to suffer.  

The years went by and he watched the young man grow and get married, as he'd done so many years before, never once saying the word angel.  He hadn't had long to worry, though, because when the boy was just sixteen a tragic car accident took the lives of him and his parents.  Crowley made sure the drunk driver responsible paid for his actions.  No one got away with hurting his angel, no matter what.