Author's Note: This is the final part to this fic; I wanted to hurry things along so that I could wrap things up before heading off to England.

Not to nag, but it would mean the world to me if everyone who reads this would leave a quick review, just to let me know how I'm doing with this whole writing thing. I'm still pretty new at creating my own fanfiction, and every bit of feedback helps me understand how I can improve.

But even if you don't leave a review, I want you to know how grateful I am to everyone who's read this thing to the very end! Thanks a bunch!

Chapter Four: Rearranging Things

Crowley scowled as his call was put through to voicemail, again. "Aziraphale, you ssstupid…just pick up your bloody phone already," he hissed and hung up.

He'd called three times in the past two hours, the time since Edith's death. He felt a little foolish—what was he going to do, talk about his feelings with the angel? Why was he so hung up about some woman's death anyway? Humans died every day; it was practically what they were best at.

He couldn't explain why, but he felt an inexplicable need to discuss it anyway, to tell someone, anyone, about that clever woman with the lively brown eyes. And Aziraphale was the only one he could tell.

He wondered vaguely why the angel wasn't answering his calls…probably too busy playing Mother Teresa to be bothered by a demon, he supposed.

He realized he didn't even know where he was; he'd stepped out of the hospital and just kept walking, blindly, letting his feet take him wherever they chose, ringing up the angel every now and then as he wandered along.

He was in downtown Los Angeles now, he discovered. Not far from the airport.

The airport…

He pulled out his phone again and waited impatiently as it rang until it went to voicemail.

"Hey, angel. I'm going to be in Sydney tomorrow. Meet me outside the Opera House at noon." He paused, then added, "if you're not too busy." He paused again. "Actually, busy or not, you'd better show up, angel. See you then."

He headed into the airport to see what flights were available for Australia.

…

It was closer to one the next afternoon when Crowley, lounging in front of the Sydney Opera House, spotted the angel scurrying toward him.

Aziraphale didn't look well. There was a washed-out look to his golden hair, and his curls were hanging rather limply, lacking their usual bounce. He had the unhealthy, undernourished look of one who had lost too much weight in too short a span of time. And when he reached the demon and offered him a smile, his eyes didn't sparkle as brightly as they usually did.

"You look terrible, angel," Crowley said in way of greeting.

"Yes, well, I've been busy, you called me away from a simply ghastly typhoid outbreak in Indonesia…my dear, you look rather unwell yourself," Aziraphale said, looking the demon over worriedly.

"Yeah, well, don't worry about me," Crowley said hurriedly. All thoughts of unloading his troubles on Aziraphale vanished; the poor bastard looked about ready to fall over where he stood. "You know me, nothing gets me down for long; it's you I'm concerned about. You've been overworking yourself, angel, and you know you promised me you wouldn't. Have you rested at all since our last phone call?"

Aziraphale shifted guiltily. "Er…"

"Well, you're taking a break today, and no objections. I've got us tickets to Verdi's The Force of Destiny—remember good old Verdi? He was an interesting character." He slung his arm over Aziraphale's shoulders and led the angel to the entrance of the Opera House. "And afterwards we'll go get outrageously drunk—what's a vacation without a dash of debauchery, after all?"

…

Aziraphale fell asleep halfway through the second act. Crowley looked over fondly as the angel began to snore (virtue is ever vigilant, yeah right), and nudged him awake before the people around them could put up fuss. They slipped out after the act was over, leaving Leonora to pine away in her monastery.

They found a place to purchase two bottles of vintage wine and then they wandered into a small park and settled down in the grass beside a pond. There weren't many other people there, it being a weekday, and the sun shone amiably down on them from among scattered clouds in an azure sky.

Crowley let Aziraphale lead the conversation, content to listen while guzzling down as much wine as he could. He didn't feel such a strong need to talk about Edith anymore; simply being in the angel's presence seemed to have a healing effect on his troubled mind.

After a while Aziraphale either ran out of things to ramble on about or else was too drunk to say them, and they lay in the sun-warmed grass in companionable silence.

"Hey angel, hey, heyangel, I wanto tell you…" Crowley trailed off, trying to sort through his hazy brain for what he wanted to say. Catching on to a wisp of thought, he continued, "I wanted ter say…I missssed you." He smiled stupidly up at the blue sky.

"Me too, dear," the angel said, plucking absently at the grass.

"And I think...I think. 'S a good idea to…" Sod it, what was he trying to say again? He was distracted by a glint of light as the sun reappeared from behind a fluffy cloud.

"Wha's that, m'dear?" Aziraphale murmured.

"Oh. Right. M' idea." With an effort, Crowley collected his thoughts together. "You know how we split up the world. Sssplit it up and each went to one, to one side. Of the world."

"Yes, to accon—accomp…to do our work faster."

"Right. Well, I have a new plan. Asssira—Azir—angel, are you listening?"

Aziraphale looked up blearily from the grass he was tugging at. " 'Course I am."

"Nah, you're not…and I forget, what was I saying?" Crowley couldn't remember for the life of him. "…How 'bout we sober up?"

"Oh, all right."

The alcohol left their bloodstreams with an unpleasant prickling feeling, and then they both sat up a little from where they were slumped in the grass.

"So what were you saying, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his voice rasping a little.

Crowley shook the last of the wine's blurring effects from his head. "I was just thinking, maybe it would be better if instead of splitting up, going our separate ways…if we stuck together?"

He hadn't been afraid to admit he'd missed the angel while he was drunk, but now he was too embarrassed to say it again. So he kept his words businesslike as he continued.

"What I mean is, I don't think you're doing that well by yourself, angel. Well, you're doing your work spectacularly, of course, but you aren't treating yourself well. Your corporeal form is all worn out, Az."

Aziraphale grinned playfully at the demon. "Won't it be inconvenient for you, having to look after me on top of working all your wiles?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley said, "you're a big pain in my arse, angel, but hey, somebody's got to keep you from falling apart."

"I suppose we can try working together then. There can't be any harm in it." And Aziraphale didn't have to say it out loud for Crowley to hear, "We really are better off when we're together."

"Great. Now, I'm sure you'll want to hurry back to Indonesia, but too bad, we're staying here a couple more days. Then I'll go with you and we'll cure all the poor buggers." He smirked. "Crowley and Aziraphale, two occult beings circumnavigating the globe together."

"That's ethereal being for me, dear," Aziraphale corrected him, but only out of habit, and with a kind smile that made his blue eyes appear less tired.

They helped each other up off the grass, and stood gazing at the serene surface of the pond. "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Crowley said. "Let's see what sort of grub Australia's got to offer."

And side by side they ambled out of the park.