Chapter Text
Crowley froze at the sight of his old friend, not prepared to find him in the ranks of hell. Hell! He wasn't planning on seeing the angel for a couple hundred years or so.
"Angel!" The same endearing words escaped his lips in his now panic state. In an instant Crowley had run over to where Aziraphale was submerged, but the post-angel showed no sign of recognition, his eyes were dull, staring off into the nothingness, while tears slowly traced his face.
"Angel, hey!" Crowley's voice cracked with emotion. Crowley stood up and began to pace, before squatting once again and waving his skinny hand back and forth in front of the dazed Aziraphale.
After Crowley's multiple panicked attempts to help his friend didn't work, tears began to swell in his eyes. After contemplating his options he knew what he had to do, he was desperate. Crowley took a deep breath in, understanding that what he was about to do would hurt like hell.
Crowley tapped the tar testingly, a puff of smoke wafted up in response and his finger sizzled. He closed his eyes and submerged his arms into the black void. Crowley's eyes opened instantly at the impure amount of burning heat that enclosed around his arms. "Ngk fuck!" he mumbled to himself, he felt like screaming out in pain, but he bit his lip and continued to reach out to Aziraphale.
"Everything will be alright" he whispered, mostly to himself, as Aziraphale was anything but aware of what was going on around him and Crowley was still panicking, finding a small bit of comfort in his own words.
Crowley's hands had finally reached Aziraphale and he grabbed his angels robe. He began to pull Aziraphale out, but Aziraphale's black wings made it a lot harder for Crowley as they dragged in the tar. He frowned at the sight of his angel's decrepit wings, which were once pure, white, and put together, now stained midnight black, with multiple feathers missing, and others ruffled.
After an awkward minute of pulling Aziraphale closer to the edge of the pit, he was finally able to get his angel out. His long arms scooped up and cradled Aziraphale's now skinnier body and pulled him out. Crowley drew Aziraphale close into his chest, holding him as if he was a baby.
His hands still dripped the black goo, and Aziraphale was covered in it. Crowley looked down at his angel, with a worried gaze, he searched his angel's face, searching for a trace of his old friend. It wasn't until that moment, that Crowley had really looked at Aziraphale's mutations.
"Wow angel, you are sure looking a bit different." He mumbled light heartedly, trying to change the mood, but the tears flowing from the angels eyes began flowing harder, though his eyes still stared out into space. "Ngk, That was probably not the right thing to say" he said with a frown scolding himself, way to go idiot, he thought.
"Hey angel, everything is alright. I think you look great! I'm uhm, really digging the new look y'know. . . Hey um angel, look at me, . . .please." Crowley continued to sit there with Aziraphale cradled in his arms. Crowley looked upwards to the sky, after a couple of long minutes staring at his friends new features.
"You are truly pitiful God. That was the damn best angel you had, and YOU JUST THREW HIM AWAY?! LIKE HE WAS NOTHING!?" Crowley was fuming at what God had done to his angel, and while he was busy cursing God, Aziraphale had finally gained a small bit of awareness.
Aziraphale began to panic, his eyes flashed back and forth in confusion and fear, his new demonic features became more subtle thanks to his self-conscious. He was too weak to try to move or struggle and he began to shake anxiously. "crow - ley? '' mumbled the fallen angel, whilst slowly and weakly grabbing onto Crowley's robe.
Crowley snapped his head down to look at his angel. "Yes, . . yes yes! it's me. . . the wily serpent" he said teasingly with a relieved and worried smile. Aziraphale began to whine and whimper, and he cuddled himself close to Crowley's long beard. Crowley took this as if Aziraphale did not find his comment humorous, though it was more like Aziraphale wasn't sentient enough to understand much of anything.
The demon was not quite sure what to do in this situation, he always used humor as a way to comfort, but that was for himself, he had never really comforted another being before. He wasn't cut out for this and he was worried he was about to make things worse. "Hey, hey" he soothed tightening his grip around Aziraphale, "you are alright, you are safe, I'm right here with you." His voice deepened with seriousness, and he sat there awaiting a response, but none came.
Crowley's corporation's heart began to race, alarmed of the lack of response, surely his angel was ok, he had to be ok, right? He hated to touch Aziraphale's face with his hands still covered in goop, but he had to check his angel. Crowley's hand tilted Aziraphale's slightly fluffy face upwards, to see that his eyes were closed, though quite whimpers still escaped the post-angel.
He returned Aziraphale's head gently back to its original spot on his own chest and stood up. By the looks of it, Crowley could tell that Aziraphale had been in the pit far longer than what was usual, as the amount of black tar that clung to his angel was odd, and demons usually stay conscious after the fall. Crowley looked around for any other demon, there was supposed to be a demon on shift here 24/7, though not one could be found. He was grateful that his restless wondering led him to the pits, because if it wasn't for that, Satan knows how long it would have took for someone to find Aziraphale.
"God has really made an enemy out of me" whispered Crowley as he opened a door leading to the main hallways of hell, "and she better bet I'm coming for her."
Crowley cradled Aziraphale firmly, the fallen angels stained wings stuck out awkwardly, though Crowley could not do much about it, as carrying the angel was the only option at that moment and the angel was not sentient enough to put his wings away. The two made their way down, still dripping with the black tar the angel had fell into. Crowley's plan was to get Aziraphale to his little room in hell, and then speak with Beelzebub, though this doesn't happen as intended.
In hell's busy hallways, many demons were ducking to avoid Aziraphale's awkward wings, and moving aside for the two as Crowley's facial expression told them that otherwise they would be discorporated. The news of the first fallen angel since the first great war in heaven quickly spread among the alleyways, and it wasn't long until Beelzebub appeared in their path.
"Not now fly Lord" Crowley snarled, attempting to walk past, but Beelzebub stopped him abruptly. It walked over to get a better glance at Aziraphale. It stared for awhile and Crowley was growing impatient and getting a bit angry. "Odd" it said at last, looking away from Aziraphale's body and towards his wings. Reaching out, it went to touch the post-angel's wings but Crowley hissed, defensive of his friend. It looked back at Crowley unphased by his threat, but took a step back regardless. "His wings are broken" muttered Beelzebub snarkily, before erupting into a swarm of flies and disappearing, leaving a floating message that read
"Meet me in my office"
Beelzebub was one of the only demons who could spell correctly, and this made Crowley a bit appreciative, for he sucked at deciphering poorly spelled memos, using that as an excuse for skipping a lot of meetings or even rules. Though today, Crowley was the farthest thing from appreciative.
Crowley had not realized that the post-angels wings were broken, he knew they had looked odd, but he had never dealt with broken wings, and he had never seen it before. Now that he looked he realize something was defiantly wrong. The demon cursed himself for not noticing and rushed himself to his hells made living corner.
Crowley struggled at the door, he could not quite snap a miraculous open door into place, as snapping is quite hard while holding someone. He annoyedly looked around, and called out to a lower level demon standing near by, demanding that they open the door for him. Most demons were too scared of Crowley to ignore orders, and lucky for him, this one was one of them. It quickly fiddled with the door handle before pushing it open, and scurrying away around a corner.
He rushed inside and laid his angel down onto his bed that was fitted with black sheets. Aziraphale let out a low painful moan. Crowley scrambled around his apartment, gathering pillows, and anything else comfy. By the end of the charade, Aziraphale basically had his own thrown of pillows he was placed atop of.
Crowley could not think of much else to do, he didn't even quite know what to do to begin with and if he did the right thing at all. This was much different than when he and the others had fallen.
After he was semi-confident and quite proud with what he had done to make Aziraphale as comfortable as demonically possible, he realized he didn't lock his door. In reality, anyone could just miracle their way into the room, but the thought of security made his routine feel more complete. Crowley left Aziraphale in his bedroom for a moment to go turn the lock on his door. On his way back, he wasn't sure if he had locked it all the way, so he turned around and once again locked his door, just to make sure.
Just for good measure, Crowley decided to miracle a multitude of other locks. He was most definitely not paranoid and in any case, just careful, he thought to himself only half aware of his ridiculous behavior.
A fearful shout came from the demons bedroom. "Crowley!" Aziraphale cried, sobs following suit.
"Shit, shit, shit! " Crowley ran from his front door and into the bedroom. "I'm here angel, I'm here. . . "