Chapter Text
When he sees Aziraphale collapse, Crowley doesn't panic at first.
He knew it would happen since they'd talked about it beforehand. His spot in the grapes doesn't give him much leverage to help him hide, but he knows Belial’s full attention will be on the angel in front of him. Crowley won't be seen nor heard.
But, after a few silent moments pass and Aziraphale doesn't move, Crowley feels as though he got doused in holy water. It's possible he'd forgotten to move around like Crowley had said to do, but Crowley has seen the curse in action before.
The thing is, Crowley didn't say the entire truth when it came to how the curse was to manifest. He did so in order to tell if Aziraphale was faking it, just in case.
And, it appears to have paid off. Usually, like he told Aziraphale, the curse doesn't start for a while after the being has fallen asleep. That's because the being usually attempts to fight it off.
Aziraphale did exactly as he said, falling to the floor immediately as Sandalphon made his appearance, and Crowley really hoped that Belial’s stupid arse didn't curse him. God, anything but that.
It became obvious after a few seconds of watching the angel blink slowly at Sandalphon and Belial battling it out.
His heart, one that he technically does not need, starts to throb heavily in his chest as he pulls Aziraphale away from the commotion.
It was as though Aziraphale was rejecting his request for holy water again, then giving it to him and uttering words that he'd never expect to hear.
You go too fast for me, Crowley, rings in his ears as he watches Aziraphale succumb to the curse.
His speed was one that was hard to keep up with, especially for an angel who was terrified of losing so much of what he had. He knew once the words came out of Aziraphale's mouth that that was the case, but that isn't why he’s thinking of them.
He feels he is far too late to save Aziraphale. He wasn't fast enough, and that is something he’ll regret for all his days. There must have been more he could've done to help him.
He's helpless to stop the angel from falling asleep. Utterly helpless. He can't help but press a small kiss to Aziraphale's forehead once he knows that he can't stay awake any longer, not wanting to see him fall asleep.
It would hurt far too much to watch Aziraphale be taken away from him. He doesn't dare watch it happen.
Crowley sits up as he hears more smiting happen behind him, looking down at the angel that was just conscious moments ago.
Aziraphale already looks as though the nightmares had started.
His eyebrows are pinched, furrowed as if he's in pain. He's shaking ever so slightly from what Crowley can feel with his hand on Aziraphale's shoulder, and he’s already omitting small, painful noises that Crowley can't soothe. His breathing is rough, and he's a bit scared that Aziraphale might not make it if this keeps up.
“Fuck,” he grits out as he gathers Aziraphale into his arms, limp as if his soul was truly gone from the world. This is not how Crowley imagined him to look when he was sleeping, and it's terrifying to see Aziraphale so vulnerable.
The thing is, Aziraphale is one of the strongest beings that Crowley knows. He knows no one braver, more courageous than the angel in his arms.
Seeing him like this is something that shouldn't be allowed, not for someone who has protected Crowley from Heaven and Hell. Not for someone who he felt very strong affection towards.
Crowley shakes his thoughts away, ignoring the small, aching noises coming from Aziraphale as he stands up.
“Gotta get somewhere safe,” he whispers to himself. One step at a time, they’ll deal with this.
He very stealthily leaves the vineyard without Belial or Sandalphon noticing him and Aziraphale leaving, which is bloody fantastic. He needs Belial to remove this curse from Aziraphale, but he's not going to deal with Sandalphon at the moment.
Who knows what that wanker was going to do, anyway? He definitely wouldn't help Aziraphale.
Crowley doesn't know where to go exactly. Where can one take an unconscious, cursed angel at a time like this?
He decides to go to a nearby inn that he saw before he started to follow Aziraphale around, and performs a small miracle on the angel in his arms so that he wouldn't be acknowledged by the staff at the front desk.
As soon as he gets the room, he runs. Aziraphale starts to clutch at his jacket, the pained noises becoming louder. Crowley's heart breaks a thousand times over as Aziraphale begins to move his head, as if trying to get away from something.
He lays Aziraphale down on the bed, tucking him into the blankets despite his movements being a bit erratic. It's not easy, being separated from Aziraphale and watching him clutch at the sheets as if he's in extreme pain.
Crowley sits down at the edge of the bed, not knowing what to do. He wants to protect Aziraphale from whatever is happening, but he can't. God, he feels so helpless.
“Those wankers definitely knew what they were doing,” he mutters as he miracles up a towel, wiping away some of Aziraphale's sweat. “Putting you up to a curse— they don't deserve you, angel.”
Of course, he says this when Aziraphale can’t hear him, when the angel is somewhere far away. Aziraphale would try to argue, after all, and continue to distance himself from Crowley as they gravitated closer and closer everyday.
He isn’t sure what to do other than sit by Aziraphale’s side, listening to his whimpers as his nightmares get worse.
Crowley can’t bear to look at him, facing away as he puts his head into his hands. “Fuck,” he mutters as he feels Aziraphale move around the bed.
What can he even do? He could always return to where Belial and Sandalphon were fighting, but what if Belial was gone? What if he had to go to Hell just to force him to stop the curse?
Then, came the entire complication that Crowley was fighting for the life of an angel. Belial would most definitely tell everyone the moment that Crowley asked on Aziraphale’s behalf to remove this curse.
As if Aziraphale could listen to his thoughts, he hears a small, whispered, “Crowley,” from behind him.
Crowley immediately whips around, placing a hand on the angel’s arm. Aziraphale’s expression is extremely pained, and he looks as if he’s about to be sick. He continues to whisper Crowley’s name, as if trying to find him.
Well, that won’t do. “Shhh, angel. You’re fine, m’right here,” he says, his voice only a few notes above a whisper.
He’s betting on Aziraphale to at least feel his touch, so he squeezes the angel’s bicep to convey those same words. Aziraphale stops moving when he does this, so Crowley celebrates for a brief moment that Aziraphale can at least some reprieve.
But, as it so happens, it doesn’t last. Aziraphale starts to tremble, his head fully facing the direction of where Crowley is sitting. “Cr-Crowley,” he whimpers, starting to curl in on himself. “No, No, please. Please, Crowley, please.”
Crowley feels his bloody stupid corporation of a heart start to break. He doesn’t know what Aziraphale is dreaming of, and he can’t protect him from what he’s seeing. All Crowley can do is watch, and it’s agonizing.
Fuck, it’s painful. He’s never seen Aziraphale like this, and there was no thought in his mind that he’d ever be in a realm where he can’t protect the angel.
“Crowley!” The scream shakes Crowley out of his reverie, and he immediately holds Aziraphale down as he starts to thrash. Shit, shit shit shit. “Crowley, please. Please do– don’t leave me. Please.”
Crowley bites his lip, trying to keep Aziraphale from launching himself off the bed. “Angel,” he says, rather desperately, and he knows Aziraphale won’t hear him. Still, it’s worth a shot. “I’m here, you– you silly thing. Not leaving, remember?”
His words fall to the silence of the room as Aziraphale continues to move around, tears streaming down his face. “P-please, help him,” Aziraphale whispers, crying harder. “Please, I don’t want— don’t want to lose— please, Crowley, please.”
Ah. Crowley lets out a small sigh, not one of relief, but one of anger. The angel underneath him is begging someone to help Crowley, and is in a state where he thinks he’s about to lose a demon he’s come to care for. Damn. Fuck. Shit.
Crowley glares up to the ceiling as Aziraphale’s pleas fill the room. “You gotta do something,” he hisses, and he doesn’t care if it’s blasphemy. He’s done it once, what’s another time for his angel? “Come on, you twat. Wake him up. Don’t make him ssssleep anymore.”
As usual, there’s no answer. This is unacceptable, because Aziraphale successfully loosens Crowley’s grip enough to move. It happens so quickly that when Crowley looks down, Aziraphale is no longer on the bed.
“Shit. Shit, shit shit.” He flings himself off the bed, lowering to the ground as he watches Aziraphale fight invisible demons on the floor. He hates this, he just wants Aziraphale to wake up. “Angel, c’mon. Work with me.”
“Crowley,” is all Aziraphale says in response, more tears coming out of his closed eyes. “P-please, stay… stay with m-me, please.”
Hell, isn’t this a bad case of irony? Crowley glares one more time at the ceiling. “You’re cruel, making him experience that. And makin’ me go through the exact same fucking thing.”
Now isn’t the time to get too angry at the heavens, though. He gathers the trembling angel in his arms, swallowing as he continues to listen to cries of his own name, pleading him to wake up, to stay, to not be taken away.
Bringing Aziraphale back to the bed proves difficult, since he doesn’t stop reaching out as if to grab something, but Crowley doesn’t want to leave him on the floor. This experience was terrible enough on a comfortable bed, he couldn’t imagine what it’d be like on a hard, wooden floor.
“Crowley…” Aziraphale whimpers as soon as he’s on the bed, and he lays limp as Crowley pulls the blanket back up to his chin.
He sighs, watching Aziraphale melt into the pillow. The first nightmare was over, but the curse wasn’t. It wouldn’t be for a long time, not if Crowley stayed here and didn’t try to hunt down Belial.
If he was being honest, Crowley is beyond exhausted. Meeting up with Aziraphale again after years of not talking, helping him on an assignment that he was doomed to fail, and trying to figure out just what the fuck to do to help the angel before he discorporated in front of his eyes was making him drained.
Maybe, since Aziraphale is currently transitioning into the next nightmare, he’d have some time to have a kip.
He momentarily closes his eyes as he sits on the bed, and immediately feels guilt for even considering resting when he hears Aziraphale groan. Crowley opens his eyes, whirling around to look behind him.
Aziraphale is clutching the blanket towards his chest, shivering. “H-help… please, help,” he whispers, and Crowley feels his heart break again.
Whatever that nightmare is, it springs him back into action. Aziraphale is calling for help, and Crowley will answer it. He has to, he can’t lose Aziraphale now.
Not when they’ve just met again.
He needs to go to Belial, that’s the only way he knows how to break the curse. As much as doesn’t want to leave Aziraphale alone and defenseless in this room, he doesn’t know what else to do.
Crowley absolutely hates feeling so helpless. Why can’t he do anything else to ease Aziraphale’s pain? What kind of friend leaves when it’s so clear that Aziraphale is in distress?
He has no choice, though.
He sighs, leaning forward to press a small kiss on Aziraphale’s sweaty forehead. “Be back in a bit, angel,” he whispers, and hopes to somewhere that this small miracle of his words and love reaches Aziraphale in his nightmares. “Never gonna leave you alone, ‘kay? I’ll be back, and you’ll be awake. You’ll stay, just like you wanted.”
There is no response from Aziraphale, not at first.
Crowley aches as he watches Aziraphale reach out for him, his arm extending from its confines in the blanket and immediately latching onto Crowley’s wrist. “Help,” he whispers again, tears coming out of his eyes as if they never stopped. “Want Crowley, please. Please.”
Crowley runs his free hand through his hair, not wrenching his eyes away from Aziraphale. He doesn’t dare look away, not from Aziraphale. “M’just gonna track down Belial and get rid of this. You’ll see me soon, you daft thing,” he tries to tease, even if he knows that Aziraphale won’t answer. Not outright.
Aziraphale only loosens his grip, twisting his head so that it’s now in the pillow. He groans into it, letting tears soak its insides. He doesn’t say anything, but Crowley knows whatever exists in his nightmares are dire. Aziraphale needs an out, and he needs it now.
He brings the angel’s hand to his lips, and kisses the back of it. For good luck, and for safety. “Wait for me, angel,” he mumbles into Aziraphale’s hands, as if a simple kiss of a demon would save him.
Crowely doesn’t hesitate to miracle himself over to where he last saw Sandalphon and Belial start to fight. Seeing Aziraphale like that… he didn’t even want to think about what would happen. Nope, he needs to stop the curse before Aziraphale goes into Hell for something he doesn’t deserve.
“Those stupid archangels,” Crowley grumbles as he makes his way over to the vineyard. “Stupid, dumb, fucking atrocious—”
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the demon Crowley. What do I owe the honor of being visited by Hell’s Earth representative?”
At that, Crowley only lets out a bitter laugh. Oh, what does he owe? Aziraphale’s fucking peace, that’s for one.
It seems, though, that one of the archangels that suggested Aziraphale get cursed, the one that probably started this entire assignment, was no longer here. Sandalphon must have been discorporated, cursed, or ran his sorry arse back to Heaven.
Serves him right, honestly.
“Heard there was some angel scuffle,” Crowley says, turning around to meet Belial’s calculating gaze. He looks at Crowley just as he’s looked at Aziraphale before this all happened, and Crowley hates it. “Mess around with one of ‘em, did you?”
Belial smiles at that, and Crowley can’t wait to punch it off his face. “Better yet, there was two. A strange archangel and naive principality, offered up to me on a silver platter. I don’t know what Heaven was thinking, sending angels after me like they’d win.”
Crowley wants to wipe that shit-eating grin off of Belial’s face for saying that about Aziraphale, the only good angel in that lot of terribly corrupt beings, but he can’t afford to mess this up. Not when Aziraphale was waiting for him.
“A principality, hm? D’you think he’s Heaven’s Earth representative?” Crowley asks, stalking closer to the being in front of him. “‘Cause you’re supposed to report that shit to me. Directly. Not deal with the angel separately.”
Belial raises an eyebrow. “I know, I’ve read the angel manual for demons. But, nowhere does it say that I couldn’t do it all my own. Claiming he was dangerous was a rather bold move of you, Crowley. It was easy, to get him to fall to the realm of nightmares.”
Crowley fights the urge to start smoking up and summoning lightning. Nothing other than that can convey how angry he is. How dare Belial curse Aziraphale? How dare he even get close to the angel?
His anger wouldn’t help Aziraphale, though. He’s wasting seconds that Aziraphale’s exhaustion could hit limits on. It wasn’t a long process, to get tired of your nightmares and not being able to wake up from them.
Fuck, this entire situation is so messed up. He never wants Aziraphale near another demon again.
“Well, you should've reported it to me. Won’t lie, I’m pissed. Utterly stunned that you didn’t follow that manual. M’not happy. Not at all,” Crowley says, attempting to sound menacing by lowering his voice. He sees that it’s working when Belial raises a skeptical, yet somewhat fearful eyebrow. “That angel is my rival. My mortal enemy. You release that curse right fucking now, or there will be Hell to pay.”
Crowley takes one intimidating step forward, staring into Belial’s eyes. “And, we both know what it means to fall to Hell. You wouldn’t want to do that shit again, do you?”
It’s clear that Belial is slightly frightened by Crowley’s antics, but there is suspicion still laced in everything he does.
If Belial doesn’t stop resisting sooner, Crowley will actually have to give him Hell, show him the depths of the universe that he can’t even imagine being in.
“Angels are free game, are they not? You don’t have one designated angel,” Belial reasons.
“Bullshit. I met the principality on the wall of the Garden of bloody Eden, think I deserve to get him as my rival or whatever,” Crowley says rather nonchalantly, knowing Aziraphale would feel rather wistful to hear Crowley talk about how they met.
Fuck, he misses Aziraphale. Ten years after painful words were shared, ten years after being away from Aziraphale, and it still isn’t enough to talk to him only for brief moments.
“Well, it is curious that the principality disappeared after I cursed him. Guessing the archangel dragged him off somewhere while he ran away. Maybe he’s having nightmares in Heaven,” Belial says, smiling cruelly as he looks back up at Crowley. “Isn’t that just scrumptious to think about?”
No, it fucking wasn’t. “Whatever. Can you just snap him out of it so I can go after him? I’m bored, come on. Do it for an old pal?”
Belial takes some time to consider Crowley’s request, and he tries not to count down the seconds it's taking to do so. Those seconds are wasted time, and Crowley fears being too late to save Aziraphale.
Fuck, he hopes the nightmares don't escalate now that he's gone. Belial needs to hurry, or Crowley would have to bring out the one thing that Aziraphale had been reluctant to give him after all this time.
“What's in it for me, then?” Belial asks, and there's a genuine air of agreeing to Crowley's request if he says the right thing.
Shit, shit, shit. “Mmmh, I’ll see if there's more angels for you to curse. Archangels come down here all the time, y’know. Maybe not in America, but they're always around.”
Belial only stares, which makes Crowley’s heart pound louder than it ever has in his life. He needs this to work, especially since he has no idea how Aziraphale will be like after he wakes up.
And, that's the scariest part to him. He's hardly stuck around Belial long enough to see what becomes of the humans, but Crowley has no doubt that it's traumatizing. Jumping from dream to painful dream isn't fucking easy, that's for sure.
He makes it a resolution of his own to stay with Aziraphale once this is over right then and there, while Belial is thinking about his offer.
He doesn't care about Heaven and Hell spotting them together, not when Aziraphale’s health took priority. Both of those realms be damned, Crowley has no intention of letting the angel go about this alone.
“I don't know if I want to let this angel go for a chance to see more angels. This one is guaranteed for me,” Belial says after a bit, making Crowley’s teeth clench in earnest.
This wasn't going well, not at all. “Well, seemssss we’re at an impassssse,” Crowley hisses, not bothering to shield his anger. Maybe this will get Belial to release Aziraphale.
Belial raises an eyebrow, amused more than anything. “We are. Perhaps you’d like to take up with Lucifer if you really want this angel.”
Oh, fuck that, fuck everything that comes with that. There's no way Lucifer will let Crowley win without being suspicious, and there's no guarantee that he’ll even be allowed back on Earth once the curse gets lifted.
He is beyond angry at this point, and time is of the essence.
Crowley stalks up to Belial, pointing at his chest. “You release the angel now. Or I’ll fucking tear you limb by limb, and you’ll wish you took my bloody offer. You’ll wish for more than that, and you’ll wish you were anything but sorry for the shit you’re pulling. Release. Him. Now.”
Belial blinks, but Crowley sees there's a hint of fear. Good, good. Now all he needs to do is bring it all home.
“You think you're the only one with influence in hell, hm? Think you're a hotshot, ay?” Crowley steps again, his sclera fully faded away, eyes dangerous as anything. “You're not. What I’m going to do to you will be a mercy.”
Belial looks between Crowley and his finger, showing annoyance. But, Crowley has seen annoyance, both fake and real. The angel he's trying so desperately to save has given him both many times.
He knows this as fake, the expression on Belial’s face. He's trying to hide his cowardice, and Crowley has no qualms with it.
It means he wins, after all.
“Fine, take him. See if I care about that principality,” Belial murmurs, and he definitely looks annoyed to the untrained eye. “It's not worth fighting with you, anyway. Best of luck dealing with him.”
Belial performs a miracle, and Crowley resists teleporting right back to Aziraphale's side. He needs to not be suspicious, but shit, he really needs to be back at that inn.
“Thanks mate,” Crowley grits out, raising his hand to draw power from Hell. “Gotta run, think Scotland needs me for— erm, demonic activity. Maybe the angel’s there, dunno. See ya.”
Belial hums, eyeing Crowley before he starts to get absorbed by a black hole in the ground. Must be nice, to be an archduke and have access to Hell like that, he thinks in the most sarcastic way.
“I hope you hear of your endeavors with the principality back in Hell, demon Crowley. Next time, he better be six feet under,” Belial says, snickering, and he disappears right in front of Crowley’s eyes as Hell sucks him back in like it was thirsty for more sinners.
Crowley doesn't waste any time to miracle himself back to the room. He snaps his fingers once he's absolutely sure Belial has disappeared into the pits of Hell, and he's back in the middle of the room right next to the bed.
His first thought as he manifests is oh fuck Aziraphale isn't talking or saying a words it's deathly quiet in here, and the second one he has when he turns around to face Aziraphale is oh, angel.
Because, the sight he sees isn't great. He was expecting something bad, of course he bloody was, but he didn't expect to see Aziraphale silently crying as he grips the blanket close to his chest, letting out small gasps as his tears fall down his face.
It's a sight that makes Crowley's heart clench, even though the view of Aziraphale's hazel eyes calms him a bit. He's not cursed, not anymore, but he's in so much pain. So, so much pain.
Crowley makes his way over to the bed, careful not to touch Aziraphale. “Angel?” he asks quietly, so he won't startle him.
Still, Aziraphale flinches, and he almost flies off of the bed. “Cr–Crow—” Aziraphale cuts himself off, sobbing in his hands. “Y-you’re… n-not real?”
Shit, that wasn't good. Crowley takes a step forward, noting that Aziraphale doesn't flinch that time. “I’m real. Right here, human corporation and all. Tangible and flexible, me, in front of you.”
The tears won't stop flowing out of Aziraphale's eyes, and they're glazed over as if he's remembering something. Crowley aches as he watches Aziraphale process what he said, the tears not ending and his whimpers painful.
“I… Oh, I thought— I watched—” Aziraphale cuts himself off again, letting out another gut-wrenching sob. “I… I can't—”
Aziraphale reaches out as he wails, and Crowley doesn't hesitate to throw his arms around the angel and gather him in his arms.
They don't do this, hug and embrace each other so openly after ten years of not seeing each other, but Crowley doesn't care. He doesn't think Aziraphale cares too, considering everything that's happening.
Aziraphale trembles violently in his arms as he continues to cry, and Crowley can't help but tighten his grip to comfort him. “Shhh, angel. I’m here, and m’not leaving. Not ever, if you’ll have me.”
Aziraphale only cries in response, squeezing Crowley as he tucks his face into the crook of Crowley's neck.
Ten painful years of not seeing the angel of his dreams, Crowley has him in his arms, sobbing for the demon in his nightmares.
It's painful, so bloody painful, to see Aziraphale like this.
Crowley knows the angel in his arms is very strong. He stood up against an archduke, for somebody’s sake, and he didn’t ever back down even as he was being cursed.
Aziraphale is the strongest being that Crowley has the lucky chance of ever knowing. He is an angel that is strong in his resolution to do good, to be good, and Crowley knows he is good. The best bloody angel that the Heavenly host has.
Seeing Aziraphale fall apart in Crowley’s own embrace hurts only because he knows how strong the angel is. His strength is devastatingly beautiful in all of it’s regard, and Crowley wants to take down Heaven and Hell just for diminishing it at this very moment.
They see him, strong in strength and in his own regard, and they send him to fight someone who could end so much for him.
Crowley hates Belial, hates the archangels, and all he wants to do is see them fucking burn.
Aziraphale whimpers again, which snaps Crowley out of his thoughts. Fuck, if that wasn’t the most heartbreaking sound that Crowley has ever heard.
He isn’t one for affection, not at the moment, and especially not with Aziraphale. But, he presses a small kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s head, and he feels Aziraphale’s breath hitch on his neck.
He’s still crying, from the way that his shoulder keeps getting damp. Aziraphale lets out another breath, one long and clearly distressed. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding utterly devastated. “I’m sorry, Crowley.”
Crowley huffs, that wasn’t what he was expecting at all. “What are you sorry for, angel?” he asks, his voice quiet and soft for the angel in his arms.
“I let him curse me. I– The nightmares— it must’ve been so h-hard to see me like that… I’m so sorry, my dearest,” Aziraphale whispers, his voice wrecked. He sounds so terribly sad, and Crowley hates it so, so much.
Crowley has to stop himself from letting out a cruel, bitter laugh because of course Aziraphale is blaming himself and thinking of anyone but himself. Crowley knows Aziraphale’s heart is breaking as he shakes in the bundle that he’s become in Crowley’s arms.
He doesn’t dare waste a second letting Aziraphale think that he was at fault for any of this.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, angel. M’serious, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Aziraphale tightens his grip on Crowley’s torso, which only makes Crowley press his nose against the curls in front of his face. “All you did was get involved in the crossfire, rather forcefully by those bloody archangels. Sucks, but that's what happened. None of that is on you.”
Aziraphale nods, which Crowley feels he wouldn't be able to notice if they weren't close to each other since it was small, almost like he didn't move at all.
Though, he knows Aziraphale is still blaming himself. Self deprecation is tricky when it comes to Aziraphale, since he buries it within him until he can't hold it any longer.
He’ll do anything he can to help Aziraphale get through this. That's all he needs to do.
Aziraphale lets out a few more sobs before he pulls away slightly, looking up at Crowley. The sight is more heartbreaking than when he first saw the angel, his eyes red-rimmed and full of pain, sorrow, and loss. The tear tracks in his face are smudged in every direction, and he's still crying.
It's like this entire situation opened the floodgates, and Aziraphale couldn't stop hurting. Crowley swears he’ll do something when he gets back to Hell, because fuck that. Aziraphale doesn't deserve this.
“I’m— are you sure?” Aziraphale asks quietly, his voice cracking on every word. “I should’ve… fought harder, or— or tried to convince Sandalphon it wasn't a good idea. I— I just feel so broken it… it has to be me at fault, Crowley.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Crowley has never seen Belial’s curse disappear from humans before, but if this is what they feel like after… there's a whole other thing coming for that archduke. That's for fucking sure.
He can plot his revenge later, though. For now, Aziraphale needs him. Crowley will stay for as long as he has to in order to make things right, to see a smile on Aziraphale's face again.
The thing is, Aziraphale hasn't been in the best of moods since they met up yesterday. They've both been miserable since ten years ago, that much was certain.
So, Crowley has no idea if Aziraphale has lost that hope of being able to have a future together. At least, that's what he was suggesting, wasn't he? That they couldn't be together now, but one day maybe they could?
Regardless, they're here now, together. Heaven and Hell may be watching them, but Crowley knows Aziraphale is worth the risk.
He's worth any risk Crowley will take.
“S’not you, angel. This curse, the nightmares— s’all that bastard Belial’s fault. And probably that wanker Sandalphon. Y’know, he disappeared before there was even a fight? Like, then what’s the bloody point?” Crowley asks rather playfully, hoping to lighten the mood and ease Aziraphale's concerns.
It only makes things worse, because Aziraphale starts shaking even more, his breaths coming out short and quick. Shit, he didn't mean for this to happen. Aziraphale was going to have a full blown panic attack if he didn't get his breathing under control.
“Aziraphale, breathe. Breathe for me, yeah? S’okay, m’here. Just breathe, come on,” he coaxes, and is instantly pleased when Aziraphale follows his words and starts taking deeper breaths. “That's it, angel. You're doing good, just keep breathing.”
Aziraphale shudders, letting his head fall on top of Crowley's chest. “S–Sandalphon… he left?” he asks, and the question sounds so devastating that even without the context of why Aziraphale would be saddened, it pains Crowley all the same.
“He did. Belial said he fucked off to Heaven.” At Crowley's reply, Aziraphale tenses up. “Angel?”
“That's… isn't that c-cruel? To ask me to get cursed and not— not even go through with his plans?” Aziraphale’s voice cracks at the end as he curls inwards, shielding himself from the world as he tries to hide away in Crowley's arms.
Crowley brings his wings out to do exactly that, covering Aziraphale from the low yellow lighting of the inn. He agrees, and it makes him feel livid that the archangel would do such a thing.
“S’fucked up, is what it is,” Crowley says, tucking Aziraphale in further as he adjusts his wings so no light can get through.
It's clear that Aziraphale is feeling very vulnerable, not wanting anyone outside of Crowley to witness this, so Crowley doesn't grant anyone this sight. Not even God can see this, of that Crowley guarantees.
Aziraphale huffs, shifting a bit so he can hold Crowley closer to him more comfortably. “L-language, dearest,” he mumbles.
Crowley snorts, oh, he hadn't expected that at all. It's a good start, though, to helping Aziraphale feel better. “Just sayin’. Y’know it's true.”
He kisses Aziraphale's forehead softly for good measure, and because he can. No one is watching them anymore.
“I just don't understand why o-or if they'd plan this at the start.” Aziraphale lets out a small breath, and Crowley can feel the angel’s lips on his collarbone. “I’m… I’m quite glad you're here and not— not suffering as I am. This is utterly terrible.”
Crowley moves one of his hands to Aziraphale's hair, stroking the curls gently as Aziraphale starts to untense and lay limp in his arms. “I can't say I feel the same,” he grumbles.
Aziraphale does what Crowley assumed he'd do in their closeness, kiss whatever he can reach of Crowley's collarbones, but the action still makes his face heat up.
“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispers, and before Crowley could once again tell him that there was nothing to be sorry for, Aziraphale places a hand on his chest to silence him. “I… don't get angry, dearest, but I think this was deserved.”
Okay, what the fuck. What the bloody fuck did Belial’s curse entail? “Aziraphale…” he hisses dangerously, tightening his grip on the angel to protect him from the realms that threatened to hurt him.
“Please, you must understand… I hurt you, Crowley, so terribly all those years ago. I thought it'd help to keep distance, so you would be safe from Upstairs, from everyone threatening to hurt you should we be found out. But, all I did was exactly that. I hurt you, and I deserved—”
“Stop, angel. Stop it.” Crowley feels Aziraphale's breath hitch, and it sounds as though he's about to cry again. Not that the tears have stopped, but the sobbing has. “You hurt— mmnn, yes, it did bloody hurt to hear you say that. But you know you hurt yourself too, right? Doing what you did, you shut off your feelings, you hid yourself away after givin’ me something that could permanently destroy me. That’s painful as shit.”
“I– I… but you were also hurting—”
“Please, angel, listen. You didn't deserve this for trying to protect me ten years ago, and those wankers Upstairs know that. We didn't part, erm, goodly, but you sacrificed so much to give me what you did. Don't blame yourself, angel.”
Aziraphale sobs, and Crowley feels his heart breaking once more into pieces that fall onto the bed with Aziraphale’s tears. “I— then how can I justify this? How can I— how can I deal with m-my nightmares without saying I deserved this for everything I’ve done? I’m not fit for this, I’m not a good angel, I’m not worthy, I—”
Crowley isn't sure how long his chest has been hurting, seeing as it's been like this ever since he saw Aziraphale collapse.
It really is like the curse opened all of Aziraphale's floodgates, destroying all his walls and having him completely come undone.
Whatever happened in those nightmares, Aziraphale always paid the price. If those didn't discorporate him, his constant aching will.
“There is no justification for what that bastard did to you,” Crowley says quietly, Aziraphale's sobs filling the room as he mumbles please, Crowley, please. “M’serious, ‘kay? You're the best bloody angel out of all of your miserable lot, and you're worth it. Always worth it to me, angel. Always.”
Aziraphale cries, holding onto Crowley like he was his only lifeline. “I— why? Why would you— for me?”
Isn't that the age old question that Crowley's been trying to answer for eons? “You're my best friend,” Crowley answers, putting it simply. Putting it in a way Aziraphale will understand that he won't be left alone.
Aziraphale clutches Crowley's shirt, letting out a small whimper. “You're mine, too,” he says, his voice cracking as he starts to sob again. “I– Crowley, you're my dearest companion, and I never want to lose you like I did i-in— O-Oh, Crowley…”
Aziraphale starts to sob in earnest, and Crowley bites back the questions on his mind: what happened in those nightmares? Were they truly so terrible that escape would've been bliss? Were they graphic in detail, so much so that Aziraphale truly felt lost?
Crowley whispers sweet nothings in Aziraphale's ears as he cries, his tears never seeming to end. “M’here, angel. Never leaving you, promise. My strong, gorgeous, sweet, silly, fussy angel. Don't you fret, yeah? M’here as long as you want me.”
Aziraphale giggles despite his crying, nuzzling Crowley's chest. “Then… can you stay forever? Could we be allowed to do that this once, dearest?”
They both know it's impossible. Crowley moves too fast, and Aziraphale tries his hardest to catch up. Heaven and Hell constantly surveil them, and there's no doubt the archangels will appear in Aziraphale's bookshop soon. Crowley's check-in with Hell is right around the corner, too.
But in the safety of Crowley's wings around the both of them, shielding them from any looking eyes, Crowley wants to oblige the request to stay forever. He won't deny Aziraphale that when it's possible one day.
“I will,” he says, pressing his lips on Aziraphale's forehead once again. “Won't let go, You're too warm and soft.”
Aziraphale's responding kiss to his jaw is wet with tears, but he doesn't mind, not when Aziraphale clearly feels comfortable and secure, hidden away from Heaven and Hell.
He’s no doubt still feeling the trauma that's coming from the nightmares he had, and he's trying his hardest to be strong for Crowley.
“My, you're rather warm yourself. I… I hope you don't mind laying here for a while before— b-before I tell you what happened,” Aziraphale whispers, his tears slowing down now that he's registered that Crowley isn't leaving.
“Mnn, don't mind at all. But, y’know, you don't have to tell me ‘bout those nightmares right now. You're still hurting, angel.”
“I– I know, but I want to,” Aziraphale says, his voice shaky. “I trust you, Crowley. But I just want— I just want to indulge in this for now. Please?”
Crowley hums, as if he could ever deny Aziraphale his indulgences. “Course, sweet thing. My wings making you comfortable?”
“Mhm, yes. It feels… safe. I do love it.”
Crowley smiles, even though it's a small thing that Aziraphale can't see. They can be safe in their little hideout for as long as they can, and this can be their forever.
He kisses the soft curls on top of Aziraphale's head, and feels the angel lay on his chest like it's the only thing he ever wants to do.
Crowley still feels tears soaking his shirt, so he continues to pepper Aziraphale's head with kisses. Aziraphale tightens his grip, breathing in Crowley's scent as he tries to calm down.
This was a messy situation, Crowley was sure of it. They need to discuss their next move and… and all the shit Aziraphale had nightmares on. It’ll be a horrible experience for the both of them, and Aziraphale has to relive it. Terrible, absolutely bloody terrible.
For now, Crowley lets his anger for certain archduke demons and archangels fade away as he whispers only the sweetest things for Aziraphale to hear, feeling Aziraphale comfort him just the same as he feels the angel rub his back in soothing, slow motions.
The morning will be more difficult to deal with, even as the hardest of nights fades away.
But, they have each other. That's all that matters for now, and forever.