Chapter Text
Crowley was going to find whoever invented Invict and kill them in ways that hadn’t been invented. And then he would do the same to everyone they had ever met. Invict was several curses mixed together and turned into liquid form. It worked on angels and demons alike, trapping them in the horrors of their own minds. Aziraphale would be hallucinating vividly for about a day before the effects gradually wore off. Aziraphale shifted, muttering to himself.
“Shh, angel, it’s okay, you’re safe”
I really am too moronic to live, Aziraphale thought. It had barely been two years since the second world war, and for a moment, he had thought they might, as Crowley would say, get a fucking clue. Honestly, the entire 20th century had been one idiotic event after another. Aziraphale stood up and smoothed his coat. Heaven had never sent aid before, but he might be able to sway them with what had happened in Germany and Japan. It would be different this time, he thought. It had to be.
When he returned from heaven, he went to the bookshop and tried not to think of hellfire.
“Please, no. You have to help them. You have to, please, please”
“I know, angel. I’m sorry”
Aziraphale knelt by the old man’s side, trying vainly to stop the bleeding. He gasped for air whimpering softly.
“Have no fear, for you are in the arms of the Lord”
“But… I don’t see a light” his voice faded and breathing stopped. Aziraphale closed his eyes and stood up. He made his way over to the next victim, beginning the familiar prayer.
“Have no fear…”
“Angel, angel, love, you did everything you could”
The man laughed to himself. “You know, Ezra, someone said that their pain made them stronger, ya know. Can you believe that? Don’t everybody know that pain just, oh you know what I mean”
“I’m sure they were just trying to be optimistic, Charles. More tea?” Humanity was so hopeful, believing that pain brought anything other than fragility. Charles held out his cup, and began talking about his time in the army as Aziraphale poured them both tea.
“I don’t understand. How could you do that to them? How?”
“I know, Aziraphale. It’s hard. I love you”
Demons thrived in sin and pain, while angels wilted. Strangely, kindness and love had no particular effect on either. Aziraphale had wondered why angels weren’t energized during happier, or even more pious, times, but had assumed there was some sort of cosmic balancing act at work; demons didn’t have Grace, after all. But Aziraphale would look at Crowley, sometimes, in nightclubs and revolutions and wars, and the way he burned, even while helping, and wonder. If it was a balancing act, or Aziraphale’s own impotence. If angels were energized by love, but there had never been enough love on Earth to have an effect.
“It’s because they’re alone, you know. Look what happened to us, and they live and die alone. Of course they hurt each other”
“Oh, angel, no one’s ever really alone, even when they think they are. You’re with me, love. I’ve got you”
Crowley held his angel tightly, talking to him until he went still. Aziraphale had been hallucinating for hours, occasionally muttering to himself. He switched languages frequently, sometimes mid- sentence. Only a few more hours until the hallucinations began to subside, then a few days of recovery, and everything would go back to normal.
Aziraphale awoke several exhausting hours later, tears in his eyes.
“Crowley?”
“Aziraphale? Let me handle any more rogue demons, okay?” When Aziraphale didn’t respond, Crowley became even more worried, if that was even possible.
“It’s us, Crowley. Mostly me, but … it’s us”
“I’m going to need a little more context, love”
“Oh, heart. I can’t tell you, you know. You’ll figure it out, and leave. Selfish, but I don’t want you to go”
“What’ll I figure out angel? You’ve always been the smart one” Aziraphale blinked up at him, touching Crowley’s face reverently, despair on his face. He’s still drugged, Crowley thought. It hasn’t had time to work its way out of his system, and he’s never looked at me like that. He never looked at me like I was going to leave.
“You’ll realize how weak I am. Heaven hasn’t been right since the fall, that’s not my fault, but after? I’m supposed to help people, nothing else. There is nothing there, Crowley. All I am is a few personality quirks and other people’s pain. I am nothing. All I am here for is to help. And I can’t even do that. People die alone and hurt each other and I can’t help them. I have one job and I can’t do it. Who would want to be with me? That’s why I can’t tell you”
“Oh, angel. It’s not your fault. I’ll never leave you, I promise. I could tell you a million reasons, but if mental illness was cured by logic, we would all be doing a lot better. But, if I said something like that you’d tell me it was wrong. That I have value just by existing. So, that’s what I’m saying to you. Everyone exists, and they are worthy of existing by virtue of existing. You can’t help everyone, and that’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, love” Crowley kissed Aziraphale before willing him to sleep. When he was sure Aziraphale was asleep, Crowley buried his head in his angel’s chest and cried.
After the next few days passed, things got better. It took two or three days for Aziraphale to fully recover from the Invict, and longer for him to tell Crowley when he thought about finding the nearest hellmouth and walking in. Crowley did, at some point, come to Aziraphale when he had panic attacks instead of running away from him. Things weren’t perfect, but they lived.