BabyBlueInTrenchcoat



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    There are many sure facts in life. One plus one equals two, Pompeii was a prank gone very wrong by the Archangel Gabriel, and if the Winchesters were going to summon a demon, it would be the wrong one. The wrong Demon just happened to always be Crowley, who was really starting to get annoyed about all these summonings interrupting his plans.

    -

    OR: 5 Times the Winchesters accidentally summon Crowley, and 1 time they tried to.

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    24 Apr 2026

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    “Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could… If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?”

    The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind.

    (In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

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    24 Apr 2026

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    “And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t,” Crowley’s voice cracked.

    There was a forceful, anxious kick in Aziraphale’s chest. Oh, God, he was actually going to talk about it. Neither of them dared to for 6,000 years.

    Crowley tossed his head to the side. “I mean…The last few years, not really. And I know why we’ve had to pretend, of course. That’s obvious.” His eyes lowered to the floor. “Can’t ever forget about that, can I?” he said under his breath.
    ~~
    After being punished in Heaven for being in love as angels, Aziraphale and Crowley spend the next 6,000 years pretending their relationship never happened.

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    22 Apr 2026

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    "Why are you doing this?"

    Aziraphale's voice is faint, his breathing uneven. Crowley doesn't lift his eyes to see the sickly look on his face, the twist of pain where only joyous smiles should ever be.

    "Bandages need changing", he mumbles, eyes fixed firmly on his working hands.

    "No. I meant-" He can hear as Aziraphale swallows. "Why do you care for me?"

    It isn't just 'why do you take care of me'. It's 'why do you still care at all'.

    Crowley has to close his eyes for a second, makes sure Aziraphale doesn't see.

    "Cause you're here", he says, voice carefully detached, "and you're hurt, and you need someone. And that someone's gotta be me."

    "Why?"

    He won't answer that. He can't answer that.

    "Don't ask stupid questions."

    ~oOo~
    Or, the one where Heaven punishes Aziraphale the only way they know how, Crowley is there to help pick up the pieces, and maybe they can actually build something new and much more beautiful from both their broken shards.

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    20 Apr 2026

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    Fifteen years have passed since Aziraphale returned to Heaven, and still sometimes Crowley feels shell shocked and embarrassed and grief-stricken. And mostly, he still feels numb. Fifteen years isn’t really so long, in the grand scheme of things, and yet these have somehow been the longest years of his existence. He can almost feel time crawling by, laughing at him.

    But slowly, so slowly, Crowley began to try again. To try harder. To find a piece of himself that Aziraphale had not touched. To find a piece of himself that does not need changing.

    On his good days, he can open up. His friends come over to the flat, once in a while, and Maggie brings new records and Muriel brings burnt cookies that no-one complains about because they're so proud of them. They'll exchange stories and simply enjoy each other's company for a few hours.

    And sometimes, he feels almost alright.

    Until Crowley turns around and Aziraphale is there, standing in front of him, trying to stop the world from ending all over again.

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    19 Apr 2026