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“Crawly.”
He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry.
“Crawly.”
He looked around. Someone kept saying that name, but this person was nowhere to be found.
“Craaawlyyy” Another voice joined the first one.
“Won’t you answer, Crawly?”
“Crawly. Crawly. Crawly. Crawly.” Other voices joined the chorus.
He blinked hard a couple times, trying to clean up his vision. More voices called that name and now he could distinguish a few silhouettes too. They were coming closer as their voices got higher.
“Crawly.”
“Answer us, Crawly.”
“Crawly. Crawly. Crawly.”
“Craaawlyyy.”
Then it clicked. Crawly. He knew this name, even if he hadn’t heard it in so long.
He used to go by this name.
“Crawly.” Another voice singsong, demanding to be answered.
“It… It’s not my name.” He managed to reply, his voice suffocated amidst the chorus uttering that name.
“Nonsense. Of course it is, Crawly.”
“What else would it be, Crawly?”
“Who else would you be, Crawly?”
“Craawwlyy. Crawly. Crawly.”
That was wrong. He was not Crawly. He was-
Who was he?
His name. He knew it. Surely he knew it. Who forgets their own name? It was on the tip of his tongue.
Still…
“Crawly.”
“Come on, Crawly, don’t just ignore us.”
“Craaawwlyy.”
They got closer.
“It is not my name!” It was not. Not anymore. He hated that name. He didn’t even pick it himself back then.
But what was the right one? The chorus of Crawly filled the silence, filled his mind, filled everything. What was it? He should know it. He chose it!
“Crawly, sweetie, won’t you answer us?”
“What’s the problem, Crawly?”
“Crawl-“
“No!” He shouted. “No. No. No. I’m not Crawly. That’s not my name. My name is-“
Silence.
The figures looked at him with a smug, wicked grin and an expectant face.
“So?” They challenged him.
“What is it, Crawly?”
“You are Crawly. Always were, always will be.”
“How foolish, Crawly.”
“It’s your name, Crawly.”
No.
“No. It’s not.” His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. “It’s not!” His tone bordered desperation.
“Oh, Crawly.” The patronising voice was the worst. The false pity. The condescending look.
“You don’t really believe you have other name but your true one, right, Crawly?”
“Crawly…”
They were too close. He felt suffocated. Was that room smaller? Their voices kept overlapping one another, always calling him by that stupid name.
His name. He chose it. It suited him. So why couldn’t he remember it now? Now when he needed it the most? Now so he could shut that people up for good?
He strained, hundreds of names crossing his mind, but none was right. None was his.
He just knew of thing.
He.
Was.
Not.
Crawly.
*
He jerked awake and felt the soft fabric of his black blankets, understanding dawning at him.
It was just a nightmare. He took a deep breath, even if he didn’t need it.
Just a nightmare.
“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale stopped his reading to look at him. Worry in his eyes.
The angel wasn’t too fond of sleeping, but he found it quite nice to read in bed while cuddling with his demon. However, this was the first time he saw him waking up suddenly like that.
No answer.
“Crowley?”
That granted him a reaction. Crowley looked at him, yellow eyes still blinking uncharacteristically so as to dissipate the shock.
“…Yes, Angel?” He tried to keep his tone with any resemblance of normalcy he could muster.
“What happened?” Aziraphale put aside the book “You don’t look alright at all.”
“I’m fine,” He said “Just… A nightmare, it is all.” And a foolish one, he added mentally.
After surviving the Apocalypse, facing Satan himself and walking in Hell Fire whilst disguised as Aziraphale knowing any mistake could cost both their lives, a nightmare about something as petty as a name he haven’t heard in centuries was just… Ridiculous.
Still…
“Can you… Say it again?” Crowley allowed some vulnerability to show in his voice. He was still a bit… Shaken.
“Say what again, dear?” Aziraphale didn’t quite follow his train of thought, but passed an arm over his shoulder nonetheless, seeking to give his demon any comfort he could.
“…My name. Can you say it again?”
“Crowley.” The angel complied slowly, brows knitted in confusion. Crowley seemed put at ease with the word, so he kept going “Crowley. Crowley. Crowley. Crowley.” He felt a tad silly repeating the demon’s name like that for no apparent reason, but if it helped, then so be it.
“Now, Crowley,” He was careful not to say ‘dear’ this time “what was this nightmare about?”
Crowley mumbled something.
“Excuse me?”
“Nnng… It’s silly. Nothing important.”
“If it put you in such a state, it’s most certainly not silly.” He assured him. “But I won’t press the matter.” Aziraphale gave him a peck on the cheek.
Silence followed.
….
“Fine,” Crowley sighed “but don’t say I didn’t tell you it was silly. And don’t laugh!” He knew Aziraphale would never laugh at him, but just the possibility made him cringe.
Aziraphale nodded.
“Fine… So, I was in this room, I guess. I couldn’t really see at first, my vision was all blurry and everything. Then someone started to call me Crawly,” He all but spat out the name “and a lot of voices joined it. They kept calling me that and saying a lot of things and getting closer. I was getting suffocated and I couldn’t remember my own name! I tried and tried, but they kept saying I had no other name and I just couldn’t reply. I forgot the name I chose myself. My name.”
“Oh, dear, it sound dreadful.” He hugged Crowley a bit tighter “No wonder you woke up so perturbed.”
“Yeah, well…” Crowley bit back an ‘it’s-no-big-deal’ remark and allowed himself to be protected for once “Thanks.”
Aziraphale turned to him, face closer, lips only inches away from his own.
“Anthony J. Crowley,” He pronounced each syllable slowly, as if savoring them “I love you.”
Crowley closed the distance between them. Their kiss slow and passionate and reassuring all at once.
Anthony J. Crowley, his mind repeated the words said in such a loving tone by his angel. His name. His name, spoken with so much love it felt nailed in his brain, so he would never forget it again.
He felt loved.