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He had the dream again.
Figures without faces creeped around him, touching him, taunting him, hurting him, and he was just frozen. Couldn’t do anything.
It always happened like that. It was dark, cold, and the figures hissed and laughed.
This time, though, he remembered it was a dream. And he felt this rush of joy, relief that now that he remembered it was a dream, it would be over.
So why wasn’t it over?
Oh. Yes, it was. Suddenly he was back in his bedroom, the figures gone. Alone. Just a dream. He reached up to rub his eyes.
Or, at least, he tried to. His hands didn’t move.
Aziraphale slunk into the room, muttering, his movements unnatural, his cadence all wrong. He sat on the edge of Crowley’s bed, and stared deep into his eyes.
Crowley could move his eyes, he found, but that was it. He tried to scream, but realized he only managed a strained whimper, barely audible.
”This is the way things should be, Crowley. I’ve had enough of your crying and shaking. You’re better behaved like this,” Aziraphale said, his tone flat.
Crowley squeaked. A tear rolled down his cheek.
”What’s that, my dear Fallen one?”
I don’t know what I did wrong.
Crowley forced his vocal cords to vibrate, but couldn’t come up with more than a faint croak.
Aziraphale smiled, the expression weird on his face. He’d never looked like that before, never made that kind of a cruel smile.
”See how much better you are when you’re quiet, Crowley?”
His eyes darted back and forth desperately.
Do you really mean that?
Another high-pitched whimper.
”Almost makes me forget how impossible you were to deal with. And I can’t anymore, Crowley. You’re just too much.”
No. Please.
Crowley strained to speak, just resulting in a desperate gurgle. A line of drool spilled from his frozen mouth. Aziraphale scoffed in disgust, got up off the bed.
“Don’t try and speak, Crowley. It doesn’t become you.”
The love of his life began to walk away.
Please don’t.
”Maybe if you keep quiet enough, someone will take pity on you and take you in as a coat hanger,” he spat.
He walked away, leaving Crowley alone.
•••
Aziraphale had read while Crowley slept, carded his fingers absentmindedly through his adversary’s hair. He’d only been gone to make a tea for a few moments. When he returned, he realized Crowley had woken.
“Just went to make a tea, my dear,” he hummed. He glanced at the figure in bed, still and silent.
Silent except for a weak gurgling noise, something that sounded like a blocked sob.
”Crowley?”
Aziraphale came down to his level, and tilted Crowley’s head gently so he could see if Crowley was awake. Lo and behold, his eyes were open, flickering back and forth, filled to the brim with tears. They were almost fully yellow.
”Oh!” Aziraphale cried, placing his tea down. “Crowley, what ever’s the matter?”
His demon didn’t answer him, just continued to look around the room wildly, eyes wide and frightened.
Aziraphale had read about this sort of phenomenon in humans. Sleep paralysis, it was called. Often happened during or after a nightmare. It didn’t sound pleasant in any case, but for Crowley, who was still recovering from being frozen and pushed around?
“I’m here, dear heart.” Aziraphale rested his hand on Crowley’s, and squeezed.
Sometimes humans saw monsters when they had sleep paralysis, creatures that weren’t really there. Aziraphale wiped the tears from Crowley’s eyes and wondered what he was seeing.
Gabriel? Hastur?
Aziraphale?
Oh.
Oh, no.
”Crowley? Crowley, my love. It’s me, it’s Aziraphale. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He scooped Crowley’s still form into his arms.
”I love you.”
He kissed away another teardrop.
”It’s just a nightmare,” he confirmed. “You’re not under the curse anymore, it’s just a bad dream.”
Aziraphale saw the denial in Crowley’s eyes.
“I promise. You’re free, my dear. It’s over.”
Crowley gurgled again, a heartbreaking sound, and Aziraphale wiped his mouth for him. He manifested his wings into the physical plane, and wrapped himself and Crowley in their warm embrace.
”I’ll always keep you warm.” Aziraphale swept Crowley’s hair to the side, gazed into the demon’s rapidly moving eyes.
If Crowley was dreaming about Aziraphale, what had happened? Aziraphale knew a frequent nightmare of Crowley’s was Aziraphale hurt. The poor dear was plagued with bad dreams, even before the curse. Crowley had just never told Aziraphale about them.
But now, here he was, the dear boy trapped by his own subconscious. Aziraphale had been working on easing Crowley’s trauma from being frozen, but it was a slow and steady battle. This bout of sleep paralysis would undo a few weeks of their hard work.
“It’s not real. You can move. It’s just your brain playing a trick on you,” Aziraphale tried.
More tears pooled in Crowley’s eyes.
“These bouts, they don’t last long in humans, I’ve heard,” he tried to say as casually as possible, but then remembered that for the human experiencing them, it can often feel like hours.
Aziraphale tucked Crowley’s plush star he’d given him under one of his arms gently.
”I’ll never leave you, Crowley. I’m right here with you always.”
Crowley blinked at that. A few times. His eyes focused. Maybe Aziraphale had interrupted the nightmare.
”Dear one, are you awake?”
Crowley didn’t move.
“Can you…blink twice if you can hear me?”
Two blinks.
“Blink twice if you can see me, my dear.”
Two blinks. Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand, and after a minute, Crowley squeezed back.
”Ang…” He tried.
”I’m right here.”
”Plea…se. Sss. Don’ leave?”
Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley made a keening noise.
”Prom’se I’ll…be good. Take care myself. Won’ t-talk. But please jussst. Stay?”
A soft hand ran through Crowley’s hair. “My love, what did you dream about?”
Crowley looked like he wanted to speak, but his face became red and his throat was choked with soft crying.
“Please don’t be ashamed, dear one. You don’t have to talk about it if you—“
”You. Said I wasss. Too much. M’sorry, ‘ngel.”
”It was just a dream, Crowley. Please remember that. You’re not too much. Please don’t apologize.”
“M’talking. Fuck, fffuck, m’sorry, I’ll…shut up,” Crowley cried.
”Crowley!” Aziraphale held his demon’s hands. “I love when you speak. My dear, I lost my mind because I didn’t hear your voice for a week.”
”Too many questions,” Crowley whimpered.
Oh.
Aziraphale wrapped Crowley closer to his body. He didn’t say anything, just held him tight, made sure Crowley knew he was held and held safe. He warmed himself up with the power of a miracle and let Crowley curl around him instinctively.
When Crowley Fell, it was cold. Aziraphale didn’t know too much more. Crowley was cold, he was alone, and he didn’t move from where he’d Fallen for a very long time.
”’Ziraphale?”
Crowley lifted his head, eyes much more normal-looking, a bit sleepy.
”Hello, Crowley.”
”I, um. Sorry. Embarrassing.”
”Please don’t apologize, my love.”
”M’ a demon. Demons don’t…” He grumbled. “You know. They don’t…”
”Get themselves frozen trying to protect their friends?”
“Right, and—“
”Have ‘love’ be their dying word?”
Crowley scoffed. “They—“
”Buy matching winter hats for themselves and an angel?”
“Fuck, you saw that?”
Aziraphale smiled softly. “You…before the curse, you had them in your Internet shopping trolley, and I used your phone as a torch, and…”
His own voice became damp with tears. Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, let his angel rest his head in the crook of his neck.
”I’m so glad you’re alive, Crowley. Not just alive, but…lively,” he said, voice muffled.
”I’m really not too much to handle?”
”Never,” Aziraphale confirmed.
They were certainly lively the rest of that night, joking and talking and reassuring each other. But they didn’t move. Not from each other’s arms.