Work Text:
Please Stay With Me
Whumptober prompt Day 23: Begging
“AZIRAPHALE!” Crowley shoved his way through the bookshop door, letting it clatter against the frame as he held an arm across his stomach. “Azira-” he choked over a yelp.
The Angel had been reading quietly in the next room. A lovely record played in the background, combining effortlessly with the saucy words of one William Shakespeare until Aziraphale felt he was back in Heaven (or, really, a much better place than Heaven).
When he heard the chime of the bell and the terror in Crowley’s strained voice, he jumped to his feet.
“Crowley?!”
His bookshop had been vacant a single moment before, silence hanging in the air. But now the door was burst open and Crowley was clinging onto a bookcase for dear life and oh God, he looked hurt. There was no blood, but there was so much pain in his golden eyes. Aziraphale hurried to his side and settled an arm around his midriff to hold him upright.
Crowley released his hold on the bookshelf only to take Aziraphale’s arm into the same deathgrip. If it hurt him, which it almost certainly did, Aziraphale ignored it.
“Crowley, what’s wrong?”
“Poison,” sputtered Crowley. He hissed between gritted teeth as his knees gave out.
Aziraphale eased him onto the floor, dropping to his knees with him. On the floor, he leaned Crowley’s upper body up against his shoulder. He braced a hand around him for support, and used the other to gently turn Crowley’s chin toward himself.
“What kind of poison?” His worried eyes darted across Crowley’s face. His heart was racing in his chest, almost reaching into his throat.
It had been such a quiet morning.
“I don’t…I don’t know. Just-” Crowley screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. He curled against Aziraphale, digging his face into his weathered vest. He took in a shaky breath, inhaling the old, dusty fabric. “It hurts.”
Aziraphale rubbed soothing circles into Crowley’s arm.
“Let me heal you.”
He moved his hand to Crowley’s chest, fully embracing him from behind. His black shirt was damp with sweat. His limbs were practically boneless. Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his work more than the rising fury that would’ve made Hell cower in fear.
Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. In concentration, perhaps. Or frustration. Because even as he kept his hands against Crowley and his focus entirely on healing the poor dear, Crowley continued to whimper. He sagged heavier and heavier against Aziraphale’s chest, until he was barely holding himself up at all.
“Crowley?”
“An-Angel.” Crowley’s eyes struggled open. “I don’t…I don’t think this is working.”
“Why?” Aziraphale opened his eyes and found Crowley barely conscious, mouth dripping open with words unsaid. He shook the man awake. “Why isn’t it working?!”
“Maybe…” Crowley paused, swallowed hard. “Maybe I’ve fallen too far…to be saved by an Angel.”
“No,” said Aziraphale. He pushed back the fringe on Crowley’s forehead until it was sticking up again, how he always liked it. “You...that’s not fair.”
Crowley shook his head.
“They’ve never been fair.”
Aziraphale gasped on a breath that would’ve been a sob, if he wasn’t terrified of crying. If he started crying, he wouldn’t stop. He would never be able to save Crowley.
So he blinked back the threatening tears and shifted Crowley into a seated position.
“Come on,” he grabbed Crowley under the arms and hoisted him almost to his feet, leaning him almost entirely on himself as he got his own feet under himself. “I have a plan.”
“Angel-”
Aziraphale lowered his voice, “Save your energy.”
It was a command, and Crowley knew it. Aziraphale’s deep voice reverberated through Crowley’s Damned soul. And so he let the Angel drag him across the room. Out the door. Across the pavement, where a few humans were probably gawking or phoning an ambulance or doing something else that made him love and loathe humanity. Into the Bentley, who hummed her own gentle reassurances as soon as she sensed her favorite Angel and Demon and the pain in their chests.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale clicked the seatbelt across his lap, and then set a warm hand on his cheek. Crowley forced his eyes open enough to see the smile touching the Angel’s lips. “There you are.”
Aziraphale shut the door and hurried around the car. Before Crowley could turn his weakened neck enough to face his Angel, the car was already on. The tires screeched as they peeled out, and a few pedestrians jumped out of the way.
Aziraphale had forgotten the radio.
And he had also forgotten his rule about speeding through London.
. . . . .
“We’re here, Crowley,” Aziraphale spun around one last corner and flew past a sign reading ‘Tadfield’. “Stay with me.”
Crowley blinked his eyes open. He tried to respond, but his voice had somehow become impossible to access. His head was so fuzzy. Colors swirled around him, dizzying him almost to the point of nausea. The only constant was Aziraphale, sitting in the driver’s seat beside him. His eyes kept darting over, off of the road he was taking way too fast.
His eyes, filled with tears that never fell.
“I won’t let you discorporate.”
Crowley trusted the words, somehow, despite the sense of foreboding resting in his chest. He forced a smile and forced himself not to scream over the next wave of pain. He couldn’t hurt his Angel more. He couldn’t see those eyes so helpless again.
The car screeched to a stop that jolted Crowley forward, and then back into his seat. He rolled his head toward the driver’s seat, because that was about all he could do. Aziraphale gestured for him to stay still; he would take care of it. He would handle everything on his own because he was his Angel. His Guardian Angel.
In a flurry of motion, Aziraphale jumped out of the car and appeared again at Crowley’s window. He yanked the door open wide.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale leaned into the car and unbuckled Crowley’s seatbelt. “I’m going to help you out. We’re at Adam’s house.”
“Adam?” Crowley furrowed his brow.
“Yes, the boy: Adam.”
Aziraphale awkwardly set his hands under Crowley and maneuvered his body halfway out of the car. Crowley tried to help. His arm moved clumsily to push himself out of the car. But he must have misjudged his movements, because he accidentally smacked Aziraphale in the face. The Angel yelped, and Crowley could have cried.
“‘M sorry.”
“It’s-it’s fine.” Aziraphale checked his nose for blood. When he didn’t find any, he redoubled his efforts to get Crowley out of the car. “Just let me help you.”
Afraid to hurt Aziraphale again, Crowley did as he was told. He was too tired to argue and too tired to blush as Aziraphale struggled to set his body weight entirely on his shoulders. But the Angel was strong. He lifted Crowley fully out of the car and started into the garden.
Dangling over Aziraphale’s shoulders like a drunk man leaning on his buddies that Crowley had seen at the pub last weekend, Crowley whimpered. His stomach was really hurting now, and black spots blinked at the edges of his vision. Aziraphale was saying something to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He could only hope the Angel wasn’t doing something stupid like apologizing.
“Adam!” Aziraphale shouted, finding the lad in the garden with Dog at his side.
The boy was a little older, of course. But he looked almost the same. Taller, perhaps, his eyes a little sadder.
“What are you doing here?”
He didn’t ask it rudely. Just matter-of-factly, as was his way. He looked the Angel and Demon up and down. His frown deepened as he realized just how much Crowley was leaning on Aziraphale. When the Demon’s legs gave out entirely, dropping Aziraphale down with him into the bright green grass, Adam surged forward.
“What happened?”
“You have to help us,” Aziraphle begged. He cradled Crowley in his arms, squeezing his torso closer to himself. “He was poisoned, and I can’t help him. Only you can.”
“Me?” Adam asked. “Why me?”
But Aziraphale didn’t respond. Crowley was screaming again. Sometimes it was gibberish. Sometimes it was his name. No matter what, it tore into Aziraphale’s soul. He ached, even as he tried to comfort Crowley with gentle hushed words.
“It’s okay. Crowley, look at me. It’s okay.”
When he next looked up at Adam, now kneeling in front of him, his eyes were filled with tears.
“Please,” he repeated. A whisper. A plea.
“How can I help?” Adam shook his head. “I-I don’t know how. Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”
“You helped me,” said Aziraphale. “When I was discorporated. You helped me get a new body. Please,” he couldn’t help but say the word again, “I’m sorry to ask you, but…you might be the only one who can save him.” He swallowed back a sob. “Heaven won’t help him.”
Adam nodded bravely. He bit his bottom lip and looked over the situation with as clear a head as he could muster.
Okay. A Demon and an Angel were in his garden. The Demon was dying in the Angel’s arms, clawing at the fabric of his jacket almost enough to tear it apart. And the Angel…well, Adam didn’t dare look in his eyes. He’d never seen someone so distraught. It seemed a sin.
“Give me a second,” he said.
Aziraphale nodded.
“Thank you, Adam.” He sniffed back another wave of tears threatening to spill over. “Thank you.”
He turned his attention to Crowley. His hair was slicked back with sweat, chest heaving despite him not technically requiring oxygen. Aziraphale stroked his hand against his cheek, shushing him as he rocked him gently against himself.
“Stay with me, Crowley. Please,” he begged, voice breaking over the word. “Please don’t go somewhere I can’t follow.”
“Angel,” Crowley choked, then gasped over his next breath. He snatched Aziraphale’s upper arm into his fist.
“It’ll be alright soon, Crowley.” Azirpahale rocked back and forth, his hand cupped around the back of Crowley’s head to hold it steady against his chest. “Just a little longer.”
Beside them, Adam’s eyes were distant. No one could’ve said what the boy was looking at. He’d become so accustomed to his life on Earth that he sometimes forgot his heritage; his true Self. Now, he was remembering.
“You can’t live without him,” Adam said, his voice deeper than usual.
It took a moment for Aziraphale to realize that Adam was talking about himself. He found the boy’s eyes boring directly into his soul. Beyond his corporation. Beyond, perhaps, what all of the Angels in Heaven could see.
“You need him,” Adam continued. “And he needs you. It’s not right for one of you to be here while the other is gone.”
Aziraphale shook his head. He felt a tear finally start to roll down the side of his nose. More joined, bursting through the floodgates until he buried his face in Crowley’s suit. He squeezed the Demon closer to himself, tight enough to hurt him. Tight enough to hold him on Earth, no matter who tried to take him away. A sob escaped him, then another. Messy tears marred the fabric of Crowley’s shirt. But he couldn’t stop himself.
If Crowley left…if he had to live on Earth without him…
“Angel?”
Aziraphale sobbed again into the shirt, digging his forehead into Crowley’s chest. He couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t-
A hand touched his back. Then another hand rested against his cheek, a thumb catching one of his falling tears.
“Aziraphale?”
Aziraphale’s head jerked up to find Crowley’s eyes open. He looked…he looked healed. Pain didn’t furrow his brow. His hair was back to its usual style, ungreased by sweat. His beautiful golden eyes were looking into his own with worry but with full awareness.
“Crowley!”
Aziraphale latched Crowley back into an embrace. He squeezed him so tightly that Crowley hissed, tapping Aziraphale’s back to get him to release his grip.
“Alright, I’m alright, Angel.”
“I thought…” Aziraphale sobbed. Or laughed. He couldn’t tell what emotion he was feeling. He supposed it was pure joy. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
Crowley’s eyes sparkled.
“Never.”
Aziraphale took a deep breath. He was sure he looked a mess; red-rimmed eyes, pink tearstained face, runny nose. But that wasn’t important. Crowley was awake and okay and he wasn’t going anywhere; not today. Not ever, if Aziraphale could help it.
If Adam could help it.
Aziraphale turned to the boy almost in rapture.
Suddenly, Aziraphale knew how humans felt when their brilliant doctors performed miracles. When their worlds were saved by people they barely knew. When their lives continued because of a stranger.
“Thank you, Adam,” he said.
Adam shrugged.
“I was just doing what’s right.”
“That’s sometimes the bravest thing there is.”
“You can only be brave when you’re scared first,” Adam said. “I wasn’t really scared. I knew that he couldn’t die. Like I said, you need each other. The world can’t exist with just one of you in it.”
Crowley sat up beside Aziraphale. He cocked his head to the side with a furrowed brow.
“How do you know that?”
“It’s part of The Plan.”
“‘The Plan’?” Crowley questioned. “What ‘Plan’?”
Adam shrugged.
“The only Plan.”
With that, he called Dog and ran back off into the garden, leaving the Angel and the Demon sitting halfway in the grass. They gave each other a dark, questioning look. But then they both decided that it was a problem for another day.
“So,” Crowley said with a warm smile, “Dinner at the Ritz?”
“You read my mind.”