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Drowning.
Crowley can’t breathe. Not that he strictly needs to, but after spending six thousand years in a somewhat human body, one tends to get used to its functions. Like breathing. And he can’t right now. Breathe. It feels impossible.
He doesn’t know where he is. He feels like he is floating.
In air? On the water?
He can’t breathe.
Drowning. Suffocating. His lungs feel heavy, under pressure of some invisible weight, one he can’t see or touch, but feels all the same.
Darkness. He can’t see anything around him. A ringing in his ears that gets louder and louder. There isn’t enough air, wherever he is.
Falling.
He is plunging down from the sky. Burning. His form changing. Charred and melted as he hits the pool of sulfur. Excruciating pain. Drowning. As the scorching liquid fills his lungs. Burning him from the inside out. Burning everything holy. Everything good–
Screams all around him.
The wind and the rain are hitting his skin. Shivering with cold, and with dread. Yelling. Shouting. Watching from above as people try to get onto the wooden ship. Watching as they can’t make it. All those kids. Drowning.
Blood.
He didn’t mean for this to happen. Humans. Killing each other. Blood and guts everywhere. War. So many civilians lost. So many innocents. Kids. And it is all his fault. His fault his fault his fault. Sinner. Temptation incarnate. Serpent. Get up there and make some trouble. Did he really cause all of this?
Lights.
Blinding, painful lights. Rejection. The burden of love he’s carried in his chest for millennia so heavy that he might collapse. The feeling of the thermos in his hand. The buzz of something holy. Something he never can be. Pure. You go too fast for me, Crowley. His treacherous heart that he barely kept in one piece, glued together over and over, more times than he can count. Shattering irreparably now.
Burning.
Flames everywhere. Fire. Old books turning into ash. Smell of burnt paper and leather. And he is on the ground, helpless, desperate. I lost my best friend. Best friend. Nothing more. Never more. Never will be. Bury your wretched feelings along with the memories.
The end.
Finally, finally they can be together. They don’t have to be afraid of anything. They have an eternal future ahead of them. Peaceful. Undisturbed. But things don’t go according to plan. Something’s wrong. Aziraphale’s whole body is stiff for a moment. This is a mistake.
And now he is alone. Abandoned. Never good enough. Never strong enough. Never enough. He doesn’t deserve anything good. Deserves the pain and the suffering. The only constant in his life. The only constant that hasn’t left him yet.
Unforgivable.
I forgive you.
He can’t breathe. Feels like he’s drowning. His body is shaking. He’d say he is dying, if he didn’t know any better.
He can’t think. Can’t see. Can’t focus. Can’t make up what’s around him. Feels as if he’s underwater. Cold waves overpowering him, consuming him, devouring him. Pulling him under. He can’t fight the current. It’s too much. Whatever it is, he can’t handle it. He’s trembling. Scared. All alone–
“Crowley?”
Aziraphale’s voice. It reaches him through the fog, reaches into his ringing ears. Some of the darkness fades away. Everything is fuzzy, everything is blurry. But now he has something to hold onto. A voice. A heavy warmth on his shoulder. Comforting. He’s not feeling quite so untethered anymore.
“Crowley, dear, listen to my voice. I’m here for you.”
He blinks a couple of times, as his surroundings clear up, and he realizes where he is. He is upstairs in the bookshop. In Aziraphale’s bedroom. In Aziraphale’s bed. Their bed.
He is sitting curled up on the bed, hugging himself with his arms. And Aziraphale’s sitting right next to him. His chest still feel tight, but he is not suffocating anymore. He looks up at Aziraphale’s worried expression, lips turned down in a frown and brows creased. He opens his mouth, but no sound other than a pathetic croak come out.
“You’re okay, love,” Aziraphale says, his face softening. He is reaching his arms out, careful. “May I?”
Crowley merely nods, before letting himself fall into his embrace. Aziraphale’s soft yet sturdy body against his helps ground him. As he buries his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder, he bursts into tears. He doesn’t even know why he is crying. He is overwhelmed, but also relieved. Relieved that he is here, relieved that he isn’t alone. And yet it doesn’t make the pain of all those memories go away entirely.
“You’re here…” he manages to say once he finds his voice, once his sobbing slows down. It comes out way more emotional than he would’ve liked it to, though he supposes it is understandable, considering how choked up he is from all that crying.
Aziraphale shushes him gently, runs his fingers through Crowley’s hair, and it makes Crowley’s muscles relax more, letting him melt into his arms. “Of course I’m here,” he whispers, as Crowley swallows down a sob.
One part of him feels ashamed that he is letting himself be so vulnerable, but another part of him finds it freeing. Because he can be vulnerable with Aziraphale. He knows Aziraphale won’t think of him any differently for it. He remembers all those times Aziraphale held him as he broke down like this.
“Was it a nightmare?” Aziraphale asks as they lie cuddled in bed after a while, Crowley having made himself as small as possible and snuggled against Aziraphale’s chest, Aziraphale’s arm protectively wrapped around him. He gives a non-commital shrug that means more of a yes than a no. He still does have problems with being completely open, after all.
“What was it about?” Aziraphale continues gently, understanding even the smallest gestures from Crowley.
“Doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past now.” Whether that’s true or not, he doesn’t know. But he’d rather not think about it for the time being. “You’re here now…”
“Quite right, dear.” He can practically hear the fond smile in Aziraphale’s voice. “I’m here. And I always will be, whenever you need me.”
Crowley nods, warm tears springing to his eyes again. He still has a long way to go, but just wants to enjoy the peace and quiet of Aziraphale’s embrace for now. And maybe one day, he will have nightmares no more.