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Crowley was below. It wasn’t quite clear where ‘below’ was, but he knew with perfect certainty he was below. His brain auto filled that he must therefore be in Hell, since that was the only 'below' he’d ever known. Sluggishly taking in his surroundings, he noted the rough dirt surrounding him, almost like he was climbing his way out of somewhere. Heat was emitting from the soil beneath him. So he was
escaping
Hell? Was that what was happening?
Fingernails dug at the burning ground, pushing himself out of what seemed to be a hole. When he looked down at it, it showed an almost-cartoony depiction of the fire and flames of hell. He decided not to question it.
Taking a deep breath, Crowley tried to orient himself in this new environment. All his senses seemed weirdly heighted, heart beating out his chest, the smell of smoke and dust surrounding him. He could also, for some reason, feel his scales appearing on his skin without him summoning them. It was almost as if they were being called forth, by some higher being.
Some higher being.
His attention was stolen from him, head forced to face the endless skies above. Although they didn’t really look like skies now, did they? Instead of a comforting blue, the entire sea of stars shone above him. A bittersweet feeling pooled in his stomach. He made those. Now he was just forced to watch from afar as they twinkled. He went back to trying to focus on what was in front of him.
His eyes, ever snake-like, stared up at an angel far above him. They shone with heavenly light, something supposed to be so comforting now burning away at his skin. It was ironic that Heaven burnt him now and not Hell.
(A small part of him still longed for his home.)
Crowley’s eyes focused on the being and recognition flooded his brain. That was
Aziraphale.
His angel, the one he had spent so long chasing but never having the courage to catch. The one who always encouraged him to try things that were no doubt incredibly humanly, the one who didn’t care and loved it anyways. That was him up there, burning away at the sky until only the endlessness of the space Crowley created stared back.
He felt himself reach out, clawed hands covered in burns and dirt. Wetness covered his cheeks as tears rolled down. Never in his infinite life had he felt such an intense longing as this. His angel seemed so unattainable, as if he had truly lost him for eternity. He pushed himself up frantically, no words leaving his mouth as he screamed for the other to just
listen.
Whatever he had done to push him away he would fix, whatever burden he had caused Crowley would gladly lift away.
Aziraphale stood tall, mindlessly looking down on the serpent. There was none of his bubbly personality behind those eyes, just the stone-cold responsibility of the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. Crowley desperately tried to crawl closer.
His nails dug into the Earth, elbows pushing away the soil as he moved. The pure heavenly light flared out around Aziraphale and he lifted his face to it, as if Crowley’s ruined soul could soak up some of the grace surrounding the being. As if maybe it would save him, if just a little bit. Maybe then Azira would want to help him. Maybe then he’d be saved, and things could go back to how they used to be. He would be good enough for Heaven. He would be good enough for Aziraphale, even if it meant stripping away at what he had been for so long.
He took a raspy breath in, chest aching with want
.
Aziraphale was
right there,
he could feel his warmth, his gaze. If only he could reach a little farther, be a little better, be a little less of who he was.
He understood Icarus now. He swore he’d claw his way to the sun, even if it meant burning up for it.
With bleeding hands, he tried to get closer, but it was no use. The light only got brighter, overexposing everything around until the stars were non-existent compared to his angel. Crowley winced at the overpowering sight, squinting as it filled up his vision. Even as his entire body began to scream, he felt like a moth to a flame. He didn’t care if this was what it took to get to Aziraphale. He’d fall to Hell a million times if it meant another moment with his other half. The light grew brighter, the burning on his skin all too familiar.
He braced for the flame.
Crowley awoke with a start, chest heaving as he took in his surroundings. The Bentley was right where he had parked it, small droplets of rain pitter-pattering against the windshield. There was no dirt beneath his nails, no heavenly blaze erupting in the sky.
Most heartbreakingly, though, was the fact that his angel was nowhere in sight. He took an unsteady breath. He listened to the world around him and all its ambience despite his panic.
The nightingales were silent.