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There is a part of him that knows none of this is real, that part however is small enough that he can easily ignore it in favour of the hazy warmth that surrounds him. He is warm and comfortable and nothing hurts.
Something that could be the sun warms his scales as he suns himself on a large flat rock in a massive garden. At least he thinks it’s a garden. It’s not a park, he thinks because there’s no one else there. Perhaps it's an orchard.
The details are vague but he’s not concerned. After all he is warm and everything is well. The air smells faintly like lavender and freshly brewed tea, he can vaguely hear clanking of porcelains and soft steps. There is a cottage just a few scant meters from his rock. Was it there a moment ago? Must have, after all where else would the tea be made? The details shift, ivy climbs lazily up the cottage wall, but then it’s wild roses and it’s always been wild roses because you can make jam out of them.
Crowley drifts and everything is well.
Mild breeze caresses his scales and it almost feels like a caress of a hand. The breeze feels worried, though the thought fades almost as soon as it appeared, why would the wind be worried? Everything is well.
“It has been almost a year little demon, you must wake” the voice doesn’t startle Crowley. It’s deep and resonant but at the same time warm and comforting. It reminds him of the music the spheres make.
There is a being sitting next to him on his rock.
There wasn’t one a moment ago but it makes sense for it to be now. After all this is a dream and now that Crowley acknowledges that he can no longer ignore that simple fact. The sun that is not the sun no longer warms his scales but skin as he quite suddenly finds himself in his human form. As it is a dream he doesn’t really notice the change.
Crowley sighs heavily and finally looks at the being disturbing his peace. He doesn’t really need to look upon him to know who it is. The demon knows that voice, though he hasn’t heard it in some time. The Dreamlord sits patiently next to him, watching ducks in a pond that wasn’t there a moment ago and at the same time has always been there. They’ve known each other for a very long time though they haven’t spoken much. The first time Crowley gave in to his curiosity and tried to mimic humans by sleeping, he found himself in the company of lord Morpheus who at that point had not yet been named such. After confirming that Crowley wasn’t an emissary from the Morning Star but a dreamer, the Shaper of Forms looked upon the demon with curiosity and a bit of poorly hidden delight and welcomed him into his kingdom, allowing Crowley to remain as any other being that dreamed. Later Crowley would find that he was the only demon to enter the Dreaming not in professional capacity but as a guest. He wasn’t particularly surprised, as demons weren’t known for their imaginations. The only other times he met Dream of the Endless, the being gently but firmly woke him up from his decades long naps, as in his words, no one can live in dreams.
“But it hasn’t even been a decade! A year's nothing!” Crowley protests, though he knows he won’t change the beings mind if he’s already made it.
“A year of sleep is certainly not nothing Serpent of Eden, especially when one tries to avoid any consciousness. In the past I have allowed you to remain here for admittedly longer periods of time but this is different Crowley. You have stayed in the same dream for the past year. You did not visit the library. You have not explored what the Dreaming offers. You stayed on this rock, in this one place and just… drifted. It is not healthy.”
And Crowley wants to defend himself and he wants to explain, he can clearly see the concern on the Dreamlord’s pale face. But he is so tired, how can one be tired in a dream? All he knows is that he doesn’t want to wake up. Being awake means being alone with nothing to distract him from the pain Aziraphale left behind. There’s only so much drinking and sobbing and screaming one can do before all they are is empty and numb and so, so goddamn tired.
“I… I can’t. I just can’t, please let me be. Let me stay here for a while longer. I’m… fuck I’ll leave this dream but don’t send me back to the waking” he is desperate for if Morpheus decides to kick him forcibly out of the Dreaming he won’t be able to find his way back, not until he’s welcome again. And he knows it would be excruciating, being awake, aware. He can leave this dream, he won’t go to the library, but some other dream, a dream of stars perhaps.
“You have always loved the waking Little Serpent, what happened to leave you in such pain?”
And I’m any other situation Crowley would leave or lie or do anything but what he’s about to do. But this is a dream and as such his inhibitions are low and he doesn’t have the will to do anything but say the truth. And in any case what would even be the point of trying to lie to a being who knows, who is all of your dreams and nightmares?
So what leaves Crowley’s throat is a raw broken sob.
“He left me”
Dream of the Endless is one of the most powerful beings in creation, and yet right now he looks uncertain and perhaps a bit out of his depth.
“Your Angel?”
“Not mine. Not… not anymore or not ever. He doesn’t want me, love me” Crowley shakes, “he… he left me for heaven! Wanted me to be an angel again as if I would ever want that! They cast me out, they tried to end the world, they wanted him dead and the moment they asked he left me for them!”
He’s sobbing so hard he cannot breathe, and how fucking stupid is that, he doesn’t need to breathe, he definitely doesn’t need to breathe in a dream, and yet his chest burns and he cannot fucking breathe.
There is a warm hand on his back and a calm voice talking to him. The voice counts seconds for him and the world seems to expand and compress with each of his shaky inhales and exhales. After what feels like an eternity he calms down and realises that bloody Dream of the Endless just helped him through a panic attack.
“I’m sorry… fuck” he manages to get out a little shakily.
Crowley is no one, he’s never been anyone important. What is this being doing wasting his time on one fucked up beyond repair fallen angel?
“You have nothing to apologise for. You have done nothing wrong” at that statement hysterical laughter escapes Crowley's throat.
“I’m a demon! I’m Fallen and I am beyond forgiveness!”
The Dreamlord looks at him sadly “You are a dreamer. I care not for the Creator’s politics, I am not allied with either heaven or hell. Here, you are under my care, my protection and I am telling you that you have done nothing wrong. I cannot allow you to linger in this one dreamscape Little Serpent, but perhaps… You can stay within the Dreaming for a while longer. Not for a century but until you are ready to face the Waking. No one can live in a dream Crowley and you will have to face the waking world and your pain or it will consume you… however, for now I would like you to accompany me to the shores of creation.”
“Why?” Crowley cannot help but be suspicious. He is a demon after all, and demons weren't made to trust. (And he had trusted... Go... Sata... damn it. He'd trusted Aziraphale implicitly. And Aziraphale took that trust along with Crowley's heart and crushed it in his soft beloved hands).
“We’ve known each other for a very long time, haven’t we? The only demon or angel for that matter to enter my realm as a dreamer… and a powerful one at that. I suppose… recently I’ve learned the value of companionship. Someone deeply dear to me has shown me that it’s alright to need others, and I suppose I simply wish to help you Little Dreamer, as I’ve known you for so very long.”
“But I’m no one, we’re not friends!” Crowley stammers and then realises that he may have just offended a being very much capable of destroying him.
“Perhaps not, at least not yet. As I said, recently I’ve been trying to learn, to change my ways, perhaps even make friends.” The Dreamlord smiles a tiny little smile. “Or if you’d prefer I could ask you for a favour”
“A favour? What favour?”
“I am aware of your role in the Creation, and when you aren't stubbornly staying in one dream I am always impressed with your dreamscapes. If you agreed I would ask for your assistance in creating new dreams of the Universe”
“You… you want me to make stars?” His voice shakes again, not with fear or pain but something almost like excitement.
“Stars, nebulas, galaxies, I would trust your judgment on the matter little Star Maker”.