Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

London, England; 1366

Aziraphale was exhausted. He completely agreed with Crowley, the 14th century was by far the worst yet that they had experienced. There was no rest for him, always on the move and blessing as many as he could. The Great Famine truly was an awful time for everyone and it had only gotten worse when the Black Death swept in about three decades later. It was only a matter of time after the drastic decrease in cats, humans associating many of them with witchcraft and the like. Crowley was rewarded for that as well, but he couldn't stand the needlessness of all the killings so left to his lodgings to sleep. Hell would be leaving him alone for a while with the continued carnage and fear plaguing the country.

Meanwhile, after a bit of time, Heaven had rationed the angel's miracles and scolded him for saving so many lives after the first year when the Black Death came into full effect. So, he had done what he could the human way and dressed as a plague doctor (bless them for doing what they could). When things got really bad, Aziraphale would think of visiting Crowley only to remember that he was asleep. The angel missed his company terribly, apart of him a little jealous he couldn't sleep through this as well before scolding himself for such thoughts. He was helping people! And the children who were left behind by mothers taken by the disease and fathers either taken as well or working themselves to death- Aziraphale would take them somewhere they would be cared for. After a while, he was known as 'the Masked Angel', a mysterious doctor in white robes with a beaked mask no one else wore nor had ever seen before. It would be centuries later when the idea of beaked masks would become popular in the medical field.

After things had started to calm down (as much as they could in this century anyway), Aziraphale was finally able to return to his lodgings after performing his assignments (small blessings) and relax with a good book and a strong drink. Heaven currently had him observing the war going on between England and France and then reporting it back. He found it almost odd that he wasn't being told to help one of the sides or spread peace, something he'd been told to do every time there was a war in his area, but he wasn't going to question it. He hated fighting in the wars and helping the side Heaven deemed more worthy than the other. In Aziraphale's opinion, both sides were worthy of peace and life. 

As he finally settled in with his book and a cup of tea on the desk beside his elbow, he felt something odd happening to his corporation. Needles prickling all over his skin, his heart beating faster inside his chest, his lungs constricting making it hard to breathe. His skin started to grow hot and he noticed with horror that it had started to glow. He dropped the book back on the desk and clutched at his chest, his heart thumping harshly and his eyes blurry. He didn't understand what was happening to him and he was growing terrified. He gritted his teeth and stood up, his body felt as if it were being weighed down by a giant boulder, and tried to lift one of his legs to move. He needed to get to his other books, maybe they'd have the answers to what was happening. Then, all at once, he saw white.

♦∞♦

Somewhere Outside of London, 1369

Crowley gasped for breath, his chest felt unbearably tight and his body was covered in a cold sweat. A familiar scream from across the Metaphysical Plane awoke him and it didn't take long for him to wake up completely. His useless heart was beating rapidly like it was trying to jump out of his chest and go to where it longed to be. Something was wrong.

He bolted upright from his desk where he had fallen asleep, papers that stuck to his skin slipping off and fluttering back down to either join those on the floor or back on the desk with the rest of the scattered papers. He hadn't heard from Aziraphale since before he went to nap thirty years ago. Crowley had always been able to sense the angel, demons could sense out ethereal beings just like angels could sense the occult after all. However, Crowley had learned Aziraphale's unique ethereal signature back in Rome and has been able to tell vaguely where he was at all times ever since. If Aziraphale went up to Heaven, his signature would be significantly weaker. However, he'd still feel it thrumming in the background. It had brought more comfort to the demon than he'd ever know. Now though, he couldn't tell where the angel was.

When Crowley first woke up, that background thrum of energy felt repressed and weaker than he's ever felt it. He tried to reach out with his senses but was unable to pinpoint where the angel was. It was like his energy was being bounced all over the place, much like how he was when he had been summoned by humans- or so Aziraphale had explained it one time. That was one of the worst summonings he ever experienced. He was still waiting on Hell to do something about them, come up with a way for if a human summoned a demon, it'd be more of a decoy. Hell probably would've ignored it longer if Beelzebub didn't get summoned one time. Everyone had suffered Beelzebub's wrath after ze made it back Downstairs.

Crowley growled and stood from his seat, pacing the room and pulling at his long unkempt hair. He'd been trying to find Aziraphale for three bloody years now and still has nothing to show for it! The demon had gone over to Aziraphale's lodgings (still miraculously there. The angel didn't move around as much as Crowley did) when he first woke up to find two notes from Heaven next to an open book and a forgotten rancid-smelling cup of wine. A 'good job for not using any frivolous miracles' (Crowley's summarized words) and an assignment. It was a wonder if Heaven even knew if their agent was missing. Heaven wouldn't care if anything happened to him , Crowley thought bitterly. His blood boiled with rage, not a new emotion towards Heaven or for Aziraphale, but the fact it had built over his normal anger was.

Crowley had completed Aziraphale's abandoned assignment and forged a report to Heaven, hoping he'd find Aziraphale. There was never any luck, anytime he thought he was close to the angel, his senses would lead him in a different direction. If he didn't know any better, he'd believe Aziraphale was summoned, but that couldn't be possible, could it? Demonic Summoning had been around since the Early Days and that knowledge had spread across the world. Aziraphale had done what he could to collect and destroy (hopefully) the evidence that could be used to summon Crowley, but it shouldn't have been possible to summon an angel let alone hold one. The Almighty should've been the only one with such power.

Crowley couldn't think of any other explanation though. He didn't know what would happen if Aziraphale got discorporated or even if he'd feel his energy still. Neither of them had been discorporated yet, come close yes, but not actually been once. Since the Arrangement, they had saved each other quite a few times and Crowley had learned quite a bit about both Aziraphale and how much he cared for the angel. Ya never know how much you care for someone until something happens.

The demon had used this time to catch up on all that he missed and learned that the aggression between England and France had escalated into a long-time war that was still ongoing. Humans these days seemed more dangerous, filled with bitterness and hatred. It was no wonder Hell continued to send him commendations even while he slept. He really hated this century and now there was another reason to hate it. Possibly the top reason to hate it.

Crowley took deep breaths to calm himself, looking around at all the scattered papers, his eyes landing on the neat stack of scrolls he took from Aziraphale's lodgings. He knew he shouldn't have, but he was growing desperate. All he wanted was to find the angel and make sure he was okay. The demon had taken those scrolls in hopes they would hold some kind of clue to Aziraphale's whereabouts, but all he'd learned was Aziraphale, known as 'the Masked Angel' apparently, had been invited to a few estates and even was summoned by King Edward III. He wondered what the story behind the name was and made a mental note when he found the angel later. After he knew he was safe and promised not to leave for so long again. A plan started to form in the demon's head. Perhaps he should speak to the angel's last contact and see if he could find some more information there. If he could learn where the angel was last seen, perhaps he could get one step closer to this mystery. Please be safe, angel.

♥∞♥

Somewhere in a Hidden Room Underground

It wasn't uncommon to have secret tunnels or hidden passageways in the estates and castles. My word, even some monasteries and churches had at least one hidden passage. Aziraphale was more familiar with the latter of the choices, given how much time he'd find himself spending among the monks and observing the churches for Heaven to make sure they stayed on track (Not that Heaven did much to stop them when the humans during the Crusades). The angel much preferred the monks and their simple way of living. He also enjoyed the knowledge they possessed. However, there was some knowledge that should remain with beings such as himself.

This wasn't the first time Aziraphale found himself summoned, and normally he'd be able to walk out after either scolding the humans or taking pity on them (the former being the most common). The summoning circles made to hold him were always done incorrectly, and he'd be a fool to correct the humans. He couldn't be held like a demon could and therefore had an easier time undoing a small part of the circle and resisting whatever silly chants the humans tried to say in order for him to obey or suffer. If he were a normal Angel, perhaps he would have felt some form of pain, but he was a Principality. A soldier who was made to withstand almost all sorts of pain. So when he was summoned this time, it caught him by surprise.

Aziraphale rarely got summoned, certainly less than poor Crowley. Angel summonings were harder to complete due to the lack of knowledge, but it was out there. So, after the first time he had been summoned, he could tell what was happening. Always a vague sense he was being pulled somewhere else, his heart speeding up and his sight shifting from one plane to the next before he ended up somewhere else. It was annoyingly uncomfortable, so he would go and see what the human would want. This summoning hadn't felt like the others and brought him worse pain, so he didn't know what was happening nor the best way to deal with it. He really should've asked Crowley what it was like, but he didn't want to bring that kind of pain to Crowley. Most of the time, he was left worse for wear, and Aziraphale's heart ached to see such a thing happen.

This is where we find Aziraphale. Once the angel got his bearings, he found himself inside a glowing circle (much brighter than any of the ones he normally found himself in) completed with all the correct runes. His white wings were out and curled around himself; a familiar aching made itself known that his top stubs were out as well (which was not good), and a brightness above his head alerted him that his halo had been drawn forcibly out, which explained the pounding in his head. His nice tan tunic was torn where his wings protruded from his back, and his breeches were covered in dirt from kneeling on the dirt-covered floor. As soon as he could, he tried to banish his wings and halo back to the Aether but found he couldn't. The circle glowed brighter, and he felt that tight, constricting pain again; it was forcing him to remain Seen. Aziraphale was horrified but made sure his anger was the emotion the hooded humans kneeling before the circle saw if they dared to look up. That's when he found it peculiar. Humans weren't in the habit of kneeling before him, and he could feel Fear rolling off of them in waves, but not of him. These humans were afraid of something—or someone- else and that made Aziraphale's gut tighten in dread. The angel watched one of the humans stand, his head remained bowed, but Aziraphale could see his bottom lip slightly trembling. "Hello?" He tried in a small, hoarse voice. The angel cleared his throat and tried again, "Might I ask what this is all about?"

The human didn't reply. He drew in a shuddering breath and turned away, the clanking of chains echoing in the small room as he walked to the far wall of the dim stone room and knocked on an old wooden door. He turned then back to Aziraphale and looked up, the angel's widened at the fear and guilt in them. Aziraphale looked closely at the six other humans still kneeling on the floor, just peeking out of all of their robes was a dull metal link he knew to be chains. These humans had been chained in here! "Forgive us." The human at the door whispered. It wasn't long after that that the seven chained humans were forcibly removed by guards, and Aziraphale was left alone in the dark, windowless room once again.

He didn't know how much time he spent down there waiting for something else to happen. He prayed that those humans that had summoned him would find peace and that all was forgiven. It wasn't their fault he was here, that much he was certain. Over—well, he really wasn't sure how long—the time he's been locked down here, most of his time was spent alone. With not much to do, he'd look around his small room and count all the holes and cracks he could spot in the walls. Someone eventually did come and inform him that he was now the property of King Peter of Castile and that he had better comply willingly. He most certainly did not. He gaped in horror, lecturing the informant that he was a living being and not an object, and it would be in his best interests to release him. He was a very busy angel, you understand, and did not have time for this. One of the hooded humans from before was brought into the room, the state of them worse than before, and forced to speak a language long forgotten. The pain was sudden, and Aziraphale could do nothing but kneel, his muscles tightening and making him curl in on himself. He fought desperately against the onslaught, the tightening of invisible chains that seemed to weigh heavier than when he was first summoned and felt like it was digging into his corporation.

He tried to move away from the demanding human's hands (he didn't give his name nor did Aziraphale offer his own), but was soon forced by guards who were called into the room to hold him still. His wings flapped in irritation, trying to knock the guards away, but those too were soon restricted and tied in itchy ropes. "Really, there is no need for any of this!" He cried, but no one was listening. They gripped his arm to the point of bruising and sliced his sleeve, further ruining his shirt. He gasped but didn't get the chance to mourn or scold them for ruining one of his favorite tunics. A searing hot pain shot up Aziraphale's shoulder and down his entire arm. He had been branded like cattle!

His wings broke free from their confines and forced everyone away from him, feathers flying loose and outside the circle where the humans picked up a few and left him alone once again. He tried to heal the brand and will it away, but to no avail. The circle responded and glowed every time he tried to use a miracle, which only made his head pound more. He knew then that he was in deep trouble.

Aziraphale sat and prayed, but no one had come for him. He didn't know how long he sat in this room, hoping someone would notice he was missing or perhaps he'd find a way to free himself just like before. He hadn't noticed before how cold it had gotten down there. It was something he rarely ever noticed, the temperature barely changing, but with his sleeve sliced open completely he could feel the chill prickle at his exposed skin. He'd move around and try to tuck his wings tighter around him, thankfully his feathers had stopped falling out a while ago. The human who branded him, a noble if his clothes were anything to go by, Aziraphale belatedly registered, had come and demanded things from him. Threatened to take away his food (which he had told them he needed and asked for a book; the latter denied) and when that didn't work, they left him alone for even longer periods. Aziraphale soon started counting just to get an idea of how much time had passed (a year and a half at least). He hadn't thought to start counting right away. Too focused on trying to find a flaw in the circle where there was none). Being left in solitary wasn't new to him, something Heaven had put him through on rare occasions when their other reprimands and rude notes didn't get through his 'thick skull' (I think it's easy to know who gave that comment).

After the first couple of times, Aziraphale had learned of ways to keep his mind distracted lest the hallucinations come. He didn't understand the first time what was happening when he saw Crowley in his bright white room with him. He was terrified for the demon until Gabriel walked in and gave him a quizzical look. He learned quickly after that ways to distract himself if he ever got locked up for 'his own good' and to 'learn his mistakes' again. It didn't work all the time, each time longer than the last time, but he was adjusting. After all, he should know better than to use up his miracles for frivolous things and complete assignments in a timely manner (there were other reasons, but he couldn't think of any right now).

The door to his cell (cause that's basically what it was, nothing like Heaven certainly) opened. The noble, two guards, and a hooded human entered. Aziraphale felt sluggish and it took him a moment to realize that the noble had asked him a question. "What was that?"

"We require more feathers. You have not shed anymore, and so we need to collect them. Will you extend your wings or shall you continue to fight?" The noble asked, looking down at him. He didn't understand why they had collected his feathers nor why they needed more. They would have no use to them other than- That's when it dawned on Aziraphale. Angel feathers were a part of their being; they didn't necessarily molt, but if too stressed, feathers would fall out just like a human's hair would thin. The feathers could be offered to keep the being they wished to gift it safe from minor harm and bring them luck depending on the Blessing. Were they taking his feathers to protect themselves during these hard times? There was a war going on after all, and he knew that the king who had him branded was fighting for England. Last he knew, King Peter was fighting against Aragon, but if he was here, there's no telling what sort of things he'd do to a trapped angel he saw as nothing more than an object.

Aziraphale gritted his teeth and tucked his dirty wings closer to him, glaring daggers at his captors. "I refuse, my wings are not to be touched by anyone's hands unless I grant permission! Now, if you will, I suggest you let me go and correct the error of your ways. You might still be saved." Aziraphale threaded Persuasion, but just like his miracles, the circle glowed and he felt the crushing restrictive power on him. He had tried before when he was first summoned and every time since, hoping maybe he could persuade them anyway. The noble clucked his tongue, his eyes filled with pity for the angel before him.

"Read the spell. You two," The noble pointed at the guards and signaled for them to stand on either side of the angel. The hooded man's voice croaked the spell, his throat clearly parched, and his hands trembled while he held the book. Aziraphale tucked his wings around him as tightly as he could, resisting the pain he had made himself adapt to. He didn't like violence, but he would not allow himself to suffer needlessly.

♦∞♦

Monteil, France

Crowley's agitation and anxiety had grown quite significantly when he found himself across the channel. It took him three months to widdle his way back into court, get even the smallest bit of information on the Masked Angel's last appearance and location, and show up at the Black Prince's current location across the channel only to still find nothing. The moment he could, he cornered Edward the Black Prince and forced him to tell him everything he knew about the Masked Angel. Not much information, but he was last seen speaking with a couple of young women; the daughters of King Peter of Castile. Crowley knew quite little of this person, only that he succeeded in taking the throne. So, three months later, here he was.

A trusted ally of this King Peter and Crowley could now understand the name many had given him, "King Peter the Cruel" for he certainly was that. The king was suspicious of Crowley at first, a nobleman who had disappeared suddenly having an heir coming to support him out of the blue? It only took a little bit of Persuasion he had learned from Aziraphale and Temptation to get the king to not have him killed on sight. Crowley knew the minute he had stepped into the fortress that he was in the right place. It took all his will to not leap at the king when he saw a familiar white feather sticking out of his hat. He could feel the Hellfire licking at his fingertips, just waiting to be released. The demon had to clench his fists, will his rage to cool down. He couldn't burn this place down, he still couldn't tell if Aziraphale was here, and if he was- he just couldn't take that risk.

King Peter may have trusted him within the fortress and his plans, but he didn't trust Crowley to go around on his own. No matter how many times he willed the guard to go elsewhere, they had stood guard unmoving. It took a moment for Crowley to taste the air (when no one was watching of course) and understand the reason why. All of the guards had an angel's feather somewhere on their person. Crowley had to excuse himself and blow off some steam. He didn't know how they had acquired the angel's feathers, but it was a bad sign regardless. Whether they fell out or were forcibly removed, he didn't care. No human should have his angel's feathers.

Earlier on, the demon had learned there the king was currently on the run from his half-brother Henry and devised a new plan. As the weeks passed, he spoke to Henry's allies in the dark, informing them of Peter's every move. It wasn't long before the king had left the fortress with plenty of guards and Crowley along with him. Once the king was ambushed, he slipped away from battle and back to the fortress. He didn't waste another moment to search the rest of the rooms and tunnels once guarded, only to find nothing once again. His fear was gripping him tightly; was he too late? What if the angel had already-

There was a noise behind him. He whirled around to find a hidden passage opened up and a chained, hooded figure being marched down a dark tunnel with two guards on either side of him. Crowley slipped into his snake form and slithered behind them, sticking to the shadows on the ceiling. Whatever was going on here had to be related to his angel, he wouldn't accept any other answer. The tunnels kept seeming to go down, down, down, lower into the earth. The flames from the torches danced, illuminating just enough to see the cracked stone walls and floor that was once clean slowly become dirt and gravel. There was magic in the air, flowing around with nowhere to go. The closer to their destination, the stronger it grew; it was suffocating. 

Finally, at the end of the tunnel, there was an old wooden door. Crowley could hear the muffled sound of voices on the other side, but only one of them caught his attention. He slithered faster, waiting for the door to open and resisting the urge to hiss 'Hurry the frick up!'. He could hear Aziraphale's pleas on the other side, the longer he waited for these humans to get to the door, the worse it got. There wasn't much he could do to the guards while they had Aziraphale's feathers, so waiting it was. Once they finally opened it, he quickly slithered in and then stopped, frozen in shock. Aziraphale was inside what looked like a glowing summoning circle, but instead of the sinister red, it was a shimmering white. The glow from the circle was the only light in the stone-cold room, revealing two guards on either side of Aziraphale along with the two that had just entered with the hooded man.

Crowley had never seen Aziraphale in such a state before, his halo was visible but dimmer than it should have been, his wings a dirty, muddled mess of mostly frayed feathers, his brown breeches torn and stained with a few blotches of blood and something else he didn't wish to know, his tan tunic he cherished was also dirty and torn in several places. One sleeve was completely torn off, revealing a burnt patch of skin on his upper arm that healed quite terribly. Aziraphale's eyes were bloodshot, his lips cracked and dry, and he looked paler than normal. He couldn't quite tell where the blood on his breeches and tunic would have come from, not with how he was huddled into a ball on the floor and his wings surrounding him protectively. 

He forced himself to look away to study the circle again, tuning out what the humans were saying to remain focused. He couldn't take on all the guards without killing them (although, that idea was looking more appealing by the second). The circle was made out of chalk, thank Someone. Crowley started thinking of the best way to break it when he heard Aziraphale yelp in pain. He looked to see the robed human clutching at an open book, chanting some sort of spell that must be causing Aziraphale pain. He then turned his attention to find the two guards on either side of Aziraphale holding his arms back in a very uncomfortable-looking position. The other two new guards were trying to force his mouth open, and one of them was holding a knife. They were planning to cut out his tongue.

With no time to think of what he was actually doing, only seeing red, he dropped down and swiped his long tail through the chalk, wiggling it back and forth as fast as he could to erase a good chunk of the circle to make sure no one could fix it in seconds. The glow diminished and everyone stopped, the only light sources coming from Aziraphale's halo, which soon disappeared as well, and the torch's flames outside in the hall. Crowley shifted back into his human form, watching the humans look around in confusion. Whatever joy he would have gotten from the humans was completely overshadowed by the worry for the angel still on his knees. He watched as Aziraphale closed his eyes in concentration, then heard a snap of fingers. All the guards let him go and jumped back in horror, patting at their armor like cavemen. Crowley didn't know what was happening until he saw tiny plumes of smoke wafting out from underneath the chest plates. He could have laughed if he didn't have other concerns.

He rushed to Aziraphale's side and kneeled beside him, his hands hovering over the angel, not wanting to startle him or hurt him if there were any unknown injuries. Aziraphale waved his hand and his wings were banished to the Ether with a sigh of relief. "Crowley?" The angel's hoarse voice whispered. He wrapped his arms gently around his angel, tucking the mess of white-blonde curls under his chin and breathing in his scent; Aziraphale didn't push him away.

"I'm here, angel. Sorry, I took so long." The sound of swords unsheathing brought Crowley back to the task at hand, the hooded human had run off at some point, and Crowley would have to talk to Aziraphale about him later. For now, four guards were looking at them with pointed swords. One of them had gone out into the hall at some point to retrieve a torch which now illuminated the room better. Crowley hissed, his wings breaking from their confines from the Ether and arching up in a threatening display. The guards seemed hesitant, unsure if they could take on an angel (who was completely drained and wouldn't be able to defend himself) and what they thought was also an angel of some sort (no one would suspect a demon saving an angel after all).

In the end, they raised their swords to slay the beings. Crowley snapped his fingers and the guards stopped in their tracks. He was hoping his threatening display would've warded them off, but humans weren't known to be very smart a good chunk of the time. Aziraphale's shuddered breath drew Crowley's attention back down to him. This was the first time the angel wasn't fighting him or saying he was fine and that was even more terrifying. Aziraphale was incredibly strong and rarely ever got hurt to this extent. Crowley wanted to tear the guards apart and whoever else was responsible for his angel's pain, but he would leave the final say up to Aziraphale. He hated upsetting the angel and wouldn't want to make the wrong move. "What would like me to do, angel?" He asked, his nose burying itself back into the messy curls. The angel smelled of sweat and blood, almost human. The scent Crowley normally associated with Aziraphale's angelic being faint, practically dormant.

Aziraphale turned his head and eyed each of the guards, knowing they were only doing what they were told, but even so, Crowley didn't care. His head thumped against Crowley's chest, catching the demon off guard. They didn't do this, Crowley's never held Aziraphale after a rescue and Aziraphale was always fine afterwards. But that's the thing, isn't it? The angel wasn't fine. He'd been branded, his wings missing several feathers, and he had been tortured in some more ways he didn't know. He was unable to heal and his Holy energy had been forcibly suppressed.
"Give me a moment, please. I have to go after him." The demon looked down at his angel, eyes wide in disbelief. Aziraphale wanted to go after the hooded man that fled? He understood Aziraphale loved books and the one the man carried was probably one he didn't have, but there were far more important things to deal with right now!

"Aziraphale, now's not the time to be adding to your collection." Aziraphale shook his head and pushed himself away, but not far enough to leave the circle of demon arms. He shook his head,

"You don't understand, my dear," Crowley's brain halted to a skittering stop and, if he didn't know any better, he'd think his face was actually on fire. Aziraphale had never called him that before, dear boy yes, but never 'my dear'. Crowley was still processing that when Aziraphale continued, "That book holds the key to summon me. If we don't get it back-"
"You could be summoned again..." Crowley didn't like that. He didn't like the idea of Aziraphale possibly suffering the same as he did when he got summoned. No one should be able to summon him, angels should not be summoned (well, some wankers could be, just not his angel). He sighed, then looked back up at the guards. He snapped his fingers again and made them pliant, their swords dropping, and stood stock still. He hissed, unconsciously bringing Aziraphale back towards him possessively, "Alright, you pillocks, go find that hooded person and-"

"Bring him back here unharmed, please." Aziraphale interrupted. Crowley looked back down at Aziraphale, clenching his jaw. Aziraphale noticed and tutted, "It wasn't his fault, Crowley." Crowley rolled his eyes for the show of it. He didn't care how the human came back as long as they got the spellbook. However, he'd not go against the angel's wishes.
"Alright, you heard the angel. Bring him back to us along with the book." Crowley waved and the guards left the room. Aziraphale sighed and gave a small tired smile.

"Thank you" He whispered. Crowley hissed in warning,
"Don't. Just... Just don't" He gave the angel a gentle squeeze, he didn't have it in himself to come up with a reason why he shouldn't be thanked other than the fact he was a demon (something Aziraphale clearly ignored a good chunk of the time. More so over the years). He was just thankful he had found Aziraphale in time. Worse for wear, but fine. He hadn't discorporated or taken back to Heaven. He was safe. Crowley's rage simmered, but not yet completely gone. He needed to find out who had summoned Aziraphale and show them what happens when they mess with things they don't understand.

Aziraphale huffed but nodded in understanding. Neither of them was up for their usual banter. Aziraphale pushed back again and looked up at Crowley, his eyes gray and dull, duller than Crowley had seen before he went to sleep decades prior. "If, uhm," Aziraphale wetted his cracked lips and cleared his dry throat, trying again, "If you could help me up, I'd very much like to be out of this room" Crowley stood and helped Aziraphale up as well. When Aziraphale began to sway, the demon held onto his elbows and the angel gripped his upper arms. He leaned his body heavily against Crowley and they slowly made their way out. Crowley looked back at the ruined circle, he scowled and waved his hand at it before shutting the door behind them. The sound of crackling flames could be heard from inside.

Aziraphale was struggling to move his legs underneath him, but he did not say a word. His face became unreadable and he remained focused ahead of them. It was odd to be the one to rescue Aziraphale from a summoning circle and find their roles completely reversed. Crowley looked around warily, it seemed all the guards that had remained vanished to somewhere else. Better for them then. Once a bench was in sight, the demon pulled Aziraphale along and helped him sit down and lean against the wall. He knelt in front of him and waved his hand, a cup of water appearing, and offered it to the angel. As the angel took it with that small smile returning, Crowley's eyes couldn't help but drift back to the burned scar on his upper arm. It shouldn't be there, the angel wasn't an object and he certainly didn't deserve to be branded like one either!
Crowley cleared his throat, "May I?" He pointed at the brand and that small smile blossomed further.

"Please." Crowley nodded and ran his hand gently down the angel's arm over the brandmark. The skin heated up under his touch in a soothing way. (Aziraphale once said it reminded him of firewalking) Crowley sighed with relief to see the mark no longer there, but it wasn't enough. There were still other wounds and the sorry state of the angel's wings to fix. All things to take care of when they were safe back at his lodgings. "Wanna talk about it?" Aziraphale shook his head, his eyes remaining on the cup in his hand. The silence was worrying, summonings were pretty messed up experiences and he worried for Aziraphale if he remained bottled up about it. He was a soldier, built to withstand many things, but even they had their limits. Crowley hadn't encountered Aziraphale's yet, but he imagined it would be a violent storm when it finally hit. 

Crowley was back on his feet in seconds when he heard five sets of footsteps approaching them. His wings arched up and blocked anyone's view of the angel automatically, but were soon lowered and sent to the Aether when he realized it was just the guards and the trembling human in the center of them. "You," He pointed a bony finger at the hooded man, turned his hand over, and beckoned him forth, "Come here." The two front guards moved out of the way for the man to step forward. His gulp was audible and each trembling step was cautious. He clutched the book tight to his chest, his breaths quickening the closer he got. Crowley flashed a wicked grin, taking small pride in scaring one of the humans responsible for hurting his angel.

"Really, Crowley, do stop scaring the poor man." Aziraphale scolded lightly. Crowley's grinning lips twitched farther up, Aziraphale was slowly returning to his old self again, "Come here, that's a good fellow." Crowley's eyes narrowed as the man passed him, watched him kneel in front of Aziraphale, and pleaded for forgiveness and his life. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, "Crowley, dear, would you" The angel pointed at the four guards. The demon nodded and had them follow behind him away from the hooded man and Aziraphale. As much as he didn't want the angel out of his sight again, he needed some time to get some answers and think of what to do with them. "Oh, and Crowley!" He whipped around, an eyebrow raised in question, "Please ask what happened to the others. This man, James, he was separated from them and- I wish to know what became of them." Crowley nodded in understanding and continued on his way.

Far enough for Crowley's liking, he turned back to the guards still under his spell. He paced back and forth, hands linked behind his back as he eyed each man critically. He didn't need all of them anymore, but he wasn't for sure. He wasn't even sure if these four were the only ones who went into Aziraphale's cell, but Someone he hoped they were. He glared and scowled, speaking in a low, dangerous tone, "Alright you four, you are going to answer all of my questions and then I'll figure out what to do with you after. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Lord Crowley." They all answered in unison. Crowley nodded,

"Good, now what happened to James's friends? The other summoners?"

"They were executed in the town square for their crimes." More like for King Peter or whoever was the real reason Aziraphale had suffered these past three years. Pretty sure it was King Peter, he seemed to enjoy the bloodshed.

"Who had Aziraphale summoned?"

"King Peter required assistance. Duke Chadwick was left with the preparations and messages." Bloody bastard couldn't even make himself known to the angel of the Lord? Rude prick.

"And where is this  Duke Chadwick  now?" Crowley stopped pacing, leaning in close to one of the guards and staring into his vacant eyes.

"Off to secure a new location for King Peter's trophy, Lord Crowley." They had planned to move the angel. Good thing he tipped Henry off when he did then, he would've had to start his search all over again if that had happened. Crowley shuddered at the thought.

"And where is this new location?"

"We do not know. We were simply ordered to take care of the trophy-"

" The angel " Crowley hissed, seething at the insult. The guards all flinched, but nothing more. Crowley hated hypnotizing people, it took some of the joy out of scaring them. When they remained silent, the demon asked the one question that's been itching to spill from him,

"Who was it that ordered for his tongue to be cut out?" All the guards remained silent. "Answer me!" Crowley roared.

"We were ordered to silence him."

"That wasn't the question," Crowley replied in a sing-along way. He was running out of patience. "Who. Was. It?"

When they remained silent once more, he began to pace again. He could strengthen the spell on them, but it'd be best to save his energy. He still needed to heal Aziraphale and get them back home across the channel, and he already used plenty of miracles and energy to get here. Hell hadn't demanded he go downstairs yet, but he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. He tried to remember back to when they were talking in the angel's cell, perhaps someone had made the comment then? He could glimpse into their memories and find the culprit that way. It was a part of his job as a Tempter after all, it wouldn't be all that hard to do. And when this was finished, he would think of ways to take care of this Duke Chadwick.

♥∞♦

Aziraphale had watched Crowley walk away, fear gripping him with each step he took until he was no longer in sight. Aziraphale gulped down the irrational feeling and turned his attention back to James. He had done his best to soothe the thin man's worries and forgiven him for what was done. James and the other summoners were called from a small church and given the current spellbook in his hands. They were ordered to learn it and then find a way to protect the king. After much cross-referencing and re-writing as much as they knew of the dead language to English, the only answer they got was to summon an angel. They refused to do it at first, but when their families and lives were threatened, soon being chained, they had no choice but to agree. After Aziraphale was summoned and they were taken away, James was thrown into a cell by himself. He had a haunted look in his eyes the angel had seen too many times to count, James had heard his fellow humans parish.

Aziraphale had told him he was free to leave and, if he wished to, he could wipe his memory of this encounter. He'd never have to worry about a repeat happening again. James declined the former and handed him the book. He told Aziraphale that rumor had it the king stole the book after he was excommunicated from the church. Aziraphale's being ran cold, how did a church possess this knowledge? It was something he'd have to look into. The angel thanked the man and wished him well. James bowed his head and promised to continue the Lord's teachings before walking out.

Not long after, Crowley returned, sauntering towards the angel with a look of satisfaction before it disappeared. Aziraphale briefly wondered what he did to the guards only to remind himself it was best not to think about it. Whatever happened to them, hopefully, they'll learn to live better lives. Crowley hated killing just as much as Aziraphale did unless it was a last resort. The angel let out a sigh of relief, not even noticing he had been scarcely breathing (not that they needed to, it had just become a habit. Humans would question otherwise) since Crowley left. The last dregs of fear that stubbornly remained vanishing without a trace.

Crowley took his previous place and kneeled in front of Aziraphale. He offered one of his hands palm up, "Ready to go?" He asked nonchalantly. Aziraphale slid his on top and curled his fingers, gripping the long bony hand, and nodded. Crowley raised his free hand and snapped his fingers; the stone walls, wooden beams, and woven banners slowly faded around them. Being replaced with a smaller space with wooden floors, framing, and smoother stone walls. A few old tapestries were hanging on the walls, a desk where many papers were scattered across its surface and the floor around it, and a wooden chair on the west side. Aziraphale found himself sitting upon a large four-poster bed lined with the finest furs and thickest blankets to come out of earlier this century. Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow in question; he would've much preferred to be in his lodgings recovering, thank you very much (let's be honest here, Aziraphale would've been at his desk with a cup of tea reading until he had to go to an assignment). Crowley tilted his head, "What?"

"You know very much what." Aziraphale snipped, "I'd much prefer to be in my own lodgings."  We can't be seen together here  was left unspoken, just like so many other words that began to fill his throat and choke him. That wasn't the only thing, however. Just like Crowley, there were some things he didn't want the demon to know about either. It took decades after the arrangement for Crowley to trust him with his minor injuries and much longer for fatal ones. It was still a battle sometimes, but Aziraphale would always wait patiently until Crowley calmed down and gave his permission. Crowley would still flinch away, part of him believing he'd only be hurt more. It always hurt Aziraphale to see, Crowley didn't deserve this kind of life.

"Aziraphale, you need tending to. I'm not gonna drop you off at your place, say 'good to have you back, let's do lunch sometime!' then pop off." Crowley scrunched his face in discomfort at the idea. "You're still too drained to heal-"

"I most certainly am not! And even if I was, why would you care so much? You should be jumping for joy at the opportunity for a chance to get one up over an angel." Aziraphale snapped back. Aziraphale's mouth clamped shut when he saw Crowley flinch away. He quickly tried to backpedal, "Crowley I-" The demon stood and walked away from the angel. Aziraphale's heart was beating faster, that silly fear of being left alone again returning. He fought to keep the darkness at bay, he could break down later when he was alone. Where no one would see how truly weak he was, where Crowley couldn't see what a weak angel he actually was.

"Do you know..." Aziraphale's gaze snapped back up to Crowley's back, not sure when he had looked away. "How terrified I was? To not- ngk" Crowley's head turned slightly, the rim of his sunglasses the only thing Aziraphale could see. His fists clenched tight until his knuckles were white and his shoulders shook. He sounded so scared and vulnerable. "Do you know how long you were gone?" Aziraphale tried to think, he knew he was gone longer than a year and a half, but couldn't answer the exact number. Unlike Heaven, he wasn't alone the whole time so couldn't keep the counting straight. A blessing and a curse it would seem.

"I know when I was summoned. It couldn't have been that long ago."

"When?" Crowley asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice. When had he woken up and noticed him gone? Couldn't have been right away, he wasn't that important. Even the Archangels said he could easily be replaced if they needed to. He was one of many Principalities, a poor one, but one nonetheless.

"1366" Crowley wheezed a laugh. Aziraphale watched on in concern, "Crowley, wha-what year is it?"

"1369, angel." He whirled around and faced the angel. He smiled wide and had a look of manic, "You've been gone for three years."

"Ah, not all that long in the grand scheme of things then." The smile dropped into a gape.

"Not all tha- Aziraphale, you'd been trapped for three bloody years! How are you so calm about that!?" Crowley shouted, his arms flailing when he didn't understand something. Aziraphale linked his hands together in his lap and tried not to shift, still feeling slightly uncomfortable and quite tired.

"Crowley, we are immortal beings. Three years to us is just a grain of salt in the vastness of the ocean. I don't understand why you're so worked up about it." Crowley's mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water, many broken syllables and sounds leaving his throat. He pointed at Aziraphale, his voice climbing higher.

"How are you not?! Three years, you've been held captive, tortured, and used for a bloody king's gain! I mean, have ya not seen the state of your wings?! I mean really looked at them because I can tell you right now, someone would've mistaken you for-" Crowley stopped abruptly and his face turned ashen. He didn't need to continue, they both knew what he meant.  Fallen . Aziraphale hadn't seen them well enough in that cell, but he could guess just by the dreadful feel of them how they looked. It would take a while before he could fly again. He could possibly glide down at best, but he wasn't willing to test that theory.

"I know what happened, Crowley. I was there. Dear boy, you are blowing this way more out of proportion than it truly is."

"Don't use that prim posh tone with me, angel. I'm just-" His pointed finger and shoulders dropped with a defeated sigh. His head bowed and he clutched at his unruly curly hair. Aziraphale wanted to ease those fingers out and soothe the tension out of them. He wanted to assure Crowley that all was well, but he wasn't sure how to do that. He found it easier to comfort others from their pain than accept comfort for his. He's learned to adapt to the pain and learn how to cope with it (not in a healthy way obviously). Aziraphale worried at his lip and watched his fingers twirl his pinkie ring around and around. His wings were truly uncomfortable, itchy and dirty, and all around just gross. Aziraphale drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, letting his wings back out onto this plane of existence.

He looked up shyly at Crowley, his fingers twirling the ring nervously faster. He shouldn't trust a demon with his wings. Angel and demon wings were a part of their True Form and a vulnerable source that could be hurt, but it was more than that. It was also an intimate act to groom another's wings, another way to show trust. Aziraphale wanted to trust Crowley with this. In fact, he did trust Crowley completely with this. The demon could have hurt him so many times before, but instead helped him and protected him time and time again. He cleared his throat in hopes of banishing the nerves pounding in his veins, "If you would be so kind, I -uhm- would really appreciate some assistance with these."

Crowley was silent, his eyebrows hiked up to his hairline in shock. He quickly shook his head and cleared his throat, "'M not kind" He grumbled. He quickly made his way behind Aziraphale and climbed on the bed. The angel's instincts barely protested at the madness of keeping his back and wings to a demon. Even back on the wall, his instincts were quieter around Crowley than any other demon he had the misfortunes of running into. Crowley drew in a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. It appeared he was nervous about this too. "You sure?" He asked quietly. Aziraphale answered in the same volume,

"Yes." Aziraphale could hear Crowley's audible gulp. The demon's shaking hands were awfully gentle just like Aziraphale thought they would be. He'd always been gentle with the angel, something that was once a surprise. The angel closed his eyes and focused on the rhythmic strokes from his feathers down to his primaries, dirt that clung, loosened, and vanished before hitting the blankets they sat upon. It was oddly soothing, something he himself never experienced. Angel's wings weren't like a bird's even though they looked like them, they didn't ruffle as easily nor needed the same kind of maintenance. Some aspects were the same, like losing feathers when stressed or even depressed (he didn't know many other angels who had to deal with this kind of thing). He tried to not get too angry or irritated too often, his feathers tended to ruffle like a baby bird's newly grown feathers and were always such a hassle to try and lie back down correctly. If Crowley knew what he did to him sometimes, he'd be sure the demon would make fun and laugh himself silly.

Aziraphale sighed in contented relief, his left-wing felt much better than before. Perhaps better than before the start of this century even. When Crowley shifted to the right wings, his hands glided through smoothly and much steadier than when he started. It took quite a bit of effort to not push his wing into the demon's hand for a firmer touch. The sound of fingers sliding down the veins was almost melodic and even more soothing. The angel almost believed he could fall asleep to this- if he did sleep, of course. Angels don't sleep nor do they need to, but if he did, this would be something he'd want to do. It was quite terribly relaxing, he found himself wanting to stay here forever. The comfortable silence they found themselves in wasn't helping either.

"'Ziraphale? Angel~" Aziraphale hummed, blinking his drooping eyes back open. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, suddenly grateful Crowley was behind him still. Behind him, with his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders. When did his hands get there? "'M done" he said quietly. Aziraphale blinked faster to will the drowsy feeling away and turned to Crowley. He sent his wings back to the Aether and beamed a smile that almost disappeared when Crowley removed his hands and scooted back. Now why on Earth did his shoulders feel cold all of a sudden? This was a good thing, they needed to remain at a distance.

At a distance... Heaven! Aziraphale's body lurched forward and almost fell off the bed. He closed his eyes instinctively when a pair of hands caught him by the waist and pulled him back. "Easy angel, ye're still not back to 100 percent yet." Aziraphale turned and leveled an eye at the demon.

"You don't want me to say it, so I won't this time. However, I really must insist on leaving. We're both at risk if we're-"

"Relax, Aziraphale. I know what's at stake, highly doubt Heaven would notice anything anyway. Didn't even notice you were gone." Crowley grumbled bitterly. But you did, Aziraphale thought, with warmth filling his chest once again. Crowley seemed to always notice when he was in trouble. The demon threw the closest blanket around his shoulders and tucked them around him. Aziraphale turned a little further to watch Crowley leave the bed and saunter over to the desk. He kneeled and opened a small cabinet that held tall jugs inside. He pulled one out along with two cups. He turned back to Aziraphale and lifted his treasure higher. He cocked his eyebrow in that devious way that always went well with that lopsided smirk. The angel bit back a smile and wrinkled his nose playfully.

"Foul fiend, tempting me to drink at a time like this."

"It'd be rude to deny a host's hospitality, wouldn't it?" Crowley offered a cup which Aziraphale took without hesitation. He could definitely use a drink after the day- well three years- he's had. Crowley poured a generous amount into both cups and plopped the jug down on the desk. He then dragged the wooden chair over and plopped himself in it, his long legs strewn out wide and leaning back against the chair. He almost resembled liquid, Aziraphale was sure his bones were the reason he wasn't sliding down to the floor. Crowley lifted his cup and gave a softer smile, "Good to have you back, angel" Aziraphale tapped his cup against the demon's.

"Glad to have you back among the living, Crowley" The angel laughed at Crowley's grimace at his chosen reply. He shook his head,

"You're going to make that joke every time, aren't you?" Aziraphale's smile brightened and sipped his wine. Simply enjoying the company he longed for these past few decades.

Chapter Text

Crowley’s eyes shot open and he reached across the bed. The spot next to him was empty and still warm. It wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up alone. Aziraphale still had a hard time with sleep, so he’d normally stay up next to Crowley with tea and a book to read. It was still the middle of the night, the sound of a light drizzle of rain tapping against the window a relaxing sound. Crowley couldn’t relax, his heart speeding up with adrenaline. His angel was gone. The book he had been reading lay abandoned on top of the gray tartan duvet still open to the page his angel must’ve been reading. Crowley reached for it and closed it gently. He closed his eyes and reached out his senses, hoping that he was wrong, that his angel was just in the kitchen grabbing a late night nibble like he tended to do when he got peckish. The Second Coming had come and gone. He got his angel back, and they were finally free from Heaven and Hell for good. Once all was settled, Crowley embraced his angel and finally moved into their cottage with Aziraphale.

It had been a bit of a rocky few years, but they were finally together. Things had finally been looking up… until now. Crowley clenched his jaw, trying to will his panic to back off so he could think. Aziraphale’s energy was bouncing around again, but not as frantically as the first time he went missing during a summoning. His angel wasn’t in the country, that much he was certain, and his signature was a little stronger than before. Good signs. He just hoped they stayed that way. Crowley quickly jumped out of bed and went to Aziraphale’s study. He couldn’t just look to see if Aziraphale had any contacts like last time, but perhaps he could find some sort of spell to help him find the angel easier. Since the 14th century, much more has been discovered about magic and spells. Granted, not many humans believed in such things anymore. He opened the door and flipped the light on his way to the bookshelf of spells, not stopping his quick stride for a second. He didn’t have time.

Aziraphale still had the Bookshop, but he brought all spell books and first editions to the cottage where they wouldn’t be seen or possibly stolen (not that they had to worry, not many knew the spell books were hidden among the chaos of “misplaced” books.) Just as Crowley was about to pull one out at random, his phone rang. He didn’t recognise the caller, but he had the distinct feeling that he needed to answer it. He pulled it out of his Pyjama pocket that hadn’t existed a second ago and answered, “Hello?”

“Hello darling,” Aziraphale’s warm voice floated through. Crowley almost sighed with relief. His angel didn’t sound hurt or scared. “I hope I didn’t wake you”

Of course, the angel was worried about waking him up. Crowley shrugged, even though he knew Aziraphale couldn’t see it. “Was already awake. Where are you?” He tried to reply calmly, but he couldn’t fully mask the waver in his voice.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale sounded guilty. Before Crowley could assure him it wasn’t his fault, the angel continued, “I’m terribly sorry. It seems I got summoned again, but don’t worry. I’ll be home soon. I just wanted to let you know if you woke up and I wasn’t there yet” Crowley couldn’t believe his ears. Aziraphale sounded like he was apologising for being called into work early and was unable to leave a note. Knowing him, he probably was apologising for not having a chance to leave a note as well.

“Alright, I can have something prepared for you when ya get back. Just wanna know how long it’ll take.” Aziraphale’s voice pulled away from the phone. He sounded irritated talking to whoever else was with him. Crowley shuffled his feet from side to side, barely able to hear what sounded like a group of teenagers or even young adults. When his voice came back, there was a bit of a waver.

“Unfortunately, I’m not entirely sure. Somewhere in America, I believe.” One of the voices raised, answering with a confirmation. Aziraphale repeated it, “Thank you, dear boy. New Mexico” New Mexico. Definitely farther away and would be a bit of a jump to get home. Crowley was pretty sure Aziraphale would be exhausted for at least a few hours by the time he arrived. Crowley also didn’t want to wait that long to have Aziraphale back home. Anything could happen in the time they hung up to when the angel made it back.

“New Mexico, got it. And everything’s alright?” Before Aziraphale could respond, Crowley heard him gasp. It took Crowley less than five seconds to draw in his power and hop right into the phone. He travelled as fast as he could. The longer he stayed within the phone, the more his body tingled with electricity. It didn’t hurt him by any means, but the funny feeling could quickly turn to one of annoyance. Especially for a demon who woke up abruptly from sleep and was already irritated. When he materialized on the other end, he was standing outside the circle next to a rather short, dark-skinned girl. Her dark, wide eyes stared up at him in shocking disbelief. He flashed her a smile and turned back to Aziraphale, who was in the middle of what sounded like a lecture. Aside from the girl next to him, there were five others in total. The tallest boy standing in front with his arms crossed, looking at Aziraphale bored out of his skull and like he wanted to shut the angel up. Only two of the other young people in the back of the five looked properly ashamed. Aside from the girl next him, no one noticed his sudden appearance.

“I told them it was a bad idea.” Crowley turned back to the girl who had remained standing next to him. She hunched her shoulders and her eyes fixed on the floor. She looked terrified and sounded just as scared. “I never believed in this stuff, but... after he appeared- it seemed like a miracle they screwed up. They wanted to summon a demon, but when that angel- Aziraphale? Anyway, when he, uhm, appeared, I knew we were in deep trouble.”

“Yeah, well, pretty lucky it was him.” Crowley replied with a shrug. His eyes turned back to study the circle. It definitely wasn’t a summoning circle he recognized to summon demons. Almost looked like the one that summoned Aziraphale the first time. The glowing light pulsed erratically, the magic clearly unstable. He wondered if the angel could break out of it himself. Aziraphale’s halo was nowhere in sight this time and only one set of wings was somewhat visible. It appeared he couldn’t fully send them back to the Ether. Crowley wondered if Aziraphale felt any discomfort from the constant switching planes in his wings. “If ya did succeed in summoning a demon, running wouldn’t save you.” The girl’s gulp was audible. “What’s he going off about? I imagine he already lectured you all on summoning beings against their will” She nodded.

“Donny, the one with the light ginger hair next to the tall one, Franky, tried to touch his wings while he was on the phone.” Crowley winced. It was bad enough to touch a demon’s wings without permission. For a human to touch an angel’s was blasphemy, something that should never be done unless granted permission. Even though the light ginger and freckled boy was getting quite the earful, Crowley still lightly cursed him with bad luck. Any food he has outside will be stolen by any animal (unless it’s bad for that animal, then it’ll disappear before the animal steals said food) near him for the next 3 years. His homework will also disappear until it is overdue for the rest of his college semester.

“Yep, that’ll do it. And whose bright idea was this, exactly?” He tilted his head to the side and watched the girl raise a finger and point at the tall boy in the center.

“Franky’s” Crowley squinted his eyes, Franky’s entire posture screamed violent if he didn’t get what he wanted, and from the looks of it, he was seconds away from throwing a punch. Crowley nodded, “Right, you the one who gave the angel the phone?” She nodded. “Smart thinking” He patted her shoulder and walked over to the circle to look closer. It was painted, which made him even more irritated. He rubbed his booted foot over the paint, slightly smearing, but not enough to break. The glow flickered, but nothing else happened. He looked around the room, hoping some water might be enough to throw on it to mess it up.

“Crowley?” The demon turned to see Aziraphale staring at him in surprise. He gave a lopsided smile.

“Hey angel” Aziraphale blinked, his eyes looking Crowley up and down, trying to discern if he was really there.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“Came to take you home, obviously.” Aziraphale tutted at him. The nerve!

“My dear, there was no reason to go through the trouble. I told you I would be home soon.” Crowley watched the small group of humans slowly step back except Franky. The boy’s eyes flicking back and forth between Aziraphale and the demon.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Crowley made a show of not looking directly in Franky’s way, making the boy believe he wasn’t being watched. He turned back to his friend group and whispered among them. The girl Crowley had been speaking to walked over to them when signalled to do so. “Look, I’m here now so might as well help you out”

“Crowley, I didn’t need your help to begin with. This is nothing at all like in Monteil.” The short, dark-skinned girl said something in Spanish, turned, and walked towards a door that lead out of whatever this room was. Another girl left with her, leaving behind the other ashamed-looking human. Donny, Franky, and another girl stayed huddled together. The smell of trouble clung to them, and Crowley didn’t like whatever they could be planning.

The demon turned and stalked back around the circle’s edge again, refusing to approach the edge closest to the humans. He could just snap his fingers and make them obey, but Aziraphale wouldn’t like that. He like to do things the human way as long as he could get away with it. Besides, forcing these humans to obey would both take away their free will and undermine Aziraphale’s whole lectured speech he gave. “Ye’re right about that. Last time was a real shit show.” He hoped to never go through that again. Crowley’s eyes narrowed, watching Donny and the girl approach the skinny human standing by the door. They looked incredibly uncomfortable by themself and without the other guilt-looking girl. He felt a little sympathetic towards them, but only a little (they still assisted in summoning his Angel, after all). Crowley’s eyes snapped quickly back to the movement he noticed from the corner of his eye. Franky quickly stepped up behind Aziraphale inside the circle and was reaching for his back. Crowley lunged quickly and pulled Franky back outside of the circle, throwing him stumbling back and hissing. His fingers grew into claws and his tongue forked, tasting the air that smelled of confusion, irritation and fear. Franky's eyes widened in shock. He thought he could grab the angel without anyone noticing in time.

“Touch my angel and you’ll be missing more than just your hand” Franky gulped. He didn’t know what the boy was hoping to accomplish with that pathetic attempt, but he didn’t find himself caring at the moment. The door to the room opened and the two girls returned. The shorter one approached Crowley with a cup of water in hand. The demon hissed, forcing the girl to stop.

“Crowley, darling, do try to behave yourself.” Aziraphale chided, “She’s only trying to help.” Crowley knew that, but his instincts were insisting on keeping everyone away. He took deep breaths, returning his sight to the tall boy. “Forgive him, Andrea. He’s normally much more pleasant.”

“No need to lie to the girl,” Crowley grumbled. The short girl, Andrea, walked a wider birth around Crowley cautiously. Crowley looked back to the three troublemakers in front of him again. “So? Anyone care to explain why you all summoned Aziraphale?”

”We already told him” Donny pointed at Aziraphale.

”Explain again.” Crowley repeated.

“It was only supposed to be something fun to do.” The brunette girl standing next to Donny started to explain. “Just do a stupid prank and scare the others. We didn’t know it’d actually work- Well, work-ish since we didn’t, ya know, summon a demon.” Crowley lifted an eyebrow. Kids these days had a habit of messing with things they thought were fake. He loved kids, but sometimes when they did stupid shite like this, he questioned why he did.

“Well, now you know not to mess with things you don’t fully understand. You all better understand how lucky you got this time.” Franky scoffed.

“Yeah right,” Franky took a step forward, “I bet all you demons are sissies. I’ve read stories where once a demon is trapped in a circle, they whimper and beg. If we successfully summoned a demon instead of that so-called angel, we could be rich or whatever right now. Hell, I bet you’re just acting tough. I also bet I could take you on.”

“Really?” Franky nodded, which had Donny and the other girl nodding. Both of them more following Franky’s head movement than actually agreeing. Crowley heard Andrea behind him stifle a laugh.

“Something funny?” Franky challenged. Something in the air changed, a telltale sign that the circle had been deactivated and Aziraphale was free.

“Oh please,” Andrea and Aziraphale took their places beside Crowley with the angel in the middle of the two. His hands bound behind his back and posture as straight as ever, with his head held high. Crowley snuck a hand behind the angel’s back and stole one of his hands, happy to have him out of that glowing trap. Andrea crossed her arms and cocked her hip to one side, “Just last week you were whining because you got bit by Georgie who has barely any teeth! She has to eat soft food, for hell’s sake!”

“I don’t think you wanna bring Hell into this.” Crowley remarked. Andrea rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“And don’t forget about the last party you dragged us to!”

“Oh, come on! You promised not to bring that up!” The brunette girl flipped her hair with the body language stating ‘whatever’ and started walking towards the door.

“Ok, I’m over this. I learned my lesson and sorry for summoning you. I promise I won’t do it again. I gotta go now though, bye” With that, she left. Donny looked between Franky and the beings standing before them. He, too, apologised with the promise to never summon anyone again and followed after the brunette. Crowley was speechless. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, but wasn’t complaining. There were now two less people to deal with, even though he hadn’t punished the brunette. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of anything. When Franky called after them and tried to follow, the boy found the door was suddenly locked. He yanked and pulled, but to no avail. Crowley couldn’t contain his grin any longer, enjoying watching this little punk struggle with the door and curse.

“Crowley.”

“What?”

“You’re being ridiculous” Crowley turned to Aziraphale, his hand over his heart in faux offense.

“I am no such thing! I let those other two go, didn’t I?” Aziraphale slanted him a look, battling against a smile himself.

“Technically, you let one of them go. I know what you did to that boy.” Crowley leaned in close and whispered low in his ear.

“Yeah? And what do you plan on doing about it?” Aziraphale’s cheeks reddened slightly at the close proximity in front of the others. Aziraphale turned slightly to reply in Crowley’s ear, but before he could say a word, the only girl Crowley still didn’t know the name of spoke in a scared tone.

“Does that mean we can’t get out of here?” Aziraphale looked to the girl, his face softening.

“So long as you promise not to perform anymore summoning rituals, you, Ambros, and Andrea are free to leave.” She and the person next to her both nodded and promised. The person, Ambros, looked towards the girl before breaking away from her and approaching them. Ambros’s thick, black and purple hair covered one of their eyes. They looked between the angel and Crowley.

“We’re really sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused.” Crowley heaved a sigh. He guessed the human had likely been pressured into it. Ambros didn’t fit in with the Franky or the other two that just left. The girl by the door and Andrea were probably their only true friends and were just trying to help them. The demon felt for this human. He snapped his fingers and allowed the door to only let them and their friend out, along with Andrea.

“Demons aren’t known to forgive, but I’m sure Aziraphale has enough forgiveness for the both of us.” Aziraphale stepped forward and took the person’s hand in both of his and squeezed.

“If you ever find yourself in Soho, London, do stop by my bookshop; A.Z. Fell & Co. You’re a bright young person, dear, and Crowley and I both would love to help you thrive.” With one more squeeze, he let go. Ambros quickly used their long sleeve to wipe away the threatening tears and nodded with a watery smile and a thank you. They walked back over to their friend, who also gave a small smile and walked towards the door.

Franky stood there, confused. His breathing became harsher the longer he watched the two disappear out the door. When Ambros was almost out of the room, he leapt forward and reached for their arm. Aziraphale waved his hand and Franky froze in place, growling from behind clamped teeth. Crowley looked at Aziraphale, surprised. The angel sheepishly looked at him in turn. “Well, this has been a turn.” Andrea commented.

“I think it’s been a bit more than that” Crowley replied.

“Doesn’t this defeat everything you yelled at us about?!” Franky yelled. Aziraphale waved his hand again and Franky nearly fell over. He stumbled and found his footing underneath him again and marched up to the trio. “How can anyone trust an angel who doesn’t practice what he preaches? Are you even an angel?”

“Oi! Aziraphale is by far the best angel you’ll ever meet! If he were like the others, you would NOT want him ‘practicing what he preaches’.” Crowley pointed a finger at Franky’s chest, his voice rising when repeating back his words.

“Do not forget, dear boy,” Aziraphale began, his eyes hardening in steel, “Even if I was not, demons can also sense malice” Andrea looked at Franky, hurt. Franky looked at Andrea, his laughter a nervous thing.

“Andy, you aren’t going to believe these two, are you? You’ve known me for years-“

“Don’t. Ambros said, but I didn’t- Sammy a-a-and Tabatha... You come near them again and I won’t hesitate to call Charlie.” She looked at both the angel and demon, hurt and gratitude in her eyes. “Gracias, amigos. I promise we will visit you. I gotta go talk to Ambros” She quickly excused herself.

Aziraphale sighed, wearing a look of pain. Crowley squeezed his hand in comfort. He let go and stepped forward, invading Franky’s space. Franky stood his ground, puffing his chest and showing no fear. Crowley took off his sunglasses and let his eyes bore into Franky’s. The boy’s brown eyes shifted uncomfortably between Crowley’s slitted ones. “Trying to intimidate me? You already chased off my friends. What more do you want?”

“Oh, nothing, just wanna make sure you get the message.” Crowley grabbed Franky by the front of his shirt and hauled him in, baring his teeth. “Try that shit again and you’ll wish you’ve never heard of ‘demon summoning’. You’re going to tell us how you did it and then you’re going to leave this town. If ye’re sssmart, you’ll turn yer life around and do betta. If I get one whiff of you-“

“Crowley, dear, that’s enough” Crowley looked at Aziraphale and clamped his mouth shut. Aziraphale’s back had slouched and his breaths have suddenly become heavier. His prim and proper demeanor had disappeared, leaving him showing how tired he actually was. Crowley dropped the boy and waited. Franky quickly complied and showed him the sites he found the summoning guides on and Crowley let him go, but not before cursing him to have the worst luck with spam callers and anyone interested in turning away due to a ‘bad smell’ coming from him.

Once they were completely alone, Crowley looked Aziraphale over. Once confident there were no physical injuries, he asked. “Well, that was a thing. Ready to go home, angel?” Aziraphale nodded. Crowley snapped his fingers and the world around them blurred from the stony basement with one tiny window to their warm living room. Crowley pulled Aziraphale to the couch and sat him down. Once the angel was settled, he went to the kitchen and made them both some tea. The angel would want it to soothe himself and Crowley would not let his angel drink alone. He would prefer the alcohol, not a big tea drinker himself, but he thought maybe he needed some warm soothing as well. Once the tea was done, he tried to force his hands to stop shaking before picking up both cups and carrying them to the coffee table. He set his own down and offered Aziraphale his. The angel took it and took a sip.

Crowley collapsed beside him onto the couch, throwing his glasses onto the table and letting his head fall back against the backrest of the couch. The demon stared up at the ceiling, his racing heart calming back down to its more steady pace. His angel was home again and safe. Nothing bad happened this time. Just a group of dumb college students doing stupid things. The couch shifted, and he felt the angel press more firmly into his side. Crowley looped an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, rubbing up and down his upper arm. They sat together in silence, letting their nerves calm down and enjoying this moment of feeling safe and at home again.

Eventually, Aziraphale sat back up and set his empty teacup back onto the coffee table next to Crowley’s barely touched cup. The angel turned and looked at him, his eyes a bit brighter than when they arrived home, but still too clouded for his liking. “Would you like to go back to bed? I feel terribly awful waking you up for something so trifle.” Crowley’s brows furrowed and sat up a bit more.

“‘Something so trifle’? Angel, you disappeared right out of bed! I’m bloody glad you called me! Was about to look for a way to find you in yer study. If ya didn’t call when ya did...” Crowley shook his head and looked down at his lap.

“I’m sorry for worrying you so, dearheart, but as you can see, I’m fine.” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s free hand, then gasped, “Oh, but I should have asked- Are you alright? I can’t imagine how painful all that was to see.” Crowley looked up and spluttered. Was he alright? How could his angel ask that?!

“Am I- Aziraphale, I’m not the one who got summoned just an hour or whatever ago!”

“I know that, that was me” The demon rolled his eyes along with his head.

“Don’t get cute with me, angel. I should be asking you that. I mean, even if it wasn’t a successful circle, it was still powerful enough to summon you. I can’t imagine how nice that felt to suddenly be pulled from bed and find yerself elsewhere so far away.”

“No, it wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t the worst summoning I’ve experienced. I wasn’t hurt, darling, and while I do feel exhausted, it could have been a lot worse. It could have been like that time in the 14th century.” Both beings shivered at the memory. There was absolutely nothing good about that century. “But, luckily for us, it wasn’t. I promise you, I am just fine.”

He didn’t understand. Aziraphale was fine physically, sure, but how could he be fine emotionally? It was rare Crowley got a poor summoning like Aziraphale just experienced (more rare nowadays that Hell finally fixed that problem and after Aziraphale had seized most of that information that threatened Crowley’s safety), but even back then he couldn’t shake it so well. He didn’t believe for a second that his angel was alright. His eyes looked the angel over, taking in every detail of his body language. He then gazed into Aziraphale’s eyes, searching for just the tiniest hint. Aziraphale quickly looked away, and that was telling enough. He spoke softly, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Aziraphale. We’re together now, remember? There’s no need to hide anymore.”

“I’m not hiding.” The angel snipped. Aziraphale abruptly stood, picked up his teacup and went into the kitchen. Crowley stood up and chased after the angel.

The demon leaned against the counter and watched Aziraphale from behind. The angel kept his back to him, focusing on pouring himself some more tea and grabbing some sugar. Crowley didn’t say anything, he didn’t want to push the angel right now. It wouldn’t be good for Aziraphale to shut up completely. He watched the angel’s hands tremble and listened to his controlled breaths deepen. Aziraphale, his brave and kind angel, absolutely refusing to let himself break in front of him. How many times had he cried in silence with no one to hold and comfort him? How many times had he suffered in silence and then put the mask back on when someone got too close? He was reminded to be a soldier time and time again by Heaven, drilled into him to never show his weaknesses. Told that it was unbecoming of an angel to show pain, to show whatever they deemed weak. Heaven brought down his angel and Aziraphale suffered for it. There really wasn’t much difference between Heaven and Hell. After all, they were all part of the same stock once. Hell was just filled with rebellious beings who some never even grew up, making their punishments more physical and painful. Most of the Angels were the same way, never looking beyond what is right in front of them and making theirs more psychological. Sure, some of their punishments were physical as well, but at least Hell always told you why you were being punished. Crowley didn’t believe Heaven always told Aziraphale.

“I really am fine, Crowley. There is nothing to worry about. Just tickety-boo” The angel sounded like he was trying to convince himself now more than Crowley.

“Whatever you say, angel” He responded nonchalantly.

“It was just another failed attempt, after all. I could’ve gotten out on my own, eventually. You didn’t really have to come.” He didn’t, but Crowley didn’t want to take the risk and he saw how happy Aziraphale was to have him there. Even though he refused to admit it.

Aziraphale’s hands gripped the edges of the countertop. His breathing once again became unsteady. “W-Why don’t you head back to bed? I-I’ll clean up and join you in a bit, hmm? I promise to not take long.”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to stay down here with you.” Aziraphale’s grip tightened.

“I’m here, Crowley. It’s alright. I won’t be disappearing again.” Crowley approached the angel from behind, making his steps known to Aziraphale of his approach. The demon could see the cracks in his walls. His angel was trying desperately to hold himself together. Slowly, within his angel’s view, his arms snaked forward. His long fingers of each hand lightly brushed against each of Aziraphale’s own. He grasped the tense, plump hands and eased their grip loose, slipping his own hands inside them palm-to-palm. Crowley then brought their joined hands towards them and wrapped them around Aziraphale’s front. He rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his lips brushing his ear, and whispered.

“Hold on to me as tight as you need. I’ve got you, loveheart.” Aziraphale’s body went limp against Crowley’s, his hands clamped tighter to his own. So tight that if he were human, his bones would have shattered. Crowley held him tightly, rocking them both from side to side in a soothing motion. He brought his own star-littered wings out and wrapped them around them both, shrouding them into the safety of darkness. The demon tucked his face into Aziraphale’s neck, rubbing his nose there since his hands were occupied in that trembling grip. He continued to whisper reassurances, listening to Aziraphale’s shuddering breaths finally break into heaving sobs. His angel was way long overdue for this. Crowley quietly blamed himself for not helping him sooner. For not seeing how much his angel held in and pretended that none of it mattered. Aziraphale was always there when he needed him, letting him lash out and caring for his wounds. Crowley never handled the summonings well and didn’t finally breakdown until 1986. He and Aziraphale had gotten extremely drunk and when he realized he hadn’t been summoned by humans for two hundred years -the longest he’d gone without being summoned- he finally let himself believe that he never would again. Aziraphale held him then, saying if they were seen he could blame it on the alcohol. However, even though he hadn’t cried, he was still letting his emotions out through his rage. It wasn’t a healthy way to deal with his emotions, but it was better than keeping it all inside, he reasoned.

After some time, Crowley offered to take Aziraphale either to the couch or bed. When Aziraphale chose the couch, the demon guided Aziraphale back towards the couch. He shifted his wings and sat down, bringing Aziraphale into his lap and holding him closer. Aziraphale’s sobs did not stop for a long time. The darkness of night brightening by the rising sun. The rain had long passed, making the outside world sparkle in that beautiful way morning dew and rainfall left behind. At some point, Crowley had started humming a long forgotten tune to Aziraphale. He wasn’t that good at singing, but Aziraphale said he loved listening to him. Said his voice can be rather soothing when he softly sang or hummed certain songs. The angel especially loved listening to him sing songs from the BC times.

“Thank you, darling.” The angel’s hoarse voice whispered. Crowley’s humming stopped, but he kept up his rocking motions. Aziraphale let go of his hands, massaging the bony fingers that refused to move after being held tight in the same position for so long. Once Crowley was able to move and wiggle them, the angel re-situated himself in his lap so he sitting sideways. Aziraphale’s head thumped against a bony shoulder, Crowley instinctively wrapping his arms back around Aziraphale’s middle, rubbing one of his hands up and down his middle in soothing strokes.

“Feeling better?” Aziraphale nodded with a hum. “Always wondered how ya did it. I used to think you weren’t affected like I was.”

“And now?”

“Now, obviously, I see I was wrong.” Crowley turned his head and placed a kiss in those lovely white-blonde curls. He blinked and placed another, lingering longer just because his angel deserved it. “Wish it didn’t take this bloody long to see it always did. Affect you, I mean.” Aziraphale nodded his head and sighed, his breath still not completely settled.

“The first time wasn’t bad, more confusing than anything. When it happened a second time, I found it strange, but thought nothing of it. However, when it happened a third and then a fourth and then continued on happening, I was beginning to truly worry. I told Heaven what was happening, you know, and they just... brushed it off. Said Angels can’t get summoned, only demons can. I did get summoned during assignment once. It was a time sensitive one too. When I explained what happened, they looked back in the records just to confirm I wasn’t- Oh, what word did they use? Ah yes, exaggerating.” Crowley’s hold tightened, fighting back a growl that threatened to spill. “When they learned I was telling the truth, they didn’t know what to do. It was later discovered the angels who were meddling with the humans had given them -the humans- a way to summon them. Eventually, other humans found out and, well, here we are.”

“Don’t humans also need an angel’s name to summon them?”

“Yes, but I believe over time, name misspellings occurred during the ritual process. Without a proper guide, humans don’t always get the Angelic Alphabet right.” Crowley hummed in understanding. “I wasn’t the only one who had gotten summoned back then, but all the others never came forward. I found out later the reason was... Uh... the others dealt with the problem.”

“By ‘dealt’ you mean-“ Aziraphale nodded. Angels really were so ruthless sometimes.

Aziraphale turned more towards his chest, fiddling with Crowley’s buttons on his shirt. “Since I never did anything but lecture them a-and take away their tools, they were still able to pass on the knowledge verbally o-or in written form. I used to memory wipe them, but Heaven had reprimanded me for it. Asking why I don’t just smite them for their blasphemous transgressions,” Aziraphale hissed the last sentence in anger.

“Well, good thing you have a guardian demon looking out for you, eh?” Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s chin with a knuckle, looking into the angel’s red-rimmed glassy eyes and down-turned mouth. He brushed his nose with his angel’s and gave him a small smile. “I will help you, just like you helped me. We’ll find all the ways humans can summon us and take care of it, no matter if it takes one hundred years or the Earth’s entire existence. And, in the meantime, we can find a way to be able to locate each other when it happens. I don’t know about you, but I’d really not like to wake up and not know where you are again.” Aziraphale’s lips trembled into a small, watery smile.

“I’d like that too. I can’t imagine liking to wake up abruptly every time my dear one suddenly disappears without a trace. That’s twice now”

“I’m sensing another pattern developing.” Crowley’s smile grew when Aziraphale huffed out a breathy laugh. The demon guessed after the first time he realized Aziraphale had been summoned that it was, indeed, not the angel’s first summoning. He never talked about the other times with Crowley, not until now at least. Crowley did find himself curious as to how many times the angel had been caught unawares, only to realize what had happened after it was done. Some subjects were best left alone.

“Another?” Aziraphale asked, “And what other patterns are there?” Crowley hummed in thought, his hand stilling, but his fingers drummed against Aziraphale’s ample side.

“Well, let’s see. You have a ridiculous ability to get into trouble-“ Aziraphale gasped.

“I have no such thing!”

“Oh yes, you do! Every time you get into trouble with the humans, it’s over some ridiculous reason and it makes my senses go ‘Ding! Angel’s at it again!’ I swear, if we didn’t live together, you’d be out there finding more trouble!”

“Oh, so are you saying you’re the one thwarting me now?” Aziraphale’s eyebrow raised, his eyes finally losing their glassy look and shining again.

“Thwarting you from finding unnecessary trouble where there doesn’t need to be any.”

“And what if that was my plan all along?” Crowley tilted his head in confusion.

“Thwarting you from unnecessary trouble?”

“Thwarting you from causing mischief elsewhere.”

Crowley blinked, the gears in his head turning until what Aziraphale just said finally clicked. He shook his head, “Ri-dic-u-lous. How have I never seen such a clever plan?” He asked playfully.

“Obviously, you were too busy looking at me.”

“Bastard”

“A bastard you love” Crowley hummed in faux consideration. Making a show of looking Aziraphale up and down.

“I don’t know. Now that I know what your plan was, I could go-“ Aziraphale pinched him lightly. “Oi!” Crowley caught the offending hand and brought it up to look at. “I thought angels were supposed to be nice.”

“My demon gets special treatment.” His demon. Something that always made Crowley’s heart skip that extra beat. He brought the plump hand to his lips and planted a light kiss there, making Aziraphale’s smile brighten.

“Special treatment, he says. After all, I do for him, too.” Crowley grumbled, his smile not wavering in the slightest.

Aziraphale relaxed back against Crowley’s shoulder again, his eyes close and breathing in deeply. Crowley continued to play with Aziraphale’s caught hand and relaxed his wings back, letting some of the morning light spill into the darkness surrounding them. “All that and more, dearheart. Will you let me thank you properly this time?” Crowley moved his shoulder, silently asking for Aziraphale to straighten up again. When done as asked, Crowley’s gazed into Aziraphale’s now clear blue ones, feeling much better now to see that twinkle back in them where it belonged.

“I suppose I can.” Aziraphale’s eyes looked to be shining brighter with love and adoration. He leaned in close, Crowley closing the gap and kissing him long and slow. Once they broke apart, their foreheads rest together. Their eyes locked together.

“Thank you, Crowley” Crowley pecked his lips and guided Aziraphale’s head back onto his shoulder, laying his cheek on top of his head. After a few moments of silence, Aziraphale asked, “I’ve always wondered; where did you disappear off too after rescuing me? You were gone for quite some time” Crowley’s lips pursed, hoping Aziraphale wouldn’t ask. After that rescue with the first summoning, he had left for a year for a couple of reasons; one more important than Hell’s assignments.

“Just had to hunt down that Chadwick person.”

“Lord Chadwick? He wasn’t with the king at the time?” Crowley shook his head as best he could from his resting spot.

“Nope, he’d gone off to wherever you were going to be taken to.”

“Oh” The angel whispered. Crowley tightened his hold for just a brief moment. It was still a terrifying thought to think that if he was just a little later- “Thank goodness you arrived when you did then.”

“Yup”

“Dare I ask what you did to him?” Crowley shrugged as lightly as possible.

“I just cursed him.”

“Cursed him?” He asked skeptically.

“Among other things”

“Crowley”

“Do you really wanna know?” Aziraphale was silent for a moment.

“No”

“Long story short, he didn’t hurt anyone ever again, and that’s what matters.”

Aziraphale hummed his agreement. “Truly. Thank you again, darling, for always looking out for me”

“Just returning the favor. Aside from being completely selfish.” Aziraphale tipped his head up and butted his nose to the underside of Crowley’s chin.

“You said I could thank you properly.”

“And I did. Let you kiss me ‘n everything for it.”

“Oh let me, did you? Well, I suppose you no longer need anymore from me.” Crowley gaped, looking down at Aziraphale’s mischievous grin.

“That’s not fair.”

“Life, unfortunately, isn’t my dear” Crowley lowered his head to capture his angel’s lips, but Aziraphale turned away. The demon tried again and was rebuffed every time. He growled in playful frustration.

“Fine, if you’re gonna deny me from kissing my angel ever again, I’ll just have to kiss him everywhere else.” Making good on his promise, he peppered Aziraphale’s face and slightly exposed throat with kisses, making his angel laugh. Hearing that joyous sound no longer filled with tears and shuddering breaths warmed his chest with pride. He’d do everything in his ability to help his angel and earn that Smile forever. He’d find a way to remove his angel’s name from any ritual guide, book, social media everywhere, just to keep his angel safe.

“Alright, alright, you silly!” Aziraphale laughed, cupping Crowley’s face with both hands and giving him the kiss he so desperately craved. One of Crowley’s hands cradled the base of Aziraphale’s skull and the other stayed wrapped around his middle, resting against the small of the angel’s back. Feeling his warm lips move against his own was still very much novel to the demon, he imagined it would feel this way for another six thousand years. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of kissing Aziraphale no matter how much they did it. Crowley still couldn’t believe Aziraphale loved him in such an enormous way. Sometimes, it felt like a dream and when it felt too much, Aziraphale would turn that Smile towards him and he knew that it really was real.

When their bodies demanded for air they didn’t need, but were too deep into habit, they broke apart. Crowley gave a sultry grin, “So, to bed, you said?” Aziraphale tutted fondly at him.

“To get some more sleep, you ridiculous demon. I was thinking of joining you too, I still feel quite exhausted.” Crowley’s grin softened into adoration.

“You know I’d never turn you down for sleeping together. Bundle you up and cuddling against you until you wake. You want snake cuddles or clingy cuddles?” They’d been working on Crowley’s anxiety of being a snake for longer than a day. He still had days where the idea was bloody horrible and terrifying, but when he wanted to, he thoroughly enjoyed sunning in the garden or curled up in Aziraphale’s lap. They had also discovered recently that Aziraphale enjoyed being wrapped up in his coils in bed, just dozing together.

Aziraphale ducked his head, nervously plucking at Crowley’s buttons again. He began to worry that perhaps there was something else was still bothering the angel. “Ah... Well...” Aziraphale bit his bottom lip, plucking even more at Crowley’s shirt.

He watched Aziraphale carefully, lowering his head a bit to see that his angel’s cheeks had pinkened. “You know, you can ask me anything, sweetheart. What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?” Aziraphale gulped.

“I- I- I was wondering- You know, it’s b-been awhile since- Well since you last- I- I mean I don’t want you to be uncomfortable a-and you’re still working on being in your snake form-“ Crowley took Aziraphale’s fidgeting hands and held them gently in his own. He pressed a light kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead.

“Slow down, angel, breathe. I won’t be upset with you asking, you know that, right? We’ll talk about it and I’ll make it clear that if it’s not something I want to do, then I’ll tell you. We can figure something else out together, like we always do, yea?” Aziraphale nodded. Took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked up at Crowley, but when he continued to not say anything, he squeezed the angel’s hands. Aziraphale drew in another breath.

“I-If’s not too much trouble. I’d...” Another breath, “I’d like you to be in your naga form.” Crowley’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t taken his naga form since the middle ages. He didn’t mind that form. It was a closer depiction to his True Form and it was more comfortable to be in at times, especially for his hips when they ached. He didn’t think Aziraphale ever saw him in that form, petrified by the idea that the angel would be disgusted with it and finally tell him to fuck off. Crowley wondered if Aziraphale had seen him the one time they nearly ran into each other out in the forest.

Crowley’s cheeks heated up, “You- Ngk- You’d want that?” His angel nodded, uncertainty in his eyes. Crowley lowered his head to Aziraphale’s shoulder, holding him just a bit tighter for it. “Didn’t think you knew...” Aziraphale shifted and started petting Crowley’s hair to relax him.

“Dearheart, I may have only caught a glimpse back then, but I thought you looked rather beautiful. I wished I was brave enough to bring it up sooner, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Crowley’s chuckle was muffled against Aziraphale’s shoulder, moving his head into the crook of the angel’s neck.

“Same reason I didn’t want you to see. I thought you’d be disgusted with it.”

“I could never be disgusted with it or anything else you can do, Anthony J. Crowley.” Crowley laughed a bit at that. “I find everything about you beautiful. Remarkably stunning and at times, it can be quite infuriating. You’ve always been quite distracting.”

“Speak for yourself.” Crowley sat back up more and looked to his wings. “Want me to keep these out or...?”

“Oh, if they’re uncomfortable, you can put them away. Perhaps later, we can groom them.” Aziraphale lightly touched one of his wings, sending a tingling shiver through Crowley’s entire wing from tip to base.

“How’re yours? It looked uncomfortable with that whole switching back-and-forth thing going on.”

“A bit, yes. It was quite annoying to feel. They feel a bit ruffled, but otherwise alright.”

“Could groom yours too, later. Shouldn’t leave them out of sorts too long.”

“No, especially when you ruffle them quite a bit, as it is.” Crowley flashed a self-satisfied smile. “Stop that or I’ll change my mind.”

“Alright, I’ll stop.” The smile didn’t disappear, even after his big show to stretch and yawn, but he traded in the self-satisfactory for a tired one. “Let’s go on up then” Crowley snapped his fingers and changed himself back into his silk pajamas while banishing his wings back to the Ether. The angel slipped out of his lap and helped him up. They made their way towards the staircase until Aziraphale abruptly stopped.

“Oh goodness, I forgot all about the tea.”

“Already taken care of, angel. C’mon” Aziraphale gave him a grateful smile and let himself be pushed up the steps by Crowley.

Once in their room and Aziraphale changed into his tartan pajamas, Crowley waited until the angel climbed into bed and was lying comfortably before shifting his lower body from legs to a long serpentine tail. He scooted closer under the covers, wrapping his angel up completely with arms and coils, tucking his angel’s fluffy curled head underneath his chin and holding him close. Aziraphale’s sigh was pure, contented bliss. He gave his angel a squeeze, “Love you, angel.”

“I love you too, Crowley.” Still wearing a sleepy smile, Crowley let his eyes drift close. He listened to Aziraphale’s breathing even out and once he was certain he had fallen asleep, Crowley wasn’t too far behind to follow.