Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The pain that suffocated him with every breath. The suffering that nothing could drown out. This is what he had felt for the last two months. For the first four weeks, he tried to live normally. He convinced himself that he didn’t need an angel. He lied to himself, saying he hated him. He wandered through London bars, pouring liters of alcohol into himself. He drove a vintage Bentley through the capital of England, not really knowing why. He cared for his plants because that was all he had left. During the first week, he felt no regret. He felt emptiness, nothing. No emotions he could name. He felt as if someone had torn out his soul and left his body empty. He didn’t cry, he didn’t think. By the second week, it began to slowly dawn on him what had happened. At first, it was the echo of the words he heard that day. I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you. He started analyzing them, which only worsened his condition. I forgive you. For being a demon? For daring to show what he had suppressed for so long after six thousand years? Or for feeling more than just friendship for him? All these reasons were just as cruel. Later, emotions filling the emptiness started to reach the echo. They were even worse than the emptiness itself. At first, sadness, which gradually transformed into unimaginable pain and longing, tearing him apart from within. But the cup of bitterness was overflowing with memories that, once beautiful moments, had now become recurring nightmares for him. Every lunch at the Ritz, every visit to the bookstore, every glance. Every shared moment… tore at his wounds over and over again. Did all this really mean nothing to the angel? Still, the worst was the echo. The echo of words that once surrounded him with tenderness. My dear. Now they became a torture that couldn’t leave his mind. Crowley couldn’t bear it any longer. In the second month, he broke. He couldn’t function anymore. He tried to lie down to sleep. Naturally, he didn’t need sleep like humans, but he always enjoyed naps. At that moment, he dreamt of one he’d never wake from again. Exactly a month and ten days passed when Crowley, trying to fall asleep, fixed his gaze on a thermos. A thermos that Aziraphale had once given him. It was supposed to be just a safety aid… an emergency kit. His heart stopped for five minutes because, as was obvious, he didn’t need it to beat, not being human. He sluggishly got out of bed and, with uncertainty, took the thermos in his hands. He wanted to open it, but something held him back. The thought that there might be nothing inside, or that perhaps there was still a sufficient remnant…? You drive too fast for me, Crowley. The piercing echo of those words that cut straight through him made him decisively open the black thermos with trembling hands and look uncertainly inside. Suddenly, he was hit by a sharp, irritating smell. He could compare it to some acid, but it was much stronger than any acid in the world. At first, he wanted to throw it out the window, but something stopped him. A strange thought, which he had never experienced before. As if a black arrow pierced his mind. Enough. He shivered. He had no idea why he even thought about that. He set the thermos aside on the table and, terrified, stepped back a few paces. All the pain would disappear. All the nightmares would go away. You will FEEL RELIEF.
Crowley was terrified. He leaned against the wall and immediately slid down it. No. He didn’t want to die. But… but… he wanted to disappear. He already didn’t want to feel pain anymore. He didn’t want to think about Aziraphale anymore. He had no strength left… relief. The word pierced his thoughts for the next few hours, during which he didn’t get up from the floor. He considered what unimaginable suffering would be brought upon him by holy water. He had seen before what happened to demons under its influence. Relief. Did he not deserve punishment? Punishment for letting his feelings take over and thus destroying everything they had built for damn 6,000 years? Besides, could anything be worse than the pain he was feeling now? Relief. But he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live. But he had no one left for… nothing lasts forever. He hid his face in his hands, unable to endure his own thoughts. JUST SHUT UP ALREADY! he shouted into the emptiness of the apartment with a breaking voice, sure that he was saying it in his mind. His gaze once again shifted to the thermos. It wasn’t enough to destroy his human form, but it was enough to… to destroy the snake. It was enough for his form to speak and die in agony, and with it, his soul and his entire existence. He had stopped worrying about physical pain and began preparing everything. Not even having the strength to get up from his place, he waved his hand and instantly the thermos turned into a black, broad vessel containing that repulsive holy water. All that remained was to change his form. He was afraid. He was afraid of death. He felt his whole body shivering and his eyes glazing over. Suddenly, his thoughts wandered back to that day. The day he lost everything he had. He lost his angel, who treated him like trash. As if everything they had gone through together was worthless. As if their love was a sin that needed forgiveness. Crowley let out a cry of pain. Why didn’t they deserve happiness? Why did Gabriel and Beelzebub get what he had always secretly desired? He struck the floor in anger, likely spraining his wrist. But it didn’t matter. With tears in his eyes, he transformed into a black snake. Moving around, that terrible scent of holy water hit him even more intensely than before. He curled up against the wall, hiding his face as best as he could with his tail. He knew it was enough to crawl onto the table and step into the water, but fear paralyzed him. Not from physical pain, but from death. Despite how much Aziraphale had hurt him, somewhere deep in his mind there was one thought. What if he found out about his death? What if he blamed himself? Despite the wounds he had inflicted, he still felt the same way about him as he did on the day he made that pathetic, desperate move. The only thing he desired was to feel his presence again. His warmth, his tenderness. He knew that what he asked was impossible, which only deepened his wounds. His serpent-like form curled up by the wall in a tight ball. The only thing stopping him from plunging into holy water was the thought that Aziraphale might find out. There was a good chance he wouldn't even know, but what if? Maybe he wouldn't care at all, but what if he felt something for him as well? No, that was impossible… if that were the case, he wouldn't have pushed him away that day. But what if? Crowley so deeply regretted not being able to simply turn off his thoughts. He could perform all sorts of miracles, but that was beyond his reach. He looked at the vessel with yellow eyes. Yes, he could shut his thoughts off. But how… he glanced up, imagining that Aziraphale somehow watched him. What would he think of him right now? That he's pathetic? That he deserves punishment? Or maybe it would be the opposite? Maybe he would throw the whole heaven to the devil and come here to apologize and soothe him? Neither of those options Crowley wanted… not at that moment. He was ashamed of his snake form and only transformed into it when the angel wasn't looking. Only in crises, only when he wanted to hide. It's a fact that in Eden, Aziraphale saw him that way, but that was the only time, at the very beginning. Now, it would be different. Back then, they meant nothing to each other. And besides... now, he still meant nothing to the angel. But Aziraphale was still his whole world. He lay against the wall for the entire next 20 days, pondering and suffering immense torment that grew more painful. The fact that Aziraphale hadn't noticed him at some point only added to the pain. After all, he was now the highest archangel. It was obvious he could spy anywhere he wanted. Or perhaps he saw… but didn't care. Maybe he saw how utterly pathetic Crowley was… he could no longer bear this pain. It felt worse than at the Fall. He wanted it all to just end. For the first time in twenty days, he moved. Slowly, with the fear that consumed his whole body, he climbed onto the table and approached the vessel. The smell of holy water immediately flooded his nostrils. He recoiled as if burned but knew that if he didn't do it now, he might never dare again, and then the suffering would deepen with each day until he eventually lost his senses. He stepped to the edge of the vessel and closed his eyes. He was about to enter and end his suffering once and for all, but suddenly he heard loud, piercing knocking on the door. Hope seized him. ‘Aziraphale?’ he whispered (or rather hissed) and wanted to step down from the vessel, but at that moment, he wavered. At the last second, he managed to jump onto the table. He was more terrified than ever. He really wanted to do it. He was ready for death. His reflections were interrupted by the knocking on the door again. He quickly slid off the table and transformed into his human form. He was about to open the door but realized he wasn’t wearing his glasses, which helped him hide his emotions. Those damn eyes always betrayed him. He couldn’t show himself to his angel without his glasses now. Not in this state, not after that separation, not after what he had done to him. Carefully, he approached the door, nearly choking on the suddenly thickened air. He stood there for a moment, unsure if he was ready for confrontation. He didn't have time to think about it, because the door was forced open, and two white-dressed angels burst into his apartment. He recognized these treacherous fools. But what were they doing in his house? Fury overtook him. How dared they come to him? What more did they want? They had Aziraphale. They couldn't take anything more from him.

“Get out,” he hissed angrily, clenching his fists with rage.

Apparently, the angels didn’t care about what he had to say. Both spread their wings and approached him, looking at him with contempt.

“Speak, devil,” Michael moved closer, so close that Crowley wouldn’t have anywhere to run even if he wanted to. As a precaution, he unfurled his black wings, much smaller than those of the two beings who clearly hadn’t come for tea.

“With you? I’d sooner go to church than…” he didn't even finish. The second angel—Uriel—grabbed him by the throat and pushed him against the wall. An immediate, sharp pain pierced Crowley's right wing. He groaned, hearing a crunch in the fog.

“Where is he?!” Uriel shouted, looking hatefully into the demon’s eyes.

“Who?” Crowley managed to gasp, unable to breathe, feeling the pain radiating across his back.

“You know very well who, monster,” Michael said disdainfully. Seeing that the demon's right wing was unnaturally bent, he pressed it against the wall, causing pain so intense that Crowley felt tears coming to his eyes.

"If you mean… King Charles… I haven’t seen him in two years," even in such moments Crowley maintained his sarcastic nature. He barely managed to form sentences, suffering the agony related to his wing.

"Speak or we’ll remove you, but before we do…" Michael looked at his other wing, realizing how painfully broken it was.

“Actually… you’ll be doing me… a favor,” Crowley rasped, smiling.

This sentence surprised the newcomers. Uriel slightly eased the grip, giving the demon a chance to breathe. The angels looked at each other, unsure of what was happening. Michael glanced around and saw a vessel on the table. He approached it cautiously and immediately realized what it was. He gave Uriel a surprised look, who was still holding Crowley.

“Yeah… it’s water… blessed,” Crowley couldn’t speak normally due to the increasing pain. “You came… at the wrong… time.”

“Leave that disgusting monstrosity,” Michael stepped toward Uriel. The angel nodded and threw Crowley to the ground. He curled up, whimpering from the pain.

“If he knew something, he wouldn’t want to commit self-destruction in such a pathetic way,” Michael stood over Crowley. “Even a demon wouldn’t come up with such a trick.”

“I thought… you’d appreciate me more,” Crowley said with difficulty, trying to smile.

Michael responded with a smile that had nothing to do with him and stepped on the demon’s twisted wing. Crowley screamed in pain.

“If you knew something, devil,” he emphasized the last word, injecting the disgust he felt toward the fallen, “remember, we’re watching you.” Michael let go of the wing and left the apartment with Uriel.

Chapter Text

Crowley got up with difficulty, feeling a stabbing pain in his right wing. It was broken, and such fractures took the longest to heal. He wouldn't be able to fly for at least a year. Not to mention the pain. He sat heavily on the bed and with effort moved the injured wing so that it was in front of him. The fracture looked terrible—twisted in two places, with several feathers torn out. Aziraphale would know how to heal it. A miracle together might work. Crowley closed his eyes, swallowing saliva at the very thought of the angel. Now he was gone. He had to manage on his own. He tried to use his power to mend the break, but it did little. The worst damage remained. The worst part was that broken wings heal more slowly, and he couldn’t parade around London with them. He also didn't want to stay alone inside these four walls, in this cruel silence. Unable to do anything more, he let the wing fall onto the bedding. What exactly was the point of that visit? Was it not enough? Did they just want to tease the demon a bit? Crowley started analyzing everything they had told him, trying to suppress the radiating pain. Where is he? He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but it seemed the most logical. It was about Aziraphale. It was known that the entire heaven would think Crowley was hiding him. What happened there? Since the angel isn't there, where is he? Dark thoughts came to him. What if he was erased from the Book of Life? Or something similar happened to Gabriel? Or someone hurt him? Immediately, he felt anger. How dare anyone rip out his angel’s feather? He would do everything to destroy that person. Despite the hurts he had suffered from him, he still cared. He had to admit that openly to himself. He couldn't hate him. He hissed in anger, not knowing what to think or do. Should he start looking for him? If he found him... he didn't know if he could hide his feelings—not after that day. But if something really happened, he had to find him, find out. He couldn't sit idly by, hoping the angel was safe. He needed to think it all through, organize it in his mind. He couldn't act impulsively again, knowing what had happened the last time he let himself be driven by emotion. He sank onto the bed, lying on his back. His wing hurt again. He would have to get used to it. He snapped his fingers, turning on the gramophone and starting Queen's "Under Pressure," so he wouldn't fall into despair again. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie should keep his thoughts on the right track.

RETROSPECTION

It was one of the warmer days around the Dead Sea. Crowley, having nothing better to do, went to the nearest town craving good wine. As soon as he passed through the grand gate in navy blue and gold, he felt as if he were in a familiar place. It was a strange feeling, considering it was his first time here in his life. Walking down the main street, lined with stalls, he caught sight of two women out of the corner of his eye. Not knowing why, they caught his attention, and he looked back at them. One of them had long chestnut hair falling over her shoulders. She wore a purple robe with embellishments. The other, slightly shorter with brown hair, clearly wore a poorer robe. She seemed to come from a different social sphere. Walking side by side, they held hands. Crowley was surprised. He didn't remember seeing such close friends or a lady and her maid in other cities. Probably just friends or a lady and her servant. He instinctively shrugged and headed to the nearest tavern. He settled comfortably on a wooden chair, resting one hand on the back. By a small, innocent miracle, the host brought him good wine without questions. Sipping it, he noticed a table ahead occupied by two men. Both wore linen garments with similar embellishments and in similar shades. Crowley, with nothing better to do, watched them from behind his glasses. For some reason, they seemed interesting to him. Both ordered the same food. During the meal, they talked and laughed. Crowley felt a vague sense of familiarity… this duo intrigued him more and more. When they finished eating, one of them placed his hand on the table, and the other gently took it. Crowley couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Were they…? No… that was a sin. Besides, people entered into marriages, which by definition involved a woman and a man… But maybe not all? The demon felt a tightening in his throat. A small, shy spark of hope mixed with shock and fear. No. It couldn’t be like that. They had to be friends. But the way they held hands… he felt a sting of jealousy. He never liked that sin. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a pair of men who stood up, leaving gold coins on the table. He couldn’t just live in ignorance, so he also stood up and followed them uncertainly. He waved to leave coins on the table. He left the tavern and saw a sight that completely threw him off balance. Was everything he knew about human love a lie? The duo he had watched earlier now stood close together. One of the men was caressing the other's back. Crowley turned away, unable to endure that sight. Jealousy tore at him from within. He didn't even notice that the pair had seen him.
"Something happened?" one of them asked. He had long, curly dark hair. He moved away from his partner and approached the stranger, visibly concerned.

"No... I'm sorry," Crawley stammered, not knowing what to say. He wanted to leave, embarrassed, but he felt the man's hand on his shoulder. He stopped, hanging his head.

“You're in Sodom. You should know we don't leave anyone alone with what's bothering them here. Can we help you in any way?” Crowley turned to the man, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in his bird-like eyes.

“What’s your name?” asked the second man with raven-black hair.

“Uh… Crawley,” the demon straightened up, now in control of his emotions.

“Crawley, can we help you? It’s clear something’s bothering you,” the man with black hair looked at the visitor.

“Why do you want to help me? You don’t know me, you don’t know where I’m from. I don’t even live here,” Crawley hissed out of anger. He wasn’t used to help.

“You’re a person in need. That’s enough,” answered the second man.

“Oh, believe me, I’m far from a person,” Crawley laughed bitterly.

“Everyone is a human, no matter what deeds they’ve committed,” the man with curly hair tried to look the demon in the eyes through his glasses.

Crawley sighed. There was no point in explaining to these beings that he was a demon, that he had nothing to do with them.

“Come on. You’ll come with us to our house and tell us what’s bothering you,” Crawley agreed to the proposal. He actually wanted to find out what was going on here and whether his ray of hope might turn out to be the truth he so desperately yearned for.

He sat on a wooden bench with his arms crossed on his knees. He didn’t know where to start. It was a bit awkward to ask questions about their relationship, but he knew that if he didn’t do it, he would regret it for eternity. He looked at both men and sighed.

“Do... do you guys… you know,” he hissed, unsure how to phrase it, “together?”

Surprisingly, the people didn’t look appalled by the question. Both smiled and took each other’s hands.

“Yes. Since we first met, we knew it was love.”

“Love?” Crowley whispered, feeling tension throughout his body.

“I know it might seem strange. Actually, only Sodom and Gomorrah allow that. In other places, it’s considered a sin. Since you’re not from here, it might have surprised you, and we don’t hold it against you,” the man with black hair explained.

Crowley felt his heart fill with hope. So it was possible? What he felt wasn’t strange? It wasn’t a mistake? For a moment, his mind flashed with the thought that he could live in this place with his angel. But it was just a dream.

“You love someone, right?” the man with black hair looked at the guest with pity.

Crowley was shocked by the question. He didn’t know what to say. Before, he didn’t know how to name this feeling. He didn’t realize he could feel it for Aziraphale.

“Um… I… I’m not sure I’d call it that. I mean… I like him, I love being in his company. But it’s probably more of a friendship,” he waved his hand nervously.

“Can you imagine life without him?” the man in black asked.

Crowley sighed heavily, lowering his head.

“No,” he said softly.

“Do you daily feel a stab of hunger for him and find an nourishment at the very sight of him?” the second man asked quietly, studying the visitor.

Crowley hesitated. These two humans had just read him like an open book. But he felt he could trust them.

“Yes,” his voice broke. After all these years, he realized what he truly felt.

“You love him, Crawley,” the man with curly hair smiled.

Crowley began to cry, unable to hold his emotions back. He always had trouble with that.

“No, I can’t love him,” he said, because he was an angel and he was a demon, and they couldn’t… he wanted to say, but he knew they wouldn’t understand, so instead he expressed it differently: “We come from two different worlds. It can’t be.”

“Every love has the right to exist,” when Crowley heard these words, he hid his face in his hands, sobbing. He wanted it so badly, yet he knew it wasn’t real. He didn’t even know if the angel felt the same. Still, he was grateful to the human beings for making him realize and helping him name his desire. It was what he always felt when their gazes met.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and unable to control himself any longer, he quickly left the house of the residents of Sodom. Finding the nearest alley, he leaned against the wall, unsure how to cope with the knowledge he had gained. He wanted to transform into his snake form, now only wishing to hide from the world. He didn’t get the chance. Behind him, he heard a cold voice that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew whom it belonged to. Gabriel.

“Who do we have here?” Crowley slowly turned to the angel with deep violet eyes.

“I should be asking you that,” Crowley knew that the presence of angels never meant anything good. He took a few steps back.

We should have suspected the presence of these monstrosities,” Michael said with disdain and disgust in his eyes.

“We’ll take care of him first, and then we’ll deal with this disgusting place. What do you say, Gabriel?”

Crowley was terrified. What did it mean that they wanted to deal with this place? Before he could say anything, suddenly he found himself in a field, surrounded by two angels.

“Admit it, devil,” Michael approached him, spreading enormous white wings. “Your fault that this place is a disgrace.”

“Seriously, you think I’m not creative enough?” Crowley muttered sarcastically.

“Humans wouldn’t come up with something like that on their own. They wouldn’t commit such a sin willingly,” Gabriel looked at the demon with disdain.

“You call love a sin? Er… well, it’s good that I fell,” after those words, Crowley received a blow from Gabriel’s wing. He was knocked several meters, feeling which ribs were broken. Several black feathers remained where he fell.

The angels approached him, looking down at the injured demon. They could have destroyed him effortlessly.

“Enough with this dramatics and destroy me already!” he shouted in anger. The worst part was being called a sinner for love. Was it truly a sin?

But the angels didn’t do it. Gabriel looked at Michael firmly.

“Let’s not waste our power on the demon. We have more important matters to attend to,” after those words, the angels instantly disappeared, leaving the fallen demon on the ground.

Crowley unfurled his wings to help himself get up more easily. With great effort, he stood and saw a few black feathers on the dry grass. He drew his wings forward to examine them. Luckily, nothing serious had happened to them. Minor damage; they should heal quickly. The ribs, however, had several fractures. He groaned in pain, trying to straighten up. His injuries no longer mattered. What was Heaven going to do with Sodom? Crawley feared the worst. He didn’t know where he was now. Possibly in another country, maybe on the other side of the hemisphere? Unable to fly in his condition, he hid his wings and walked forward, hunched over, hoping to meet someone and ask for directions. He hoped he could make it in time.

The longer Crawley walked, the more his strength waned, and the fractures in his body reminded him of their presence. Walking through a small town late at night, he saw no one along the way. Suddenly, he smelled a familiar scent he would recognize anywhere. In the distance, he saw...

“Aziraphale?” he whispered, wanting to rush to him immediately. He wanted to feel his presence. He hesitated. Did he really want his angel to see him in this state? He didn’t want to worry him. It was already too late to think. Aziraphale noticed him, and before Crawley could realize it, they were already close to each other. He sighed heavily, feeling how his feelings overwhelmed him.

“My dear, what happened to you?” Aziraphale didn’t need to look long to see that Crawley wasn’t in the best shape.

“Nothing, angel. Nothing serious,” the demon squeaked, unable to hide the pain. When he felt the angel’s hand on his shoulder, he shivered. He looked away, despite his glasses.

“You have to tell me immediately or… or we’ll never go to dinner together again,” Aziraphale was so worried that even if he hadn’t used that argument, Crawley would have confessed anyway.

“Er… all right… your colleagues upstairs popped in for some tea,” Crawley weakly smiled, feeling every single fracture clearly.

"Crawley! You were supposed to stay away from them," they hadn’t seen each other in 20 years, and as soon as they met again, Crawley had to give Aziraphale worry. He was furious with himself.

“This time, it was them who started it,” Crawley saw that Aziraphale didn’t believe him. He looked at him sceptically. “I swear, angel!”

“You know very well that angels and heaven... don’t hurt people just like that,” Aziraphale had always believed in their goodness... those upstairs. Crawley couldn’t stand it, but he had to accept it. He saw that trying to convince him was futile, so he simply sighed.

“In any case... we don’t have time. Your colleagues want to do something bad with Sodom. Maybe a Great Flood or something,” Crawley tried to step forward, but pain pierced his ribs immediately. He gasped, hunched over. “It’s nothing serious,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“My dear. First, we need to deal with this. Right away, tell me what’s going on with Sodom.” Hearing those words, Crawley realized he didn’t really want to talk in detail about Sodom. Not now.
He couldn’t walk alone any longer without stopping every few steps. Aziraphale, making sure no one was nearby, spread his wings and covered the demon from behind. He let him lean on his arm. Despite the pain, Crawley could spend eternity this way—covered by his angel’s wing, feeling his warmth and tenderness.
Suddenly, he remembered the words of one of those people from Sodom, whom he hadn’t even asked their names: “Do you feel stabbing hunger every day and find food just by looking at it?” He closed his eyes. That was exactly how he felt right now. He found solace in this strange hunger. He had to resist hugging the angel too tightly.

When they arrived at some house, Aziraphale snapped his fingers to lock the door. He sat the exhausted demon on a wool rug-covered bench. He knelt beside him, hiding his wings, which Crawley loved so much.

“Where does it hurt, my dear?” His caring voice made Crawley feel less pain just by hearing it.

“Uh...” Crawley mumbled, not wanting to show his injuries. He knew Aziraphale had a greater healing power than him and could easily fix it, but he didn’t want to worry him. “Okay... multi-fragment fracture of the ribs,” he didn’t want to admit to the wings, knowing they would heal faster than the ribs and that his wings were so delicate he wasn’t sure how they would react to contact.

“Why did you get into trouble with them again... it could have ended so much worse,” Aziraphale looked into his eyes. Crawley didn’t reply. He knew he wouldn’t persuade the angel that it was them who started it. He also knew that Aziraphale didn’t mean any harm—he was just worried about him.

Aziraphale placed his hand on his chest to heal the serious fractures. Crawley began talking about Sodom to distract himself from the touch he so desperately wanted.

“These are good people, angel. They did nothing wrong,” as he finished telling his story about the city, Crawley removed his glasses to better convince the angel that whatever heaven planned, whatever it was, was evil.

Aziraphale immediately looked at him with his yellow, snake-like eyes. Crawley didn’t like them, but apparently, the angel didn’t mind.

“They...” Aziraphale swallowed, slightly pulling away from the demon. “They must have sinned. Maybe they worshipped the golden calf, or... or you messed something up.”

These words hurt Crawley. “You messed something up.” Well, of course. He was a demon. It was obvious that the angel would always see him like that— as the bad one. How could he have thought before that his feelings weren’t foolish?
“Love—that’s what they did,” Crawley wanted to say, but at the last moment, he held back. He could risk the angel associating him with that, and then their fragile friendship would shatter forever. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that Aziraphale had already healed his fractures. Even though he no longer felt physical pain, he was far from fine.

“Crawley?” His name, spoken by Aziraphale, snapped him out of his thoughts. He always gave him such delicacy... “I feel like you still have some injuries.”

“Nonsense, I’m fine, angel,” indeed, broken-winged and missing feathers caused discomfort, but it was much less than his ribs. He could walk just fine.

“I can tell when you’re lying, my dear,” Aziraphale looked into his yellow eyes. Crawley always succumbed to that gaze.

“Wings,” he muttered reluctantly. “But don’t worry— feathers will grow back.”

“Did they damage your feathers? I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale placed his hand on his forearm. Crawley had to resist the shudder. He knew his reactions could easily give him away. To prevent the angel from reading his emotions in his eyes, he quickly put his glasses on.

“It’s really nothing,” Crawley said, shrugging. It was a lie. He always took care of his wings, especially since those of demons were more prone to damage.

“Let me help you,” Aziraphale still seemed determined. The problem was, no one had ever touched Crawley’s wings before. They were some kind of intimacy for him. But the way his angel looked into his eyes...

“Uh... alright,” Crowley muttered, reluctantly opening his wings. A few feathers were missing, but even such a small injury would prevent him from flying. “Happy now?” he hissed hesitantly.

“And you should know I am,” Aziraphale analyzed the damage, looking at the missing feathers. “What did you do to them, Crawley?”

Crawley knew that Aziraphale’s thoughts about heaven weren’t his fault. And yet, every such statement caused him a kind of pain. Did the angel really see him only through the prism of a demon?
Suddenly, he felt a touch on his left wing. Instinctively, he pulled it back.

“You’re not making it any easier, my dear. Try not to move.”

Crawley took a few discreet breaths. He tried not to analyze too much, but Aziraphale healing his wings with such tenderness… he even briefly thought that he could hurt his damned little feathers more often just to feel that closeness more frequently.

“Was it that terrible?” Aziraphale asked, and for a moment Crawley felt as if the angel had gently stroked his wing. No, that’s impossible… it must have just seemed that way to him.
Crawley stepped back, feeling his heart pounding quickly. He hid his wings and hoped it wasn’t too late for Sodom.

“Now we really have to hurry,” Crawley stood in the doorway but noticed that his angel didn’t intend to follow him. So he turned to him. “These are good people, angel!” he shouted with desperation in his voice.

"Oh Crawley… if that’s God’s will…" the angel looked upward. "We can't interfere in this."

“Angel, listen to me,” Crawley moved so close that the angel was within reach. “They didn’t deserve this,” he was concerned for two reasons. Of course, they were humans, whom the ‘merciful’ God apparently intended to raze to the ground. But the second reason… he saw himself and Aziraphale in those people. He didn’t want to believe that God would punish people for love. He wanted to believe that there was some hope for their relationship. That maybe what he feels isn’t something evil. That if he ever confessed how much he feels, Aziraphale wouldn’t be punished along with him.

“All right… we can see what’s happening, but we won’t interfere,” Aziraphale said very uncertainly. Crawley only partly felt relief. He knew he couldn’t stand idly by and watch the massacre that ‘merciful’ Heaven was about to unleash. Without thinking further, he instinctively grabbed the angel’s hand and they ran out of the house.

PRESENT

Crowley jumped out of bed. He was furious with himself. How could he let himself be carried away by memories at such an important moment? His wing now caused a dull, pulsating pain. He couldn’t get out of his head how Aziraphale had healed his feathers. That gentle touch, which he felt a great hunger for. Suddenly, his phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Retrospections

They were standing on the top of a small mountain. Below, two enormous cities could be seen, lying not far from each other. Both looked rather wealthy and modern. They must have been inhabited by many people. Crawley and Aziraphale were still holding hands.
“I don’t see anything happening here,” Aziraphale looked at the demon. Could it be that he was lying? But why would he?
“It’s the calm before the storm, angel. I can feel it,” Crawley muttered quietly, as if afraid someone might hear them. “We should go there and warn them.” The demon tried to take a step forward, but Aziraphale held his hand.
“No! We weren’t supposed to interfere!” Aziraphale had no intention of meddling with God’s plans, for he believed they were always right. On the other hand, he didn’t want to go down, because he knew perfectly well that if they were there when the catastrophe struck, he would survive. But Crawley wouldn’t stand the slightest chance. He kept trying to fool himself that he didn’t care about the demon, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t true.
Suddenly Crawley grabbed him by the forearms. Aziraphale wanted to pull away but couldn’t.
“Angel! There are innocent people down there! Isn’t mercy your duty?!”
“And isn’t it your duty to lead those people astray?” Aziraphale tore himself free from Crawley’s grip. “You’re a demon! If this is divine punishment, you should be glad they’re all going to hell!” He didn’t want to say it. Every time he said something like that, he felt it hurt Crawley. But this time he truly meant well. He couldn’t let anything happen to the demon. He had to keep him here, on the mountain, in a safe place. He would have wrapped Crawley in his wings so he wouldn’t have to watch the coming massacre if he could. But he knew Heaven wouldn’t look kindly upon that. He’d already grown too close to the demon lately, which in itself was a risk.
Suddenly both of their attention was drawn to figures coming out of the city. It was a man (apparently with his family) and two angels. Aziraphale was certain those were the ones who had hurt Crawley. But why? The demon didn’t want to admit it.
“Too late,” Crawley whispered, then turned to Aziraphale with anger. “It’s your fault! If you didn’t want to go, why did you stop me too?!” The angel just looked at him with sad eyes. He knew what such arguments meant. They wouldn’t see each other again for decades. The very thought made his head spin. I couldn’t let you go there! An angel would survive a cataclysm brought by God, but you? You would die in agony! Aziraphale wanted to say that but couldn’t.
Suddenly, a light brighter than the sun flared in the distance. Both cities—Sodom and Gomorrah—were instantly turned to dust. Through the haze, Aziraphale noticed Crawley falling to his knees, trembling in pain. The power of the cataclysm was so immense that the demon must have felt it even from that distance. He couldn’t look—neither at the destruction nor at his friend’s suffering. He turned away. Then he heard something that completely shook him. “They died for love. Those bastards killed them for love.” Crawley said it in a whisper, but Aziraphale still heard it. He froze. Love? Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. Maybe it was about some betrayal? Or the sin of pride? When the light faded, leaving behind a massive crater in the ground, Aziraphale carefully approached Crawley.
“Crawley?... What did they sin for?” Fear was growing inside him.
The demon turned to him, taking off his glasses. He fixed his angry, yellow, reptilian eyes on him.
“It was enough that they were themselves,” he hissed, then struggled to his feet. Before Aziraphale could say anything, Crawley spread his wings and flew away, disappearing into the distance. They were themselves. He didn’t know what to think. Something deep inside him screamed that he knew exactly what it meant—but he didn’t want to know.
“No…” he whispered, looking around in shock at the dead land. Seeing two angels not far away, he spread his own wings and flew toward them. He had to find out what had happened here. He needed… certainty. Next to the two angels—Gabriel and Michael—stood Lot with his daughters. Right beside them was a pillar of salt. With growing unease, Aziraphale approached his “colleagues.”
“What were they punished for?” he smiled artificially so as not to arouse suspicion. He tried to sound calm and composed.
“Aziraphale! Good to see you!” Gabriel smiled broadly. “You see, we’re just carrying out God’s will. And what are you doing here?”
“Er… I was just passing by and saw you here, so I thought I might be of help.”
“Oh! It’s all done already,” Gabriel looked toward where the two great cities had once stood.
“What sin did they commit? It must have been terrible!” Aziraphale didn’t know how much longer he could keep smiling.
“You won’t believe it!” This time it was Michael who spoke. “Those people, instead of taking proper marriages in accordance with God’s will, preferred to live in relationships with people of the same sex. Unbelievable!”
Aziraphale froze. It was the worst thing he could have imagined. He stepped back. At that moment, he noticed a small black feather on Michael’s wing. He felt anger rising inside but had to control it.
“Yes… yes… terrible indeed,” the words barely passed his throat. He felt as if he had fallen—which was the worst thing that could happen to an angel. But since he hadn’t fallen, maybe it wasn’t too late for him? He just had to cut ties with Crawley. That couldn’t be so hard… after all, he was just a demon. Yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the black feather.
“Oh dear, did I get dirty?” Michael smiled, bringing his wing forward. He plucked the black feather. “We had to deal with a demon.” Michael looked at the feather with contempt and crushed it in his fist.
“I see… I suppose he resisted?” Aziraphale was no longer smiling. He was too horrified by the sin of the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. And the way Michael looked at the feather… that contempt… it made the angel feel sick.
“No!” Michael laughed, and Aziraphale turned pale. “He’s a demon! They don’t need to resist to be taught a lesson!” Gabriel didn’t comment. He just watched Aziraphale, who could no longer hide his emotions.
Aziraphale realized that Crawley hadn’t done anything to them. He had simply been in the wrong place, and they treated him as if he were worthless. He regretted so much that he hadn’t trusted him. But now it didn’t matter… he couldn’t think about him. He took a deep breath.
“Listen… er… I have a few things to take care of, so I’ll be going now.”
“If you come across that demon on your way,” Michael handed Aziraphale the crushed feather so he could sense who they meant—but he already knew perfectly well who it was—“let us know. We’ll deal with him properly. I can’t stand arrogance.” Michael smiled broadly again, and Aziraphale gently took the black feather from him.
“Something wrong?” Gabriel asked suspiciously.
“No… it’s just… it’s terribly stuffy here from all this dust, don’t you think?”
“Indeed! Come on, Gabriel, let’s go. We don’t want to get our wings too dirty with dust.” Michael, unknowingly, saved Aziraphale from the situation. The angel breathed a sigh of relief deep down. When they vanished, he looked at the black feather with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” he whispered. At that moment, he already knew he wouldn’t be able to cut himself off from the demon. The only thing he could do was increase the distance between them—which already seemed, at that moment, very, very hard to do.

Chapter Text

On the phone screen Crowley saw the name “Muriel.” Could it have something to do with Aziraphale’s disappearance? He was afraid to answer the call. He was afraid to hear any familiar voice. He was afraid to go back to that cursed bookshop. Finally, he forced himself to answer the phone but did not speak first.
“Mr. Crowley?” Muriel sounded very nervous. She was never able to hide emotions. She handled it worse than Crowley.
“If you want to ask whether I’ll drop by the bookshop for tea, the answer is no,” a dull pain radiated through his whole back.
“I don’t know how to tell you this!” Muriel was panicking, which did not bode well.
“Muriel… just calm down and say it,” Crowley didn’t even feel like joking anymore. The pain was mixing with fear, which was not a pleasant experience.
“No! Someone else should tell you,” Muriel sometimes exaggerated, but now Crowley was sure she wasn’t. He was already writing the worst, darkest scenarios in his head.
“Muriel, say it. I promise I won’t be angry,” that was a lie. He felt he could be very angry.
“Just come here! I mean to the bookshop!” she moaned in fear and hung up.
Now Crowley realized that during the whole phone conversation he hadn’t been breathing. No, no, no, no. He couldn’t just go and enter the bookshop. Not after that day. Not after all that. But he also couldn’t just sit idly in ignorance. What if Aziraphale had been erased from the Book of Life? If that was the case, then Crowley would first burst into Heaven with hellfire, kill the guilty, and if he managed to survive that, he would come home and throw himself without remorse into holy water. He screamed in anger and helplessness. After an hour of sitting on the bed motionless, he jumped up, which increased the pain. With difficulty, he hid his wings, which only made the suffering worse. He made sure he had his glasses and hurriedly took the Bentley keys.
He drove through the streets of London with a real storm of emotions. He hated himself for not being able to stop his angel from returning to Heaven. He hated that institution. With a screech of tires, he stopped one block before the bookshop. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, unable to drive farther. He didn’t want to go back there so much… He had to do it. He took a flask from the car’s glove compartment and with a snap of his fingers made it full. He drank the entire contents in one gulp, threw it to the back of the car and got out. He felt a gust of air, which today wasn’t pleasant at all. He had one block to walk, but it seemed like eternity. Not only was he torn by emotions and dark scenarios, but also by that dull pain. He had to stop every few steps, leaning against lamps, walls of buildings. Finally, after long torment, he was on the opposite street from the bookshop. In that place. In the place where he looked at that damn elevator. In the place where he waited until the end for Aziraphale to change his mind. He didn’t. Those memories pierced into his mind like thorns.
“Crowley?” a female voice brought him back to reality. He knew it. Nina. That woman who was with Maggie at… the ball.
“Were you hoping I’d gone back to the infernal abyss?” he smiled with difficulty.
“Crowley? Are you all right? Where did you both disappear to? You and Mr. Fell?”
Disappear. Crowley took a deep breath,
“Er… I had a few things to take care of,” he deliberately avoided the subject of the angel.
“What happened to you? You look terrible,” Nina had a concerned voice. Actually, they liked each other from the beginning. If not for all this… maybe they would have even become friends.
“Thanks, I’m trying,” sarcasm was always the best mask.
“Maybe I shouldn’t interfere but… did you two have a fight?” Nina wouldn’t give up.
That whole day flashed before his eyes.
“No. It’s just…” he shrugged. He was glad he had the glasses because he felt tears welling up in his eyes. “He made his choice,” he closed his eyes.
“Crowley, I’m so sorry… we shouldn’t have gotten involved, Maggie and I.”
“It’s not your fault,” he gestured quickly upward. “It’s them.”
“Can we help you somehow? You really don’t look well.”
“No. It’s just… I’m tired,” the pain made itself felt. He tried to hide it as best he could. “You wouldn’t happen to have any alcohol, would you?” he muttered after a moment.
“I run a café, not a bar,” Nina smiled. After a moment, the worry returned. “You drink?”
“Relax… you know I’m not human. A demon can’t get addicted,” he didn’t actually know that but could assume so.
“If you ever need help…”
“I don’t need help,” Crowley hissed and headed toward the bookshop that once had been his home. Now, however, it was a nightmare he didn’t want to return to. He hesitated in front of the door. But he couldn’t stand there forever. Before he could reach for the handle, the panicked Muriel opened it for him, wearing her white outfit.
“Mr. Crowley!” she clearly felt relief seeing him. “I swear I couldn’t do anything! It’s not my fault, I didn’t know anything, I was on Earth the whole time!”
“Calm down!” Crowley shouted, surprised by his tone of voice. “Calm down,” he repeated more quietly, trying to keep his nerves in check. “Will you tell me what the hell is going on?”
“It will be better if you see for yourself,” Muriel stammered and stepped aside. Crowley couldn’t cross the threshold. The pain intensified, making him double over, clutching his back.
“Fuck!” he shouted, losing control.
“Mr. Crowley?” Muriel approached him, worried.
“It’s nothing,” he groaned, trying to straighten up. “Long nap, you know,” he didn’t want a worried angel on his hands. That was their nature. Always worried and trying to help.
“Are you sure?” Muriel looked him over.
“Yes,” Crowley straightened with effort, suppressing the pain for a moment. He took a few deep breaths and, with a lump in his throat, entered the bookshop, passing the worried and panicked Muriel.
Immediately, familiar scents hit him. Memories began to return and wouldn’t let go. Unable to go farther, Crowley sank onto the sofa near the entrance, trying not to strain his hidden wing.
“Muriel? Do you have any alcohol?” Crowley knew that only that could help him ease the wing pain, which grew stronger with each hour.
Muriel approached him, still nervous.
“I… I saw some wine here. I think that’s what it was called? The red one from grapes?” Muriel still hadn’t learned how to live on Earth.
“Yes,” Crowley muttered irritably. He didn’t really want to know what had happened. He preferred not to know the truth. If Aziraphale really was dead, then he had no reason to live either.
Luckily, Muriel didn’t want to talk either, so she hurried off to look for the wine she’d seen somewhere around here.
Crowley closed his eyes, unable to look at this place. He’d rather leave and never come back. I forgive you. Those words seemed to echo through the entire bookshop. Suddenly, he heard Muriel say something. Was she talking to herself? That would actually be typical of her.
“No, that’s not a good idea,” the voice was quiet, but Crowley could make out the words.
“Our… client doesn’t feel very well.” Client? Did Muriel even know what that word meant?
“No!” she shouted, which was unlike her. Crowley was getting more and more uneasy. What the hell was going on here?
“I’ll give it myself. It’s… it’s a special client! An author! Yes, an author! He’s written many books! We can’t just… provide.” Author? Under normal circumstances that would have made Crowley laugh. He’d never read a single book, let alone written one. Muriel must have been losing her mind.
“No! He doesn’t want to meet anyone. He’s… he’s afraid of people. Yes! Because… he has a disease. A genetic one! Yes.” That irritated Crowley. Of course. For an angel, being a demon was a disease—what else could he expect.
“He has an eye disease! Yes. That’s why he doesn’t like people. And he doesn’t want to meet anyone.” Eye disease. Those eyes had always been a curse for him. They gave them to him so he could never look at the stars again. The stars he had created himself. He hated them. He could feel anger rising within him.
“Muriel?” Crowley had had enough. If this was some sick joke or a trick from Heaven to break him…
Muriel immediately peeked out from behind a bookshelf. If she was that good at pretending panic, she definitely deserved an Oscar.
“Who are you talking to?” Crowley said through clenched teeth, trying with all his strength to control his anger.
“Me?” Muriel was embarrassed. “I’m talking to… to… the client.”
“Muriel…” Crowley tilted his head back. “You can’t lie.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crowley,” she turned around and instantly disappeared again into the back of the bookshop.
For Satan’s sake, Crowley thought. Muriel was really starting to annoy him. He slowly felt as if he himself were losing his mind. Or maybe he already had? The only thing he still managed to hear was the desperation in Muriel’s voice: “Please don’t!” He felt himself overcome by anger, longing, warmth, despair, relief. Everything at once. Nothing else mattered at that moment. He didn’t even feel the fracture anymore. He had definitely lost his mind.

Chapter Text

“Aziraphale” — that was all Crowley managed to say. If he hadn’t been a demon, he would have thought he had died and found himself in Heaven. He couldn’t move or even think anything. He stared at his angel. Was it really possible that he had returned?
“Muriel wanted to give this to you so I thought I’d give it” — as if nothing had ever happened, Aziraphale gave Crowley a glass and a bottle of wine. It brutally tore Crowley out of his shock. The angel was insolent. After all that, he just comes here, scares Muriel, and simply gives him wine? Everything else was suddenly overshadowed by anger. Crowley was in such enormous fury that, ignoring the pain, he jumped up from the sofa, grabbed Aziraphale by the shoulders, and shook him.
“No sorry!?” — at that moment Crowley definitely had no intention of controlling his anger. It was righteous anger. “You think that after all this you’ll just come here and everything will be like before?! It won’t, for hell’s sake!” Crowley took off his glasses, throwing them aside in fury.
“Er… Muriel mentioned that you have an eye disease” — Aziraphale said in his calm voice. That was too much. Was he mocking him? Was it that funny?
“I’ll fucking give you an eye disease,” hissed Crowley. What Aziraphale was doing was too cruel even for him. How could one toy with someone’s suffering like that? The great Archangel, and it’s okay to torment the fallen?
“Crowley, I tried to tell you,” Muriel’s voice broke. “You promised not to get angry.”
Crowley let go of Aziraphale. He now walked toward Muriel with slow steps. He didn’t even notice that he was smoking.
“Oh no… I’m not angry…” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m furious!” he shouted, feeling himself boil inside. “Is this your doing too?” he looked at Muriel in rage.
“No! I swear! I didn’t know anything! I just opened the bookshop today as always, and Aziraphale was here! I don’t know what happened,” Muriel looked like she was about to cry.
Crowley growled in anger and turned again toward Aziraphale.
“You have one last chance to talk to me normally, ‘great archangel’” — Crowley put emphasis on the last two words. He hated that title. Especially after that day.
Aziraphale looked at him surprised. Then he looked at Muriel as if seeking help from her.
“Muriel also mentioned that you don’t like people. Is it the autism spectrum? Before I came, I read a book about it,” the angel said as if nothing had happened and smiled uncertainly.
That was the last straw and completely enraged Crowley. The demon instinctively spread his wings, which caused him enormous pain, but he didn’t pay attention to it now.
“You coward!” — Crowley came up to him as close as that day before the complete catastrophe happened. Now he wanted to tear him apart. Before he could do anything, Muriel asked in a hesitant, quiet voice:
“Mister Crowley?” — her voice trembled with fear.
“What do you want!?” — He turned to her and pierced her with his reptilian eyes.
“Your wing,” she managed only to mumble. Crowley looked behind himself and saw how bad it looked now. The bone connecting the wing to the spine had come out, which in turn caused bleeding. His anger and fury instantly left him. The smoke stopped. The terrible pain returned. His head spun.
“Does it work like with birds? Can you fly?” Aziraphale was apparently still joking. Even in this situation, seeing how tragically Crowley looked.
“ENOUGH!” Crowley screamed with such helplessness that the lamps on the entire street began to flicker as if there had been a short circuit. He wanted to go out into the street, not caring about his extended wings, but Muriel firmly grabbed his forearm.
“You can’t go out into the street like this,” she said, unable to take her eyes off the fracture.
Crowley muttered something under his breath and tried to hide his wings. But it caused such pain that he couldn’t do it.
“Lucifer help me!” — he shouted helplessly. He couldn’t stay here. He didn’t want to. But he couldn’t go out until he managed to hide his wings.
“Are you a Satanist?” — from behind him came Aziraphale’s voice. He was acting like a child.
“Muriel…” — Crowley muttered, irritated and exhausted by the situation. “I can’t stay here. Not with him,” he looked at her with pleading eyes.
“Should I throw him out?” — Muriel asked, frightened.
“No, for hell’s sake! It’s his bookshop,” Crowley didn’t look at his angel. He couldn’t. The worst part was that despite how Aziraphale was playing with him, he still felt something for him. “Just…” — he waved his hand nervously, “you’ll help me cast a protection spell on Aziraphale and the bookshop, just in case.”
“Are we to leave him here like that?” — Muriel looked at the lost angel.
“No. He’ll be protected. Muriel, are you able to perform a small miracle?” Crowley wouldn’t be able to cast so many spells by himself.
“But…” — Muriel looked again at Aziraphale, who was now browsing through books.
“Muriel, please. Understand, I can’t look at him. It’s too hard for me,” he almost whispered so Aziraphale couldn’t hear him. If he was joking, Crowley didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Chapter Text

Crowley and Muriel, after many failed attempts, managed to cast the protective spells. They were the same spells that they had cast with Aziraphale on Gabriel / Jim. They will work. At least for some time.
One more tiny miracle was needed. One that would allow Crowley, with his wings out, to cross the street unnoticed. Theoretically, Crowley could stop time, but he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to maintain it long enough. It required effort, and today he was so exhausted that it was beyond his reach.
His apartment was definitely too far away. So only one option remained — the café. At this hour it should already be closing, so there shouldn’t be any customers inside. And Nina and Maggie knew the truth anyway (at least part of it). Crowley hoped that Nina would let him stay in the café at least until he could hide his wings.
“I have never done such miracles. I’m not a high-ranking angel,” Muriel was still hesitating.
“Do you see anyone else here who would be able to do it?” Crowley had no patience for this angel.
Muriel looked uncertainly at Aziraphale, who was simply drinking tea now and watching them with curiosity.
“Forget it. Whatever is happening here, Aziraphale won’t be able to do it,” Crowley no longer knew whether his angel was playing with him or if something had really happened.
Muriel sighed and nodded.
“I guess I have no choice,” she said, still hesitating, and raised her hands, closing her eyes.
“Already?” Crowley asked uncertainly, feeling that nothing had changed.
“I don’t know,” Muriel looked at him uncertainly, shrugging her shoulders.
“Let’s hope it works.”
They were about to leave the bookshop, but at the last moment Crowley stopped. He wanted to look at his angel one last time. He couldn’t. He closed his eyes and put on his glasses.
“Under no circumstances let anyone in here,” Muriel instructed Aziraphale, who nodded.
Muriel and Crowley pulled down the blinds before leaving (just to be sure) and went out, carefully locking the door. Crowley walked hunched over, barely dragging his feet. He had to stop halfway.
“Just a little further,” Muriel knew that her miracle wouldn’t last long.
“I went too far, didn’t I?” Crowley muttered, glancing toward the bookshop.
Muriel didn’t answer, knowing that she couldn’t lie anyway.
“I know Aziraphale wouldn’t do that to me,” it was slowly dawning on Crowley that because of his anger, he might have hurt his angel, to whom something clearly had happened.
“You had the right to get upset,” Muriel replied. Crowley didn’t expect understanding from her. On the contrary, he expected her to agree with him and say that he had behaved like the worst demon. “Someone you cared about rejected you and then comes back acting like nothing happened. Anyone would get upset.”
Crowley sighed, not knowing what to think about it. He moved forward, knowing that the miracle’s time could end at any moment.
They stopped in front of the café door, and Muriel knocked even though there was a sign that said “closed.” Nina looked through the window, and seeing who was standing behind the door, immediately opened it.
“Jesus Christ,” seeing Crowley’s wing was the first thing that came to her lips.
“Oh no, no Christ,” Crowley smiled despite everything that had fallen on him today.
“Oh my, sorry. It just slipped out. Come in before someone sees you,” Nina closed the door behind them and quickly covered the windows. Crowley barely made it to a chair and collapsed onto it, feeling himself grow weak. His right wing fell limply onto the floor.
“I’ll call Maggie, and you’ll tell us everything. No bullshit, or I’ll throw you out. Understood?” Nina didn’t look like she was joking. Crowley nodded.
After 10 minutes Maggie came to the café. She had a first aid kit with her because it was the only thing she had on hand. Crowley briefly told them what had happened. About the visit of the angels, about how Aziraphale behaved, and about the fact that with Jim / Gabriel basically the same thing had happened.
“Wait, I don’t understand something here,” Nina interrupted the story. “If Jim behaved the same way, shouldn’t you know how to help Aziraphale?”
“It’s not that simple,” Crowley answered with frustration. “There are no two identical angels or demons. In this we are similar to humans. The fact that something worked on Gabriel doesn’t mean it will work on Aziraphale.”
“We can try,” said Maggie.
“Gabriel gave hints. Aziraphale just behaves strangely and that’s all,” Crowley felt a surge of pain. He hissed, curling up on the chair.
“Maybe before we deal with Mr. Fell, we should try to do something with the wing?” Maggie, seeing the demon’s suffering, couldn’t just stand there and watch.
“No… it’s nothing. I’ll manage. I just need to wait it out. Tomorrow it will be better, and I’ll go back to the bookshop. Aziraphale needs me.”
“No way,” Maggie grabbed the first aid kit, approaching Crowley.
“It didn’t happen for no reason! Something must be threatening him,” Crowley regretted his outburst of anger so much. Even though Aziraphale probably didn’t even know what it was about. If he could, he would go back there and apologize to his angel.
“Muriel can go watch over him. If something happens, she can call,” Nina approached Maggie. “Your wing really looks bad.”
“I promise I won’t let in any angel or any demon,” Muriel smiled at the thought that she would be useful for something. “Oh dear… sorry Mr. Crowley, of course I’ll let you in.” The angel seemed embarrassed by his mistake.
“I know what you mean. Go and watch everything carefully,” Crowley tried to mask the pain, but his strength was slowly leaving him.

Chapter Text

When Muriel left the café, Maggie and Nina were puzzling over what to do with the wing.
“Is it possible that it works like with birds?” Nina looked at Crowley questioningly.
“How should I know. I’ve never thought about it,” the only thing he was thinking about now was his angel. For two months he had so longed for his presence, and now that he appeared, Crowley had let himself be carried away by fury. And at the moment when somewhere out there danger was lurking. He felt terrible about it.
“I guess we have to assume that’s how it works,” Maggie said with uncertainty in her voice. “Once I used to feed them. I found a swan with a broken wing and called the vet.”
Crowley, despite the pain, laughed.
“Do I look like a swan to you?”
“When you said it, it really does sound stupid,” Maggie lowered her gaze.
“Actually, it makes sense,” Nina put her hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “Well, maybe except for the vet.”
Crowley became curious.
“There should be information somewhere on the internet about how to roughly immobilize a wing,” Nina grabbed her phone.
“Check on forums,” Maggie joined the search.
After long browsing on the internet, unfortunately they didn’t find anything on the topic.
“Well, then we have to assume that a wing is immobilized like an arm,” Nina shrugged.
Maggie took out from the first aid kit a triangular scarf, hydrogen peroxide, gauze, and a bandage. Why hadn’t Crowley thought of that before. Someone would have to touch his wing.
“No,” he said firmly, pulling Nina and Maggie out of their focus.
“We have nothing else,” Maggie looked at the first aid kit as if searching there for something for supernatural beings.
“That’s not the point,” Crowley was embarrassed. How could he explain to them that wings were something very intimate? “Er… I’m a demon. Something might happen to you, even with gloves.” A lie. Nothing would happen.
“You won’t do it yourself,” Nina said firmly, insisting on helping.
“No, that’s not a good idea,” Crowley couldn’t imagine it. There was no such option.
“And Muriel? She’s an angel, right?” Maggie gave Nina a questioning look.
Damn. Crowley knew they wouldn’t let it go.
“No… no. Muriel hasn’t yet adapted to life on Earth. She doesn’t know about this. She could make it worse,” another lie. It would be enough to read some guide.
“At least let yourself disinfect that awful wound,” Maggie looked with compassion at the protruding bone.
“Give it here,” Crowley reached out his hand for the hydrogen peroxide.
“It’ll be better if Maggie does it,” Nina was always stubborn. “You probably don’t know how much disinfecting wounds hurts.”
“Give it here, nothing can be worse than the floor in the church.” Nina was right. Crowley had never used things like hydrogen peroxide. He always had Aziraphale, who healed his wounds with miracles. He didn’t even know if human methods would work on him.
The women looked at each other. They finally seemed to understand that they wouldn’t win this discussion with the demon.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Nina took the hydrogen peroxide from Maggie’s hand and handed the bottle to Crowley.
Crowley, not realizing how hydrogen peroxide worked, opened the bottle and poured all its contents onto the open fracture. Instantly he felt as if he had poured holy water over himself. He screamed in pain, curling up on the chair. It felt as if billions of tiny needles were piercing his wing. If Aziraphale had been here, he would have held his hand — that would have eased the suffering. But he wasn’t here. Nothing could help.
Nina and Maggie, seeing this, both clenched their teeth, imagining how much it must hurt.
“Do you… have… something… for… pain?” Crowley stammered, still unable to recover.
“I have aspirin,” Maggie reached into the first aid kit.
“I have Vicodin,” Nina hurried behind the counter.
“You didn’t say anything hurt,” Maggie seemed indignant.
“No, relax. A few years ago I had an appendix surgery. I just had a few pills left. I didn’t throw them away because I thought they might come in handy — and I was right,” Nina found the medicine and handed it to the demon.
“You think it will work on you?” Maggie looked at the box.
“If alcohol works,” Crowley shrugged and immediately swallowed 3 tablets.
“Better not overdo it with them,” Nina warned him. “It’s an opioid.”
“You think I don’t know how drugs work?” Crowley straightened up a little. “Remember, I’m a demon.”
“Just promise you’ll do something about that wing — masking the pain with Vicodin won’t help,” Nina mentioned. Crowley nodded but didn’t intend to do anything about it. He was counting on it healing by itself.
Crowley slept that night in the chair. It didn’t bother him particularly — it was only about regeneration, since obviously he didn’t need sleep as such. When he woke up, he felt that the Vicodin was working. He managed to hide his wings and even stand up from the chair. Nina and Maggie had watched over him all night in case human healing methods had harmed him. Now they were sitting at the table and drinking coffee.
“Good morning,” Maggie greeted him with a smile. “Do you feel better?”
“Let’s say,” Crowley stretched. He felt better only physically. Mentally, it was just as bad.
“Coffee?” Nina asked.
Crowley would definitely drink coffee. That’s what he needed this morning. But he knew he didn’t have time for it. The most important thing now was Aziraphale. The demon still didn’t know how to help him, but he was counting on it being like with Gabriel — that the clues would start to appear on their own.
“No thanks,” he headed for the exit. He stopped in it. Even though the only thing he wanted now was to get his angel back and have him by his side again, he couldn’t go back there. He was afraid of the pain that Aziraphale would unknowingly cause him. He didn’t know if he could handle it.
“Thank you for your help,” he said quietly. Earlier he wouldn’t have even guessed that those two women, whose lives he and Aziraphale had interfered with, would turn out to be so helpful and kind to him.
“Wait,” Maggie jumped up from the chair and came up to Crowley. “Take this,” she handed him the first aid kit. “Maybe Muriel will still be able to help you.”
“Thanks,” Crowley answered weakly and left the café.

Chapter Text

Crowley stood motionless in front of the bookstore door. Now it was even harder to go inside. It was hard for him to look at Aziraphale, who wasn’t Aziraphale. But he had to push through. For him. He knocked on the door.
The door to the bookstore was opened for him by Muriel.
“Any clues?” Crowley asked with hope in his voice.
Muriel looked down and shook her head no. Crowley didn’t answer and entered the bookstore with difficulty.
“Oh, you came back!” Aziraphale greeted him with a smile. Crowley looked at him and was immediately overwhelmed by longing and hunger. He couldn’t smile. Luckily, his eyes full of emotion were protected by his glasses. “Tea?” the angel asked in his calm voice, to which Crowley turned his gaze away.
“Yes, you can bring tea,” Muriel immediately stepped into action, “but necessarily with milk because that’s how English people drink it… I think,” she stammered.
“I’m not English,” hissed Crowley, feeling anger again. This time not at a particular person. At the situation. At what had happened to his angel.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley with that lost gaze. The demon couldn’t bear it.
“He is English but lived for a long time in… Romania,” Muriel smiled warmly.
When Aziraphale walked deeper into the bookstore, Crowley looked at Muriel with surprise.
“Romania?” under normal circumstances that would have been quite funny.
“Well… because I read the book Dracula when I was bored, and he was a vampire and lived in a castle in Romania. And demons are kind of similar… that’s the first thing that came to my mind,” Muriel explained herself as if she had done something wrong. “Mr. Crowley,” after a moment she changed the tone of her voice, “if you want Aziraphale to start talking and giving clues, you have to talk to him normally.”
“How am I supposed to talk to him, huh?” Crowley was overcome with anger again. “After all this? How can I explain to him who we are to each other?”
“And how did you talk to Gabriel?” Muriel looked at him firmly.
“That’s different. He meant nothing to me,” Crowley felt his head spinning.
“If you care about Aziraphale, then you must talk,” Muriel had turned out over the past few days to be a surprisingly intelligent angel.
Crowley knew he had no choice, but at the same time, he didn’t know how to talk when in Aziraphale’s presence nothing could pass through his throat.
“Tea is ready,” Aziraphale approached Crowley, which caused even greater pain. But he had to speak, and he knew it well.
“Put it on the table,” he muttered under his breath without looking at the angel. That was what was most difficult for him now. He sat down on the sofa and took a deep breath.
“Sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well. What’s your name?” Crowley’s tone of voice was indifferent. He couldn’t manage anything else, he couldn’t pretend it was easy.
“Er… actually I don’t know,” the angel said, still smiling. When Gabriel had been in his place, it had seemed quite funny. But now there was nothing funny about it. “But it seems to me you called me Aziraphale?” These words hit Crowley like a dagger. He looked out the window, trying not to cry. Was it even safe for him to use his real name? The angels could burst in here at any moment. But a false name would be even worse for Crowley. He clenched his teeth, knowing that his angel’s safety was most important.
“We were talking… about someone else,” his voice broke.
“So do you know what my name is or not?” Aziraphale was now so defenseless that any one angel or demon could easily catch him.
When choosing a name, Crowley decided on the same thing that had worked with Gabriel. He looked at the books with difficulty, knowing he had to pick something. His gaze stopped on Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. He sighed heavily, knowing that whatever he came up with, it would hurt just the same.
“William,” he said quietly with a tight throat.
“Great! Like William Shakespeare! I read Hamlet last night!” his enthusiasm was so innocent. Crowley most of all wanted to go back to his apartment and change form.
“Hamlet?” Muriel noticed the title and gave Crowley a meaningful look. Only then did he realize that this could be something important, and instead of focusing on the angel’s words, he focused on his own sorrow.
Crowley jumped up from the sofa and began looking for Hamlet. Once he had watched that play with Aziraphale, but remembered little.
“What was that Hamlet about?” Muriel asked the angel, and he brightened.
“It’s very interesting! Hamlet was the prince of Denmark. He returned home after his father’s death, and the ghost of his father appeared to him. And revealed that he had been murdered by his brother. Remarkable!”
“That has nothing to do with anything!” Crowley shouted and in anger kicked one of the shelves.
“Continue,” Muriel threw Crowley a meaningful look.
“So Hamlet wants to take revenge on his father’s brother, but he delays it by pretending to be insane…”
Madness. Crowley approached Aziraphale and reflexively grabbed his arm. But immediately pulled his hand back. He knew that if he allowed himself too much, he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings as well.
“Why did that damn Hamlet pretend to be insane?”
“Well, Hamlet wanted to protect himself and his mission of revenge while also gaining time and an advantage over his enemies. It completely confused them! You must read it!”
“That’s nonsense,” Crowley moved away, frustrated. Aziraphale would never want to take revenge; that wasn’t his style. “That’s some random book, for heaven’s sake!” Suddenly the pain in his wing began to return. And with double strength. “Not now,” groaned Crowley, falling to his knees. Along with the pain came the echo. I forgive you. Nothing lasts forever. Crowley began desperately searching for the Vicodin that Nina had given him.
“I read that for chronic pains it’s good to drink herbs,” Crowley heard Aziraphale’s voice as if through fog.
“Mr. Crowley? The wing again?” worried Muriel came up to him, but at that moment Crowley already had the package of pills in his hands. He quickly took several tablets, and after a few minutes he began to feel relief as the pain and echo faded away. He slowly got up and sat on the sofa, exhausted from the pain attack. Suddenly Aziraphale sat down next to him. A shiver instantly went through Crowley. Do you feel daily stings of hunger and find nourishment at the very sight of it? — the words he once heard in Sodom came back to him, echoing in his mind. No. His feelings weren’t the most important now. He quickly moved to the other end of the sofa.
“Why do you have wings? Are you an angel? I read about them in the Bible,” Aziraphale looked at him with curiosity. Crowley quickly turned his gaze away.
“Er. Muriel is an angel,” he didn’t know if he could say that he was a demon. How would not-Aziraphale react to that?
Muriel looked at Crowley in surprise.
“Muriel doesn’t have wings,” Aziraphale looked at her and then again at Crowley.
“Yes she does. She’s just hiding them now. I don’t have wings now either.”
“You must be a sad angel,” Aziraphale said with care in his voice.
Crowley was a little surprised. “Why? I’m not sad, just…” fallen.
“Your wings. They cause you pain, don’t they?” Crowley was surprised that not-Aziraphale hadn’t noticed the color of the feathers.
“You know… a fracture is never pleasant.” The Vicodin had already completely worked. The pain was gone. At least for now.
“That’s not the only thing that troubles you,” Aziraphale looked at him so piercingly that for one small moment Crowley saw the real Aziraphale in him.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, still looking straight ahead.
“Hamlet makes sense,” Muriel suddenly said. Crowley looked at her with hope. “Maybe it’s not about the literal meaning. After all, it’s Shakespeare, and people say he wrote symbolically. That’s what I heard… anyway, maybe Aziraphale didn’t want to protect himself but you. It wasn’t about revenge, because that’s not in the style of angels, so maybe it’s just about the ending? He wanted to confuse Heaven.”
Crowley felt hope returning.
“How did you come up with that?” he asked, and Muriel shrugged.
“Who is Aziraphale?” not-Aziraphale interrupted their conversation. Crowley, hearing that question, felt like he was falling apart into pieces. But he had to pretend it didn’t affect him.
“He is… was my friend,” Crowley had to try hard not to let his voice break.
“Oh… I also lost something, but I don’t remember what,” Crowley took a deep breath so as not to let emotions take control over him again.
Suddenly someone entered the bookstore. Crowley immediately recognized the scent. Michael. He instantly jumped up from the sofa and went toward the entrance. He wouldn’t let them take Aziraphale again. Muriel immediately followed behind Crowley.
“I could have expected to find you here,” Michael approached the demon, measuring him with his gaze. “You tricked us nicely with that self-destruction. I admit, I’m full of admiration for your cleverness.” Crowley didn’t take his eyes off the intruder. He only hoped that his and Muriel’s miracle would hold.
Michael noticed Muriel and turned to her.
“You don’t know how to lie,” Michael smiled at the lower-ranking angel. “So tell me. Where is Aziraphale?”
Crowley looked at Muriel with a pleading gaze.
“He’s not here,” she shrugged, trying to hide her fear.
“Then what is this devil doing here?” Michael wasn’t going to let go.
“I came to visit Muriel,” muttered Crowley.
“Yes… we were just going for coffee.”
“What business did he come to you for? As an angel you shouldn’t associate with him,” Michael said in a hostile voice.
“About the bookstore,” Crowley again answered for Muriel. “She can’t run it alone, and it’s my business too. But you probably already know that.”
Suddenly Aziraphale came up to Michael. Crowley looked at him in terror.
Michael turned to the angel and looked at him closely.
“And who are you?” he asked suspiciously.
“My name is William, just like Shakespeare, and I love reading books,” Aziraphale smiled at the Archangel.
“Maybe you know where Aziraphale is?”
“I don’t know. But I know he was Crowley’s friend,” Aziraphale looked at the demon.
“Where do I know you from…” Michael began to look closely at “William.”
“He’s been a regular visitor to the bookstore for 10 years. You must have crossed paths sometime,” Muriel lied surprisingly well.
“Oh yes, I’m here every day! I’ve already read many books, I can recommend you some!” not-Aziraphale was still smiling.
“Get him out of here, he’s terribly annoying,” Michael muttered and turned to Crowley. “If this is another of your tricks, then our next meeting will be the last.” The demon knew what those words meant. But he wasn’t afraid of death, not anymore. Michael turned to Muriel. “And I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” and he left the bookstore. Crowley sighed with relief.
“You did well,” he said, and Muriel smiled.
“They’ll come back, won’t they?” Muriel’s smile was replaced by an expression of worry.
“I’m afraid so. Until then, we have to restore Aziraphale.”
“What was that about self-destruction?” Crowley expected that question from Muriel, but he couldn’t be honest.
“Just like he said. I tricked them.”

Chapter Text

He was in his apartment. He still couldn’t stay in the presence of not-Aziraphale all the time. It was impossible. He couldn’t look at him. Not at what had happened to him. At the same time, he wanted so much to be close to him. Hunger. He was torn apart. What if he wouldn’t be able to get the angel back? What if those upstairs had done something that was irreversible? The very thought of it made him think again about the holy water, which was still waiting for him on the table. But he couldn’t leave Aziraphale in such a state. He had to endure it. As long as he possibly could. When night came, Crowley tried to sleep to at least regenerate a bit of strength and the wing. He couldn’t. It came back again. The echo. The pain of the break. Emotions. Hunger. He felt as if his wing was constantly tearing apart, burning, and breaking again and again. He started shaking, crying from the pain he couldn’t bear. I forgive you. He wanted to get up from the bed to look for Vicodin. He couldn’t even do that. Every move caused only more pain. Finally, he got up, which caused a scream of pain and despair.’Nothing lasts forever’ He stumbled into the wall as if he were drunk. The world spun before his eyes. He searched desperately for the pills all over the apartment. He didn’t even remember where he had put them. Finally, he found the box, but when he opened it… there was nothing there anymore. He had used up everything Nina had given him. It was logical, because she had given him the rest of what she had left, but Crowley panicked. No, no, no. Without them he couldn’t function. He couldn’t be there for Aziraphale. 'You’re go too fast for me’ He fell to the floor in despair and overwhelming panic. He remembered that humans buy such things in pharmacies. Maybe there would be that Vicodin there? He jumped to his feet with a groan of pain and left the apartment feeling that every step intensified the suffering.
In desperation, he was looking for a pharmacy. Anything. The world spun and turned. I forgive you. Finally, he found something that looked like a pharmacy. He rushed inside in panic, feeling that he was trembling all over. Without paying attention to anything anymore, he almost fell onto the counter.
“Do you have Vicodin?” he stammered to the clerk, who was a young man.
The pharmacist looked him up and down.
“Vicodin is prescription only,” he replied, with a certain contempt in his voice.
“Please… I had a prescription but I lost it,” Crowley felt that he couldn’t stand on his feet much longer.
“You think you’re the only junkie who came in here?” The pharmacist laughed.
“No! It’s not like that! Please… I have a fracture,” Crowley felt himself collapsing. He supported himself on the counter with difficulty. I forgive you.
“Sure… sorry but I can’t help you. You look like you’re on a typical craving. And those glasses are an old trick. The only thing I can do is call someone from your family,” the pharmacist didn’t give in.
“Please…” Crowley’s voice broke. After a moment he realized. In all this, he had forgotten that he could do one small miracle.
“Boss! Again the same thing!” the young pharmacist called into the back of the pharmacy.
Before anyone could come, Crowley barely raised his hand and waved it. The pharmacist, as if hypnotized, without any more questions walked to a white cabinet locked with a key and took out three boxes of Vicodin. He placed them on the counter, still saying nothing. Crowley, with a gleam in his eye, trembling hand, took the boxes and put pounds on the counter. He immediately swallowed several tablets, which made all the echoes, bad thoughts, and pain go away. He felt a bit better. He straightened up and headed for the exit.
“What happened?” the boss of the young pharmacist came up to the counter, and the young one seemed to snap out of it.
“Some junkie came in. He wanted Vicodin,” the pharmacist grabbed his head, feeling slightly nauseous.
“Don’t tell me you gave him the meds,” the boss seemed furious.
“No… I… I don’t know what happened, but that guy just left.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t come back. There are more and more of them here lately.”
“Boss? He didn’t look like an ordinary junkie,” the pharmacist felt uneasy.
“What do you mean?”
“Something was wrong with him. The way he behaved…” the pharmacist shrugged, “he looked like a corpse.”
“Maybe heroin… no point worrying about people like him,” the boss patted the employee on the back. “They have their own will. No one forces them to take it.”

Chapter Text

Crowley was again standing in front of the bookshop and again he couldn’t knock. He didn’t want to see again the defenseless angel who didn’t know who the demon was. Even though this morning he had already taken Vicodin, he started looking for the box again. Last night he discovered that this medicine also worked on his emotions, thoughts and the echo. He promised Nina that he would take care of that wing and not overdo the medicine, but on the other hand she and Maggie didn’t have to know. Only this helped him function normally. He reached into the pocket of the black coat and took out a blister. He already had the pill in his hand when suddenly he heard a voice behind him. He jumped involuntarily and the pill fell out of his hand.
“No!” he shouted and threw himself on the ground in search of the medicine.
“Crowley?” it was Nina’s voice “is everything all right?”
“Your wing is bothering you again?” asked Maggie with a worried voice.
“Damn it!” Crowley wasn’t focusing now on anything other than searching for that unusual pill.
“You promised you’d do something about the fracture” Nina now sounded angry.
He found it. He grabbed the pill with a trembling hand and immediately put it into his mouth. He quickly got up and smiled weakly.
“Were you saying something?”
“You weren’t supposed to overdo Vicodin” Nina was worried and angry at the same time.
“Er… I’m not overdoing. Besides, I’m a demon, for me it’s harmless.”
“Crowley. You look like you’re getting addicted” Nina was more and more worried.
“What nonsense” Crowley laughed “Beings like me can’t get addicted. That’s human behavior.”
“Then why did you care so much about finding the pill?” Maggie interjected in an uncertain voice.
“Because it hurts, clear?!” Crowley almost shouted.
“All right” Nina looked like she had some idea. Surely the demon wouldn’t like it. “Since you’ve taken the pill now, it should work all day. Give me the packages and I’ll give them back to you when you do something about the wing today.”
“No way” Crowley hissed with anger.
“I already told you that masking the pain will only make things worse. If we dress the wing, there’s a chance it’ll get better and then you’ll quit the meds yourself” Nina reached out her hand for the packages.
“Crowley” Maggie looked at him with concern “If you don’t give us the meds now, we’ll have to assume you’re getting addicted.”
That was all he needed. To have two pesky people on his head who would try to tell him absurd things. He had to do something to make them back off though. He gave Nina the packages with difficulty and warned that she had to give them back to him today. He wasn’t planning to do anything with the wing anyway. He would try to steal those meds when Nina wasn’t looking. And in the worst case he would simply go to the pharmacy and use a small miracle again.
The three of them entered the bookshop. It turned out that Nina and Maggie came to check how Aziraphale was feeling and whether the situation had improved in any way. Unfortunately, nothing had changed.
“I haven’t seen you here before! Do you also write books? Or maybe you read?” Aziraphale clearly was happy with more guests. He always liked people.
Nina and Maggie looked at each other. They understood that it was really bad.
“They live… nearby. They came to buy… a book titled…” Muriel looked questioningly at Crowley, and he was staring somewhere into space and seemed to be absent.
“1984 by George Orwell” Maggie said quickly, saving the situation.
“Sounds great! I haven’t read that one yet” said Aziraphale looking curiously at the new guests.
“How on earth did they recognize him?” Muriel whispered fearfully to Crowley. She was afraid that their spells had stopped working.
“Humans are no threat. It’s about Hell and Heaven. The spells work on supernatural beings” Crowley muttered with his gaze still fixed somewhere in the distance.
“And the Bible? Have you read…” Nina looked questioningly at not-Aziraphale, not knowing how to address him. She also thought that the Bible might dig up some memories. According to her it made sense.
“William. Just like William Shakespeare! He wrote wonderful theatrical dramas” Aziraphale even through loss of memory hadn’t lost his love for books. That caused Crowley pain. Was it only him who became indifferent to him? Or had Aziraphale stopped caring about him earlier? After that day? The demon felt a sudden need to take a larger amount of Vicodin. I forgive you. He began searching his pockets for the package but with horror remembered that he had given everything to Nina. He looked at her, hearing nothing anymore. The image blurred and spun. He approached her in growing panic and took her aside.
“Give me a pill” he hissed angrily.
“Are you crazy?” Nina seemed to be outraged “We had an agreement.”
“You don’t understand what pain this is! The wing, I mean” the echo was getting louder.
“If it’s only about the wing, then let yourself be helped” Nina wasn’t going to give up.
“Er, we don’t even know if it’ll work” he felt growing anger, despair, fear.
“We have to at least try. If Vicodin works, then maybe this will too?” Nina looked at the first aid kit lying on the table.
Crowley only felt worse. No. There was no way anyone would touch his wing. He started to panic more and more.
“I need some air” he only stammered and started walking quickly toward the exit door. In his head there was only the need to get Vicodin, which would soothe his thoughts. He had seen a pharmacy somewhere here. He could swear it was here. This time he wasn’t even going to argue with those idiots behind the counter. He’d cast a spell on them and get what he wanted. Suddenly Maggie blocked his way.
“Move aside, human” Crowley was losing control of himself. His hands started shaking.
“Nina is right and you know it well” Maggie said with concern and slight fear.
“Crowley, we can’t let you out. We know where you want to go” Nina came up to Maggie and measured the demon with her gaze.
“Mr. Crowley? What’s happening with you?” Muriel joined the circle of mutual adoration. Crowley had had enough. Of all of them! Why couldn’t they just leave him the hell alone. Everyone had free will after all. He did too and he had the right to use it.
“I don’t want to hurt you” Crowley threatened through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to do anything to them but he was losing patience.
“And I don’t want to hurt you” Muriel said in a trembling voice from behind his back. Crowley turned slowly toward her and froze. Holy water. Muriel had a jug of holy water in her hands.
“You won’t do it” he hissed, feeling he was about to explode with anger.
“I can’t let you destroy yourself” Muriel was terrified but still held the jug.
Crowley was helpless. He felt cornered, frightened and full of pain. Unable to endure the pressure any longer, he ran upstairs in the bookshop, almost tripping on the stairs. He entered the room that belongs or belonged (?) to his angel. That caused even more pain but he had no other place where he could simply hide. He slammed the door behind him and curled up on the bed, feeling that he was going crazy without the medicine.
“How to help him?” Maggie was worried. Even though Crowley had messed up her life and was a demon, she couldn’t not like him. She also couldn’t leave another person without help.
“Maybe I could do something? I can’t really heal, I’m too low rank, but… maybe I could do something?” Muriel threw her hands up nervously.
“You know what a first aid kit, bandage is?” Nina looked at Muriel questioningly.
“Oh actually… I haven’t managed to find out yet” Muriel sighed knowing she would be of no use.
“I know what a first aid kit and a bandage are. I read about it in one of the crime novels” suddenly not-Aziraphale / William interjected. The whole trio — Muriel, Nina and Maggie — looked at him with hope.
“What? It’s actually useful” not-Aziraphale beamed.
“You don’t even know how much” Maggie smiled and looked at Nina “Do you think it will work?”
“Maybe… since Crowley doesn’t want our help, we have no other option” Nina came up to not-Aziraphale “You know how to dress a wing?”
“In the book there was nothing about a wing… humans don’t have wings. But I read how to dress a hand.”
“Damn” Nina cursed under her breath.
“Atlas of birds” Muriel said quietly and ran to the shelves with books “Since God created everything in likeness to something else, it’s possible that our wings have something in common with those that birds have. If Azira… William will know what the anatomy of such a wing looks like… presumably, then maybe he will be able somehow to dress the wing like a hand.”
“I guess we have no other choice” said Maggie, shrugging her shoulders.
When Muriel returned with the book, Nina and Maggie joined in the search for something that would even slightly resemble the wings of angels and demons.
“Nightingale?” Maggie pointed at the picture of a small brown creature.
“No… unfortunately it’s not that” Muriel turned another page of the Atlas.
“This one is similar” suddenly not-Aziraphale interjected. On page 97 of the book there was drawn in detail the structure of a swan’s wing. Muriel looked at the picture.
“And?” Nina also looked at the page in the book.
“It’s true, it’s similar” Muriel frowned “But we need a comparison.” Saying this, she stepped back and stretched out her small white wings.
Nina immediately grabbed the book and placed it in front of her eyes so that she could see both the picture and Muriel’s wings at the same time. For a moment she moved her eyes between one and the other.
“Hard to find differences” she said in concentration.
“So we’ve got it!” Joyful Maggie pulled her out of her reverie.

Chapter Text

Crowley was lying on a bed that wasn’t his. He was trembling all over, unable to cope without Vicodin, which could so effectively erase his negative emotions and the echo. He was furious at the whole trio — Muriel, Maggie, and Nina — who had made it impossible for him to access the drug. They didn’t understand anything. And they never would. He clenched his fist in anger, digging his nails into his skin. Suddenly he heard something. He jerked upright into a sitting position and looked angrily at the door.
“Leave me alone!” he shouted to make sure they could hear him.
When the door opened, he saw Aziraphale in the doorway. But only in theory… he gave him a look full of pain, longing, and anger, saying nothing.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Not-Aziraphale seemed embarrassed.
“Now they talked you into coming to torment me?” he muttered under his breath, turning his gaze away from his angel.
“Well, they actually suggested…” the angel shrugged.
“Come in,” Crowley hissed, knowing that if he wanted to get anything out of Aziraphale, he had to talk. “What do you want?” he wasn’t in the mood to listen to more moral lectures.
Not-Aziraphale came to the edge of the bed and placed a first aid kit on it.
Crowley panicked when he saw it. They had used a cruel weapon against him. They knew he wouldn’t be able to argue with Not-Aziraphale for long. But he couldn’t allow it. He knew that touch would only make his craving stronger.
“No way,” he said, still unable to look at the angel.
“My dear, I just want to help you,” Not-Aziraphale looked at the demon with concern.
My dear. Those words made Crowley take off his glasses and look the angel in the eyes. Could it be possible that he’d woken up? Remembered?
“What did you say?” he whispered, unable to get out anything more.
“I just want to help you,” the angel repeated, not knowing what was going on. He gave Crowley a questioning look.
“Not that. Before that,” he felt his heart pounding. Now he needed Vicodin even more.
“My dear,” the angel repeated in his gentle voice.
Crowley felt his eyes well up.
“Aziraphale?” he whispered, feeling a million emotions in his head that he couldn’t even name.
“Er… you said my name is William,” that sentence made Crowley feel his heart shatter again. He lowered his head and put his glasses back on. What was he thinking? That it would be that simple? How naive he was. His hands began to tremble again. He needed Vicodin. And immediately. Suddenly he felt the angel grab his hand, which instantly calmed down. He raised his eyes, meeting the gaze of his angel — who at the same time wasn’t his.
“I know your wing hurts. That’s why I want to help you. Please…” Aziraphale said with such concern that Crowley could no longer resist. He couldn’t.
He carefully extended his wings, feeling a lump rise in his throat and his pulse quicken. His right wing fell limply onto the bedding. Not-Aziraphale took the necessary things from the first aid kit and approached the demon’s broken wing, sitting right beside him. Craving. Crowley shuddered, gritting his teeth.
“I promise I’ll try to be gentle,” Aziraphale poured some disinfectant onto a gauze pad.
I know. You were always gentle… Crowley had to bite his tongue not to say it. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something else. Suddenly he felt the same pain as before when he had poured the entire contents of a similar liquid onto his wounded wing.
“Fuck!” he shouted, clenching his hand on the bedding.
“I’m sorry, I had to,” Not-Aziraphale said with guilt in his voice.
“Not your fault,” Crowley replied, trying to stay calm.
“Now the bandage. It won’t hurt anymore, I promise, my dear.”
My dear. Those words pierced him like an icy arrow. When he felt the touch on his wing, he calmed down. He felt that characteristic, familiar warmth he had missed so much. It brought him more relief than Vicodin. For the entire two months, he had secretly longed for it. He missed it so much… craving. If only he could, he would have stayed in that moment forever.
“I told you it wouldn’t hurt,” Not-Aziraphale withdrew his hands, causing all the bad emotions, the longing, and the echo to return. Crowley again felt the urge to take Vicodin. He looked into the angel’s eyes, unable to utter a single word.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Not-Aziraphale smiled. “Remember, you can’t strain your wing. And this is only a temporary dressing; I’m not a doctor.” Not-Aziraphale got up and left the room, leaving Crowley alone in the cruel silence. Now that he had felt his closeness again, the longing only grew stronger and more painful. Vicodin. He had to have it. Immediately. He jumped up from the bed and ran downstairs into the bookshop, going straight to Nina.
“Happy now?” he spun around a few times to show that his wing had been bandaged. “And now… as agreed, hand over the meds.” He reached out his hand for his property. Craving.
“You shouldn’t abuse them. We see what’s happening,” Nina said, worried, with her arms crossed.
“Give them back!” Crowley growled angrily. I forgive you.
“Maybe it’s better if you take some aspirin instead?” Maggie said timidly.
“No! Give me the Vicodin!” the anger was growing, along with the emotions, the echo. “We had a deal! I kept my word!”
Nina sighed. She knew they couldn’t stop him anyway. They’d done what they could. She reluctantly handed him the pills, and Crowley snatched them and immediately swallowed three tablets. Suddenly he noticed a familiar figure outside the window. He knew her presence meant nothing good. He hid his wings and went out to find out why Shax was watching the bookshop. He was retired, so it probably wasn’t about him. It had to be about Aziraphale. Hell was looking for him. Just like they had looked for Gabriel. He felt anger and fear at the same time.
“What do you want?” he hissed angrily. The demon looked at him.
“No hello?” Shax smiled.
“Take my flat if you want, but leave the bookshop alone,” he measured the uninvited guest with his eyes.
“What would I want your flat for? We don’t need it anymore,” Shax said with contempt in her voice. “I just came to warn you. Of my own free will. Demon to demon.”
“I don’t believe you,” Crowley muttered angrily.
“You don’t have to,” Shax laughed and clasped her hands behind her back. “Heaven is preparing for war.”
“That’s not my problem anymore,” Crowley clenched his fists. He hated both Heaven and Hell. He didn’t care about their eternal conflicts.
“I’m afraid it’s your problem as much as ours,” Shax sounded serious.
“I’m not taking part in this. I’m retired, remember, for hell’s sake?” Crowley felt the dull pain in his wing return, even though he had just taken the pills.
“You really think Heaven cares about your retirement? They want to wipe out every one of us. You don’t have to take part for them to come for you.”
Crowley felt the ground slip from under his feet.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, feeling like he was about to fall over.
“Whether you like it or not, you’re one of us. Even if you betrayed Hell, you still deserve a warning about Heaven,” Shax shrugged.
“They’re planning another Armageddon?” Crowley wasn’t afraid for himself. Not anymore. He was afraid for Aziraphale.
“You were always naive, Crowley. This will be something much worse,” Shax turned her back and started to walk away. “By the way, you look terrible.”
“Thanks, it’s my new style,” Crowley replied and leaned against the wall of the bookshop. His vision darkened. He didn’t know what to think. Was Aziraphale involved in this too? Had he helped plan the War? He was an archangel now. He must have had a hand in it. And that meant… that Crowley meant nothing to him. He was just another number in the casualty statistics. He was just a demon. A demon who apparently deserved only destruction. 'I forgive you' What they’d been through together… all six thousand years. Apparently, it had meant nothing to him. He couldn’t stand his thoughts any longer. He couldn’t go back to the bookshop now. He didn’t know what to do.

Chapter Text

It was eleven at night. The bartender was preparing the bar on Mill Street in Mayfair for closing. He was cleaning the last wooden tables, wiping away stains left by spilled Guinness and other drinks. Suddenly, he noticed that someone was still sitting at a table in the corner. It was a man dressed in black, with red hair and sunglasses (which was strange considering it was night). The bartender didn’t like confrontations with customers after drinking. They were almost always aggressive, and it usually ended with calling the police. And that man at the table made him feel particularly uneasy. It wasn’t even about his appearance but rather about the aura he radiated around himself.
The bartender gathered his courage and approached the customer, who was sitting alone with a drink. Suddenly, with surprise, he noticed that there were many glasses under the table. Dozens. How could anyone possibly drink that much alcohol and still be conscious?
“Excuse me? We’re closing now,” said the bartender, standing by the man and noticing the smell of sulfur. This customer must have been using some very strange perfume.
“Fuck off, man,” the man at the table didn’t even look at him.
“If you don’t leave the premises right now, I’ll have to call the police.” The bartender didn’t intend to argue with this man. He made him feel a strange discomfort.
“Then go ahead and leave me alone,” the bar’s customer downed the entire contents of his glass in one gulp. “Ah… before you leave me alone, bring me some good vodka.”
“Please leave. I’m not joking.” The bartender was especially tired today; the bar had been very busy.
“I’m not joking either. Bring me that vodka, quick, or I can’t promise what’ll happen,” the man looked at the bartender through his sunglasses. The bartender immediately felt a headache coming on.
And so he did as he was told. The bartender went behind the counter and called the police on the grounds of disturbing the peace. Now he had to patiently wait for their arrival. He was afraid of getting punched, so he obediently brought the man at the table an opened bottle of vodka and a glass.
After 30 minutes of waiting, which felt like an eternity, two police officers finally arrived at the bar.
“Please stand up,” one of the officers said firmly, placing his hands on the wooden table in front of the bar’s customer.
The man sluggishly raised his head and looked at the officers from behind his sunglasses.
“Fuck off,” he said unclearly, which showed that he was under the influence of alcohol.
“If you don’t do this voluntarily, we’ll have to use force,” said the second officer.
The man at the table shrugged. “Be careful, so that I don’t have to use force,” he said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.
The officers looked at each other, realizing that talking wouldn’t convince this man to leave. One of them grabbed the man by the forearm and yanked him from the chair.
“Easy! You have no idea who you’re messing with!” the bar’s customer still resisted.
“Are you coming, or do we have to use direct coercive measures?” the second officer grabbed the man’s other arm so he wouldn’t struggle.
“Leave me alone!” the bar’s customer shouted, and with superhuman strength, broke free from the officers. Before one of them could reach for his taser, he was punched in the face and stumbled backward, crashing into chairs. The second tried to subdue the aggressor but was also struck — this time in the stomach. Before he could get up, the drunk man kicked him and knocked him to the ground.
“Worth it—” the aggressor didn’t finish, because the first officer, despite his broken nose, managed to get up and pull out his taser. The attacker let out a groan of pain and fell to his knees. The officer managed to handcuff him.
“Now you’ve got a real problem, buddy,” the officer said, lifting the aggressor off the ground.
“Problem? The problem is Armageddon…” the man muttered, barely able to stand.
“Now you’ve got a double problem,” the second officer also managed to get up from the floor. He gave his partner a meaningful look. “Drugs.”
That’s how Crowley ended up in jail. After two hours of complaining about wanting access to a phone, the officers allowed him to make one call. So he called Muriel, hoping that by some small miracle she’d get him out of there. After 15 minutes, she was already there. Crowley couldn’t perform a miracle himself because after the whole day he was too exhausted. He needed recovery.
“What did you do this time?” Muriel walked up to the bars, not entirely sure where she was.
“Er… well, first I didn’t want to leave the bar. So some idiot called the police. I might’ve gone a bit overboard, so they threw me in the tank,” Crowley muttered. Muriel gave him a questioning look. “In other words, I broke human law.”
“Why did you go to the bar?”
“I’ll explain later. Just get me out of here now.”
“How?” Muriel looked around. “There are a lot of police officers here.”
“I don’t know, think of something.”
Muriel sighed and closed her eyes. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Instantly, everyone in the station fell to the floor, and the cell door opened. The angel looked around nervously and then said sheepishly, “They’ll wake up in an hour. I hope…”

Chapter Text

Crowley regretted. He regretted that he had run away again. Run away from the problem. Just like that day. He always ran away, unable to deal with his own emotions. It was pathetic, but it seemed like the only way out. He had to overcome it, though. He had to do something. If not for himself, then for Aziraphale. He couldn’t keep tucking his tail and running. He couldn’t just wait now until the next Armageddon came. It didn’t matter whether his angel had a hand in it or not. Crowley still… still cared. He and Muriel entered the bookshop where Nina and Maggie were already waiting. The not-Aziraphale was sitting at the table eating jaffa cakes as if nothing had happened.
“Why did you end up in the tank?” Nina was clearly angry. She had every right to be.
“That’s not important. We have a bigger problem.” Crowley felt the pain in his wing returning.
“Does it have anything to do with the arrest?” Maggie spoke up.
“Partly…” Crowley didn’t know how to tell them that destruction was coming. The war between Hell and Heaven also meant the end for humanity. For everything. “Armageddon is coming,” he said through clenched teeth.
“War?” Muriel turned pale.
“Yes. They’ll come for you too. They’ll drag you into it,” Crowley said with sadness in his voice. For the first time, he had no plan. He felt powerless. Powerless without his angel.
“What do we do?” Maggie was terrified. She grabbed Nina’s hand.
“I don’t know,” Crowley replied, feeling the dull pain spread through his entire back. He sat down on the sofa, unable to stand any longer. He quickly swallowed a few Vicodin tablets. “Aziraphale…” the word barely left his throat. He clasped his hands on his knees. “Would know what to do.”
Nina looked at Maggie, then at Crowley and Maggie. She looked like she had an idea.
“So we have to help him regain his memory,” she pointed to the not-Aziraphale, who was watching them closely.
“You think we haven’t tried?” Crowley felt anger rising within him. He’d been trying since the beginning of all this. But they had nothing. Nothing.
“Hamlet?” Muriel interrupted. “We haven’t checked that book. That must be it.”
“That stupid Hamlet makes no sense,” Crowley hissed in anger.
“We have nothing except Hamlet,” Muriel shrugged. “We have to try.”
On one hand, Crowley wanted to get his angel back. On the other hand, he didn’t know if he was ready. After everything. Besides, if he started to hope again and got disappointed again…
“Crowley…” Nina approached him. “I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you. But we’re with you.”
Crowley took a deep breath. It was the only thing they could do. They couldn’t just sit around drinking tea and wait for everything they knew to go up in flames. Without Aziraphale, they wouldn’t even know what Heaven was really preparing or how to stop it. Muriel didn’t have access to confidential documents, and even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t be able to steal them.
So the three of them began searching for Hamlet. They took all the possible editions that were in the bookshop and laid them on the table in front of the not-Aziraphale. There were ten editions. They didn’t have time to leaf through and read each one.
“Which of these books did you read?” Muriel asked, her voice full of fear she couldn’t hide. She didn’t want to take part in a war. She couldn’t fight.
“Er… I read Hamlet,” the not-Aziraphale replied, confused, not quite understanding what they wanted from him.
“Which edition?” Crowley was losing control of his emotions. As always. He slammed his fist on the table.
“I read an ebook. Muriel showed me,” he pointed to Muriel, who looked at Crowley with wide eyes, seeing how he was boiling inside.
“An ebook…?” Crowley whispered indifferently and took a slow step toward Muriel. “An ebook?!” he shouted, clenching his fists.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know he’d get interested in ebooks,” Muriel stammered, backing up a few steps.
“He couldn’t have hidden anything in an ebook, do you understand?! Do you know what you’ve done?!” Crowley was on the verge of tears. His hands started trembling. He felt a tightness in his throat and chest.
“I’m sorry!” Muriel wrung her hands and burst into tears.
“Calm down!” Maggie shouted, which stunned Crowley. She could even shout? “Let’s go through these books. If we don’t find anything there, then we can break down, sit, and wait until we all die.” Maggie looked at Nina, who was proud of her.
“If there’s nothing there,” Crowley took off his sunglasses and looked at Muriel with eyes full of anger, “then the war will be the least of your worries.”
“Crowley, enough,” Nina said in a raised voice and pressed the first edition of Hamlet signed by William Shakespeare into his hands. She handed the terrified Muriel the latest edition from this year.
“Get to reading, because Maggie and I aren’t planning to wait for the end of the world.”
All four of them flipped through the books titled Hamlet, looking for anything. In fact, no one knew what they were looking for. It could have been a word, a sentence, a paragraph, a page… anything. With each page he turned, Crowley fell deeper into despair. It was all for nothing. Hamlet was just a random ebook that Muriel had suggested to Aziraphale. After another act of the play, Crowley’s hands were shaking so much he couldn’t hold the book. He set it down and quickly took some Vicodin. When he calmed down, he returned to searching for any sign of angelic intervention in the object. Crowley was already at the end of the book and still nothing. Nothing. The others had nothing either. He felt anger. He hated this book. He grabbed it by the spine and was ready to tear it apart, but instead, he threw it at the wall and buried his face in his hands. At that moment, all he wanted was to disappear. He didn’t want to feel anymore, didn’t want to see Aziraphale in this state. He didn’t want to wait for the war that would take away the only fragment left of his angel.
“Crowley?” he suddenly heard Nina’s uncertain voice.
“What do you want?” he croaked, unable to hold back his tears any longer.
“Is this yours?” Nina asked. Crowley raised his head and looked at the book he had angrily thrown against the wall. The book lay face down, open in the middle. Between its pages was a visible black feather. Crowley recognized it immediately. It was his feather.
“Yes…” he whispered, staring at the find. “I mean… yes and no. I didn’t put it there. I don’t know where it came from.” He looked at Nina with hope and rushed to grab the first edition of Hamlet. He picked it up from the floor along with the feather and gently pulled out the fragment of his wings. He felt hope filling him. He didn’t yet know what the feather meant, but he knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. No one spoke. Everyone waited tensely to see what Crowley would do. No one was reading Hamlet anymore. Crowley walked up to the not-Aziraphale, grabbed him by the arm, and showed him the black feather.
“What is this?” he asked almost in a whisper. Again he felt longing. Hunger.
“Looks like a feather. I think it belongs to you,” the not-Aziraphale looked into his eyes, which caused even more pain.
“How did this feather end up in the first edition of Hamlet?” Crowley tightened his grip on the not-Aziraphale’s arm. Please. Please. This had to be it. It had to.
“I don’t know. Maybe you lost it?” That made Crowley feel like his heart had shattered into a billion pieces. His head was spinning. This was the end. The image darkened before his eyes, and tears welled up in his serpent eyes.
“Crowley… I’m so sorry,” he heard Maggie’s voice as if through thick glass. Nothing reached him.
He knew it was the end. Even if they wanted to look for something else, something beyond Hamlet… there was no time. The war could come at any moment. In an hour, tomorrow, the day after… maybe in a minute? Crowley knew he had one last chance. Even if Aziraphale didn’t remember him, didn’t know what they shared, Crowley had to tell him. He couldn’t die without saying what he’d wanted to say for six thousand years. He took a deep breath. He didn’t know how the words would leave his throat. But he knew this might be the last moment. He made the not-Aziraphale stand up. Now they stood face to face, as close as on that day. Crowley swallowed. He took the not-Aziraphale by both hands and, with difficulty, looked him in the eyes. He met only a questioning gaze, but he knew this was his last chance. He took a deep breath, feeling how fast his heartbeat was. If he were human, he’d have died long ago of a stroke, aneurysm, or heart attack.
“Angel…” his head was spinning. He couldn’t say the next words. He couldn’t. He muttered under his breath in frustration at himself. He had to say it. Without it, he couldn’t die in peace. “I know you don’t remember me, but… I love you,” he forced out and immediately let go of the not-Aziraphale. It cost him so much. He turned around and was about to leave the bookshop. He had to run. But a familiar voice stopped him. Crowley froze mid-step, feeling shivers run down his spine.
“Crowley?”

Chapter Text

Muriel, Nina and Maggie went to the café to give space to Crowley and Aziraphale. They knew that they had a lot to explain to each other. Crowley couldn’t say a single word. He just stood still and looked at his angel.
“My dear, I’m so very sorry,” Aziraphale’s words pulled him out of his daze. Crowley couldn’t handle the emotions that were tearing him apart. Additionally, the pain of the wing grew stronger. He took four Vicodin pills still not taking his eyes off the angel.
“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have gone back there, I shouldn’t have asked you to come back to them. I just thought… I thought that if we reversed your fall, you would finally be happy.”
“You egoist,” Crowley said through clenched teeth, taking a step forward. He loved the angel, but he couldn’t just forgive him. He couldn’t not be angry. Not after everything. “For you, I was always just a demon. I didn’t fit into your perfect world, right? You had to change me so that your superiors wouldn’t look at you askance.” Crowley felt such different and conflicting emotions. He wanted so badly to silence them. For now, however, even the Vicodin didn’t help.
“No. Not at all. Please listen to me,” Aziraphale came closer to Crowley, and he moved away to a safe distance and looked aside.
“Have you already forgiven me?” Crowley laughed, trying with all his might not to let his voice break.
“It’s not like that. I didn’t know what to say then. First Metatron surprised me, then… you. Understand, I didn’t know what to do,” Aziraphale tried to grab his hand, but Crowley moved away. He wanted so much not to be angry…
“Oh great archangel, I’m very sorry that I put you in consternation back then,” Crowley felt as if his wing was constantly being torn apart. He tried to hide the pain under a cloak of laughter.
“Please stop, don’t call me that. Crowley, you were right about them, I should have listened to you from the very beginning.”
“But you didn’t…” Crowley muttered under his breath, feeling the world start spinning before his eyes. “Nothing lasts forever, remember? Your words, angel… you erased me for the sake of that bunch of hypocrites. I let you know me, see me… I gave you a rare gift but you didn’t want it.” Crowley only wished to hug his angel. To feel his closeness. But he couldn’t. They were divided by an invisible barrier that Aziraphale had created between them that day.
“Didn’t I?” Aziraphale answered almost in a whisper. “You don’t even know how much—” he didn’t manage to finish the sentence. Crowley was furious.
“You made your choice, angel. You chose… I can’t blame you for free will… but know that it will never be like before.” Crowley’s voice broke.
“I was afraid! You think I didn’t want what happened between us? I did, and that’s why I was afraid. Not only do we come from two different worlds… you remember Sodom and Gomorrah, right? You remember what happened to them?”
“What were you afraid of, for heaven’s sake?! Lo… our feelings? You saw that Gabriel and Beelzebub could be together. You saw Nina and Maggie. You won’t believe it but they’re still alive and doing fine!”
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. But I was afraid. And when you… I had to think about it. When I had already thought about it, it was too late,” Aziraphale had tears in his eyes.
“Too late? Too late?! You’re telling me it was too late?!” That made Crowley even angrier. Aziraphale had made a choice and Crowley hadn’t had that chance. He had been left alone. Alone with all of it. Now the wing hurt so much he could barely stand on his own legs. “It could have been too late, damn it!”
“What do you mean?” Aziraphale apparently didn’t know. How could he not know? Did he care so little about Crowley?
“Don’t joke, angel. You know very well what I mean! You must know, damn it! Holy water, does that tell you something?!” Crowley shouted and leaned on a cabinet, unable to stand any longer.
“No… did you want to…?” Aziraphale looked terrified.
“And just so you fucking know, yes I did! Ironically, you could say your people saved me! Or maybe you sent them, huh?” Crowley leaned slightly forward, not knowing how to minimize the pain that kept growing. The bloody Vicodin was starting to wear off.
“I had no idea… my dear, how could such a thing come to your mind?” Aziraphale’s voice broke when he realized the seriousness of the situation.
“I’m a demon, remember, angel? Whether you like it or not, I always will be. And self-destruction is the greatest blasphemy one can commit.”
“It wasn’t about blasphemy… it was about me, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale had tears in his eyes, looking at Crowley with care.
“Even if, it doesn’t matter now. Hey, maybe you’ll forgive me for having such thoughts too?” Since that day Crowley had hated the word forgiveness. It made him nauseous.
“Please stop. You don’t even know how much I regret those words.”
“You can’t turn back time,” Crowley muttered under his breath angrily and needed to take more pills. He didn’t have any with him. The next package was finished. He ran to his coat, which was hanging on the hanger, and found in its pocket a new pack from which he took out three Vicodin pills.
“Vicodin? Does something hurt?” Aziraphale came closer to him but Crowley again moved away.
“None of your business,” he said and ostentatiously took the pills.
“I see something is wrong. Sooner or later I’ll find out anyway, Crowley,” the concern in Aziraphale’s voice made Crowley break. He was still angry, but even anger couldn’t hide what he felt for the angel.
“It’s nothing… just a souvenir from the visit of your subordinates, angel,” Crowley said through clenched teeth and waved his hand behind him. Despite all the anger he felt and had the right to feel, he didn’t want to burden Aziraphale with his brokenness.
“My dear, you think I don’t know what people take Vicodin for? I know you’re angry… I don’t blame you for that. I’d be angry too. But let me help you. Tell me what they did to you.” Despite all the argument that was inevitable, Aziraphale couldn’t help but worry. He put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder.
“The wing…” Crowley mumbled. He wanted to move away from the touch but he couldn’t keep running from it any longer. He couldn’t. He only lowered his head and leaned his hands on the cabinet behind him.
“Crowley… I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine… does it hurt very much?” Aziraphale moved his hand along Crowley’s forearm, to which he flinched involuntarily.
“No… it only bothers me sometimes,” Crowley tried to smile.
“Show me that wing. I’ll try to do something about it,” Aziraphale said with a gentle, caring voice.
Crowley couldn’t resist any longer. He felt hunger. He longed for the closeness of his angel. At the same time, he still couldn’t forgive him and felt that strange barrier. He couldn’t just erase that day from his memory. Crowley moved away from the cabinet and spread his black wings. The right one hung limply down. The bandage that covered the bone protruding to the surface was loose and dirty with blood.
“Happy now?” Crowley again felt a sudden need to take at least one pill, even though he had just taken the medicine.
“What did they do to you…” Aziraphale said in a trembling, undisguised shock.
“Just a little trip for an evening English tea… will you fix it?” Crowley wanted to get it over with. He knew that the more often he experienced such closeness, the harder it would be to live without it.
“Sit down, my dear. I’ll do everything in my power,” Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off the wing, which was in a tragic state.
Crowley sat on the sofa sideways, closing his eyes. How could he keep hiding that it didn’t affect him? That he didn’t care?
“Who put that awful bandage on you so clumsily?” Aziraphale gently took off the dressing, which definitely needed replacing anyway.
“As it happens, you did, angel,” Crowley laughed sincerely for the first time in two months.
“Oh, I’m sorry for that. I must have behaved worse than Jim,” Aziraphale gently placed his hand on the broken wing, which caused a familiar shiver in Crowley.
“Er, it wasn’t that bad. Jim was a bigger idiot,” Crowley said quietly, allowing himself to sink into the warmth and closeness. He couldn’t resist any longer.
“What you said earlier… was it true?” Aziraphale suddenly changed the subject.
“That you’re hopeless at using first-aid kits?” Crowley was confused.
“That you love me,” Aziraphale said in an uncertain, cautious voice.
He remembered. Crowley panicked. He thought his angel hadn’t remembered that. He didn’t know what to answer. Admit it? What if only he had felt it? He’d embarrass himself. Although he already had that day. He wanted to protest, to say he was joking. Instead, he said something else.
“Do you still have doubts, angel?” he said almost in a whisper, taking a deep breath.
“I just wanted to make sure… I thought I had ruined everything between us.”
“Don’t think that I stopped being angry at you,” Crowley muttered, pretending that he hadn’t been affected by that question.
“I didn’t even count on it,” Aziraphale replied calmly and moved his hand along the wing, stroking it tenderly. “Done,” he said and stood up. Crowley immediately felt longing. He also felt relief, feeling that the wing no longer caused pain or discomfort. He flapped it once to make sure. It was like new.
“Now I have to show you everything I experienced in Heaven. So that you understand,” Aziraphale sat now opposite Crowley and took him by both hands. “If it caused you any discomfort, remember that I’m with you.”
“How do you want to show it to me?” Crowley looked the angel in the eyes through the glasses. He couldn’t take them off, not yet.
“Quantum entanglement,” Aziraphale replied. “Just for a moment.”
Crowley sighed heavily. He knew what it was. Something like the connection of souls on an astral level. He didn’t know if he was ready for such a step. It was the most intimate ritual. If they connected quantumly, both would have access to each other’s memories.
“No,” he said after a long thought. He wasn’t ready for that.
“I’ll be with you. It’s only for a moment. You have to understand. Crowley, please, it’s important,” Aziraphale squeezed his hand.
“I’ll do it for you,” Crowley yielded again. Aziraphale had always been his weakness. “But you’ll undo it right after,” he felt his heart start to pound.
“I swear,” Aziraphale said gently, looking him in the eyes.