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Crowley hadn’t been lying when he said that the consecrated ground of the church hurt. What he had lied about was how much it hurt. Each step felt like he was willingly walking on lava. The soft flesh of his feet burned with each agonising hop. He hadn’t been worried about the pain when he entered the church. When he had rushed onto the holy ground the only thing he’d been worried about was Aziraphale. But now that the church was nothing more than a crumbled pile of stone and glass Crowley could do nothing to ignore the intense fire radiating from the soles of his feet. He wanted nothing more than to yell out in pain and frustration, but Aziraphale was still here. Smiling down at the books that Crowley had rescued for him. He was speaking without thinking, acting without thought. Even as he held a steady conversation with Aziraphale his main point of focus was on the way his knees threatened to collapse. His body begged him to take the weight off of his feet. Crowley thought he was used to pain. His body never seemed to work correctly. A punishment from God he assumed. As a snake he was fine, but when he was human his hips ached and groaned with every movement. His knees shook as if desperate to turn back into his more freeing form. But the daily aches of a faulty body were nothing compared to the pain that ran through him now. And still, he gritted his teeth before turning to look at Aziraphale properly. Smiling politely before saying.
“How about I take you back to the bookshop?”
“Oh, would you? I’d hate to be a bother, Crowley.” Aziraphale beamed at him, eyes shining with an overwhelming emotion he couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was it made him unconsciously preen under his angel’s gentle gaze. Forcing him to stand taller as he cautiously took a step forward in the vague direction of the Bentley. Gritting his teeth as the weight shifted across his feet.
“C’mon, angel.”
He tilted his head forward in a beckoning motion. Waiting until Aziraphale was beside him before he began to shuffle forward. He could hear Aziraphale chattering away beside him. But he was too busy focusing on forcing his feet forward that he wasn’t really taking in what his angel was saying to him. It wasn’t a far walk until the Bentley. He made sure to park the car just outside the range of the bombs. Ensuring no damage would fall upon her. But the few minutes that it had taken him to walk to the church now seemed to drag on for eternity. He forced himself to occasionally reply to Aziraphale. Half-hearted answers that would have made him feel guilty if he had more awareness to him. But his focus was slipping with each step as the pain seemed to spread further up his body. And each inch he moved felt more like wading through sulphur than walking across the ruined streets of London.
“Crowley, are you alright?” Aziraphale called out, his angel looking at him with concern.
Crowley hadn’t even realised he’d fallen behind. He opened his mouth to reply but in that exact second, he found himself stepping on a piece of particularly uneven ground. Rubble stabbed into his foot causing his ankle to roll. He barely realised he was falling until he felt a pair of hands grab onto his shoulders. Easing him to the ground. The rubble dug uncomfortably into his body but the relief of no longer carrying his own weight upright sent a wave of exhaustion through his body. This wasn’t right. He’d been injured before, and it never left him feeling like this. The burning in his feet was beginning to grow worse. Turning from a constant burn to sudden and erratic stabs of agony. As if the flesh of his feet were slowly beginning to give way to some uncontrollable force. A hiss forced its way from his throat before he could stop it, and he had to close his eyes as a fresh wave of burning hot pain washed through him.
“Crowley? Crowley! What’s wrong?” Aziraphale was quick to kneel beside him, resting a hand gently across his forehead. Pushing him slightly.
He hadn’t realised that he began to curl in upon himself, but he wanted nothing more than to return to that position. The pain was only getting worse and with every second that passed Crowley found himself fighting back the urge to cry. He grit his teeth together as another wave washed across his body. Spreading from his feet like it was crawling through his veins until every inch of his skin burned. Crowley forced himself to lean back, letting out a small gasp of air as another hot flash of pain stabbed at him. Risking a glance at his angel, he found brown eyes staring at him with worry. Clearly expecting Crowley to answer him. But the problem was, he didn’t know what was wrong. All Crowley knew was that he hurt. And he wanted, no, needed it to stop. A small whimper slipped out his lips. This sound seemed to push Aziraphale into action, his angel’s gaze hardening to one of determination.
“Alright, give me the Bentley keys. I’ll bring the car over and then I’m taking you to the bookshop.”
“You are not driving the Bentley!” He hissed, whether this was from pain or annoyance he wasn’t truly sure.
“My dear you are in no state to drive. And I will not watch you suffer the walk back to the bookshop.”
“No.” He replied stiffly.
“Crowley please.” Aziraphale grabbed gently at his chin, forcing Crowley to look him in the eye. “Just this once. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think this was an emergency. I know how much the Bentley means to you and I promise I’ll take care of her.”
Staring into his angel’s eyes was like staring into the kindest parts of heaven. The parts that allowed him to dream up stars and constellations that he could no longer see. The soft brown, the warm gold was a gentle embrace he never wanted to leave. And so, staring into those eyes he found that all he was capable of in that moment was agreeing to what his angel asked of him. Or at least that’s what he attempted to do. Opening his mouth to reply, it was as if his whole being was malfunctioning under the gentle hold of Aziraphale. And so all that tumbled out of his lips was a slightly ungraceful sound.
“Ngk.” Wonderful, his body had forgotten how to work. Aziraphale’s expression shifted from one of concern to one of bewildered amusement. And Crowley had to fight back the urge to glare. Swallowing harshly, he tried to speak once more. “Fine, angel. Just get us home in one piece.”
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By the time Aziraphale manages to get them back to the bookshop. Crowley had found himself unable to hide just how badly his body hurt. Every jolt in the road had sent a pathetic whimper slipping from his lips as he tried desperately to merge into the seat of his car. He couldn’t stay still, yet every movement he made only served to make the pain grow worse. He knew Aziraphale kept on glancing at him, he whispered apologies when the Bentley made even the slightest bump and Crowley didn’t have enough energy to tell him it was ok. He needed this to stop. What he had assumed was just an inconvenient injury was now twisting into something much more terrifying. Crowley was not sure how he knew it, but he was very certain that he was dying. And not just the inconvenient death of this body. No this was the death of who he was and could be. The destruction of his soul, already so broken and bitter from his plunge from heaven. With every passing minute, panic grew between the two entities. Aziraphale was quick to move into action. Leaping out of the car before appearing at Crowley’s side to carefully carry him into the bookshop. He placed Crowley on an old sofa in the back room before kneeling in front of him.
“Crowley, can you hear me, dear?” Aziraphale’s voice was calming, but he could hear the subtle shake in his angel’s voice. The sound of tears brewing behind calm brown eyes.
“Mhmm.” He hummed out, trying his best to keep his voice steady.
“Do you think you could try a small demonic miracle to fix this? I fear this is only getting worse the longer we wait.”
Laying back on the sofa, Crowley squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to focus on the source of pain. Before lifting up a trembling hand as he gathered up the energy to perform a miracle. At the snap of his fingers, he felt a wave of demonic energy rush through him. The pain paused for a moment, barely a breath before crashing down upon him with a vengeance so much worse than before. He howled out in agony as his back arched away from the sofa. Every muscle in his body tensed at the sudden onslaught of pain. His demonic energy flashed through him with a force so very fitting of its origin and all Crowley could do as the energy flowed through his body was whimper and moan as he tried desperately to escape the overwhelming sensations. Each and every inch of his body burned with an unimaginable fire and with each passing moment, Crowley began to realise that the pain wasn’t going to return to its previous level.
“Angel!” He cried out, reaching blindly to his side. A warm hand wrapped around his in an instant, squeezing reassuringly.
“I’m right here dear. You’re alright.”
“Do something. Miracle it away, fix this!” Crowley snapped, trying so desperately to hide the panic in his voice. But he could feel himself breaking down with each passing moment.
“I could make it worse!” Aziraphale exclaimed, looking at Crowley in horror. “If your demonic miracle hurt, then Heaven knows what me trying to help will do.”
“Angel please.” Crowley practically sobbed out the words. He felt like he had fallen again, sulphur eating at his skin and wings until he was different. He didn’t want to change anymore. Because change only brought one thing into Crowley’s life, pain. “Make it stop, I can’t take this anymore. Please Angel just make it stop.”
“Oh darling” Aziraphale leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Crowley’s shoulder as he ran a calming hand through the unruly red of his hair. “I will, I will but please let me look. If I can’t see anything then I promise you I will try my best to miracle it away.”
Leaning into the small affection he was being offered, Crowley merely nodded in agreement. Biting back a whine when Aziraphale slipped away from his grasp. Lifting his head up, he watched as Aziraphale began to carefully slide off his shoes. His angel muttering soft reassurances whenever he made any noise of discomfort. Even the gentlest press against his feet sent a fresh wave of discomfort through him. He grit his teeth once more when Aziraphale began the task of peeling off his socks. And he fought back a gag as the smell of burned flesh filled the air. The cool press of air against his wounds brought a momentary relief, but Crowley was certain the pain was only going to grow worse the longer this went on. Blinking the mist of tears out of his eyes, watching his angel closely as he studied the wounds.
“Dear lord” Aziraphale gasped out, face paling as he stared at the damage. “Oh, I’m so sorry dear, I fear what I’m about to do next is going to hurt quite a bit.”
“Wha’ ” Crowley slurred out, before watching with horror as Aziraphale summoned a small pair of tweezers and a bowl. “No! No, no, no, no angel don’t you dare. I’m not human, you don’t need to do that!”
“Crowley your feet are breaking apart. There are little bits of holy ground eating away at you, body and spirit. If I don’t pull them out this could get worse.” Aziraphale leaned down, pressing a soothing kiss against Crowley’s ankle. “Stay still for me.”
As the tweezers dug into the tender flesh of his feet Crowley could do little more than cry out in pain as Aziraphale searched the wound. He tried so hard to stay still for his angel, but his body refused to cooperate. His legs bending away from the thin metal poking at his wounds. He heard Aziraphale’s sigh of sympathy before his angel snapped his fingers once more. Trapping Crowley’s legs in place as he continued to search. Occasionally he would hear a small clink as Aziraphale pulled rubble free from his feet. And with each piece that was removed, the pain dimmed ever so slightly. But the press of metal against his tender flesh left him feeling raw in a way he didn’t know was possible. Tears welled up in his eyes and he kept letting out small whimpers of pain. He hated every part of it. He felt pathetic, lying uselessly as Aziraphale slowly tended to his wounds. It felt like hours had passed when Aziraphale leaned back, releasing Crowley’s legs from their bindings.
“I think that’s everything, my dear.” His angel said sweetly. “Let’s see if we can get rid of those nasty wounds now, Hmm?”
Crowley merely panted in reply, leaning his head back against the soft throw pillow behind him as he blinked tears out of his eyes. The pain was manageable once more, finally focused just to his feet. But he felt drained. As if someone had dragged the very air from his lungs and left him to suffocate in a body that didn’t fit quite right. He felt the faint flow of Aziraphale’s angelic power flow through him. Warm, comforting. But the pain in his feet did not dim or fade. It stayed the same. Constant and burning. Tears of frustration now welled in his eyes before gracelessly tumbling down his face. Of course it didn’t work. Crowley’s purpose in the world was one of suffering and isolation, why would God allow him even the smallest reprieve from his eternal damnation?
“Looks like we’ll have to do this the human way for now.” Aziraphale sighed, before standing up. Disappearing into the bookshop.
Barely a minute passed before his angel returned with a small med kit. Aziraphale pulled up a small chair before gently lifting Crowley’s feet into his lap. Taking care as he cleaned and wrapped his injuries. The movements soon grew repetitious and with his energy so depleted Crowley felt as he began to drift away. But some stubborn, hardened part of him refused to sleep. The part of him that whispered the dangers of being soft and kind. Reminded him just how much worse the pain would be if his people found him being comforted by an angel of all things. So, when Aziraphale moved his legs back to the sofa. Crowley was quick to burst into action. Moving to stand. He barely managed to carry his weight for the brief second he was upright before his knees buckled beneath him. Drained and unable to carry out his desperate escape plan. Aziraphale was quick to appear at his side, grabbing him before his knees could slam into the wooden floors of the bookshop.
“Crowley! You need to rest dear, you can’t push yourself right now.” Aziraphale said as he helped Crowley to sit back down.
“Can’t angel, they’ll see us. They’ll come for me.” He muttered, leaning away from his angel.
“There’s nobody around.” Aziraphale said voice drenched in confusion.
“I can’t stay angel. It’s not safe, Hell will find out. I need to go.”
“Look at me Crowley,” He refused at first but with a gentle hand against his chin he reluctantly turned to look at Aziraphale. “I promise you that while you are inside this bookshop nothing, and I truly mean nothing, will harm you. You have my word.
“But-“ He protested
“But nothing. Now come here you silly demon. You need to rest.”
Before Crowley could ask where here was. He found himself being manhandled by Aziraphale. His angel shifted him until Aziraphale was able to lay beneath him. He gently pulled Crowley down on top of him, encouraging him to rest his head against his chest. Crowley felt himself flush at the close proximity to his angel but any protest he had was cut off the moment Aziraphale began to gently comb his fingers through his hair. Fingernails scraping pleasantly against his scalp. The smooth, methodical motion lulled him into calm. And he leaned closer into the warmth that his angel produced. Sighing contently. A rush of angelic energy filled the room before Crowley found himself surrounded by soft white feathers. A pair of wings brought him closer to his angel. Closing him off from the world around him. The sturdy weight of the wings soothed his frazzled nerves. And any remaining pain began to dull under the surrounding holy presence. Slowly but surely Crowley began to drift off under the watchful eye of his angel. And just as he drifted off Crowley was almost certain he felt the gentle press of lips against his forehead. Promising him protection from the painful reality around them.