Chapter Text
Crowley lifted his head to the sound of distant shouts. Distant lights through the thicket of woods that guarded the castle. He should probably get a move on, hide somewhere, instead of wallowing in his self pity. But he couldn't bring himself to. This was his fault. To think a priest of all people could ever care for him in such a way was ridiculous, even if he were human. Did he expect this to happen? No. Was he a fool for not expecting it? Absolutely. He wished God would at least have protected him from certain heartbreak and failure.
What should we do, Crowley?
"Nothing," the demon muttered. "It's over, Bee. Just let them come."
The priest . . . he betrayed you.
Crowley wrapped his arms around himself. "I - I don't know that. Maybe something happened to -"
A dull knock sounded through the halls. What killer would knock instead of break in? Crowley looked over to Bee before creeping down the stairwell. If he were to die tonight, at least he wouldn't be stuck as a demon forever. He cracked the door open, letting out his most terrifying hiss in hopes of putting them off guard, at least a little.
"What - oh."
Aziraphale stood in his doorway, looking a bit disheveled. Crowley pushed aside the rush of relief and joy that came at the sight of the priest's face. He didn't know what he was here for, and judging by the nearing mob, it wasn't anything good.
"Oh, thank God!" Aziraphale gasped. His words came out in a flurry. "Crowley, I've made quite a mess of things, b-but I can explain when we get you somewhere safe!"
He started pushing inside. Crowley stopped him, ignoring the hurt and confusion in the priest's eyes. "I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Aziraphale, but you told them about me?"
Aziraphale gaped like a fish out of water. "I - yes, but it's all a big misunderstanding! I never meant to - well, not on purpose - but we can't dally on that right now, he's coming -"
"Who's coming?"
"Gabriel! And my entire village. Please, let me help you."
Crowley fought a sigh. He was too tired for this. "I don't want your help, Aziraphale."
"I can't let you die because of me."
Oh, don't worry about that. It was my stupidity that got me here in the first place, he wanted to say. Instead, he said, "Take care of Bentley," and shut the door in the priest's face. Was it immature? A little. Would Aziraphale feel bad? Yes, but he'd get over it. Probably.
Guilt churned inside Crowley's stomach as he rushed back up the stairwell and into his study. Bee was gone by the time he reached it. The only familiar thing in the room was the wretched candle. It had been dwindling for ages, down to a mere stump. Like melted butter. He'd probably be dead by the time the flame blew out. But no matter. He shouldn't have been so naive. He shouldn't have just pushed Aziraphale out like that. He shouldn't have done a lot of things.
Everything was eerily quiet as he stood in the middle of the study, listening. His hands didn't shake. His heart didn't stutter. Old wood creaked, perhaps from the wind, but he knew better. The door opened. He hadn't locked it.
"Hello, beast." A man's voice. Crowley turned around, eyes catching on the silhouette of a rifle. "Why, you do look like you've crawled out the pits of Hell."
Crowley didn't say anything. That was, until, a bullet in the shoulder sent him right through the stained glass of the window. Gabriel laughed, hopping down on the roof after him. If he tried, Crowley could easily take the man. His horns, fangs, and claws made great weapons.
But he just didn't have it in him.
A heavy boot made contact with his ribs, sending him forward on the roof a few feet. Crowley gripped the edge of the roof, spotting the bleak ground miles below him. Villagers with torches surrounded the castle as far as he could see. Even if he managed to get away, he would surely die from them.
"Get up," Gabriel growled. "Get up. Or what? Too kind and gentle to fight back?"
Crowley was prodded onto his back. He stared down the barrel of the rifle. This is it, he thought. His shoulder was bleeding out, though he could barely feel it. There was nothing more painful than the ache in his chest.
"Gabriel! Don't do it!" a voice shouted from the study's balcony.
Gabriel swung around, and the rifle went with him. "Stay out of this, Aziraphale, or I'll do it for you!"
Aziraphale? Crowley lifted his head. The priest was gripping the edge of the balcony, fear written all over his body. Of course, Gabriel had the rifle pointed at him, currently.
Wait.
Crowley lurched onto Gabriel, sending them both back into the crumbling walls of the castle. He sank his fangs into the man's shoulder, eliciting a scream. It was animalistic, yes. But at least he got his attention away from Aziraphale.
Gabriel shoved him back with the butt of his rifle. Crowley scurried to hide behind the decorative gargoyles as Gabriel clutched his shoulder. The man pushed himself up. He stumbled across the roof, eyes searching.
"Come out, beast," he spat. "There's no hiding forever! You're outnumbered!"
His shadow passed by. Crowley followed it. He leapt again, this time pinning Gabriel down by his talons. The man yelped, losing grip of the rifle, sending it over the rooftops and down to the ground below. With newfound strength, Crowley lifted the man by his neck and held him over the ledge. He struggled to catch his breath, the bullet lodged in his shoulder making it hard to focus.
"Please!" Gabriel gasped, clutching at the hands around his neck. "Please don't kill me! I'll do anything. Anything!"
Crowley wanted nothing more than to let go and watch the man fall. But a flash of white-blonde in the corner of his eye stopped him. Aziraphale still stood, on the balcony. His hands were clasped together and he looked . . . scared.
Of me? Crowley thought. He couldn't have that. He backed onto the roof, setting Gabriel down onto it. "You'll do anything?" he asked. Gabriel nodded rapidly. "Then leave. And never come back."
And it was stupid, really, that Crowley turned his back on the man without a thought and made his way over to Aziraphale's balcony. It was stupid, really, that he didn't make sure Gabriel was truly gone.
But the priest's arms were reaching down toward him and he couldn't resist. With a bit of struggle, Aziraphale managed to hoist him up enough to perch on the rail of the balcony. Their labored breaths came out in clouds between them as Crowley tried his best to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder.
"Hey lamb. Sorry 'bout pushing you out. Didn't think you'd have stayed."
"Of course I stayed!" Aziraphale said, his hands twisted into Crowley's robes so as to not drop him. "This is all my fault, I'm so -"
"Shhhhh," Crowley mumbled. He felt dizzy. "I want . . . a nap."
"A nap?" the priest asked, a little dumbfounded. "A-Alright, let me just -"
Crowley cried out. Something sharp was suddenly levered between his ribs. He swayed back, the only thing keeping him from falling being Aziraphale's arms. Then there was another scream, but it wasn't his own. Crowley looked in its general direction to find Gabriel diving toward the ground. He couldn't hear the sickening crack, but he knew it was there. Aziraphale dragged Crowley to the safety of the study and laid him down.
"You pushed him," he said quietly.
Crowley's gaze flickered. "I didn't. He pushed me."
"W-Well - oh! He - He stabbed you!"
"Hm? I dun thin' so . . . ."
"Crowley, the knife is - oh, never mind! Save your breath, dear. I just have to - have to put pressure is all. Then you'll be right as rain!" Aziraphale rambled as he tore off cloth from his robes. The pressure hurt.
"Agh - 's no use, Aziraphale. I've been shot too," Crowley said with difficulty. "Maybe it's . . . better this way, hm?"
"Don't talk like that," Aziraphale said softly. He smoothed his hands over Crowley's chest. "It'll be alright. It's just us now, see?"
The demon's vision was getting dark. At any other time, he would have enjoyed the attention the priest was giving him. But he couldn't very well focus. His head hurt, and his shoulder hurt, and his ribs hurt. But he had to tell Aziraphale how he felt. It wouldn't do any good, he was surely going to die anyway. But he wanted to.
Instead, what came out was, "At least . . . I got to see you one last time."
A gust of wind blew a fleeting flame out.
---
Aziraphale gripped Crowley's hand, as if to squeeze the life back into him. He couldn't die now.
"Crowley?" the priest asked. He gave the demon's body a small shake. "It's really quiet. I think they're all gone now."
No answer.
Tears threatened to spill. "Crowley? Please. Come back to me," Aziraphale cried.
Why did he feel like he lost something invaluable? Something - someone - he could never replace? He leaned forward, brushed a lock of red hair away from Crowley's face. He pressed a kiss to his friend's forehead. "I . . . I love you," he tried.
Nothing.
He had been reading too many stories to believe that would work. Aziraphale cried openly now, his tears being swept away by the wind. The wind was unbearably loud. Could it quiet down?
"Oh, God," he muttered into Crowley's chest. There was no beat. "Why couldn't you spare him? Why?"
No answer, yet again. He seemed to never get his answers. A moment passed, maybe a minute. There was a flash of light in front of his eyelids. Now it was lightning too? He should probably find somewhere comfortable to go.
Aziraphale let out a shaky sigh, opening his eyes to move. The sight that welcomed him sent him back a few feet in horror and awe. The golden glow around Crowley's body strengthened the further Aziraphale backed away, as if it were glad for the space to stretch out. It was blinding. He'd never seen such a light. It was . . . unearthly. He attempted to shield his eyes, to see anything, but to no avail.
Then the glow was gone. Aziraphale blinked rapidly, slowly regaining his vision. The wind had stopped. It was quiet, that much he could tell. From what he saw earlier, he was fairly certain he could be hallucinating the moving body in front of him.
It was a man, with tattered clothing and long, red hair. His hands were raised in front of him. There were no claws, no horns, no scales. Aziraphale stood slowly, peering at him with uncertain eyes.
Then the man turned to face him. "Aziraphale!" he said. "It's me, Crowley!"
The priest blinked. He blinked again. Cautiously, he approached. "That can't be," he whispered. Though there was something eerily familiar about the beautiful man in front of him, something he couldn't quite place.
"Well, I was dead. Guess I have you to thank for that - not being dead, I mean," the redhead said quickly. He stepped forward and took Aziraphale's hands. His voice was gentle as he spoke. "Aziraphale . . . it's me. Look."
He met his eyes. Though they weren't serpentine anymore, they were the same beautiful gold he'd become so fond of. "Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale breathed. Warm arms engulfed him. "I'm so glad you're alright. But how -"
He could feel the low rumble in Crowley's chest as he chuckled. "I'll tell you sometime. After this gets sorted."
"Right," the priest said, content to stay in the former demon's embrace. He leaned back, just to look at him. Crowley's calloused hands came up to his face, caressed it. He was really quite beautiful.
"Aziraphale?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"Can I kiss you?"
Aziraphale blinked. Absolutely! his brain said. He should probably say no, as a priest and all. Oh, bugger it, he thought, bringing their lips together. Crowley made a surprised noise and brought his arms around his waist, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.
"Oh!" Aziraphale squeaked.
Crowley look at him curiously. "What?"
"Your tongue!"
"My - oh," Crowley said, flickering out his forked tongue. "This old thing? Looks like God likes to play around, eh?"
Aziraphale blushed, lightly thwacking Crowley's arm. "You wicked, wily thing! Oh, I'll get used to it."
Crowley laughed. It was a great sound. "Let's go, lamb."
"Go where?"
"Well I got a few people to introduce you to!"
Together, they head out into the new spring sun.
THE END