Books and Bentleys
Author´s note: This is a collection of drabbles I´ve written. I´ve written a drabble for every letter in the alphabet. I want to thank my Beta, Miss DeBlanc for revising the stories for me, and telling me her opinions of them.
I would like to thank everyone who has read my stories so far, it really encourages me to see all those who have read and reviewed my stories. Thank you!
I must admit that I am always slightly baffled at how many read and like my stories. I never suspected them to be this popular. :D
Yield
Crowley was whispering treats in a soft voice to his slightly wilting tomato plant, mister in hand, when his cell phone rang.
"Hey, Aziraphale" Crowley said casually. Expecting the angel to invite him over for drinks or ask if he wanted to join him in trying out a new restaurant he had not been prepared for what met his ears. He could feel his throat and chest tighten at the sheer amount of pain in the angel´s voice. Aziraphale managed to tell him where he was through the labored breathing and the vulnerable sounds Crowley connected with small fluffy animals in agony.
Before Crowley had fully registered what had happened, his feet had already carried him to the large garage and into the Bentley. He reassured the angel that he was on his way, over the roar of the Bentley´s engine coming to life, gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles whitened. The dial tone was on a low volume, but to Crowley it was like each sound chipped away some of those solid, good things that made life make sense.
Crowley floored it. He ran several red lights as Aziraphale´s words kept repeating themselves in his mind and the strange feeling he had felt a few minutes earlier was rapidly turning into white hot anger.
He should not be doing this.
He should be crackling at the angel´s pain, but possessiveness and a burning desire for vengeance powered him like a turbine. There was another feeling as well, fleeting and warm, but Crowley ignored it. The feeling was used to being ignored but stuck around anyway in case its owner might recognize it someday.
The church was made of dark grey stone, but looked black in the pouring rain. Crowley hurried inside, the wind ripping at his suit and hair as he ran up the slope that led through the door.
The first thing his senses were bombarded with was the amount of holiness. There were the notes of thousands of hymns and songs that had never quite left the air but he sensed the presence of angels in the room. Those angels did not have the nice holy aura that surrounds his Aziraphale. Theirs was cruel and tainted with bitterness and rage.
The sound of the rain on the roof and the wind howling were strangely comforting as Crowley kneeled beside his friend who lay on the cold stone floor. Aziraphale's clothes were soaked with blood, and his skin was littered with bruises. But Crowley had seen the blood splatters and the feathers, so pure and white, littered the floor. The two swords were beside the angel´s body glowing hot as the angel healed slowly.
Fascination and pride tumbled over themselves in the demon´s mind. His Aziraphale had not just fought them. He had brought them to their knees.
After a while, Aziraphale´s eyes flickered open. Crowley didn't say anything but the angel nevertheless saw something unfamiliar in his eyes. Crowley pulled the angel up and put Aziraphale´s arm around his own shoulders as they left the church together. The demon half pushed the wounded angel into the Bentley as Aziraphale, who´s mind was still hazy with pain, hummed a song in a long forgotten language. Crowley didn't turn on the radio on the drive back to the cottage.
Author´s note: Please remember to review, they make me happy :D
There is only one story left, which feel s strange. This story is a continuation of the story Punishment, but can also be read as a separate story.