Okay, listen up! The next two chapters are emotionally ROUGH. I will post both chapters so you can just get it over with lol.

Thank you Azeran and Intergalacticsupertwink for putting up with my messy chapters and fixing my countless blunders!


Ring. Ring. Ring.

"This is Anthony J. Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with-"

Click.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"This is Anthony J. Crowley-"

Click.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"This is Anthony J. Crowley. You know what to do. Do it with style."

Beep.

"Crowley, it's me, Aziraphale. Pick up. It's quite urgent. An emergency, actually. I'm calling from a hospital line-eh-the Royal London Hospital. The mobile got left behind. Something's happened to Angelique. She's unconscious. I tried to mi-I tried to help . It didn't take. I'm letting the doctors handle it. I used a mi- oh bugger. I wished them luck, if you understand my meaning. I think you do. You know, erm, prayed they be blessed. Seemed to work. I don't–I don't understand why-it doesn't matter. Just get here quickly. I'll call again once they've moved us into a proper room. Please, do hurry."


Crowley still hasn't arrived. They don't have a room. More and more tests have been done. Some results are negative, some are pending. The nurses look grim whenever they enter. Angelique has been poked and prodded, and she's hooked up to some infernal machine that makes awful noises and reads numbers that Aziraphale doesn't understand. She hasn't even twitched. She's cold to the touch.

Aziraphale feels useless. He hasn't felt this way since his last-ditch effort to save the world by praying to God indirectly. He'd try it again now if he knew that God would do something about it. The girl doesn't deserve what's happening to her, whatever it is.

Angelique threw away her opportunity at a promising dance career in the ballet to teach because that's what she loves. She loves to teach because her classes bring people joy.

"It doesn't matter how someone is feeling before the music starts," she told him once, glowing with happiness, "the music, the steps, it makes all the bad stuff go away. For the hour, at least. And do you know how many budding romances started on my dance floor, including my own? I wouldn't trade my work for anything else."

Aziraphale could attest to that.

For all of her beauty, she is not vain. For all of her wealth, she is not greedy. She gives as much as she gets.

Aziraphale looks skyward. "She's started charities in your name, you know. Just thought that might interest you," he mutters to the dreadful fluorescent lights.

"I DEMAND TO SEE ANGELIQUE BLANCHETTE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

Aziraphale drags a palm down his face before he stands to meet Crowley. He draws the curtain open and sees the gangly stick with limbs ripping curtains open and scaring the Hell out of patients and visitors alike.

"Sir! Please! You are not allowed to see the patient right now unless you're family–"

"I'm her husband!" Crowley declares righteously, puffing out his chest.

The nurse scoffs. "Her husband is already with her."

Aziraphale cringes and has a mind to retreat as Crowley rounds on the nurse and looms over her.

" Isss that sssso?! " Crowley hisses through bared teeth. "AZIRAPHALE! Where are you?!"

Aziraphale clears his throat and waggles nervous fingers when Crowley sees him and begins to stalk in his direction.

"Sir, if you're not fam–"

"I'm her father, brother, cousin, whatever, sod off!" Crowley snaps his fingers, and the nurse's eyes glaze over.

"Your daughter, sister, cousin will have a room shortly," the nurse chirps with a smile.

Aziraphale sighs. He doesn't have the energy to chastise his behaviour. He moves out of the way lest he be barreled over by the demon.

Crowley pays him no mind and beelines to Angelique's side. "Angelique," he whispers as he leans over her and caresses her cheek.

The hairs on Aziraphale's neck stand on end as he senses a demonic miracle take place. Then he feels another. And another.

"It doesn't work, Crowley. Don't you think I've tried?"

Crowley continues, the smell of brimstone thickens in the air and the lights flicker.

Aziraphale places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and to his surprise, Crowley does not flinch away even in his current state. "Enough, dear." He doesn't add a "boy "or "fellow" or anything else. Just dear.

At the endearment and his soothing touch, Crowley slumps, defeated. "What happened, angel?" His voice is tight, like he's trying to keep it together.

Aziraphale leaves his hand where it is as guilt washes over him. "I don't know."

Crowley tenses under his grip. "What do you mean, you don't know? You were there!" Crowley's words crack, and he bites back a sob.

"I was, but then I," Aziraphale closes his eyes and steps away, letting his hand fall to his side, "I left."

Crowley stands straight and turns to him. His sunglasses do nothing to hide his anger. "You left her."

Aziraphale nods slowly, and he feels a cool sensation on his cheeks. He hadn't known he was crying. "I was leaving. I wasn't far. I heard her... scream - oh, Crowley it was awful," his hands fly to his chest as he collapses into a chair. "I ran back. She was on the floor. I tried to heal her, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. Then everything happened so quickly-"

"You left her," Crowley utters with a deep frown.

Aziraphale sends a pleading gaze to Crowley. "Believe me when I say that I regret it," he whispers in response while snivelling. "But how was I to know? That scream, Crowley. It was a cry of pain. I thought someone attacked her, but there is no sign that–"

"You. Left. Her." Crowley's hands were clenching into fists.

Aziraphale stares into the black lenses and sees his pathetic reflection in them. "I did," he admits again with a shaky sigh. "If you want someone to blame, then," he waves a hand toward himself, "here I am."

Crowley's nostrils flare as he takes shallow breaths, and then he shudders suddenly. "No," is all he says before he turns around and removes his glasses. He kisses Angelique's forehead and cheeks before he speaks again. "Me. I'm to blame," his voice grates.

"You are not !" Aziraphale cries.

"I am." Crowley sits carefully on the side of the patient's cot, still gazing at her pallid face. Aziraphale can see one yellow serpentine eye, no white to be seen. "I'm a demon," he says with a shrug, like what he's saying is obvious and simple to understand. "I'm not supposed to have good things."

The sob that comes out of the demon tears Aziraphale's heart to shreds. "That's not true," the angel refutes with more tears.

"Of course it is!" He looks at Aziraphale, despair written in every wrinkle, every pore on his face. "Evil contains the seed of its own destruction, you said it yourself! So, there it is. Demons are evil. Right?" He asks Aziraphale before he looks to the ceiling and yells. " RIGHT?!"

Aziraphale covers his mouth as if the gesture could stop all the cruel and obtuse words he's ever uttered.

"She was doomed the moment a demon claimed her," Crowley buries his face in his hands, and for the first time ever, Aziraphale watches Crowley cry.

Those gut-wrenching sounds are killing him. He can no longer bear it. Aziraphale stands and crosses the small space, enveloping the demon into a crushing embrace. Crowley resists at first, but then he fists his hands in Aziraphale's shirt and screams into his chest. Aziraphale holds him until his cries turn to snivels until his hands unclench, and until Crowley pulls away and peers up at him through wet lashes. The depths of his despair is so apparent that Aziraphale has to force himself not to look away.

You idiot, Aziraphale rebukes himself internally. You complete and utter fool. A being who cannot love could never feel this kind of pain. You can't sense it, but it's always been as plain as day in everything he's ever done... for you.

The thought hurts. It hurts because now Aziraphale knows for sure that Crowley can love, and he loves deeply. It hurts because that love does not belong to Aziraphale. Maybe it had once, but Aziraphale squandered all of it. No, worse. He'd ignored it. Rejected it. Now that Crowley's found someone worthy of his love...

"She's still punishing me, Aziraphale," Crowley squeaks pathetically. "I finally found," he struggles and hiccups, "I finally, finally found someone that-that-that–"

"You love," Aziraphale croaks out.

The tension in Crowley's face eases into a blank and empty shell. His eyes glaze over as he shakes his head slightly in denial. Then he says something just above a whisper that makes Aziraphale want to cease existing altogether.

"I finally found someone who loves me back ."