A/N: Set ~1970s
#19: Mourning Loved One - What's the second worst thing that can happen to a snake demon? Having to watch his angel die. What's the very worst thing? Watching his angel die over and over and over...
It was just easier as a snake. Easier to avoid eye contact, easier to keep his face from revealing any "emotion" or other such nonsense. Easier to carefully wrap himself in knots around the angel and assure himself that the corporation beneath his coils was alive, whole, and safe.
"I think you could do with some rest," Aziraphale told him again, settling back on the couch with his book. "Why don't you sleep for a while? I've nowhere to be."
The snake currently wrapped around his arm and torso didn't reply, just stuck his snout down into another coil and closed his eyes.
If they both ended up snoozing in a nest of blankets and scales, well that was just fine.
:::earlier:::
Aziraphale was screaming. And bleeding. The demons only laughed and held the Hellfire closer to his skin until it blistered and split. Crowley was screaming too, voice raw with it by now. He knew the angel couldn't withstand the Hellfire much longer, and then the screams silenced and Aziraphale's eyes clouded over, leaving Crowley on his own.
:::earlier:::
Aziraphale reached a trembling hand towards Crowley, dragging himself over the ground and leaving streams of blood in his wake. The Hellhound pounced on his back with a vicious snarl, hackles raised and teeth exposed. Crowley shouted for him, but it seemed to be the signal the Hellhound was waiting for and it struck like a viper, fangs burying themselves in Aziraphale's neck so the angel choked and gurgled on a bloody cry before falling still.
:::earlier:::
Heaven had found out about their Arrangement, had learned that Aziraphale had given Crowley the precious holy water. The building housing Heaven and Hell was silent. Aziraphale's lifeless body hung suspended by hooks and chains on the ground floor, a grisly reminder for anyone who walked in the door what happened if the status quo wasn't maintained, a cold, stark reminder that Gabriel and Beelzebub came from the same stock.
:::earlier:::
Aziraphale was dead.
:::earlier:::
Crowley was the one who got Aziraphale killed.
:::eventually:::
Aziraphale gripped his sword tightly, wishing it was his flaming, angel sword, but any blade should do. He prowled through the dockyards, eyes and ears perked for any sign of his quarry. He would have liked to wait on Crowley for this, truth be told; after all, an echidna was half serpent, maybe a snake demon would have been naturally predisposed to be able to fight her better. But he'd been unreachable and this wasn't something Aziraphale could allow to continue until he got Crowley on the line.
The slithering of scales on rotten wood and desiccated leaves drew the angel's attention. He readjusted his grip on the sword and hurried in the direction of the sound. A derelict old office stood to one side, shuffling noises leading Aziraphale to the doorway. He took a breath, then raised his sword and dashed around the corner, only to stumble to a halt at the sight before him. He'd found his demon friend—strung up by his wrists to dangle over the dirty floor. Crowley's head was hanging limp, glasses gone and eyes closed. The monster he was hunting was sniffing his neck, her lower serpent half teasing its way around Crowley's leg.
"Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped, hardly the battle cry to strike fear into the heart of the echidna. The half-snake, half-woman turned to eye him with arrogance and irritation.
"Who are you?" she asked. "Never mind, pet, you'll jussst have to wait your turn."
"What have you done to him?" the angel demanded, pointing his sword at the creature. "Speak, I command you!"
The echidna sniffed. "I'm not under your command," she retorted. A long, forked tongue slipped past her lips and she licked the many puncture marks dotting Crowley's neck. "Mmm, thissss one is delicioussss. Watch thisss."
Before Aziraphale could stop her, the echidna's jaw unhinged, fangs protruding like something from a horror film, and she sank them deep into Crowley's throat yet again. A second later, the unconscious demon started to twitch and moan, swiftly building up through cries to full-blown howls. Tears streamed down his face but he showed no sign of true consciousness even once his yellow eyes opened.
"Stop!" the angel cried. "Leave him alone, foul beast!"
"Beassst?" the echidna hissed with a short laugh. "Everyone'sss got to eat, after all. Relax, thanksss to my venom, he hasss no idea what'sss happening." She giggled again and licked at the puncture wounds once more, much to Aziraphale's disgust.
His eyes flicked back to the demon, currently sobbing with pain or terror or both. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley in such a state, in all of their years together. Then, the demon whimpered, actually whimpered, and choked out,
"Please, Hastur, no..."
Aziraphale straightened, grip once again tightening as he demanded, "Hastur- he's hallucinating! That's what your venom does?"
"Mm," she agreed contentedly. "Ssshowssss them their mosssst terrible nightmaresss. You've no idea, the tasssste of adrenaline as hissss deepessst fearsss come true before hissss eyessss..."
Crowley's most terrible nightmares? Aziraphale felt the blood drain from his face at the mere thought; as a demon, Crowley would be all too familiar with the worst torments of Hell, and the idea of him reliving a single second he might have spent there or the constant fears of what they could do to him, no, it was simply too much to bear thinking of. With a furious shout, Aziraphale thrust his sword towards the echidna and attacked.
The battle was short-lived and ended with her slain on the floor and Aziraphale rushing to get Crowley down. The demon's hands were bloodless from having been bound so tight, ligature marks already standing out stark against his pale skin as Aziraphale wrested the ropes off of his hands.
"Crowley," he called, patting his friend's cheeks carefully. "Oh please wake up... my poor dear, you're not in Hell! Come back!" Even as he said it, though, Aziraphale knew there was most likely nothing to do but wait until the venom worked its way out of his system.
But not here, in the dirty, dilapidated building on his own. Trying to ignore the sobs and moans that he never wanted to hear coming from Crowley ever again, Aziraphale scooped the demon up in his arms and headed back out into the night.
Crowley had a flat somewhere, Aziraphale knew, but he'd never been to it and wasn't sure exactly how to get to it. In this state, he didn't want to simply leave the demon anywhere; best get him back to the bookshop, then. Hopefully none of the angels would pop down for a report on the affair. That would be a trifle difficult to explain, why a hallucinating demon was laid out on his sofa.
By the time they reached the safety of the bookshop, Crowley's condition was none better. Not sure what else to do, Aziraphale fetched a cool rag and contented himself to mop off the demon's brow. Crowley's eyes were open but faraway, trapped in whatever horrible nightmares of Hell his brain could concoct, and Aziraphale knew he had quite the imagination—a curse, in this instance.
Finally, after far too long, the demon slipped off into a fitful sleep. Even that seemed to be no mercy, as Crowley continued to thrash and cry out, sometimes even calling for Aziraphale—that was the worst, as the angel couldn't imagine what torments he was seeing and of course had no way to save him from it.
Finally, finally, Crowley's eyes peeled open once more, filled with trauma and pain.
"There you are, my dear," Aziraphale said softly, settling himself beside the demon on the couch. "Are you awake?"
For a moment, Crowley stared blankly at him, then gasped like he was taking his first breath and shot up on the couch.
"Angel-" He got no further, throwing his arms around a thoroughly shocked Aziraphale.
"Oh! Um... yes, it's me-"
"Aziraphale... you're alright... you- you're alive... you're alive!"
Well, that wasn't at all the reaction he'd been expecting. Aziraphale patted the demon's back, clearing his throat. "Erm, yes, I'm quite well. You were caught by that awful echidna, do you remember? She was poisoning you, I'm afraid, making you see your worst-"
"You were dead," Crowley blurted out, clinging all the tighter to Aziraphale, nearly wrapping himself completely around the angel. "You were dead, over and over and over, and I couldn't stop it, I- are you alright? Really and truly, you're alright? You're okay? Aziraphale?"
The angel was at a loss for words. But... that echidna... she'd distinctly said it would be Crowley's worst nightmare he'd be experiencing, but surely that had to be Hell? Torments untold? He'd even mentioned Hastur specifically...
"I'm alright," he said slowly. "Whatever you've been seeing, none of it was real. I assumed it would be Hell..."
"Hell, Heaven, everything in between," Crowley choked out. "They kept hurting you- killing you, I thought you were dead. I thought..." He coughed and pulled away, cheeks pink as he wrapped his arms around himself. "Er, anyway, no reason to make a scene. I'll just... I should go..."
"You're in no condition!" Aziraphale immediately protested, still trying to sort out in his mind how his own death could be Crowley's worst nightmare when the demon had literally lived in Hell. A mistake on the echidna's part, perhaps. An exaggeration, no doubt, about Crowley's "worst" nightmare rather than just any old uncomfortable one. Surely.
Either way, he couldn't bear the thought of Crowley being alone right now. "You've been kidnapped and poisoned and I won't hear of you going anywhere until you've had a proper sleep, not the sort she did to you. It's quite safe here. Why don't you curl up and have a little rest? Er, just until you- Crowley, I'm sorry but why are you looking at me like that?"
The demon didn't say a word, just continued to stare at him with fearful, watery eyes. Aziraphale coughed, then suggested,
"You're shivering. I'm going to fetch some more blankets. Make yourself comfortable, my dear, because I won't hear of you leaving until I'm convinced all the negative effects have worn off."
Nodding decisively, Aziraphale stood to go gather some more flannel throws and warm quilts, knowing how cold Crowley could get at times. When he got back to the couch, he was surprised to find a serpent coiled up on the cushions.
"Oh, Crowley..."
"Thought you were dead," the snake repeated, burying his head in his coils. "I- I thought..."
Shaking his head, Aziraphale sat down beside the snake and picked up a book that had been sitting on the table next to it. "Well, I'm still alive and kicking, as you see," he reassured the demon. "No need to fret. Now then, I think I'll just sit here for a while and read my book. Stay, won't you?"
Then he pointedly turned all his attention to the book at hand so as not to embarrass Crowley if the demon needed closer comfort. Sure enough, the snake slowly wound himself around his arm and chest as though just feeling Aziraphale there beneath his scales was the grounding proof he needed that the angel was still there, quite alive and whole. He'd expected Crowley wouldn't want any comments on the matter, so was surprised when a small voice hissed,
"You're not going anywhere...?"
Heavens, that venom must have done more damage than Aziraphale had thought. Crowley rarely made himself so vulnerable, so the angel kept his voice as light as possible. "Not in the slightest. I think you could do with some rest. Why don't you sleep for a while? I've nowhere to be."
Crowley nodded and closed his yellow eyes, burying his head again. It actually was quite comfortable there, laid out on the couch in the nest of blankets with the serpentine coils holding him carefully. Maybe a light snooze wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.
Breathing deeply, Aziraphale settled in, feeling warm in body and heart.