"Dinner's ready in five minutes," Aziraphale called from the kitchen into the garden.
Crawly was watering the flowers with a watering can that Aziraphale had bought a few days ago. He looked up. "Thanks, Aziraphale, I'll be quick. There's just one more flowerbed left."
Crawly dashed across to water the strawberries. The fruits were still small and green - nowhere near ripe - but Crawly appeared fascinated by their progress every time he went outside.
Aziraphale enjoyed watching the progress of the strawberries too, but it was the progress Crawly was making which fascinated him the most.
It had been a month, and Crawly seemed far more comfortable and at ease now. He smiled a lot, and he seemed genuinely happy, especially when he was in his garden. The demon hadn't entirely lost that nervous jumpiness of his, but ultimately he seemed to have settled in well, and it made Aziraphale happy to see how far he'd come.
Crawly came in and washed his hands before sitting down at the table. His face lit up at the sight of the sirloin steak in front of him.
"Is it well done enough?" Aziraphale fretted. "I can cook it a little longer if you like?"
"It's perfect. Thank you."
"Oh, bother, I almost forgot..." Aziraphale muttered to himself as he dug into the back of the cutlery drawer. "These should do the trick."
Aziraphale turned back around, holding two steak knives in one hand.
The colour immediately drained from Crawly's face. He leapt out of his chair with such force that it fell over. Never taking his eyes off of the knives, he staggered backwards until he bumped into a cabinet with a startled yelp.
Crawly fled the room.
Aziraphale stared, bewildered, at the doorway which Crawly had just run away through, and then his gaze lowered to the black-handled serrated knives in his hand. A horrible, sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach.
Crawly's feet thundered across the hallway upstairs.
Heart in his throat, Aziraphale opened the drawer again to put the knives back, but then he changed his mind and made them vanish into oblivion instead, along with the rest of the set.
He thought back to all of the times Crawly had helped him prepare food, trying to remember if he had ever used sharp knives around him before. He didn't think he ever had. Thinking back, they had never chopped any vegetables or meat together. Aziraphale liked to cook on his own most of the time whilst Crawly did the gardening or cleaning. It wasn't that Aziraphale had been avoiding using sharp knives around him - he trusted Crawly not to misuse them, and it hadn't even occurred to him that Crawly would be frightened of them.
Aziraphale went upstairs and made his way along the landing. "Crawly?"
When he got to Crawly's bedroom he saw that the door was wide open. "I've gotten rid of the, um, knives. Destroyed them. I- I was only going to use them for eating. I would never..." Aziraphale's throat felt tight. Someone must have hurt Crawly with a knife before. He couldn't bear the thought of it.
Ragged breaths came from under the bed.
"Are you alright?" Aziraphale hovered in the doorway. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I would never hurt you. Never."
"I know," Crawly said between panicked gasps. "I just... Everything came rushing back when I saw them. I know you would never- It was just the sight of them. Sorry."
"You have nothing to apologise for, my dear."
Crawly crawled out from under the bed, and then sat on the floor with his back against the bed. He was shaking, his face still pale and frightened. He looked up at Aziraphale, who was still stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry I ruined dinner. And you spent ages-"
"Shush now. Don't worry about that. I just want to make sure you're alright."
Crawly nodded. "I'm okay. Thank you. Er. You can come in. If you want. Or we can go back downstairs before dinner gets cold."
Aziraphale came into the room and sat down on the floor beside Crawly. "Dinner can wait. You're more important."
Crawly glanced at him, and then he stared at the wall. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees. "I used to cook all the time for Michael. I think I got pretty good at it. And she let me use knives all the time. No problem. It was fine. I- I didn't think I'd react like that. I'm sorry." He sounded frustrated with himself. "I want to be able to cook properly for you."
"It's alright, Crawly. It's not your fault. And I enjoy cooking so don't worry about that. Please don't feel bad. I'm assuming that your last owner… hurt you with them?"
Aziraphale had thought that Crawly's last owner had beaten him, used his fists. It has never even occurred to him that he had used weapons.
"Yeah. They looked just like that."
Anger burned in Aziraphale's chest at the cruelty of it. "That monster. What kind of an angel hurts someone in their care? I am so sorry that happened to you."
Aziraphale wanted to hug Crawly, but he feared it would only frighten him and make him more uncomfortable.
Crawly let out a sob. "It was almost a relief when I discorporated. At least then the pain would stop, and I'd be back in Hell for a little while, far away from him."
"He discorporated you?" Aziraphale said, utterly horrified, his voice breaking, and his heart along with it.
"Only sometimes. Usually he would just leave me injured, and then come back later to heal me if the wounds were bad enough and wouldn't heal on their own. But sometimes he killed me on purpose."
"That's horrible! How could an angel ever-" Aziraphale shook his head. "But what about the angels that guard Hell? Didn't they find it suspicious that you kept discorporating?"
"He owned me. He could do whatever he wanted," Crawly said bitterly. "So long as he paid the fees, they always let him take me away again. It didn't matter what I said. The first time it happened, I begged the angel who put me in a new corporation not to give me back to him. I told her what he did, I asked her for help, but she wouldn't listen. She said I was lucky she wasn't going to repeat what I'd said to my owner."
"That… bad angel!"
"They don't care what happens to demons. I told some of the demons in the cells around me what had happened, and they were pissed off about it at least."
"You were friends with some of the other demons there?" Aziraphale asked, feeling bad that he had taken Crawly away from the people he was closest to.
Crawly shrugged. "Some of them. But demons get swapped into different cages all the time so we never get to see each other for very long. They're worried we'll start scheming or something I suppose. Besides, everyone gets sold sooner or later. Except Hastur of course. He's always there."
"Oh. Yes. He did seem to be rather a handful. Were you friends?"
"With Hastur? No, definitely not," Crawly said, and Aziraphale felt relieved.
An idea was starting to form in Aziraphale's mind. Maybe he could buy another demon when he had saved up enough points, and he'd much rather it wasn't Hastur. Not only would it help Crawly to have one of his friends here with him, but it would mean that another demon could get away from that horrible place.
Aziraphale thought about the times he had been discorporated. The first time had been during the French revolution. He had been beheaded. He'd been so scared of getting into trouble for using too many miracles that he kept delaying his escape and then, before he knew it, he was stood on a stage surrounded by people and it was too late to do anything at all. Gabriel had been furious with him for getting his corporation killed, and had asked him why he hadn't just miracled himself out of the situation. Aziraphale couldn't win, no matter what he did. Then there was the time in the church where he used a miracle to remove all of the bullets from the Nazi's guns, except he missed one of the pistols and got shot in the chest. It had been excruciatingly painful, and he'd been too shocked and disorientated to heal himself before he discorporated.
He couldn't stand the thought of Crawly going through that, over and over again, utterly helpless, unable to do anything to stop it.
Aziraphale turned towards Crawly. "I've been discorporated before… it was horrible. I can't imagine- I'm so sorry you went through that."
Crawly shrugged. "The discorporating was what got me away from him in the end. It's expensive to buy us back. You have to pay fees after a discorporation so he was always more careful whenever he was running low on funds. The last time it happened was by accident - he cut a main artery without realising - and he couldn't afford to buy me back." A sad smile tugged at Crawly's lip. "I knew that if he didn't pay the fees before the six months grace period then he would lose his rights of ownership over me. I went back on the market a few months ago. It was a relief. And that's how you were able to buy me."
"I'm so glad you're here with me."
Crawly shuffled closer to him. "Me too."
"Who was it?"
Crawly froze. He shook his head violently, and hugged his knees even tighter. "I- I can't… He'll come after me."
"I won't let him anywhere near you," Aziraphale assured him. "But if you're not comfortable telling me then that's okay. To be honest I don't think I'll be able to do much anyway. I've been trying to get Gabriel to do something about the awful treatment of the demons in the Demon Rehoming House but he won't listen. It's no use. I'm so sorry but I'll keep on trying."
"Thank you. You're the only angel I ever met who doesn't hate demons."
A horrible thought struck Aziraphale. "It wasn't Gabriel was it?"
"What? No, it wasn't him. I knew him from when he visited Michael." Crawly seemed to be considering something. He bit his lower lip. "Do other angels visit you here? Like Gabriel did?"
"Sometimes, but not very often. Gabriel is the only one who just lets himself in like that."
Crawly let out a sigh. "I hate the thought of my last owner coming here to see you, and you not knowing what he did... You won't tell anyone?"
"I won't tell anyone. Not unless you want me to."
Crawly took a deep breath. "It was Sandalphon."
Aziraphale's fingernails dug into his palms. "He always did like turning humans into salt. That absolute bastard."
Crawly looked startled for a second, but then an amused expression appeared on his face. "He is a bastard!"
Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at his own foul language. "What if he tries to buy another demon? I can't bear the thought of anyone else going through what you went through."
"He won't be able to afford another demon. Not for a very long time anyway. It's much cheaper to pay the discorporation fees for a demon you already own than it is to buy a new demon. It'll take him centuries to save up again. I thought about that when I was in the cells. If no one ever bought me, then eventually he might..." He trailed off and shuddered.
"No need to worry about that now," Aziraphale reassured him. "And if it'll take him centuries to save up, then maybe by that time I'll have thought of a way to stop him from buying another demon."
"You won't tell anyone about it though, right? Or say anything to him? You don't want to make an enemy of him, Aziraphale. He's dangerous."
"I won't tell anyone. I'll be careful."
Aziraphale wondered if he might be able to sabotage Sandalphon in some way so that he wouldn't receive as many commendations and, more importantly, the brownie points that came with them. But he was afraid of what would happen if he were caught. Gabriel was quite chummy with Sandalphon after all.
Crowley lay curled up on the cold floor with an old tattered blanket wrapped around himself, trying to keep warm. He was on the verge of falling asleep when he felt fingers wrap around his throat and squeeze, dragging him back to full alertness.
He clawed desperately at the hand strangling him while staring up into Sandalphon's cold, angry eyes. He tried to fight him off, though he knew it was useless against someone with supernatural strength.
Sandalphon's free hand came into view, and Crowley could see that he was holding a knife. He let out a sob and closed his eyes, feeling sick.
As tight as Sandalphon's grip was around his throat, he could still steal painful breaths. He tried to stop himself from breathing - suffocating might be better than whatever Sandalphon had planned – but his body betrayed him, clinging to life, the horrifying discomfort of not having enough air forcing him to take every breath he could.
The blade pushed against his chest, breaking the skin but not enough to do any real harm other than terrify him. Crowley scrunched his eyes closed as tightly as he could.
"Open your eyes!" Sandalphon demanded, and Crowley immediately did as he was told. "Keep them open!"
Crowley's vision was blurry with tears, but he could still tell that Sandalphon was grinning at him. He was enjoying this, the bastard.
"I want to watch the life vanish from your eyes as you die."
The blade thrust in, and Crowley jolted, immediately sitting up and gasping for air.
The hand was no longer at his throat, he was no longer in the cold, dark basement. He must have died and materialised in Hell.
But this was not Hell. There were no angels rushing to restrain him and force him into a new corporation. He was in a bedroom. His bedroom. In a warm and soft bed, still in a physical body, uninjured.
His demonic eyes scanned the darkness, searching for his attacker, convinced in his confusion that Sandalphon was in the room with him.
Reality came back to him. It had only been a dream – not real - or at least, it was the distant memory of an old attack, probably brought on by what had happened with the steak knives.
Crowley knew that he was safe here, but after that horrible dream he couldn't shake the feeling of being in danger.
A quick glance at the clock told him that it was 3am. He climbed out of bed, taking his blanket with him so that he could hide under the bed but instead he found himself moving towards the door. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted Aziraphale.
Crowley quietly opened his bedroom door and then padded along the hallway.
He had heard Aziraphale go into his bedroom late last night, and a faint glow was coming from around the edges of his door, probably from a table-lamp.
Crowley stood in front of the door, feeling unsure of himself. He didn't want to bother Aziraphale – especially if he was in bed. He might have fallen asleep with his light on while reading.
He wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, and then he sat on the floor close to Aziraphale's door with his back against the wall. He felt better now that he was closer to Aziraphale.
His eyes were just drifting closed when the door opened and Aziraphale stepped out. He was wearing a nightshirt.
Aziraphale looked down at Crowley huddled on the ground. "Crawly, what's wrong?"
Crowley looked up, feeling guilty. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry."
"I was just reading in bed. I thought I heard something. Are you okay?"
"I just had a bad dream, is all."
Aziraphale made a sympathetic sound. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better? Would you like a hot drink?"
"One of those chocolate drinks would be nice."
"Now that you mention it, I could go for one of those as well."
Aziraphale threw on a dressing gown, and then they went downstairs to make the drinks before returning upstairs to the sitting room.
Aziraphale sat down in his usual armchair, and Crowley took the sofa.
"Would you like the television on?" Aziraphale asked. "Or some music perhaps?"
"Music would be nice," said Crowley.
Aziraphale went to the gramophone and put on some relaxing music before returning to his armchair.
Once Crowley had finished his drink he pushed the empty mug onto the coffee table. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.
"You look tired, my dear," Aziraphale said gently. "Did you want to go back to bed?"
Crowley shook his head. As tired as he felt, he didn't want to be alone right now. Aziraphale was the only one who seemed to care about him, he was the only one who would protect him. "Can I stay here with you for a little while?"
"Of course you can."
Crowley rearranged his blanket and then shuffled along the sofa so that he was closer to Aziraphale. He curled up and closed his eyes. "I'll just rest my eyes for a little bit."
He started to relax, feeling safe again, and before long he was drifting off into a deep sleep.
Aziraphale glanced over at Crawly, and was surprised to see that he was sleeping. Crawly's chest was rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, and his face was more relaxed than Aziraphale had ever seen it. In the depths of sleep he looked so innocent and peaceful. Ironic really, Aziraphale supposed, considering he was a demon, and yet there had always been something innocent about him.
Aziraphale smiled fondly, feeling touched that Crawly felt safe enough around him to fall asleep right now, and to have sought him out when he felt afraid. It felt as though they were truly becoming friends, though Aziraphale knew there was still a long way to go before they could really be called that.
Aziraphale's smile faltered as he thought of the future. There was something weighing on his mind.
Crawly had been living here for just over a month, and in a few weeks Aziraphale was going to have to give him his medicine again. The thought of it filled him with dread.
The wooden box of tablets from the Demon Rehoming House was currently sat on a shelf in the back room, and every time he saw it his stomach flipped.
Crawly had been in incredible amounts of pain the last time, and the thought of putting him through that again made Aziraphale feel sick. He didn't want to do it, even though he knew he didn't have a choice. The owner's manual made it clear that he must do it or Crawly's powers would come back, putting himself and others at enormous risk.
Aziraphale had promised that he would never hurt Crawly. Forcing him to take a holy water capsule felt like a betrayal. He could use his healing powers to dull the pain, but he knew it would still hurt him. Aziraphale tried to tell himself that Crawly had been through this many times before so he must be at least partly used to it by now. It had been 6000 years after all. And yet, Aziraphale couldn't help but think that it wasn't the sort of thing that anybody could ever truly get used to.
He tried to imagine what it would feel like if the roles were reversed, if he were forced to taste a tiny dose of Hellfire every eight weeks - the only thing that could destroy him. But Aziraphale had never been near any Hellfire, let alone seen any, and he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be burnt by it. The idea of something that could utterly destroy him felt surreal. All he could compare the concept to was the handful of times his human body had been injured or discorporated. Goodness knows what taking that medicine felt like for Crawly.
Would Crawly have a panic attack at the sight of one of those pills? Aziraphale couldn't imagine him just casually swallowing it like it was nothing more than a cough drop. Perhaps he would have to force-feed Crawly like the angels did in the Demon Rehoming House.
Aziraphale sighed miserably. He was going to have to talk to him about this. They needed to have a good sit down and a serious chat, and hopefully they could come to an arrangement.
He didn't want to hurt Crawly. Surely he would understand that.
Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath. There were still several weeks to go before Crawly had to take that medicine, so there was still plenty of time left to come up with the right way to discuss it with him.
Authors Note: It's been difficult to plan meals which don't involve using big sharp knives – no chopping veggies, meat or potatoes! Or at least, not in front of Crowley anyway, hence why Aziraphale cooked a roast dinner while Crowley danced with the vacuum upstairs.