Disclaimer: Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

Summary: It's been several years since Crowley has accepted Aziraphale's help with dealing with his depression and PTSD. He is napping on the couch when he wakes up from a terrifying nightmare – one that leaves him frustrated and angry that he is not getting better. Aziraphale helps him through it.

A/N: And here's part two of "op hardcore projecting on Crowley!" This will most likely be the last part of the story, but that might change in the future if I feel the need to project on our lovely demon again. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review if you like it!

….

Sadness

Chapter 2

….

A. Z. Fell & Co., thirty years after the Apocalypse:

Crowley had decided to take a weeklong nap on Aziraphale's couch, something that he had taken to doing ever since their little "talk" thirty years ago.

He had given up his flat a long time ago – he moved his plants into a greenhouse that mysteriously appeared on top of the bookshop, moved his clothes into a second closet that mysteriously appeared in Aziraphale's bedroom, and… those were basically all of his possessions. His Mona Lisa sketch became the centerpiece of the back room of the shop, and his throne was sitting in the greenhouse in the middle of all the plants so they would be thoroughly intimidated when Crowley was otherwise occupied. He did not feel the need to bring anything else from his somber, bare, lonely life before he and Aziraphale confessed their undying love to each other. Something that he was still wrapping his head around.

Crowley sometimes slept in he and Aziraphale's bedroom, spreading across the silk sheets like a starfish because his angel never cared for sleep. This was almost always when Crowley did not want to bother his angel with his problems – when Aziraphale was absorbed in a particularly interesting book, or when he was dining on an exceptionally delicious pastry. Usually, though, he slept in the back room – it made him feel safer knowing that Aziraphale was so close to him when he was at his most vulnerable.

He had never minded being alone when he slept. He always felt like he could wake at a moment's notice if he was in immediate danger. But having Aziraphale so close to him, whether sitting at his feet, or in his chair, or even out in the main area of the bookshop – it made Crowley feel safe and secure in a way that he had never felt before. Not even when he was an angel.

That was where he found himself today: sprawled on the sofa, one arm slung across his face, twisted in a way that only a snake could twist. He was snoring lightly, something that he was entirely unaware of, but that was making Aziraphale smile brightly as he read his novel, stroking a hand up and down the side of Crowley's thigh.

In hindsight, Crowley should have known that it was a bad idea to nap today. He had been struggling more so than usual, over the last few days. He felt like he might just be crushed under the weight of his depressing thoughts. He should have known that he would have a nightmare. But he didn't really thing about it.

So, while Aziraphale was enjoying the quiet time that they were (sort of) spending together, Crowley was most definitely not.

He hadn't really meant to hang around with Lucifer. He was bored, and tired of the food, and didn't have any assignments for the rest of the day. When Lucifer and the guys walked up and asked him to hang out with them, hear them out, he figured there was no reason to say no.

Suddenly, as he and the guys were playing a new hand of blackjack, there was the booming voice of the Almighty, screaming down at them for disobeying. And before he could say a word edgewise, he was falling, falling, falling, for thousands of light years, just to land in…

Aziraphale's bookshop.

Crowley stood from the ground and cracked his back, feeling the fluid feeling of his spine that came from his new form: a snake. He looked around at the flames for a moment before realizing what he was looking at. Memories flooded his mind – everything that he had ever lived through, except… his name? He could not remember his angelic name. He puzzled on it for a moment before moving on to a new thought.

And then Crowley realized that the bookshop was burning. And his mind flooded with thoughts of Aziraphale. His best friend, the most important person in his life, was dying and he was sitting here thinking about how he couldn't remember his name!

Crowley rushed around the bookshop, screaming for Aziraphale. He looked upstairs, under the desk, under tables, behind bookshelves, everywhere. He was screaming so loud he was hoarse, tears streaming down his face.

"Aziraphale! Aziraphale, please! Please Answer me! Please! Aziraphale!"

Crowley woke with a start, tears streaming down his face. His throat was dry and scratchy, presumably from screaming. Aziraphale was leaning over him and shaking his shoulders, a look of deep concern etched onto his face.

"Crowley, are you alright? You scared me half to death!" Aziraphale exclaimed, straightening up. Crowley sat up and buried his face in his hands. He felt the couch dip beside him. "Talk to me, dearest." Aziraphale whispered.

"I'm fine, angel. Nightmare. Thanks for waking me up." Crowley mumbled.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but I am here to listen if you do." Aziraphale responded, reaching over and rubbing circles into Crowley's back.

"It was the usual shit. I dreamt about my Fall. Except this time, I landed in the shop when it was burning and couldn't find you. No different than usual." Crowley muttered.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that, dear. Hopefully, with a little more time, you won't have as many nightmares…" Aziraphale whispered, kissing Crowley's temple. "I know it's been hard, y love, but you will get better with time. I will be here…"

"That's just it though, Aziraphale! I'm not getting better! I am exactly the same as I was thirty years ago! I'm sick of being so fucking broken!" Crowley yelled, pulling away from Aziraphale. He started scratching his hand.

"Crowley, you're not broken…"

"I am! Why is my mind fighting against me? I don't understand why I have to struggle with these things. I have unending waves of self-hatred and soul-crushing sadness pelting me all day, every day, while some people get to live their lives without ever having to deal with that!" He pulled at his hair and started rocking slightly. "I just want to be normal, angel. I don't want to hurt like this anymore. I would rather just die than deal with this any longer." Crowley deflated a little at the end, his body sagging as he slid off the couch and onto the floor. He pulled his knees into his chest and buried his face in his arms, scratching his wrist.

Aziraphale slid off the couch and sat on the floor next to his demon, keeping distance between them in case Crowley needed space.

"Crowley, my dear, you've never been normal. You're brilliant, brave, daring, stylish, loving, and all around amazing. You are vastly superior to anyone who could possibly be considered 'normal.'" He paused, wanting to reach out to Crowley and comfort him. "I cannot say that I know what you are feeling, dearest. I understand wanting to feel normal. After all, I never fit in with the other angels in Heaven. But I have never had to struggle against my own feelings, my own mind. That is something that is unfathomable to those of us who have never felt it. And it breaks my heart to see you struggling against yourself, my love." He paused again, noticing that Crowley's wrist was turning a very bright shade of red. He decided to ignore it for the moment. "But I do not think that death is the answer. You have been struggling with this for six thousand years, Crowley. Thirty years is the equivalent of about a month for us. You cannot expect to get better in a month." Aziraphale touched Crowley's shoulder lightly. He flinched. "I cannot imagine how hard this is, Crowley. But please, stick it out. For you, and for me. I cannot fathom spending eternity without you by my side. I will help you in any way I can, my love. I promise you that."

Crowley's scratching of his wrist slowed, leaving deep red gouges in the skin that were leaking blood. Aziraphale pushed away the tears that were forming in his eyes and lightly touched Crowley's arm.

"May I?" he asked quietly. Crowley nodded. Aziraphale gently pulled the injured arm away from Crowley's knees, examining it. He couldn't help but hold Crowley's injury against his chest, trying to project as much love into his demon as he could. He ran his fingers over the cuts and healed them, kissing the pink spot that was left behind.

"I'm sorry, angel." Crowley muttered, uncurling himself from the ball that he had been in. he tipped sideways and leaned his head against Aziraphale's shoulder. "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with me."

"Crowley, you are not a burden to me. I want to be there for you. I want to help you get better and fight this terrible illness. Never apologize to me for being sad, my dear." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's temple. "I love you." He whispered, looking down at his demon.

"I love you too, Aziraphale. Always have. I just wish I was a better person…"

"You are the best person I know, Crowley. You are so unfailingly kind, more so than I, or any of the other angels, have ever been. You see humans struggling and you help them, so they do not feel like you do every day. You have been there for me in so many times, in so many ways. Probably more times than either of us realize. You are so chivalrous, so selfless, my love. Never forget that." Aziraphale argued. He gently lowered Crowley's head into his lap and started running his fingers through his long red hair. "Crowley, I love you so much. I have never, and will never, fault you for struggling. Some of your best traits have come from your sorrows. You are so good, my dear, in so many ways. I want you to get better, but I would never condemn you if you do not. I love every bit of you, even the parts that you don't love yourself."

A tear slipped down Crowley's cheek. He turned and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist, burying his face in his soft belly. Aziraphale kept running his hands through Crowley's long red hair. "I am so, so lucky to have you in my life, angel." he muttered into Aziraphale's waistcoat. "No one has ever loved me as much as you do. I'm not sure that any human has ever felt this kind of love either. We have lived through so much together, you and I. I don't know what I'd do without you…"

"The feeling is mutual, dearest." Aziraphale chuckled lightly. The smile quickly left his face. "Crowley, I want you to promise me something." He said. Crowley slowly sat up from the angel's lap, wiping at the tears that stained his face. "I want you to promise me that you will come to me whenever you are having a bad day. I know that you sometimes choose to deal with things by yourself so you do not burden me, but I don't want you to do that anymore. You are my priority, Crowley. You always will be. I would kick the Almighty herself out of my shop if it meant helping you. Promise me."

Crowley leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale, long and lovingly. The kiss left the taste of salt in Aziraphale's mouth from the demon's tears. "I promise, angel. I will accept and relish your love for as long as you will give it. If that means talking about my feelings sometimes, then so be it."

"You will be talking about your feelings until the end of time, my love. I will love you until the last stars in the universe die, Crowley. I will love you until I exist no more, even if you do not promise to do the same. You are everything to me, my dear."

"I promise to love you until the end of time too, Aziraphale. I mean, I've already loved you for six thousand years, what are a few thousand more?" Crowley smiled and kissed Aziraphale again, running his hands through the angel's fluffy, white-blond curls. Just because he could.

He had a feeling that, one day, he may be alright after all.