Back in Crowley's POV. Thanks, as always, for reading, reviewing and following, lovely people!
Chapter 4:
Crowley had never felt so much hatred towards Heaven before. Not even when he was cast out of it. Inside of him it felt like he was charged with thousand angry lightning bolts, crackling just beneath his fingertips and he had to control himself not to burst too soon.
He stepped out of the portal Muriel had found for them and motioned the younger angel to lead the way. "Show me where he is!" he demanded.
Muriel was still shaking slightly. "Um, don't you think you should disguise yourself first?"
Crowley looked down at his black jacket and jeans. He knew that he was standing out like a sore thumb against the celestial light, but the thought of pretending to be one of them… he couldn't bear it. Not even for a second. "I don't care." he grumbled and ushered Muriel on.
She started off into a specific direction, albeit reluctantly. "The armoury where they're keeping him is full of angels. They will notice you."
"They are welcome to try and stop me." snarled Crowley, the fire within him burning just a bit hotter.
He thought about what Muriel had told him earlier. That the angels believed him to be powerful. More so than he ever knew. On a normal day Crowley wouldn't care about this in the least. To use his alleged power in a fight would be so far from his mind, he probably wouldn't even believe it. But, damn it to hell, he felt powerful now! Like no one could cross him. He would definitely fight and he wouldn't stop until Aziraphale was safe.
"It's that way. Straight on." said Muriel, pointing to where Crowley could feel something humming in waves, sending off vibrations into the distance. He clenched his teeth and walked on, leading the way now. He was pulsing, too. With rage and bad intentions.
Obviously, it must have been too much evilness to hide him any longer from his enemies. And, of course, out of all angels, it had to be Michael he encountered first.
The dark-haired Archangel looked up from a clipboard another angel asked them to sign and did a double-take. "What in good Heavens… Crowley? What are you doing here?"
"Take a wild guess." Crowley hissed angrily, not pausing his stride.
It took the Archangel one second. "He's come for the traitor!" they exclaimed and immediately an alarm sounded that exposed him to the rest. "Attention everyone!" Michael called. "The demon Crowley has infiltrated Heaven. He's come for the traitor. Defend him!"
Crowley could feel the eyes of dozens of angels on him as they turned around, leaving whatever they were doing to close in on him. Snarling, he walked on, but soon enough the angels clustered around him, preventing him from moving forward. There were more angels than Crowley could count at one glance and, being on foreign territory, maybe he should've been scared.
But he wasn't.
He looked behind him, wanting to shield Muriel from a potential attack, but to his surprise he found the young scrivener nowhere in sight.
"Looking for allies?" asked Michael derisively.
Realizing that he had been abandoned once again, Crowley hissed like a snake and started to rub his hands together until he sparked some hellish flames. The angels in the front rows before him took a small step back, looking nervous. All except Michael.
"Don't be ridiculous." they said. "You can't just come up here and start a fight. It's against the rules and you have no authorization."
"Oh, did you forget, Michael?" Crowley scoffed. "I'm not on anyone's bloody side anymore. I can do whatever the fuck I want!"
At that, Michael nodded curtly at the other angels and, suddenly, they were armed. All of the angelic weapons seemed to glow in a light-blue colour that reminded Crowley of Aziraphale's eyes and his blood boiled.
It was really true. What Muriel told him was all true. They have hurt him!
With a scream Crowley stretched out his hands and let flames erupt from his fingers. A group of angels stumbled backwards, raising their shields. "Give me back my angel!" he yelled at Michael with wild rage and gleaming eyes. "Or I will burn them all!"
"You wouldn't dare!" Michael yelled back.
"Wouldn't I?" he hissed and clenched his fists again, making orange-red fire flicker brighter and higher around his palms. He had just lifted his hands to strike once more when a wooshing sound cut through the air and a blue-glowing silver arrow planted itself painfully into his right shoulder.
Crowley flinched, temporarily distracted from keeping his fire aflame. Surprised by how much it hurt, Crowley automatically reacted by pulling the arrow out. He hissed in pain, staring at the hole the peak had left behind. And then his heart stopped for a beat as he saw the black demon blood oozing from the wound.
Angelic weapons, no matter how powerful, weren't truly able to destroy a demon. He would just be discorporated and sent back to Hell where he could hope to receive a new body from someone, probably dim, in charge of distributing them. Well, that or he could always possess some poor creature. The only thing able to destroy a demon fully is holy water. In the same way that only hellfire could destroy an angel.
That was just how it worked.
The fact that the angels haven't led their attack by arming themselves with holy water against his dangerous hellfire showed Crowley that they must still think he was immune, giving him an advantage.
But this arrow just drew his eternal life blood. The blood that encapsulated his demonic energy. Without it, he was nothing!
"See what we can do now?" Michael said with a grin. "I'd hoped it could destroy you immediately, but this is fine, too. We don't have to get close to you. We just have to strike you with enough of our special arrows and watch as the life runs out of you."
Crowley pressed his hand to the wound, feeling how it weakened him ever so slightly. He willed it to close itself.
"You can't heal wounds, Crowley. Only angels can do that." Michael said in a patronizing tone and smiled. "You're a dead demon walking. And for all of this we have to thank your friend."
Crowley hissed sharply and stood up straight, igniting the fire in his hands once more. This was how it must've felt for Aziraphale, too, he realized. Feeling how the power was drained from him. And Michael dared to make fun of that!
He shook away the painful sensation in his shoulder by simply pretending it wasn't there, took a step back, but not giving up on his fighting stance yet. The tables may have turned but Crowley was still hell-bent on getting what he came for. He looked upon the rows and rows of angels, not attacking them, but simply waiting for the next arrow to fly so he could burn it before it reached him.
All of a sudden, Crowley saw something move out of line, breaking the orderly rows. It pushed forward. Michael hadn't seen it yet.
Muriel's face appeared between the target-fixated angels. She smiled, but Crowley growled and narrowed his eyes, feeling the betrayal sting violently. He just made the decision that maybe he would destroy her first, when he saw what the light-weight of an angel was wielding in her hands.
It was a very familiar sword; he hadn't seen it in four years. It wasn't glowing in blue, but the demon knew it could do something else if it was in the right hands. And Muriel pushed it over the floor towards him.
Crowley picked up the mighty sword and made it flame.
The angels gasped. "This isn't right!" one of them said. "Only the Angel of the Eastern Gate can make the sword flame!" another one added.
"It is as we thought!" exclaimed Michael, slightly more nervous now. "He's as powerful as Aziraphale. Don't let him through, for God's sake! Capture him or kill him! He can never fall into the hands of the enemy!"
"Muriel! To me!" Crowley called and the smart angel quickly did as told. 'Traitor' the other angels hissed around them, but the two allies didn't listen. Crowley pushed Muriel behind him and opened his wings so that the feathers of each tip touched, protecting her from the dangerous weaponry. "Heal me." he whispered to her and she nodded firmly.
Only then did the fighting really start.
Crowley charged forward. He hoped that being closer to the other angels gave the heavenly archers a less clear field to shoot their arrows; he didn't want to risk a stray one hitting Muriel. Crowley kept her save between his wings as she healed the wound on his shoulder, because even if the blue arrows couldn't kill him immediately, he feared that they would have a more permanent effect on poor Muriel.
The demon swung the flaming sword around, keeping the angels at bay as best as he could. Whenever the blade crossed a blue weapon, sparks would fly and his angelic opponent was forced to draw back or risk that the fire was burning holes into their very soul and discorporate them.
Crowley was fighting fierce, but not to kill. He knew that these angel soldiers weren't that much higher up in the heavenly hierarchy than Muriel. They weren't to blame for Aziraphale's misery; the Archangels and higher beings were. So when he was throwing hellfire, he only did it as a last resort, aiming for the floor so the angels wouldn't be able to come close.
However, whenever there was an opening, the arrows flew and they did hit him and the pain almost brought Crowley to his knees. Muriel was working single-mindedly on healing his wounds, but he was still losing some of his demonic blood.
Still, Crowley pressed on.
The farer he got, the more angels seemed to join the fight. Yet, he was moving slowly like a glowing fireball between the blue glow of angel weapons.
Finally, still a great distance away at the speed he was moving, he saw a platform looming large straight ahead. The light that radiated from the centre of the platform was just like the light around him, but brighter. It could stem from nothing other than the original source.
Aziraphale.
He was so close! Crowley cleared another few steps of his path with a blazing wall of hellfire and immediately after, more arrows whizzed through the air. He had to act quickly and burn one before it could strike Muriel, who was shaking fearfully right behind him. The angels were getting bolder and closer and more. Far off, where it was safe, he could hear the war cries of Michael and other Archangels, forcing the soldier angels to more direct attacks.
Crowley growled. If he could only reach them, the cowards! He would burn every single one of them, no matter the consequences.
"Isn't there something else you can do?" Muriel called nervously over his shoulder.
"Like what?" he called back, blocking a blue sword with his own. The contact sounded like thunder and sparks of lightning burst explosively.
"Like… I don't know. Something other than throwing hellfire. All demons can do that."
Crowley created another high wall of fire to melt arrows. "I can…" he breathed in exhaustion. Fighting and summoning hellfire started to become a strain. The blood loss was getting to him. "I can stop time." he said. "But it only works on humans. Not angels."
Muriel flinched as she could hear the whooshing of arrows much too close for her liking. "H-Have you ever tried? Remember, you're more powerful than you think. But even you can't go on like this for much longer. It already takes you longer to heal." she warned him.
Crowley thought about this for a split-second and then immediately had to stumble back and answer with fire. Damn it, that spear had almost struck him straight in the chest! There was no time to think. Muriel was right. Aziraphale was still too far away and Crowley was getting weaker. He should use his special skill while he was still able to.
Gathering a deep breath, he first swung the sword to create some room and then lifted his arms with a deep, guttural scream.
His knees gave way shortly after and black spots danced in front of his eyes.
But Muriel shook his shoulder. "It worked!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Or... sort of worked."
Tiredly, Crowley lifted his head and saw the battlefield frozen in time. Well, almost frozen. The angels seemed to move in slow-motion. Swords, lifted to strike, moved ever so slightly downwards with each passing moment. Silver-blue arrows glittered in the sky, ominously waiting to meet with their target.
Wincing, Crowley got back to his feet. "Right. I won't be able to keep this up for long. Do not touch anything!" he warned Muriel sternly. "Or they'll get pulled back into normal speed." He looked ahead towards the blinding light, speaking firmly, "Let's go get him."
They weaved through the still statues of angels in a zigzag motion as fast as they could until they reached the platform. Crowley immediately climbed on top of it, but as Muriel wanted to follow he stopped her. "Keep an eye on the angels. Tell me when they start to move quicker again." he instructed.
Muriel nodded compliantly and Crowley turned towards his angel.
The sword inactive and lowered, he put his free hand onto the glass that separated them. Every ounce of resentment he might have felt ever since Aziraphale left him for Heaven vanished completely and his yellow eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Angel, what have they done to you?" he murmured.
Aziraphale's skin was pale, white as snow and seemingly paper-thin. Angel light shone through him as if there was no barrier at all. His eyes were closed, not a wrinkle on his expressive face.
It hurt Crowley's heart to see him like this. Or was that the loss of demon blood?
Unsure what he should do to free Aziraphale, he lifted the sword but decided against setting it ablaze. What if he would accidentally touch him? Clenching his teeth, Crowley grabbed the shaft of the sword with both hands and, with a cry, struck the glass just above Aziraphale's shoulder.
It cracked and shattered into a thousand pieces, pouring down onto the angel's weak body like glittering rain. Muriel flinched, startled by the noise, but she loyally kept her post.
Crowley cleared all the sharp edges away and momentarily put the sword down to reach out and cradle Aziraphale's face in both of his hands. "Aziraphale? Come on, Aziraphale, it's me. Wake up, you silly angel. Please, wake up!"
But there was no reaction.
Crowley blinked the scared tears away that threatened to fall. He couldn't lose it just yet; he had to get him out of here first. Running his fingers gently through the angel's soft white hair, Crowley observed how Aziraphale was held in place.
He was wearing a traditional white robe with holes cut into the front to make room for the silver tubes that sucked the life force out of him. Without thinking, Crowley reached for the first of the tubes and pulled. Slowly, it loosened and when it was fully out of his body, Aziraphale's forehead wrinkled and he breathed a painful, weak sigh. Then his robe began to get drenched in golden angel blood.
"Shit!" cursed Crowley and pressed his hand to Aziraphale's chest. "I'm sorry, Angel. I'm so sorry. Muriel!" he yelled. "You need to heal him. Quick!"
Dutifully, the young angel climbed up to them but paused at the sight before her. "Oh." she mumbled.
"What?" The demon wanted to know impatiently. "Come on, do your magic!"
"Yes." Muriel agreed timidly and started to shine soft healing light upon Aziraphale's wound as soon as Crowley dared to put his hand away. "It's just that… your blood and his blood mixed." Crowley looked down at his hands, still smeared with black from when he pulled out the first arrow that had hit him and now sprinkled with flecks of gold from Aziraphale. "I'm a scrivener, I read about this." Muriel continued. "It's supposed to be dangerous to mix angel blood with demon blood. That's what the ancient texts say."
Crowley looked up from his hands and at Aziraphale. Then back down again, not trying to wipe himself clean. "Whatever happens, it will happen to both of us." he stated unworried and once more stepped closer to the broken cage. They needed to get rid of the rest of the tubes, but the blood loss caused by pulling them out one by one would probably seal Aziraphale's terrible fate.
Swallowing anxiously, Crowley reached out to wrap his hand around the second tube, leaving a careful gap between him and the angel. Muriel watched him tensely as the air around Crowley's hand began to flare with smouldering red hellfire. The tube melted and fell away and Crowley quickly fused the end shut before more celestial energy could escape. He repeated the same with the other tubes and breathed a sigh of relief when Aziraphale was still with him by the end of it.
Muriel, who had been distracted by the nerve-racking procedure, looked up to check on the frozen angels and stumbled backwards in shock. "Uh, Crowley…" she whispered, gesturing behind him.
The angels had noticed what had happened as soon as Crowley manipulated time around them but, forced to move at snail's pace, it took a while before they could take necessary actions. Now Muriel nervously realized that the angels have turned around and were coming towards them again. The winged archers were drawing their bows, aiming directly at the centre of the platform. Some arrows were already set loose and hung in the air between them.
And they were moving. Much quicker than before.
"Fuck." Crowley cursed again, picked up the sword and hauled off to break the chains that held Aziraphale in place. The angel slumped down like a puppet when he was finally free and the demon quickly held on to him, giving the sword to a befuddled Muriel. "Take it." he hissed.
"But I-I won't be able to make it flame." she worried.
"It's still a powerful weapon. You might have to defend us." said Crowley and hoisted the unconscious Aziraphale into his arms. The angel showed absolutely no sign of awareness at all and he was so very still and light. Crowley could pick him up as if he weighed nothing. Clenching his jaw to stop the tears from falling, he pressed Aziraphale tighter to his chest.
What if it was already too late? What if there was too much gone from his soul to ever restore it?
"Let's go! Quick! We need to find the nearest portal down to Earth." he said to Muriel. "The angels won't follow us. They can't continue fighting on Earth without a proper permit, it's neutral ground."
They made their way back down from the platform. The angels were already close and in big numbers, but at least they were now out of the arrows firing line. Crowley moved quick, elegantly snaking his way through the gradually faster moving soldiers. Aziraphale protectively held close to his body.
He was moving too fast for Muriel with the long, cumbersome sword.
One moment of carelessness caused the tip of the sword to snag on the robe of an attacking angel. Suddenly pulled out of their slow momentum, the angel stumbled and clashed with the angel in front of them, starting a chain reaction.
Crowley turned abruptly, feeling the angels slipping from his time bubble. His eyes widened at the sight of Muriel, frozen in shock, among angels that were again moving normally and re-orientating themselves. "Up!" he cried and spread his wings, touching more angels in the process.
He pushed himself up as high as he could, surpassing the archers before abandoning the time bubble altogether and just focusing on escaping as quickly as possible. The Archangels' battle cries swelled beneath him as they spotted him and Aziraphale, but Crowley didn't look back.
The hurried flaps of slightly smaller wings directly behind told him that Muriel was close, so Crowley concentrated on what was in front. Open space. Safety.
But the arrows began to catch up with him. Like blue-blazing shooting stars they came towards him. Crowley clutched Aziraphale close, more than once swerving to put his own body in between his angel and the lethal weapons. Behind him the clanging sound of metal on metal let him know that Muriel was fighting bravely to direct the course of the arrows away from him.
He had promised to keep her safe but now his hands were occupied and he left her to fend for herself. Crowley knew that, as a demon, he had no right to address Her any longer, but he sent a silent, desperate prayer to God, anyway, begging Her to protect Muriel for him.
Then, suddenly, he heard her shout, "There!" and Muriel broke away from him towards an invisibly shimmering circle. She made sure he had seen her then she disappeared through the portal.
Crowley flapped his strong wings to catch up. The Archangels behind him were shouting. They had surely closed the portals down; only the fact that he was with Muriel enabled him to escape anyway. He mustn't let her get too far ahead or the portal would close again behind her.
Arrows were perforating his black wings but Crowley ignored his aching muscles. Aziraphale was getting heavy in his arms now after all. Screaming through tears of pain, he was shooting towards the portal and he fell through it and disappeared from Heaven.