Chapter 5:
Muriel waited on the other side of the portal, still far above the clouds of Earth, and was getting more anxious the more seconds passed.
Did they manage to trap Crowley in Heaven?
But then, finally, he broke through… and immediately fell towards Earth like a stone.
"Oh, no!" Muriel exclaimed and quickly followed him downwards. "Crowley!" she yelled at him, but the demon seemed to have passed out. Miraculously, he was still holding on to an equally unconscious Aziraphale.
Muriel should've expected this; she should've chosen a less high up entry point. It took some concentration out of an angel or a demon to cross the planes safely. Usually, it wasn't that difficult. But this demon was weakened and hurt and had maintained a time bubble over dozens of celestial beings while summoning just the right amount of hellfire so he could free his friend without burning him.
An angel or demon of higher order, equipped with the overall ordinary amount of angelic or demonic power respectively, would've broken down a lot sooner.
"Crowley, wake up!" Muriel cried right next to him as they were plummeting towards the earth. They had broken through the barrier of clouds and were now heading for the rock hard surface of the sea. "Please, you have to wake up!" she yelled louder. "Crowley!"
All of a sudden, the demon blinked his yellow eyes open. Realizing in a split-second what was happening, he pulled Aziraphale close and spread his wings wide. With a few hard pushes they made the curve just so that only a few feathers stroked the water before they were rising back up again.
Muriel landed first on the clifftop where they had left Earth before. Crowley was right behind her, stumbling and immediately falling to his knees as soon as his feet touched ground. Not one hair of the angel came into contact with the earth, though. Crowley still held him safe.
Muriel hurried closer to her unexpected companion, who breathed heavily. "Crowley, are you alright?" she asked and then gasped as she saw the state of his wings. How had he even been able to fly?
Black blood was dripping from the feathers like glistening oil from a tank, making them stick together and twitch painfully. "Y-Your wings..." she uttered sympathetically and reached out a shivering hand, intending to heal. But Crowley forced himself back onto his feet and, repressing terrible groans of pain, managed to fold his wings back in.
With determined persistence he started off into the direction where he knew his car was parked. Muriel thought about offering to carry the angel for him, but something told her that Crowley would decline.
The humans around the Bentley stood still and gaped at them like very dumb, perplexed fish. They must've seen them fall from the sky.
"Go away!" Crowley roared as soon as he was close enough and every one of them obeyed and moved as if in a trance.
The Bentley, that no one could enter until now, seemingly opened its door by itself and even the passenger seat made room so Crowley could lay Aziraphale gently onto the back seat. He got in with him, resting the angel's upper body in his arms and ever so softly stroking a finger down the side of his face while he was talking to him quietly.
"Angel? Angel, please, wake up. You're safe, I… I'm sorry I didn't come with you. They wouldn't have dared to lay a finger on you if I had been there. I'm sorry they hurt you." He fought against tears, but he lost and they quickly chased each other down his sharp cheekbones. "I-I promise I won't leave you alone again, b-but you have to wake up now. Don't leave me… p-please, Angel. Please, never leave me."
Muriel stood still and watched the heartbreaking scene from outside the car door. Her hands folded serenely in front of her body. She watched as the demon's tears fell and how he touched Aziraphale carefully and how softly he whispered to him. "They weren't wrong, were they?" she asked.
Crowley looked up at her. His once blazing eyes pale with tears and sorrow. "What?" he whispered.
"Maggie and Nina." explained Muriel. "They weren't wrong. You do love Aziraphale. Just like humans love each other."
Crowley's lips were shaking as he looked back into the still angel's face. His fingers played with one of his white curls, then he leaned down to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "I do." he confessed soft-spoken.
Muriel nodded to herself. Finally she had her answer. Maybe, if she had gotten this answer hours ago, she might have expected it to sound wrong to her ears. But not now. Not after she had witnessed what Crowley willingly endured for Aziraphale. Now, nothing ever felt more right to her.
"We need to find a safe place." said Crowley. "Where he can heal properly."
"I think his only chance at this point would be holy water." considered Muriel. "But I don't know if there exists holy water on Earth."
"A church." sniffed Crowley, trying to pull himself together as best as he could. "We need to get him to a church."
"Oh, yes. Of course." remembered Muriel and then frowned. "But... the hallowed ground-"
"It's no bother." interrupted Crowley softly. "I'll do whatever it takes." He shifted Aziraphale in his arms and beckoned Muriel closer. "Take my place." he told her. "I'll drive us to the next church."
It was the slowest Crowley has ever driven the Bentley.
He knew that Aziraphale needed help quick and therefore drove very briskly, but the fear of hurting him by jostling him around in the back seat prevented Crowley from his usual breakneck speed.
The nearby village, which had suffered under Crowley's initial heartbreak and the storm it entailed, had two churches. A quite modern one in the centre of town and an old stonewall building on top of a hill, overlooking the town from a small distance. He chose the latter for he guessed they would less likely meet with people there.
Getting out of the car, which he'd parked haphazardly on the side of the road, Crowley warily looked up at the sky, expecting the clouds to shimmer with hidden angels. As far as he could tell there weren't any. He asked Muriel to keep her mind open for heavenly arrivals anyway, but she, too, couldn't detect anything.
It seemed they were honouring the rules for now, but soon they would certainly sent down spies to look for them. Good then, thought Crowley, that they would be hiding in a church. The angels wouldn't think to look for a demon on hallowed ground. They simply couldn't understand how much pain he was able and willing to withstand for Aziraphale.
The angel hadn't moved a muscle or made any kind of noise since Crowley pulled out the first silver tube. The demon's heart beat fast and loud with fear. Aziraphale was much too still. Much too light. Like he wasn't really there anymore.
Crowley squeezed him tighter as he was carrying him towards the church. Reassuring himself that the negative voice in his head just aimed at scaring him and that there was, of course, still a chance to save his beloved angel. He couldn't live with the alternative.
Standing on the threshold, he exchanged a look with a worried Muriel, who was already inside and waited for him to follow. A deep breath, then Crowley stepped forward and waited for the burning sensation...
That didn't come.
Crowley frowned, looking around in the central nave of the church. It was obviously still in use and not damaged in any way. Stepping on this consecrated ground should hurt him.
"What's wrong?" asked Muriel.
"Doesn't hurt." mumbled Crowley.
"Oh. Is that… possible?" Muriel wondered unconvinced.
"Not really, no. I mean, it's… a little uncomfortable, but it has hurt worse before. Is that church not holy enough?"
"No, it's definitely a sacred place. I can feel it." Muriel assured him.
Crowley adjusted Aziraphale in his arms. "Right. No time to lose then. We need to find a font."
It was a wide ceramic bowl encased by a pillar of solid stone. Big enough to christen a human baby over, but, of course, too small to fit Aziraphale in any way. Out of fear that Heaven was keeping track of angel miracles, it was Crowley who turned the font with a movement of his hand into something that more resembled a stone-cased bathtub. And then he swayed, barely catching himself on the rim of the tub, before he carefully lowered Aziraphale into it.
Muriel frowned at him seriously. "You need to rest, too. You've been hurt pretty badly and all those miracles and the sacred ground can't be good for you in the long run."
"It's fine." mumbled the demon, aware how desperately he clung to the miraculous font to keep himself upright.
"Let me at least heal your wings. They're still bleeding." offered Muriel readily, but Crowley shook his head.
"Him first." he whispered and another snap of his fingers made the water level rise until Aziraphale was almost completely submerged by it. Quickly now, he had to stagger back. Away from the holy water. He looked at Aziraphale, unmoving, but still softly glowing, even down here on Earth. Crowley's lips trembled with things unsaid. Then his legs gave way and he fell to the floor and was out like a light.
When he eventually came to again, Crowley felt disoriented and weaker than before. He put his bare hand onto the ground to push himself into a sitting position and flinched, cradling it protectively to his chest. It was burning now, alright. Still not as bad as the church in 1941, but it was getting there.
He turned his head towards the font and saw that Aziraphale was still unconscious. Next to him on a stool, like a guardian angel, sat Muriel. And next to her on the floor was a pile of tubes, smeared with golden blood.
Crowley was back on his feet and towering intimidatingly in front of her in the blink of an eye. "What have you done?!" he growled at her, eyes shining bright. His hands twitched, wanting to reach for the front of her jacket and lift her into the air.
To Muriel's credit, she managed to hold his murderous gaze and only stumble over her words once when she explained. "I-I pulled out the tubes. He couldn't heal properly with them still in his body and the holy water helped to lessen the blood flow."
"It was still dangerous!" the demon hissed viciously. "Why didn't you wake me? He could've-" Crowley abruptly pressed his lips together, refusing to entertain this possibility. Pain lurched violently in his chest and he looked at his angel in the tub, making sure that he was still existing.
Crowley wanted to lie in there with him. He wanted to wrap his arms around Aziraphale's body and hold him tight and assure him that he would be alright. He wanted to feel him living. But Crowley looked at the shimmering surface of holy water and knew that he had to hold back, no matter the anguish.
Holy water could destroy him. It almost certainly could. But then again, he should be hopping on his feet because the church floor burned like spears through his feet and he wasn't. So what had changed? If he had always been as powerful as the angels said, then it surely wouldn't have hurt so bad in the past. What else was different?
Muriel pulled him out of his thoughts before Crowley could give in to curiosity and jump into the tub next to his angel, after all. "Humans are compassionate when they care about someone." she started thoughtfully. "Nina and Maggie felt bad for you when I told them you couldn't be with Aziraphale anymore. Even I felt bad when I realized what the other angels were doing to him. I think we supernatural beings change when we're on Earth for longer. We begin to feel like them. Like humans."
She stood up from her stool, making Crowley look at her. "I didn't want to hurt you. Removing the tubes was painful for Aziraphale; I could tell. I didn't want to make you watch. You're in enough pain as it is."
Anger deflated like air from a balloon and Crowley took a step back. It took Muriel a few months on Earth to understand something he only came to terms with much more recently. She was truly a remarkable angel and Crowley got the feeling that the others kept her small in her inconsequential scrivener duties on purpose, because they knew how marvellous she would be if she only got the chance to shine.
Shuffling his feet, Crowley hummed thoughtfully. "Is he getting better?" he asked her eventually.
"Hard to tell." said Muriel. "The holy water is healing him, but… I don't know if it will be enough to bring him back. He must've been unconscious for a long time before we even knew what the angels were doing."
Crowley nodded curtly, reluctantly allowing the idea that Aziraphale might not wake up to take root in his head for the first time. He felt like falling then. Like he was sucked into a vortex of pain and oblivion in his mind.
The last time he had looked into Aziraphale's blue eyes, he had been crying. Crowley had made him cry. Whether it was because he had frantically tried to make him understand and therefore kissed him when he probably should've just told him outright how much he loved him or because Aziraphale wasn't able to unmistakably communicate his own feelings, Crowley couldn't tell.
It was all so muddled up and complicated.
Either way, he left the bookshop that day in anger. Anger at himself, mostly, but to Aziraphale it must've felt like he was angry with him. And Crowley hadn't had the chance to make it right.
He might never get the chance to make it right again.
The church spun and tilted around Crowley and Muriel had to hold on to him so he wouldn't fall over. The ground was properly burning him now and he picked up his feet, hissing in pain. "Maybe it's the angel blood in you that protected you until now." she mused, proving once more that she had done some smart thinking on her own.
"Makes sense." muttered Crowley. "The Archangels say mixing our blood is dangerous because they don't want anyone to find out that it could make us equally strong. What would be the point of their blasting holy war when none of us can be killed anymore? Demons and angels might actually have to live together in peace."
Muriel blinked in shock. "But… if that's true… everyone should know about this!" she uttered, dumbstruck about the enormity of this possible fact. "You'll be save then."
Crowley shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut to fight against the vertigo trying to force him to his knees. "No one truly wants to know, cherub." he mumbled. "They're not ready yet. War is what they have always known. Peace is scary when you don't know what you actually live for."
Muriel swallowed. Tears were shining in her eyes, but eventually she cleared her throat. "You need hellfire, right?" she asked, distracting from her inner crisis. "Like holy water it can heal you from the inside."
Crowley grunted in agreement and stumbled towards the altar. Groaning, he pulled himself on top of it, sitting cross-legged. He took a deep breath, ignoring all the pain and clearing his mind. One moment later the demon managed to summon a whirling hose of hellfire that surrounded him from head to toe. He closed his eyes with a sigh, feeling how his strained muscles finally relaxed in the warm glow.
He stayed like this until he felt fully recharged, then Crowley breathed the fire in through his nose and opened his eyes once more. He just knew they were flickering. Muriel stared at him in awe, watching how he climbed back down. The hallowed ground was once again just a dull throbbing to his feet.
Crowley eyed the altar with a wry curl of his lip. "Guess they have to rechristen the church." he quipped casually and sauntered back to Aziraphale's side.
Probably a weird place to stop, but I needed to break it up somewhere. At least it's not another cliffhanger, haha. More coming soon...
Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Please keep doing so! :)