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On we go, I hope you enjoy...
Chapter 4:
Aziraphale landed in his bookshop in Soho only moments later. Crowley still hugged to his chest. The shop was closed so he didn't need to worry about any disturbances, but Aziraphale still wondered where to put his friend.
A bath would be soothing he assumed. To wash all that blood and dirt away and to reveal which wounds still needed healing. So far the angel hadn't had use for a bathroom, but now he wished one into existence in the upper rooms.
Crowley still hadn't regained consciousness, but his soul was still there. Aziraphale could feel it; there was a little life in him yet.
The water in the bathtub, which had materialised in the middle of the newly created room, already had the perfect temperature. The angel stood over it with the sleeping demon in his arms. He neither wanted to wake him nor set him down anywhere but the soothing water to remove his clothes.
It would be best, he decided eventually, to let the robe fully soak first so it wouldn't hurt as much to pull it off the bleeding wounds. That way it would also save Aziraphale the embarrassment of having to undress the demon for a few more moments. Although, exhausted as he was, the angel doubted that Crowley was able to uphold any kind of effort concerning gender differentiation.
Taking a small breath of resolve, Aziraphale slowly lowered Crowley into the bathtub. He was almost fully submerged when the eyes of the demon suddenly shot open in panic and he windmilled his arms about, clawing at everything within reach. The sudden movement obviously took away from the effect of Aziraphale's pain numbing miracle, because he was howling again.
"Crowley, it's alright! It's me!" Aziraphale hurriedly tried to break through the haze of semi-consciousness, holding on to the demon so he wouldn't hurt himself even more. "You're okay. It's just warm water. I thought it might be soothing and you were so poorly before that I didn't want to wake you." he explained.
Crowley tightly clenched one fist around Aziraphale's jacket, still tensing every muscle and refusing to be moved. "H-Holy… water?" he grunted, searching the eyes of the angel fearfully.
"What?" he questioned softly. "Oh, no, of course not, dear. Just regular water. I would never hurt you, I promise." Tears gathered in Aziraphale's eyes. What Crowley must've been through to be afraid that even he would harm him. Like all he knew was pain for the past…
Oh, God, it has been 33 Earth years! How much longer must that feel in Hell?
The serpent continued to stare at him. Then, gradually, his fingers unclenched and he let out a long breath as he allowed the water to embrace him with warmth. Lying there in the tub, he could even relax enough to close his eyes again.
Aziraphale rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and sat down on a stool next to the bathtub. One arm still supporting Crowley's head, watching how the nice, fresh water turned quickly to a milky dark-grey. He sheepishly cleared his throat and the demon's eyes opened halfway, looking at him questioningly. "Err… I'm… I-I'm going to remove your robe now." he stated, cheeks turning pink.
Crowley made a sound in the back of his throat that could have been either a snicker or a grunt of protest. But since he closed his eyes again, Aziraphale decided to proceed quickly. The demon only winced slightly when the garment was pulled over his head and cast aside. Then Aziraphale held onto him again and miraculously turned the water back to sparkling clean.
All thoughts of embarrassment immediately left his mind as the angel saw the full state of Crowley's tortured body for the first time.
His chest and stomach were littered with cuts, bruises, dried blood and new pinker skin. Wounds in various states of healing and caused most likely by stabbing weapons. Everywhere his serpentine features were visible the area around it was reddened and maybe a bit swollen, too. The scales seemed fresh, practically brand-new. There were also rings of blistered skin around his ankles and wrists; proof that he was held against his will all this time.
But the worst of all still remained the large gaping cut across his chest. Blood still seeped out and swirled with the water, darkening it slowly all over again. It was probably the freshest wound, assumed Aziraphale. The reason for Crowley's weakened state. Although, he first felt his friend's demonic energy on Earth about a week ago, so why hasn't the wound stopped bleeding yet?
Shocked to silence by the sight, Aziraphale mechanically took a wash cloth and carefully started to clean Crowley's skin. He would feel better after all the dirt and dried blood was gone, the angel figured. Crowley was very lax and unresponsive during all of this. It seemed as if he was sleeping again. Only the splashing sound of water dripping from the cloth disturbed the otherwise almost peaceful silence. This task of quietly cleaning the other's skin would've been quite relaxing, intimate even, if it wasn't for the cruel cause behind it all.
Aziraphale had to change the water yet two more times and eventually realized that the chest wound was not as new as it first appeared. The edges were caked in layers and layers of old blood, but it didn't seem to have closed even the littlest bit during all this time.
"Crowley," the angel spoke softly, startling the demon awake. He felt bad immediately as the yellow eyes blinked tiredly at him. "I'm sorry, but… what happened to your chest? Why isn't the wound healing?"
"De…" Crowley swallowed to wet his throat. "Demon blade."
The angel furrowed his brows. "What?"
"It's… magical." Crowley explained. "Special design. It-" Here the demon winced as if he was reliving the pain. "It can d-destroy me… completely. N-Nearly did. It'll n-never heal."
Aziraphale was stunned. "Well, let's see about that." he decided fiercely, refusing to accept that Crowley was doomed to live with this permanent damage. Carefully, he pulled his arm from under him to rub his hands together.
The serpent shook his head slightly, closing his eyes to hide the fact that they were brimming with tears. "You can't." he whispered.
"I'm an angel." Aziraphale stated severely. "A demon's miraculous energy is, at its core, aimed at inflicting pain. An angel's power heals. It's what we do. This…" Aziraphale paused, looking at the eternal being that was supposed to be his enemy. The only other creature that was able to understand what it was like to be… them. A supernatural entity on Earth for roughly six thousand years. "This has just never been done before."
There was a look in both their eyes. A softness. Something yet unspeakable that was based on wholehearted trust. No matter how unlikely it would seem to their respective head offices.
The angel's mind was set. He flexed his fingers and loosened his shoulders. "Something like this surely will take some effort." he mumbled more to himself than to Crowley. "It will be noticed upstairs. I'll have to be careful how much more healing I do at a time. I imagine I'm already at today's limit."
Crowley shook his head more vigorously, moaning from the dizziness it obviously caused him. "No." he pleaded. "You'll get into trouble. I… I can't have that. Not 'cause of me. I-I did this… to m-myself."
"Nonsense, Crowley. This isn't your fault." Aziraphale objected passionately.
"It is. I did this!" the demon insisted, voice clogging up with tears.
"It was done to you, my dear. You're not to blame. You didn't deserve this."
"I don' deserve you healing me. I'm not worth-"
"Oh, Crowley, stop it." Aziraphale interrupted, reaching for the demon's hand that was clenched around the rim of the bathtub. "Not another word. You did a good thing all those years ago. And I know why you did it." He stared at him unwavering, holding on and squeezing the slender hand of the serpent. Crowley's lips wobbled, but he kept his silence. "What happened to Wee Morag was my fault, but you saved Elspeth… so she wouldn't weigh on my conscience as well." he murmured sadly. "One could argue that actually you're the angel and I'm the demon."
"No—" Crowley protested and was cut off once more.
"Now let me repay you." said the angel softly.
"I-I don' want 'em… to hurt you, t-too." Crowley whispered slowly, measuring his breathing so he wouldn't break into fearful sobs.
"They won't. I'll be alright." Aziraphale assured him and without further ado, he stretched out both hands and rested them over Crowley's upper body. They started to glow in a brilliant white light.
But nothing happened.
Aziraphale furrowed his brows in concentration; this was harder than he thought. It was as if the wound kept resisting. He felt the countering power of destruction, prickling in his fingertips. The angel closed his eyes, focusing more energy on the hellish cut. Suddenly, Crowley gasped and arched his back. Aziraphale opened his eyes to check on him, almost losing all composure to worry.
But then he saw how the ragged-edged gash began to close like a zip. Slowly, new skin was forming, blocking the blood's way to merge with the water until only a pink strip of fresh skin remained.
Crowley eased back into the tub, breathing deeply for what seemed like the first time in years. He already looked healthier and at the same time more exhausted than ever. Like a massive weight has been lifted off of him.
Frowning in concern, Aziraphale touched Crowley's brow with his knuckles, starting to caress but then hesitantly pulling back. "Are you alright, my dear?"
The demon turned his head towards him, eyes blinking heavily. "Better." he said. "Much better. I… I think I'll be fine on my own now." Crowley shifted to sit up in the water, but Aziraphale held him down by gently pressing on his shoulder. It was enough to render the demon's efforts useless.
"Don't be ridiculous. You're still weak." said the angel. "You are going to stay here until you're completely healed." Crowley opened his mouth but Aziraphale interjected. "I insist." he said.
The protest was silenced, but the demon wasn't raising his gaze to meet the angel's anymore. As if he was… ashamed? Aziraphale frowned, unable to understand why Crowley seemed to blame himself. "If you want you could sit up, though." relented Aziraphale. "So I can clean your back."
Almost unnoticeably Crowley tensed up again. His breathing changed, but he forced himself to stay calm. The angel raised his brows in alert. "Come on." he urged then, looping his arm around Crowley's shoulders to support him.
Again, he resisted. "It's fine." he mumbled. "Can do it by myself."
"Crowley," the angel grumbled. "I think we've established that I'm not going to let you suffer any more than you already have. Sit up. Whatever it is that you're hiding, I can take it."
The demon huffed humourlessly, but then he finally gave up, letting himself be pulled into a sitting position and immediately proceeding to hide his face between his pulled up knees, arms slung around himself protectively.
Aziraphale couldn't prevent the horrified gasp that escaped him. Apart from the demonic chest wound, his back looked much worse than his front.
Long, thin cuts criss-crossed all over it. His skin had clearly been sliced open repeatedly and methodically over a long period of time. Some cuts were white stripes, almost fully healed. Others were fresher, with skin hanging off of it, the flesh underneath simply ripped away with brutal force.
The sight brought tears to Aziraphale's eyes.
Slowly, he lifted his hand with the wash cloth, tenderly dabbing at one of the uncountable red streaks, making the serpent wince slightly. "Oh, Crowley," he whispered, utterly heartbroken for his friend. "What have those devils done to you?"
"You don't wanna know." Crowley mumbled without raising his head, hugging himself tighter.
"I do. That's why I'm asking." said the angel, but he didn't get another response. "Did they strike you with a whip?" Carefully, he ran the wash cloth around the edges of the cuts, wiping away the blood, wringing it out and repeating this process again. "How often did they do this?" He cleaned another patch of skin, realizing that all of this horrible pain was caused by one simple good deed. Crowley was punished for doing good; it hurt Aziraphale to think about this. "Did you get time to recover?"
Every question was met with stubborn silence.
"Please," murmured Aziraphale softly. "I'm trying to help. Talk to me."
"How would you help?" growled Crowley, lifting his head only so far off his knees that his yellow eyes could peak over his crossed arms. "They've already done this. It's over. There's nothing you can do."
Aziraphale swallowed, voice shaking uncertainly. "I could listen."
The demon scowled, completely unmoving, eyes transfixed on something invisible straight ahead. Maybe he was looking into the past, contemplated Aziraphale, reflecting on what was done to him and burying it so deep inside of him that neither, he, nor Aziraphale, could ever reach it again.
The angel sighed, giving up on bringing those hurtful memories to the surface for now. "Lean your head back." he asked instead and Crowley did so without hesitance. Aziraphale took a small bowl, filled it with water and poured it over the demon's head. Water ran along the streaky curls of his hair, taking dirt and sticky blood with it. Aziraphale's fingers gently massaged the serpent's head, washing it thoroughly and rinsing it out with more water from the bowl until that beautiful shade of red reappeared.
"There you go. Good as new." Aziraphale smiled, combing his fingers through the flaming demon hair once more until he could reach the tips, that were just passing over his shoulders, without encountering any knots. Crowley savoured the gentleness like a starved man would savour food, leaning his head just so that the angel's fingertips were always making contact.
Now, Aziraphale was technically done with the cleaning. The next step would be the healing. However, he decided to change the water once more and let Crowley relax a little while longer. There seemed to be no more severe, magically-enhanced wounds where the chance of discorporation would be high so he should be fine for now.
Crowley seemed so at ease in the bathtub, like he probably hadn't been for a terribly long time. He deserved some rest.
But no sooner Aziraphale had refreshed the water, there were suddenly some inner warning bells ringing in his mind. A fanfare sounded far away and that could only mean one thing.
"Oh, no." he gasped, cheeks rapidly loosing all colour.
Crowley's eyes popped open, gleaming at him in alarm. "What?"
"The Archangels." whispered Aziraphale. "They're coming to Earth."
Flustered, Aziraphale shrugged into his coat and buttoned it with shaking fingers. In the hallway in front of the newly existing bathroom he breathed through, reminding himself to appear calm. Then with some broad strokes of his hand in the air, he erased the doorway, hiding the room completely from Earth-inexperienced celestial eyes.
Satisfied, he went downstairs to greet his guests, forcing a smile and a nonchalant, happy tune on his lips.
He'd told Crowley not to worry. He just needed to stay very quiet and think good thoughts to balance out the evilness that always clung to demons. Especially if they just spent several years in Hell.
A nervous wrinkle formed on Aziraphale's forehead and then immediately smoothed when the Archangel Gabriel entered the bookshop with flourish. Sandalphon was one step behind him, looking sinister as ever.
"Aziraphale." Gabriel pointed at him and grinned. "Just the angel I was looking for."
"Oh, h-hello, Gabriel." answered the Principality in a friendly, absolutely unsuspicious way. "What brings you here? I-I just closed shop for today I'm afraid. Not selling books at the moment."
Gabriel looked confused and glanced at Sandalphon, who indicated the books in the shelves. "Oh, right. Yeah. Of course not." He made a face. "Why would I be interested in human literature? No, I'm here…" his voice gained the slightly darker quality of someone extremely suspicious, "because something down here triggered all the alarm bells in Heaven. You should've heard, made quite the ruckus. I got to ask someone to turn that down a notch…" He was distracted for a moment and then returned suddenly to the conversation. "So, have you seen something, done something?"
Aziraphale shrugged with a wry smile. "Oh, I don't think I have. All… erm, all very normal down here."
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Hm." he made. "It's just that according to our records you did some pretty grand miracles lately. I mean, let's be honest, you were always a bit overzealous but today reached a new high. So much so that they all urged me to traipse down here to check and, well, I've got better things to do, so…"
"Of course. Yes." the angel nodded quickly. "Don't want to be a bother at all. See, now that you mention it, there have been a few demons on the loose, causing chaos and I… I had to fend them off, using all resources that were available to me. Dreadfully sorry that I caused such a scene, but at least I have been successful."
"Demons you say?" asked Gabriel.
"Y-Yes. Quite a few." lied Aziraphale. "But it's all good now. I sent them back where they belong."
"Good man." said the Archangel. "Sandalphon, remind me what else I've been wanting to ask?"
"The healing." they said pointedly.
"Oh, yes, right." Gabriel's face hardened drastically. "Did you heal the demons, too, after your altercation?"
"W-What? Why? What m-makes you say that?" stuttered Aziraphale, heart lurching in his chest.
"Well, we know that the one miracle we're particularly interested in was used for healing. Something that needed energy levels of the highest order. You know we don't give those out lightly."
Aziraphale fumbled for a second, nervously playing with the ring on his finger before he finally came up with an explanation. "Oh, there were humans involved, I'm afraid. They didn't see anything and if they did I made them forget, but you know how fragile they are. They needed some tending to, the poor dears. I just sent them out and closed up, you must've just missed them."
"Lucky for us." remarked Sandalphon. "Or... lucky for you?"
"Come on, Sandalphon," said Gabriel with a cheerful smile. "Aziraphale is a righteous little angel. He wouldn't lie to us, am I right?"
"Of course not." Aziraphale assured, maybe a bit too boastfully.
"See." The Supreme Archangel grinned satisfied, which made Sandalphon curl their lips in obvious doubt. "I'm sure he also has a perfectly good explanation for the smell."
For a second Aziraphale paused, blinking in mild offence. "Excuse me?" he questioned.
"Yeah, sorry. I meant to bring it up right away, but it's everywhere." Gabriel said. "Smell of evil. Like really prominent. Must've been some foul demons in here."
"But, of course, that shouldn't be possible." Sandalphon remarked again. "Demons can't enter a heavenly embassy uninvited."
"Yeah, that's an issue, I'm afraid." confirmed Gabriel and turned back to Aziraphale, patiently awaiting an explanation.
The angel opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, but his mind remained blank. Allowing demons into his bookshop wasn't a wise course of action no matter how well he'd explain it. Heaven didn't know that Crowley got an invitation right on his big opening day in 1800. The two of them have had a lovely day.
As Aziraphale fumbled for words, Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Sandalphon, search this establishment. Maybe there is someone hiding. Without your knowledge, of course," he told Aziraphale as the fussy angel jerked into motion, intending to follow Sandalphon, who immediately began sniffing around. Gabriel stopped the Principality with a hand on his shoulder. "Because otherwise that would be treason… are you aware of that?"
Aziraphale stepped back from Gabriel's unwanted touch, straightened his coat and raised his chin in brave defiance. "Of course." he said and there wasn't a nervous stutter in his voice anymore. "I've got nothing to hide."
He walked past Gabriel and monitored closely how Sandalphon checked every nook of his bookshop. He was still nervous on the inside but he did his very best not to show it. If he stayed close maybe the evil smell wouldn't seem so strong to the suspicious angel.
"It comes from upstairs." Sandalphon announced eventually and began to ascent the spiral staircase. Gabriel followed curiously, hands folded on his back. Last was Aziraphale, who swallowed so his heart wouldn't jump out of his chest.
The three angels now stood in the upstairs hallway, right in front of where the door to the bathroom would've been, hadn't Aziraphale miracled it away.
Crowley was just on the other side of that wall.
Sandalphon took a deep breath and furrowed their brows. "There is definitely something. The sulphur makes my eyes water. Can't you smell it?"
Gabriel sniffed, too, and pulled a disgusted face. Aziraphale, however, stood his ground. "I don't smell anything." he claimed big blue-eyed and certain.
Sandalphon moved slowly along the hallway, then turned around and retraced their steps again. They seemed confused. Aziraphale held his breath.
"It's here… but isn't. Something's not right."
"Maybe," the Principality found the courage to speak. "The smell wafted in from the streets. That's where I encountered the demons and I've got a window open, you see. Or is it still clinging to me? Haven't had a chance to clean up yet."
Gabriel eyed him more closely, indeed, noticing the streaks of black blood on his sleeves that could very well also have come from combat and not from carrying a tortured, bleeding demon from Edinburgh to London. He looked impressed.
"Aziraphale, I didn't think you had it in you." he marvelled. "Look at that, Sandalphon. Seems like our big softie really did vanquish some demons of his own." The other angel didn't look completely convinced, but Gabriel ignored it and continued, "We should leave him to it. He's obviously got everything under control down here."
Aziraphale dared to breathe a sigh of relief. "Yes. Like I said, everything perfectly normal." he smiled and showed the Archangel and his right-hand-man downstairs. Just before they reached the shop door, however, Gabriel turned around.
"Oh, almost forgot. We're still limiting your miracle use to one per day." he mentioned casually.
Aziraphale's face fell dramatically. "What? W-Why?"
"You're literally tipping the scales, Aziraphale. If you do too much good, the opposition will eventually strike back. Big time. Maybe they have already done so today, but that's still no excuse to perform a high order miracle just to heal a bunch of humans. They're collateral damage, Aziraphale." he lectured.
The Principality eyed the ground. "I understand." he responded meekly. "So, ehm… this miracle limitation starts… tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.
"Effective immediately." corrected Gabriel and Aziraphale paled. The Supreme Archangel didn't take note of it and nodded at Sandalphon to leave. "Keep up the good work!" he yelled over his shoulder. "But, you know, don't overdo it."
The two angels vanished and left Aziraphale behind in a worried state of utter distress. With one hand over his chest to calm his fast-beating heart, he sank into one of his plush armchairs because his knees suddenly felt extraordinarily weak.
He's got one alarmingly weakened demon upstairs and he couldn't get to him until tomorrow because there was no longer a door.
Oh, dear, thought Aziraphale. I hope Crowley will be alright.
Back to Crowley's POV in the next chapter. Also, who of you spotted the pretty obvious OFMD reference in the first few paragraphs? I just couldn't resist, haha ;)
Let me know what you think and leave a review...