Hey guys, I know this is a little early, but I'm busy during my regular posting time for this chapter, so I thought I'd give it to you early instead of late, especially given where we are in the story. Normal posting should resume for the next chapter.

I know the end of the last chapter hurt, but we've got some growing pains (haha) to go through before coming out the other side. Hope you enjoy this chapter, as always, let me know your thoughts, much love xox

XOXOXOXOXOX

The first thing Crowley did upon reaching his flat was have a proper meltdown.

Actually, no, the first thing that he did was go directly to a specific cupboard in his kitchen, pull out an almost full bottle of whiskey, and pour himself three fingers worth into whatever glass he picked up first. Knocking back the whole glass in one go, he ignored how it clinked against his elongated teeth, and poured out another. That was when he proceeded to slide his back down the kitchen cabinets, glass in hand, until he was on the hard floor, tailbone be damned, and allowed himself to spiral.

That night he drank himself to the point of passing out, something he hadn't done in a long, long time. When he eventually woke up, the world was too bright, and everything still hurt, and it felt like he had the most epic hangover, which he did, but it wasn't just that. Though he wished it was, he would take double a hangover that rough to erase what had happened yesterday.

Yesterday.

Fuck.

He didn't want to think about that, couldn't, he wasn't ready to deal with any of it. Unfortunately, his problems followed him around the house like a poltergeist, showing him his new ears and teeth in every reflective surface, plus he kept scratching himself with his nails, growing frustrated when he almost smashed a mug due to the awkward way he'd had to pick it up.

The pity party lasted four days, most of which he spent in bed, drunk or sleeping. When he was awake, Crowley alternated between emotions, anger was certainly his go to, but then he would suddenly dissolve into tears, sobbing as he clutched his pillow until he either fell asleep, or cycled back around to ranting at the ceiling.

Missed calls and text messages stacked up on his phone when he finally charged it and turned it back on, most of them were from work asking after his health and when he thought he might be back. Thankfully he'd had the forethought to call in sick for the entire week the moment he'd gained reception, telling them he had something awful and contagious. A quick reply to his boss gained him another week off, everything else he ignored.

With his head in the toilet on the fifth morning, Crowley knew that he couldn't keep going like that. The only way that he was going to get through it all was by sobering up, and working through his thoughts and feelings with a clear head, no matter how difficult they were to face.

Brushing his teeth, and then showering were his first two tasks once he managed to pick himself up off of the tiled floor. A heavy sighed left his mouth as he looked into the giant mirror above the bathroom basin he was leaning on, toothbrush paused halfway to his mouth. The bottom two canines were peeking out between his lips, even with his mouth closed, while the top two were giving him vampire vibes. They'd grown again.

It turned out that his first task was to attempt to make peace with his new dental features, the ears he'd work on later, one thing at a time. He stared at his teeth, reflection staring back, for long minutes he did just that, trying to get used to seeing this new version of himself. Impulsively, Crowley stuck his tongue out, and for some reason that made him feel just that teeny bit better, so he made another face, and then another, each more ridiculous, until the last one he settled on was a small smile.

Exhaling slowly, he felt that tiny bit more able to handle whatever the hell was happening to him, and then he went about completing the utterly normal task of brushing his teeth.

Showering was next, one step at a time. Gripping the hem of his shirt, Crowley hesitated though, what other things had changed over his body? The past few days he hadn't kept track of any changes on purpose, he hadn't even looked at himself properly in that time. In all honesty a large part of him had hoped that if he just waited long enough all of his new features would return to normal when the pain faded. That had not been the case though, while his bodily ails had all calmed to simmering dull aches, it seemed that he was continuing to grow into his new ears and teeth, even his nails, toenails included, were getting sharper.

A deep breath, and a minor pep talk later, Crowley stripped off his clothes so that he was standing entirely nude in his bathroom in front of the mirror.

"Alright, here goes…" he murmured to himself, and then begun to take stock.

His hair seemed normal, it was lengthier than he usually kept it, but that was on purpose since he was growing it out for…moving on. Beside his longer, pointier ears and teeth, the rest of his head seemed to be unchanged. Oh, wait, no, the two lumps in the hairline of his forehead were definitely still there, but otherwise. Neck? Normal. Chest and stomach? Both seemed to be normal apart from the fact that he had about twice the amount of chest hair as before, it was thicker too, less like hair, and more like…fur. Okay. Fine. That was fine.

The snake tattoo on his ribs also remained intact, he noted, thankful. Down further, the same hair changes had happened to his happy trail too, which led him to…phew, yep, all good there.

"Thank fuck," if he were religious he might've thanked God, not that She'd done anything.

The rest of the front of his body, aside from his nails, appeared to be normal, until he touched his elbow, where he also found a little tuft of fur growing, and on the other one too. It took a moment for Crowley to process all of that, and when he thought that he was ready to continue he pivoted on the spot. After another deep breath Crowley craned his head around to assess the back of him in the mirror.

Immediately drawing his attention was the line of short, soft looking reddish brown fur that ran down his spine, all the way to his…

"Holy shit!" he shrieked, panic rising in his chest again.

Hand shaking, he reached behind himself to touch his coccyx. His eyes had not deceived him, and he watched in the mirror, mouth agape, as his fingers ran over the few inches of extended tailbone.

A tail. He was growing a fucking tail!

Sharp nails and extra hair were easy enough to deal with, he was even trying to be okay with pointed ears and fangs, but a tail?

"Fuck, okay. It's okay. It's fine," he told himself between large gulps of air.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

When he could think rational thoughts again, hands no longer shaking, Crowley realised that the fact that he was growing a tail, along with everything else that was happening to him, pretty much confirmed the original theory his brain had connected the dots to.

Crowley was slowly, but surely, turning into a troll.

But how? Why?

His only guess for the how was the forest. Either that or someone had cursed him. Both options possessed some element of magic to them, which Crowley wasn't sure that he believed in, but what else was there? He hadn't believed in trolls either til he'd met…

And that brought him to the why, which was a far touchier train of thought.

Crowley sat on the floor of the shower, careful of his little tail, letting the hot water run over him for an entire hour while his head and his heart had a heated debate.

See, his head argued that the answer was obvious; Aziraphale, who had been by himself in the forest for god knew how long, was lonely, desperate for company, permanent company. He was sort of clingy, he never wanted Crowley to leave, and even asked Crowley to move in with him. Clearly he had done something, poisoned him, put something in his food, or the water. It'd all been lies, and he'd been so stupid to fall for all of it.

Meanwhile his heart wasn't willing to believe a lick of it. Aziraphale genuinely cared about him, quite possibly loved him, he would never do anything so devious, and it may be true that he was lonely, but so was Crowley. It wasn't like Crowley was coerced into anything either, he was the one that kept going back, even after the aches and pains started, he'd been determined to be with Aziraphale no matter what. Maybe this was just the universe giving him the freedom to be truly happy, giving him somewhere to belong.

He was no closer to a definitive answer when he reached for the shower knob and turned the water off than he was another five days later. Those five days also confirmed that being away from Eden Forest was not slowing, stopping, or reversing his transformation either. All of his new features had continued to grow bigger, longer, pointier, and he caught himself spending a lot of time looking at his image in reflective surfaces, slowly learning to accept the changes that he couldn't do anything about.

The morning that he'd woken up with two little pitch black points poking out of his forehead, Crowley had almost freaked out all over again, almost. And maybe he would have lost it again over the fact that he seemed to be growing horns - on top of everything else - if it wasn't for the rapidly growing tail that he was already sporting.

It was already longer than a housecat's and looked like an identical smaller version of Aziraphale's except with dark reddish brown fur instead of pale creamy white. He was learning how to move it now too, and a small, teeny tiny, voice lurking in the dark corners of his brain said that he kind of liked the tail…and the ears too. They were both features that he liked on Aziraphale also, well, Crowley liked all of Aziraphale's features if he were honest.

That was a revolutionary thought. If he could find Aziraphale appealing, attractive, gorgeous with all of the same attributes that Crowley was growing into, bar the horns, why couldn't he like them on himself?

He could, he would, he did. Now that he was past the initial freak out stage, Crowley could appreciate his new look. There was one problem with that however, while he might be learning to be okay with becoming a troll, the rest of the world wasn't going to accept him. All of the same fears he'd had about bringing Aziraphale out into the human world suddenly started to apply to him as well. Shit.

The rest of the day he spent running circles in his mind, trying to come up with ideas and plans that would work. He considered things like moving to a remote part of the country, becoming a hermit, and claiming he'd suddenly become agoraphobic, but they all felt incredibly lonely. Especially when his heart reminded him that there was someone that he could be with, someone who would accept him as a troll, would share their home with him, and love him.

Not a single option that Crowley could come up with trumped safety, acceptance and love. But, and it was a big but, what if none of that was real? His head and heart still couldn't agree, and after almost two weeks stuck in his house, living on takeaway, stewing on all of the things going on in his head, and learning rapid self acceptance, Crowley decided that the only way that he was going to bring himself any peace was to go back to Eden Forest.

Finding Aziraphale and getting answers would help him to figure out what to do next, which he really needed to do soon, before his horns and tail finished growing in and he couldn't hide them under a beanie or in loose track pants any longer. He already missed his skinny jeans.

XXX

Unexpectedly, and confusingly, returning to Eden Forest felt like coming home, the sounds of the birds singing, the river rushing, and the rustle of leaves in the breeze felt familiar and comforting. Crowley was anxious to see Aziraphale again though, both nervously and excitedly. It had been two weeks since they'd seen each other, the longest they'd spent apart since meeting several months ago, and Crowley had walked out, leaving him to fall apart all alone.

How would Aziraphale react to seeing him? Angry, betrayed, upset, overjoyed, inconsolable, spiteful, wounded? Multiple, all, none? Would he even want to speak to Crowley? Would Crowley even be able to find him?

There was only one way to find out, he would try all of Aziraphale's usual haunts that he could remember how to get to, and then go to the cabin - if he'd managed to find his way out alone, then he could find his way there again. He honestly didn't expect Aziraphale to be waiting for him on the cliff cut out, especially after two weeks, why would he be, for all he knew Crowley wasn't coming back, but alas.

As he approached their regular meeting place, Crowley heard snuffling, like someone rubbing a runny nose, and he thought for certain that it must be something, someone else, surely it couldn't be the troll he was looking for. His luck just wasn't that good. A light breeze played with the end of Crowley's hair, sticking out from under his beanie, and suddenly his nose was filled with various scents, some sweet, some earthy, but the strongest one was exceedingly familiar, making his heart thump in his chest.

That was new. Add better senses to the list of new features. Apparently he wasn't imagining the better night vision. Probably should've realised that already.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Crowley rounded the corner. The bastard still looked like an angel, even with his curls askew, and cheeks blotchy, tail drooping in the dirt next to a small, fresh bouquet of wildflowers. The troll was pushing a pebble around on the ground with his nail, sniffling like he had been crying, and was trying to keep from doing it again.

Crowley felt like he'd been punched in the gut, his first instinct was to go to Aziraphale, hold him, kiss him, tell him he was sorry, that everything was okay. But he couldn't, he had to stay strong, had to get answers, he needed to be able to make informed decisions that would impact the rest of his life.

Aziraphale must of heard his boots - which he'd struggled to put on due to his long toenails - thud on the ground as he stepped up to the rocky platform. His head whipped up, and Crowley witnessed a whole range of emotions cross his face.

"C-Crowley?" he croaked, body straightening from it's slumped posture.

"Hi."

"You came back!"

Aziraphale scrambled off of the flat slab of rock, picking up the bouquet in the coils of his tail, but Crowley took a step back when he took one forward, actively dimming the light in Aziraphale's eyes.

"Yeah, I had to," Crowley said, voice as impersonal as he could make it, "I need answers, and you're the only one who can give them to me."

"Oh."

It might've been the saddest sound that Crowley had ever heard, which really tested his resolve to stay distant and neutral until he knew more.

Aziraphale timidly reached out with his tail, offering the bouquet to Crowley, "I-I picked these for you."

"Um, thanks," he uttered quietly, awkwardly taking the flowers, and holding them by the stems at his side, trying desperately to steel himself for what he had to say next. "Right, so, down to business then..." he took a breath, eyes flicking back and forth about the place before settling on the troll in front of him, "as you can see I, er, have been going through some changes-"

"You're still just as handsome, you haven't changed that much, you still look like my-you still look like Crowley," Aziraphale hurried to point out.

The interruption annoyed him, no matter how good the intension.

"I'm growing a tail, Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted, then shut his mouth and held up his hand, noticing Aziraphale flinch, and then his eyes dart downward, "Not the point, " he said at a lower volume, "I mean it sort of is the point, but I'm learning to accept it, anyway, look, what I was saying was that evidence clearly shows that I'm gradually turning into a troll, and that part I get. What I don't understand is how, and why," he explained, starting to become fidgety, free hand waving about as he spoke, "I mean, I assume it has something to do with the forest, and probably you, but I can't pinpoint what exactly. Now I have to figure out what the bloody hell I'm going to do, because apparently staying away hasn't helped, and it's not like there's a cure lying around in a secret cave somewhere. So now my best option is to..." cutting himself off, Crowley sighed instead, and got down to it, "just tell me what you know, Aziraphale...did you do this to me?"

"No!" Aziraphale cried in anguish, shaking his head, bottom lip wobbling, "What? How could you even think that? I-I love you, Crowley, I thought you knew that, I would never hurt you, you have to believe me."

Aziraphale loved him. He'd finally said it, and Crowley couldn't even allow himself to have a moment about it, plus he thought Crowley already knew? Did he not think there was a need to say it? Had he intuited Crowley's issues, and waited for him to say it first? Not the time, that was a later thing to dwell on.

"I believe that you wouldn't hurt me, but would you try to make me like you, to keep me here with you?" he had to ask, his brain wouldn't be satisfied until he knew for sure.

"I may not be human, but I am not a monster," tears fell from blue eyes, running down his ruddy cheeks, "I'm sorry that this is happening to you, Crowley, it must be extremely confusing and daunting, but I swear to you that I had nothing to do with this, I was just as surprised as you were."

"Promise me you're telling the truth, Aziraphale, 'cause if I find out that you're lying to me..." it would shatter his heart, and utterly break him.

"I promise you, Crowley, I don't know what else to say, how I can prove it to you, but you know me, please trust me," watery, big, blue eyes pleaded with the same desperation as his words.

If Crowley's brain and heart were sentient beings, they would have looked at each other in that moment, the heart waiting on tender hooks for the brain to decide whether or not it was willing to take Aziraphale at his word. After a silent and arduous deliberation, the brain would have then nodded, and the heart would have cheered in victory. The debate was over, and love had won.

"Okay," Crowley nodded slowly, "I believe you. Do you have any ideas about what the hell is happening to me though?"

"Could-could I hug you?" he sniffled, ignoring the question, "Please?"

"Um, yeah, okay…" Crowley allowed.

Aziraphale didn't rush to him, instead he approached slowly, as if he were afraid of scaring Crowley off, which in all honesty was probably a good call on Aziraphale's part. Circling his arms around Crowley's middle, Aziraphale rested his head just below Crowley's chin, on his chest, and let out a shaky breath. Warmth and relief exuded from the being in his arms, it felt extraordinarily good to hold him again, but while he believed that Aziraphale hadn't caused his transformation, at least not intentionally, Crowley still needed time to figure everything out. Above all, he still needed answers, and he couldn't give himself completely over to the urges of his heart yet, but he gave Aziraphale the moment that he – both of them - needed first.

"Thank you for the flowers," he murmured, more sincerely that time, "they're beautiful."

"You're welcome," was whispered against his chest.

"I, uh, was surprised to find you here," Crowley commented, releasing his hold on Aziraphale, and working back up to more pertinent questions.

"I've been here every day, dear," Aziraphale informed him, taking a step back, and cleaning up his face with the sides of his fingers, "slept here the first couple of nights too."

"Oh," he hadn't expected that.

"I wanted to be where you could easily find me if you came back."

"I see…" suddenly Crowley felt like a right prick, felt it in his gut and chest, but he'd had good reasons, "I'm glad you were here," he ended up saying. He needed more information before making a proper apology, "I really need some answers, do you know anything, any ideas, a hunch even?"

"Right, yes, sorry, I was getting to that," Aziraphale cleared his throat, "um, I did a lot of thinking while you were…gone, and I realised that something about this seemed familiar, but I couldn't figure out what. Well not to begin with anyway…"

"Okay, and…?"

"I wracked my mind trying to ascertain why it had rang a bell, and then two days ago it hit me…it was in a book that I read a long, long time ago!"

Crowley made a face, "The exact thing that is happening to me, happened to some poor sod in a novel you read?"

"Yes!" he faltered slightly, "Well, at least I think so, it has been a very long time since I've read it, I couldn't quite remember the details. But I'm sure that the situation was the same."

"Right…" that felt like a wild goose chase.

Despite Crowley's obvious scepticism, Aziraphale kept yammering on about his discovery, "I've been going through all of the shelves, my entire book collection, since I had this epiphany, and I think I might finally have found it right before I left this morning. I haven't opened it yet, but I remember the intricately patterned gold spine."

"And you think that this fictional story is going to hold answers for me?" his head hurt, and it wasn't just growing pains from the horns peeping out of his forehead.

Aziraphale wrung his hands together, "Well, surely it couldn't hurt any to check it out, because I'm afraid that I don't have any better ideas, and it seems that you don't either, dear."

Damn, Aziraphale had him there. He sighed deeply, and wondered how that had become his life, and a little voice in his head answered back that he'd wanted to have an adventure. Well, he was certainly having one, that much was for fucking sure.

"Alright, fine. I'll take a look at the bloody book," Crowley reluctantly agreed, "where is it?"

"My home."

"You didn't bring it with you to read?"

"No, I haven't much felt like reading lately," Aziraphale admitted quietly, gaze on his clawed toes.

Crowley tried to keep the frustration out of his voice as he sighed, "Okay, let's go, I want to be out of here before dark."

Aziraphale made a face like a kicked puppy, but nodded, "Thank you for trusting me."

"I didn't want to believe the worst, but I couldn't know for sure without asking, sorry," it was a poor apology, but there would be time for a better one later.

"I understand," Aziraphale told him a little glumly.

They walked in glaring silence for a little while, though Crowley kept noticing Aziraphale glancing at him as if he were about to speak, and then put his head down again.

After the fifth time, Crowley rolled his eyes, and said, "Just say whatever it is you want to say."

"Would it be acceptable to hold your hand?" Aziraphale blurted out, watching him out of corner of his eye.

That wasn't what Crowley had expected, "Uh, sure," he agreed, offering his hand to Aziraphale, who intertwined their fingers with a ghost of a smile.

He hated how uncertain they were with each other now, and he suddenly had the horrible thought that maybe their relationship was irreparable. What if the damage was too deep, and they could never get back to where they had been before he'd grown fangs in his sleep. Crowley hoped that they could, he had been so happy, and he wanted that back. That would have to wait though, he had to sort out his future first, one problem at a time.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale piped up again a couple of minutes later.

"Yeah?"

"Could I see your tail?" he asked, glancing to Crowley's backside.

Crowley made a small huff that could've been a laugh, "Maybe later."

Perhaps they would be okay after all. If they could survive this mess, then they could survive anything together.