Disclaimer: New disclaimer to go with the new season! Obviously, I don't own Good Omens or its characters, locations, etc., or else I wouldn't have let Neil Gaiman destroy my entire soul. I love the characters he and Terry Pratchett wrote, and I wouldn't change them for the world, except maybe to make them a bit smarter and more observant. But, alas, that's what fanfiction is for.
Summary: Aziraphale realizes his mistake and comes back to Earth to find a very angry Crowley. But is Crowley really angry, or is he just hurt so badly that he isn't sure he can be fixed? Language warning. One-Shot.
A/N: It has been entirely too long since I wrote a GO fic, and I decided to take a step away from the trauma of the new Hunger Games book, Sunrise on the Reaping, and delve back into the Ineffable Divorce trauma for a few hours, for my own mental health. I don't have much of a plan for this story, I just want to write about these two, so buckle up, because as I'm writing this author's note, I'm as far in the dark about what this story will be about as anybody who is currently reading it lol. Enjoy!
….
Save Me from the Monster that is Eating Me, I'm Paralyzed
….
Crowley hated himself.
He hated everything about himself, from his horrible black wings, to his sickly yellow snake eyes, to his demonic spirit. He hated that he had Fallen, he hated that he was a demon, and he hated that he had ever worked for Hell at all.
And he especially hated how much he loved Aziraphale. It felt like he was cursed, or more cursed than he already was, to love Aziraphale. A being of unconditional, undying love, that could never and would never love him back.
He had thought, at one time, that there was a chance that Aziraphale loved him. He thought there was a part of the angel that was soft for him. The way Aziraphale smiled whenever he suggested lunch, the way he looked at Crowley when he thought he wasn't being watched. Crowley had thought that there was a small part of the angel that loved him back. Even if it wasn't in the same way that Crowley loved him, even if it wasn't to the same depth as the pool of warmth that the demon carried in his heart for Aziraphale… he had thought that the angel loved hm at least a little bit, and that was always enough.
He had believed this so thoroughly that he had confessed his love to the angel. He had asked Aziraphale to run away with him. To hell with Heaven and Hell, they loved each other, and that was enough.
Except it wasn't. Except Aziraphale didn't actually love Crowley, he loved the idea of Crowley, and he was never going to love him as he was. He would never love a lowlife, useless demon.
And so he left. Aziraphale went to Heaven to work on the Divine Plan, and Crowley no longer knew what to do with himself.
At first, he tried to live his life relatively normally, ignoring the large whole in his life. He went to his flat and watered his plants, watched some movies, drank some whiskey. After a few days, he couldn't ignore the aching hole that Aziraphale had left in his heart, so he left London and tried to find a place in the world where he wouldn't constantly be reminded of the angel. He went all the way to America, drowning his sorrows in grubby hole-in-the-wall bars until he couldn't remember his own name. And yet, he could never forget Aziraphale.
He went to New York City and found underground clubs, the kind where drugs were easy to find, and tried every kind of substance he could find to forget the angel. He had track marks up and down his arms, bruises around his biceps, and a constant ring of cocaine in his nose, and he still couldn't forget.
So he left again. He went back to his flat and laid on the floor, curled up in a ball, surrounded by his plants. He had managed to conjure a handle of whiskey but no longer had the energy to lift it to his lips. He laid on his side, forehead pressed against his knees, his wings curled protectively around him, for a long time. So long that he had lost track.
He let his tears wash away the grime on his face and withered away to nothing but heartache and loneliness for so long that he forgot everything else, reliving his memories with Aziraphale over and over and over until he drove himself nearly mad.
And that was where, five years after he'd left, Aziraphale found him.
….
Aziraphale knew, the moment he stepped into the Heavenly lift, that he'd fucked up. He had been so happy at the thought of going back to Heaven, of no longer being an outcast, that he had gone crazy. He loved the idea of making Crowley an angel again, if only to make the demon happy. He always seemed so sad, and Aziraphale had hoped that becoming an angel again would perk the old boy up and he would be his old self again.
He should have known better.
Aziraphale cursed himself over and over at the thought of Crowley's face when he had asked him to come with him to Heaven. When he'd said that nothing lasts forever and Crowley had put his sunglasses back on, hiding his beautiful eyes.
Instead of gently pulling the glasses off Crowley's face and telling him nevermind, we can run, we can do whatever we want, as long as I'm with you, he had stubbornly let the demon walk out of his shop. And he had left.
The thought of Crowley's kiss left Aziraphale's lips tingling, and he struggled to stop himself from touching his lips in front of the other angels. He had always loved Crowley so much, and he was never sure, until that moment, in what way Crowley loved him back.
Of course, he knew Crowley loved him. The demon had always loved him, and Aziraphale had always taken that for granted. He should have known that Crowley would never want to go back to Heaven, not after what they had done to him. They had thrown him out of the only home he had ever known, sentencing him to what they, and Crowley, thought would be a life of nothing but hardships and suffering, and Aziraphale had been the only light at the end of the demon's very long tunnel. Aziraphale knew that Crowley loved him unconditionally, and he had thrown that love back in Crowley's face and left him.
He wasn't sure that Crowley would ever forgive, wasn't sure if he could ever show his face on Earth again, so he stayed in Heaven. He toiled away at the behest of the Metatron and tried not to think about the demon, tried to keep his fingers away from his lips, lest the other angels see him.
He missed Crowley so much.
That was why, on the five year anniversary of his departure, Aziraphale couldn't help himself. He waited until all the other angels were occupied, far away from the globe, and he snuck over to it. He just wanted to make sure Crowley was okay. He whispered his desire to the globe, asking to see his beloved demon, and he was absolutely floored by what he saw.
Crowley was curled up in a ball on the floor of his flat, a full bottle of whiskey clutched in his fist, with a fine layer of dust covering him. Aziraphale worried, for a moment, that Crowley might be dead, but he knew in his heart that he would feel it if his friend ever left this plane of existence.
That only left one reason for Crowley to be in that state: heartbreak. Aziraphale felt tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He hated himself so much for what he had done to his friend, someone that he claimed, if only to himself, to love more than anything else in the world.
And so, he left. He called the Heavenly lift and went down materialized in front of Crowley's door. Stealing himself for what he would find and knowing that he had to do everything in his power to help him beloved demon, Aziraphale wiped the tears from his eyes and knocked. When there was no response, he knocked again and again and again until he finally forced his way into the flat, choking on a sob when he saw his friend.
….
Crowley, in his haze, barely noticed the hands that picked him up off the floor. He didn't feel the whiskey bottle fall out of his hand or hear it clatter on the floor. He didn't feel the strong arms under his shoulders and knees as he was carried out of his plant room. He didn't feel himself be gently laid on his bed. He didn't feel his tight trousers and shirt be peeled off his filthy body, or the cool cloth that wiped away the dirt and grime. Didn't feel the soft silk pajamas being pulled onto him, or the covers being tucked around. He drifted off into sleep, the first real sleep he'd had in ages, just as he became aware of soft, strong hands stroking his hair.
….
Crowley woke up after an undetermined amount of time. He came around slowly, first noticing the cool silk sheets, then his warm pajamas. Finally, ever so slowly, he became aware of strong fingers laced through his own.
He snapped awake and jerked away from the hand, tumbling off his bed in a jumble of sheets and feathers. He stood up with the sheet still halfway wrapped around his waist, brandishing a sword that he kept under his bed for this exact reason. He knew he had been out of it for a long time, and he wasn't sure that he had managed to keep the wards around his flat activated while he wasted away. Before he could even ponder whether he wanted to be killed by whatever was in his bed, he was on the offensive.
And when he noticed that the person in his bed was Aziraphale? He was sure that he was already dead.
Crowley dropped his sword, and it clanged on the ground so loudly that he was sure he was going to get a complaint from his downstairs neighbors. He stood frozen, shock coursing through his body, as he stared at Aziraphale. The angel had scrambled out of the bed as soon as Crowley woke up, and he was standing on the other side of it with his hands up in surrender.
"Crowley, I didn't mean to scare you, I…"
"What the fuck are you doing here, Aziraphale?" Crowley screamed. He started backing away from the angel toward his bedroom door. He folded his wings away so they wouldn't hinder his escape.
"Crowley, I…"
"NO! You don't get to try to explain this to me! Get the fuck out of my house!" Crowley screamed, tearing at his hair, as he fled down the hall of his flat. He ran all the way to the living room before he deflated, malnourished and exhausted from his years-long stupor, and collapsed on the sofa.
Crowley scrubbed his hands down his face, leaving gouges in his cheeks with his fingernails. He knew he was panicking, and he didn't know how to stop it. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and didn't think how he didn't even need to, and he started scratching at his chest.
Aziraphale rushed out after him, and, finding Crowley in wide-eyed panic, kneeled in front of him. "Crowley please, I'll leave if you want me to, but you have to calm down. Please, darling…"
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Crowley screamed. He was scratching at his chest so hard that it was starting to bleed.
Aziraphale pried the demon's hands away from his skin, holding them against his chest as Crowley thrashed.
"Crowley, breathe! Look at me, look at me." Aziraphale held Crowley's hands against his beating heart. "Look at me. Match my breathing. I know you don't want me here, but I don't want you to pass out, okay? If you calm down, I'll leave." Aziraphale soothed. He ran his thumb across the back of the demon's hand.
Ever so slowly, Crowley relaxed. His breathing evened out, and he stopped trying to pull his hands away. Aziraphale could see the panic leaving his friend's eyes, and he stood to leave. "I'm sorry I came here, Crowley. I didn't mean to upset you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I see now that you're not, and you may never be again. I just want to say…" Aziraphale swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I just want to say that I am so, so sorry that I did this to you. I will never forgive myself for the harm I caused you by leaving, and I don't expect you to ever forgive me either. You'll never have to see me again." Aziraphale moved toward the front door, choking back tears. Just as he was reaching for the handle, he heard Crowley speak up behind him.
"Are you really here?" the demon whispered, absently scratching at the back of his hand. Aziraphale didn't dare turn around.
"I'm really here. I saw you on the Earth monitor, and I couldn't bear it, Crowley. I wanted to take care of you one last time."
"So you're leaving again? All of that, all of this, and you're leaving again?" Aziraphale could hear the anger in Crowley's voice. He still couldn't make himself turn around.
"Would you prefer that I stay?" he whispered, not daring to let himself hope.
"I would prefer that you never left in the first place!" Crowley screamed. Aziraphale forced himself to turn around and face his friend when he heard the distinct sound of smashing glass. He turned just in time to see Crowley hurl another bottle of whiskey at the wall, shattering it into pieces. Aziraphale watched the brown liquor drip down the wall. "How dare you, Aziraphale? How dare you leave me like this and then come back, pretending to care?! You never cared about me, or you wouldn't have left!" Crowley smashed his hand through the window, shattering more glass and shredding the skin on his hand, before throwing himself back down on the sofa and pulling on fistfuls of his hair.
Aziraphale stepped farther into the room. "I'm sorry, Crowley. I will never stop being sorry." He whispered.
"Stop saying you're sorry, and start explaining to me why you left!" Crowley yelled, blood dripping down his arm.
"I can't explain it." Aziraphale cautiously perched on the opposite end of the sofa as Crowley. "I thought… I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to stop whatever horrible plans Heaven was conjuring up for the next apocalypse, and… well, I wanted to help you. I thought that becoming an angel again might help you. I thought it might make you happy again, happy like you were when we met all those years ago. When you were an angel creating the stars. I should have known better than to think that you would ever want to go back there. I should have known that you wouldn't want to be an angel again after everything that Heaven has done to you. I was so stupid, Crowley." Aziraphale resisted the urge to reach out to the demon, who was curling in on himself. "You scared me, when you asked me to run away with you. I was so scared because I wanted that so badly, darling. I… I didn't know what it meant. That was the moment that I realized that I…" Aziraphale stopped just before he said it. "I was so scared, Crowley. I was so scared that Heaven would try to destroy the Earth again. I was so scared that if I went back to the Metatron and said no, he would kill you. I'm so sorry. I didn't think you would… I didn't think my leaving would… I thought you would be okay." Aziraphale swiped at a tear that was trailing down his cheek.
Crowley was silent for a long time. So long that Aziraphale thought he might have fallen asleep again, and he was just getting ready to stand up and leave, forever, when he finally spoke so quietly that Aziraphale almost didn't catch it.
"How could you choose them over me?" Crowley breathed. He had his face hidden in his arms.
Aziraphale swallowed past the lump in his throat and cursed himself for doing this to his beloved. "I don't know, Crowley. I don't know why I went with the Metatron instead of running off with you. I have thought about this every moment since I left, and I haven't come up with an answer other than that I was stupid and afraid. I don't expect you to forgive me. I just want you to know… no I need you to know, that I will never stop hating myself for doing this to you. When I saw you on the Earth monitor, I… God, I'm so sorry. I will never forgive myself."
"Why don't you love me, Aziraphale?" Crowley whispered, and now Aziraphale was really, truly crying, gasping around the sobs building in his throat. He couldn't stop the avalanche of tears that poured down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands.
Knowing that Crowley thought he wasn't loved, that he had failed so thoroughly that his beloved demon thought that he was nothing more than a burden to Aziraphale, opened up a pit in the angel's stomach. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to take away from Crowley's pain and make this about himself, but he couldn't stop. How could he have destroyed his best friend, the love of his everlasting life, so thoroughly that he didn't think he was loved?
He cried and cried and cried into his hands, stifling his sobs as well as he could. He felt the sofa shift when Crowley sat up straighter, looking over at him.
"Aziraphale?"
"I do love you, Crowley!" Aziraphale choked out through his sobs. "That's why I was so scared of rejecting the Metatron's offer! I was terrified that they would kill you and I… God, I couldn't, I can't bear the thought of never being able to see you again." Aziraphale broke down even more, putting his hand over his mouth as he choked on his tears.
When he felt Crowley's hand falter against his back, he started crying even harder, as impossible as that seemed. "Crowley, I don't… I want…" Aziraphale attempted to control himself, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down his crying. "I don't want you comforting me. I destroyed you by leaving, and I will never be able to repay that. I didn't mean to take away from your pain."
"Aziraphale…"
"I will never be able to make up for leaving you behind. I will never be able to live up to the person I always hoped to be for you. I wanted to save the world to make myself worthy of your love, and all I managed to do was leave you crying in a heap on your floor. I don't deserve any comfort from you."
"Angel…" Aziraphale finally looked up at Crowley at the use of his old nickname, and he saw the tears pooling in the demon's beautiful yellow eyes. "You never had to do anything to deserve my love. I always loved you for exactly who you are."
"Just because you loved me doesn't mean I deserved it, and I certainly don't deserve it now."
"Tell me this, then, Aziraphale: if you, of all beings, don't deserve to be loved, then why in the world do you love me? I deserve it far less than you."
"Because… because…"
"Exactly, angel. I love you because of your heart. Because you care so much about everyone around you. Because you love books and tea and wine and little pastries. Because you have always, without fail, been there for me when I needed you. Including today. I don't need you to prove your worthiness, Aziraphale."
Aziraphale looked up at Crowley then, and he couldn't help but pull the demon into his arms. He leaned back against the arm of the sofa and held the demon against his chest as tightly as he could. "I'm so sorry, Crowley. I am so, so, so sorry."
"I know, angel."
"I will never stop being sorry for leaving you. Fear isn't an excuse. I left you alone and in pain and I…"
"I forgive you, Aziraphale." Crowley interrupted. He rested his hand over Aziraphale's unnecessary heart. "Just… please don't leave again. Please."
Aziraphale felt one last tear drip from his eye and onto the top of Crowley's head. "I won't, darling. I will never leave again."
They laid in silence for a long time, their eyes closed, holding each other as tightly as their corporeal bodies would allow. Aziraphale stroked his hand through Crowley's flaming hair.
Just as he started drifting off, for the first time is maybe ever, Aziraphale heard a whispered "I love you," against his chest.
"Oh, Crowley, I love you too."
….
A/N: Well, I guess we got there in the end! I know I write a lot of the same shit for these two, but honestly, what else could I possibly write? These two assholes have my heart in a headlock and I can't let them go. The title is from the song Satanized by Ghost, my favorite song by my favorite band, and I just know that their new album, when it's released, will add more fuel to the fire of my Ineffable Idiots obsession. I hope you enjoyed the story!