Chapter Text
The attack came too suddenly even for a hypervigilant demon to escape. Movement flashed beside Crowley, an inferno of pain searing through his gut. Just as fast, another movement slammed his head into the wall. He crashed to the floor with a cry.
“Wow, awesome!” The mocking voice mingled with the ringing in his skull. “You really didn’t see that one coming, huh?”
Shit. Head pounding, Crowley scrambled away from the attacker and collided with his front door. The door swung open. He dragged himself inside, slammed the door, and used a miracle to activate the wards.
Then he slumped back against the wall, shuddering, dazed. Didn’t have time to be dazed. Had to think, to prepare—those wards wouldn’t hold forever against an Archangel.
They’d known someone would attack eventually, either Heaven or Hell. But why today? He had plans today, plans to talk to Aziraphale about something important. Even had flowers, roses as red as the blood gushing across his hands.
The holy knife stuck in his gut burned, smoke rising from the wound. Crowley grabbed the hilt and ripped the blade free. More pain, so much burning, and he screamed.
Laughter came from the hall, then thudding on the door. “Come on, champ. Toughen up, it’s just a little knife. I’ll bet Aziraphale won’t scream.”
Crowley clamped a hand across the wound, fogginess worsening. Everything was blurred, his vision splintered, and pain crashed through his head with each heartbeat.
Focus, assess, plan. Bleeding out, head injury, holy contamination flooding his system. Gabriel outside. Outcome…not good. But Crowley was an optimist, in a way, and he never gave up as long as he had Aziraphale.
Didn’t have Aziraphale right now, though. Aziraphale was at the shop, probably fussing over which bow tie to wear to the Ritz.
Crowley’s ragged breaths drowned out Gabriel’s mocking comments, but the pounding was louder. Not just inside his head—against the door, the wards. They wouldn’t hold for long, which meant he needed to hurry.
He fumbled in his pocket for his mobile, and his bloody fingers slipped off the smooth surface. Another attempt, another failure. Crumpled on the floor like this, he couldn’t wrestle it out of his pocket.
Cracks shot through the door, and Crowley forced himself into motion. Rolled over onto his stomach, dragged himself forward, and tried to push off the ground. His arms and legs instantly gave out, and he slammed back to the concrete with another cry.
Stupid floor. If he survived this—if Gabriel didn’t break in and rip him apart, or if the holy contamination didn’t kill him first—he was definitely redecorating the whole blessed place. Rugs. Rugs everywhere.
“You and Aziraphale didn’t seriously think you could escape, did you?” Gabriel’s voice echoed through the flat, piercing through the cracks in the wards. Cruelty and hatred seeped in with the words. “Heaven’s Justice will always triumph.”
“S’ a shitty slogan,” Crowley choked, dragging himself to a table. “Should…pay someone to write your speeches. Or go classic, quote a film. Try ‘Here’s Johnny!’”
“I will not allow you to mock me!”
Mocking Gabriel might not be the smartest idea, but it had given Crowley the energy he needed. He grabbed the edge of the table and hauled himself up. The blessed thing flipped over, and potted Melpomene ferns crashed to the floor. But Crowley was up now, clinging to the wall, and he could rescue the plants later.
Had to warn Aziraphale. Using the walls as support, he staggered into his office and pulled out his mobile. It escaped his bloody fingers, tumbled to the ground, and slid under his desk. “Oh, come on!”
He snatched his desk phone and punched in Aziraphale’s number. The office had blurred out, everything going fuzzy as the pressure on his head worsened from the exertion. And trails of fiery pain radiated from the stab wound, holiness flooding his system.
Aziraphale picked up at once. “Hello, my dear! I’m so excited for dinner. I-I’ve just been fussing a bit about what to wear, do you like the bow tie with—”
“Angel, shut up!” Crowley clung to the desk, trying not to pass out as the pain intensified. “Gabriel. Gabriel’s at my flat.”