Chapter Text
Crowley was doing fine.
Of course, sometimes he got drunk and ended up on the sidewalk in front of the bookshop. And sometimes he forgot what happened, and he knocked, and he stared at Muriel when they opened the door, like he had no idea what they were doing here. And sometimes he was sitting inside the shop at night, staring at nothing with a bottle of something he grabbed on the way, Muriel sitting next to him in silence. But he was doing just fine, thank you very much.
He also didn't sleep anymore. That was a surprise to everyone, including (probably) God. He was the demon to sleep through an entire century, just because he could, after all. And yet, now every time he closed his eyes, nightmarish pictures flashed in the dark, leaving him sweaty, and gasping for air. Not that he needed to breathe at all, under normal circumstances. These weren't normal. Neither was the sharp pain in his chest as he sat alone in his bed, clasping the sheets in tense hands, wetness surrounding his bright yellow eyes.
So, he opted for not sleeping. Which was a hassle. Sleeping would've at least let him pass time faster. Humans did it. They slept for days when they needed to get away from a memory, not even bothering to leave their bed. Crowley wished they would've warned him about the nightmares that clouded his mind.
All he had left was alcohol. Not wine. Definitely not wine. That was nothing more than a painful reminder of the nights they spent in the bookshop, Crowley waving his glass around like a madman, and yet, the dark red liquid miraculously staying inside its transparent container. All while sitting next to Him. Crowley couldn't bear to even think about his name, let alone say it out loud. He didn't need the constant tightness around his heart, or at least the place he assumed his corporeal body's heart was supposed to be. He wished he didn't even have a body anymore. So he drank it away.
And that's how he ended up in the bookshop, this time, during the day. He ignored the people around him as he made his way inside, every human leaving after a wave of his hand. Perhaps they all had somewhere to go, at least that's what they were all thinking. Muriel looked up.
"You're here," they said with a twinkle of something Crowley couldn't place in their bright voice. He hated not knowing things. He rolled his eyes, and flung himself across the armchair, kicking a couple books off the desk next to it in the meantime.
"That I am," he slurred, lifting the bottle of vodka to his lips, only for the last drop to hit his tongue. "Damn it."
"Mr Crowley," a voice cut through the sudden peace that came across the shop. He didn't bother to look behind him towards the door, he knew it was Maggie. "We haven't seen you in a while."
"Oh, but I come here all the time," he said in a higher voice than what he was used to. He threw his empty bottle at a nearby bin, missing it completely, letting it shatter against the wall. Muriel exclaimed, and went to clean up immediately.
"Only when he's drunk," they mumbled. Crowley glared at them, but the effect was lost behind his sunglasses.
"Listen, I know you're…" Maggie spoke up, but hesitated. Crowley barked out a humourless laugh.
"A demon? The embodiment of evil, and sin?" he angled his head back, making the bookshop, and with it, Maggie, appear upside down. That's when he spotted Nina. "Ah, I see you've brought your barista."
"Not human," Maggie finished, choosing to ignore everything Crowley just said. It was quite rude if you asked him. He was almost impressed.
"Have you tried therapy?" Nina asked, leaning against the doorframe. Crowley rolled his eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous," he yawned, and stretched, nearly falling off the chair. "And here I thought you were the smarter one."
Nina let out an offended noise, but Maggie put her hand up. "At least get some sleep is what I was gonna suggest."
"Wow, zero out of two," Crowley drawled. "Congratulations, you're impressively stupid. Do you think I want to spend time reliving him leaving me? After I listened to you two, of all people?"
"What exactly happened?" Maggie asked. She also had the same tone Muriel used when they saw him today. Pity, Crowley realised. They were pitying him. That was just hilarious.
"I told him what I wanted," he spoke in a voice that sounded alien to him. He cleared his throat, but the lump stayed in its place. "He wanted something different."
"When's the last time you tried?" Nina asked. "Sleeping, I mean." Crowley shrugged. He stopped keeping track of time a while ago. The girls looked at each other, then at Muriel.
"What if you tried again?" Maggie asked gently. It made Crowley want to scream. "You probably got used to sleeping by now. And maybe you needed some time for the nightmares to stop."
"Listen here, human," Crowley stood up, and if he wobbled a little, having to catch himself on the back of the chair, nobody pointed it out. "You have no idea what's good for me, or for anyone. You might think you matter, but in the grand sss-scheme of things, you're nothing." He didn't intend to hiss.
"You're drunk," Nina stepped in front of Maggie. "Sleep."
Crowley looked at Muriel for some angelic backup. However, they nodded slowly. "They're right. I've been researching humanity for over a year now, and humans need sleep."
"I'm not human," Crowley quoted Maggie from just minutes before.
"With how long you've been on Earth, you might as well be," Muriel said, trying to sound stern. "I don't use the bed in the back, you can have it. At least for a couple minutes."
Crowley didn't question why there was a bed in the shop. He knew that Az- that He didn't sleep. He never dared to ask. Instead, he let his shoulders fall, growled out a quiet "fine", and moved to the door. Making his way to the bedroom hurt more than he cared to admit. The last time he set foot in here was when he was threatening Gabriel. Or Jim. Whatever he wanted to be called.
The room smelled of sandalwood, dust, and something familiar yet unidentifiable. It was His scent. Crowley wondered how it managed to stay for so long, before he fell to the bed, and closed his eyes. Here goes nothing.
And there he was. Standing in the shop, letting go of His lapels. It was coming, Crowley knew this dance front and back. He was going to say that he forgives Crowley, and then Crowley was going to storm out, and watch him leave again.
"Crowley?" he asked instead. That was new. "Oh, I've been trying to contact you for so long, I was just about to lose hope!"
"Is that really you?" he barked out. He hated how raspy his voice sounded. The angel nodded.
"Listen, I have to tell you-"
"What's that lovely human expression again?" Crowley drawled out, not missing the way the angel's eyes widened. So he did remember their little chat. "Go fuck yourself."
With that, his eyes flung open. Once again, he was in the angel's bed, gasping for air, but this time, for a different reason. Was that real? Or was it just another fucked up dream? No, definitely not a dream. He could feel His presence. He tried to shake it off, but the tingling sensation he got when the angel looked at him lingered on his skin, and in his bones.
"Well that was a stupid fucking idea," he yelled, sitting up on the bed. It creaked under his weight. The door opened, and in came Muriel, Nina, and Maggie. What a team, he thought sarcastically. "I saw him."
"Saw who?" Muriel asked. Crowley wanted to shake them.
"Fucking Santa Claus, who do you think?"
"You dreamed of-" Nina started before Crowley cut her off.
"Do not say his name," he raised his voice, but the small break in the middle of his sentence transformed it from a threat into a plea. "And it wasn't a dream. He was there, I could feel him."
"What did he say?" Maggie sat down next to him. Crowley smirked at the way Nina reached out as if she was trying to stop her, then let her hand fall again.
"I didn't let him say shit," he sighed, the small smile disappearing completely from his face. "Woke myself up."
A hand collided with the back of his head. Nina was glaring at him. "This is your chance, you absolute buffoon. You can get closure. You can heal . And maybe, he wanted to tell you something important. For a being that's so old, you can be so damn stupid."
Crowley let a snake-like smile spread across his face. "Did you just hit a demon?"
"I hit an idiot," Nina huffed. "Go back to sleep, and fucking pray that he hasn't given up on you."
"If it's really that important," Crowley leaned back against his hands, "why isn't he here?"
"Possibly because you would discorporate him the second you see him?" Muriel guessed.
No he wouldn't. "Damn right I would." He loved him. "I hate him." What he would do to see him again, to hear him again, to touch him again. "I never want to see that stupid face, or hear that stupid voice ever again."
"Talk to him," Maggie said. Crowley couldn't bear it anymore. He stood up slightly too fast, and in a few long steps, he stormed out of the shop. Just like he did about a year ago, he learned. He cursed under his breath, and didn't stop until he arrived at the apartment he got from Hell. It wasn't as big and luxurious as the previous one, but his plants fit in the living room, and his bedroom was big enough to fit a double bed. He was currently on this bed, not bothering to take his shoes off. The bed under his back was soft, and yet, it felt like stone. He let out a shaky breath, and closed his eyes. Just to tell him off.
He was on the bench in the park. He noticed the angelic presence next to him, but didn't turn to look.
"You came back," the angel said. Damn it, he sounded hopeful. Crowley snarled.
"I'm not here to kiss and make up," he said. The presence next to him sighed.
"I know you're angry," he mumbled. Crowley let out a humourless laugh. Understatement of the century. "I wanted to tell you what really happened."
Crowley finally looked at him. Damn it, he looked good. "Talk."
And that is exactly what the angel did. "Metatron didn't offer to bring you to Heaven with me."
The sentence hung in the air, dark and heavy. Crowley didn't dare to breathe.
"He offered something a bit more sinister."
"So you lied," Crowley said. His voice was raspy. He was grateful for whatever that let him keep his sunglasses on for this, because his eyes were comically wide. The angel nodded.
"Are you familiar with the Book of Life? Extreme sanctions?"
"No," Crowley gasped out, not as an answer to the angel's question, rather a simple word of disbelief. Luckily, the angel had spent enough time around him to grasp what he meant, and nodded.
"I knew you'd be furious if I told you then and there," he continued. "So I came up with a lie. One that would guarantee that you were safe."
"Damn it, Angel," the nickname rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. "I don't need protecting. Especially not like this."
"You said so yourself," the angel said in a determined voice. "We rely on each other. We always have."
"Is that why you don't come back to Earth?" Crowley asked instead of addressing the quote from his confession. He couldn't add that to the mix of feelings that were bubbling in his heart, threatening to blow up. Anger, betrayal, and a touch of something he was too scared to name sweetening it.
The angel nodded, then shook his head. "It's… complicated. At first, I stayed there purely to protect you. But the more time I spent there, the less I was in control."
"Of the situation?" Crowley asked.
"Of myself," he said. "It's like they knew I was looking for a loophole. I wanted to see you again, so they took away my free will, bit by bit. This is the only place I feel like myself again."
A shuddering breath left Crowley's mouth. "You know, for someone so obsessed with free will, God really doesn't seem to give a damn about this," he growled.
"God?"
Crowley looked at him like he was stupid. "Yes, the shapeless voice that preaches about free will, but leaves as soon as it's inconveniencing her."
"My dear, you're a genius," the angel jumped up. Crowley followed him with his eyes. "I can't feel her."
"What do you mean you can't feel her?" Crowley moved to stand up as well, placing his hands on the angel's shoulders. His breath hitched a little as he made the first contact with him in just over a year. He pushed the thought aside. "Angel?" This time, the nickname was intentional.
"I've been feeling on edge for quite some time," he said, stumbling over his words every now and then. "So have the other angels in Heaven, but slowly we stopped questioning it. Oh dear, you don't think…?"
"Of course not," Crowley shook his head, trying to convince both the angel, and himself. "How would God even be in trouble? She's quite literally omnipotent."
The angel didn't seem convinced, and frankly, neither did Crowley. "I need you to poke around. Get Muriel to help."
"Muriel?" Crowley laughed. The angel didn't. Crowley dropped his hands from the angel's shoulders, immediately missing the heat.
"They're literally your only choice," he reminded him. "You can't get into Heaven all willy-nilly, you need an angel."
"They might get me into Heaven, but if things go South, I doubt they can help me not die."
The angel's eyes softened. Crowley couldn't bear to look at them anymore.
"What if you paid some old friends a visit?"
"What old fr-" Crowley's eyes widened again. Even if the shades covered them, his eyebrows that shot upwards told the angel his surprise. "No."
"Crowley," the angel said, "if we're right, you'll need all the backup you can get."
"Why do you think they would help me out of all people?" he took a step back.
"You can at least try," the angel said before he started fading. "I have to go now, before they get suspicious. Please be careful."
" Aziraphale! " Crowley yelled, sitting up in his bed. He clasped a hand on his mouth. Damn it all to Hell.
He had to get to Alpha Centauri.