Crawling back to you (Hozier's version)

6: Dreamers

When Crowley woke up, he was, once again, alone.

But, for once, he didn't want to think about it, so he decided to get ice cream by the place he and Aziraphale once got some after they prevented Armageddon. As one does.

He decided to get the one Aziraphale got back then, vanilla, but before he got the chance to realise how unbelievably boring that was, he turned around, having déjà vu.

He sighed, seeing Aziraphale in his peripheral - and, turning his head properly, he realised that, yep, sure enough, Aziraphale was at his side.

"Look, angel, I just-"

Crowley stopped himself, realising that something seemed to be wrong with him. With the whole situation. Crowley turned away from him for a second - suddenly finding himself on a chair.

In Heaven. And it wasn't any chair, of course, it was the same one he sat on, pretending to be Aziraphale, just moments before Gabriel told him to 'shut his stupid mouth and die'.

The other Archangels, including Gabriel, were standing a few metres in front of him, and yet Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen.

Crowley sighed, slouching into his chair. "Am I being executed again?"

"Certainly not, dear. Quite the opposite."

That was Aziraphale. Crowley sat upright again, panicking, not really sure why. Sure enough, the angel was standing in front of him, no trace of the other Archangels.

Aziraphale stepped closer, looking down at Crowley's restless form.

"Angel - Aziraphale, what are you doing? What's going on with you?" Crowley wasn't able to conceal his nervousness, his mind running some kilometres an hour trying to figure out why on earth his friend was behaving like this.

"Oh, Crowley. Don't be scared." Aziraphale smiled, not resembling the comforting one Crowley had fallen in love with in the slightest.

It looked almost unsettling, really. A lot like the one Gabriel had given him before pushing him, Aziraphale, into the hellfire.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley tried again.

No answer. No reaction at all.

"Aziraphale." Crowley was beginning to grow frustrated with his friend.

"Listen to me for a moment, Crowley." He put an unfamiliar hand at his cheek, his thumb stroking over the demon's snake mark, his fingers cradling his hair.

"We can be together again. As angels! We could really make a difference. Together. I love you, Crowley. I've loved you all this time." The demon froze under his touch, and especially Aziraphale's words.

"And I forgive you!" He continued. "Don't you get it? You don't have to be a demon for a moment longer. Imagine what it would have been like - all those centuries spent as angels."

Crowley immediately snarled back at him, getting up from his chair as he pushed Aziraphale's hand away. "What is wrong with you? I don't want that; you know I don't want it. I won't go back to Heaven, Aziraphale, I'm on my side now."

"You just don't want to remember how good Heaven was! You fell so long ago! Why wouldn't you want to reverse it? To get your real wings back?"