Everyday it's a-gettin' closer - English Version

The Return - Fallen

Crowley sat on the armchair like a coiled snake with his bent legs wrapped around his body. His yellow eyes kept looking around, noticing that night had fallen on London by now.

The streetlights were shining brightly and from outside he could dully hear the laughter of people ending their stressful daily lives with a damp and cheerful visit to the pub. He would have loved to go out into the alleys and join them. Alcohol sounded like a very good and welcome distraction but he knew that was absolutely out of the question now. Even if the waiting made him furious, he could not give in to anything else.

His eyes turned to the ceiling, where he saw a light golden glow that appeared from time to time and wafted like a veil on the ceiling of the library. A protective mechanism to ward off eyes from above and below. To his surprise, he had created the miracle at the first attempt. A small masterpiece, because normally he needed the help of Aziraphale to accomplish such a thing. (Which, of course, he hadn't rubbed in Nathanael's face. He didn't want to give the little brat too much freedom).

His work was done for the time being and for several hours now he had been waiting for the angel to appear, whom he had to trust for the moment.

A sickening feeling.

Besides the already existing tension, Crowley was also struggling with another mix of numerous feelings and thoughts. If Nathanael really was telling the truth and showed up with Aziraphale - What then? What would happen then? What would happen between him and Aziraphale?

If his angel had really been under the influence of Metatron, the behaviour at their last meeting had been explainable, but simplified it did not. Crowley's heart was still broken and Aziraphale's words hurt like a fire-hot knife piercing flesh.

Moreover, Crowley wondered if his angel was still under the influence of the above shift. If so, what should they do about it? Did Nathanael have a plan ready for that too?

With an exasperated groan, Crowley ruffled his red hair and leaned back deeper in the chair.

"You've teamed up with an angel again to save YOUR angel..." he made out loud, puffing the back of his head repeatedly against the back of the chair. "A fucking retard you are! You never seem to learn..." he laughed falsely and massaged his temple.

Although he tried to even castigate himself for this decision, deep down it didn't feel wrong. On the contrary.

He couldn't explain it to himself. Nathaniel radiated something he had never seen in an angel before. Not even in himself. Something had even compelled him to trust the female angel. "I hope I'm not mistaken..." he thought aloud, and winced as an unfamiliar sound came from one of the rooms behind the shop.

Pounding

Groaning

Sounds of pain

Sobbing

Helplessness

"CROWLEY!"

Nathanael's voice even thundered throughout the library and all at once the demon was on his feet. He ran to the room that had the sounds in it and Crowley could immediately identify it as a bedroom. Without hesitation he opened the door, which swung wide open and crashed against the wall with a bang. The wood vibrated from the impact and was far more in motion than Crowley, who froze at the doorframe and gasped at the sight before him.

Nathanael had done it!

She had him!

She had Aziraphale!

The young angel was about to sit up and had placed her hands on the shoulder of the person Crowley had waited for so long. Aziraphale lay sideways on the floor, his face hidden behind the bent arms with which he had propped himself up. The normally fine suit, had given way to a far too loose and baggy linen shirt and worn trousers.

But these were not the things that made Crowley freeze. Much worse were the red stains on the shirt, Aziraphale's almost transparent skin and the ashen lips that peeked out from under his arms. Moreover, the angel was trembling all over and looked like a frightened animal that had just been freed from captivity.

The sobs and sounds of pain Crowley heard earlier were clearly coming from Aziraphale.

"Easy...sh...it's all right my friend, you're safe now," Nathanael's gentle voice snapped Crowley out of his trance and before he knew it he and she were staring straight at each other.

Without a word, Crowley broke free of his stupor and immediately knelt down to his free side.

"Angel..." whispered Crowley, gripped, and did not back away when Aziraphale flinched, now that the demon had also laid his hands on him.

"Crowley...?" whispered Aziraphale barely audible and his head lifted slightly. This led to Crowley now catching sight of his angel's eyes, which were red and dim. "Crowley..." he repeated more clearly now and tears began to roll down his cheeks. In that moment Crowley realised that all his questions, his anger, his disappointment and his own sadness now had no place. He swallowed it all and gently took Aziraphalea's hand, reaching for him. "I am here," the demon assured him in an unusually soft and gentle voice, "you are safe now. Nothing more can happen to you!" Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hand tightly and his dams broke.

"I'm so sorry - it's all my fault! I was so foolish..." he sobbed, "...please forgive me..."

"I know there are many things you both want to talk about, but now we have to take care of you first my friend. We cannot leave you in this state...", Nathaniel reflected and looked at Crowley, "can you help me with...", she nodded towards the bed behind her and Crowley nodded back in acknowledgement.

Together they assisted Aziraphale to stand up and lie down on the mattress. As they did so, Crowley could see his angel deliberately lie on his side and even feel ashamed. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around himself like a shield, pressed his head deep into the pillow, and his sobs slowly began to subside.

Nathanael herself took a deep breath and was able to grasp Crowley's arm just enough to support him when he staggered slightly after seeing Aziraphale's back.

The back of the shirt was torn to the hem and Aziraphale's skin was visible. It was stained with rivulets of blood from two large wounds on his back. Two vertical, long cuts had penetrated deep into the flesh. The ends of the wounds were very frayed, as if something had been torn out with extreme brutality.

"Those fucking bastards..." hissed Crowley, "...I..." He winced as he felt Nathaniel tighten her grip on his arm. "Now you would be so kind as to fetch me everything I need for a good supply," she said quietly, looking deep into Crowley's eyes as she did so, causing him to detect the tears in hers, "But for that I need holy water..." With that announcement she took a neatly folded handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to the demon.

"Don't hurt yourself doing that, please!"

Crowley took a deep breath and collected himself. He knew full well that Nathaniel was right in her gesture to de-escalate. Still, he had to bridle all his urges that were building up inside him.

He took the handkerchief. "I won't," he assured her again and strode out of the room, passing a white, solitary feather whose clean face was smeared with red welts.