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

Being human - exchange

The rest of the day passed quietly as Crowley and Aziraphale were still struggling with the change in their bodies. Eagerly, Nathanael had organised everything. She had requested some snacks from Nina for dinner and converted Aziraphale's small bed into a double so that he and Crowley could sleep together at night.

While the two had indeed disappeared into the bedroom by early evening then, Nathanael instructed Muriel more carefully on how to sort the books and they took turns checking the map again and again. Secretly, the two female angels hoped to find some irregularity, but they knew that Metatron was too clever for that.

For this reason, in the early hours of the morning, Nathanael asked the frustrated Muriel to go to the nearby bakery and get rolls while she boiled up the coffee and tea. She set the small dining table in the kitchen, grabbed one of the novels, sat down and started reading.

"Goodness, I thought sleep was supposed to be restful!"

Nathanael looked up and caught sight of Crowley entering the kitchen with dishevelled hair, small eyes and crumpled face.

"Aziraphale?"

"Still asleep," Crowley answered Nathanael's question after sitting down at the table. Yawning, he massaged his temples and shook himself. Nathanael, meanwhile, took one of the cups and poured coffee.

"Since you drink espresso, I'll assume black. However, we'd better start with regular!"

"Why? You know my special blend!" wondered Crowley and Nathaniel raised an eyebrow as she handed Crowley the drink. "If I make you this, or get it from Nina, I can cure you of a heart attack shortly afterwards, believe me!" she made him understand.

"Ah, of course, caffeine. The human body reacts differently to that in certain amounts," Crowley murmured after nodding and taking a sip. "Okay!" he then marvelled as he was already feeling the effects.

"Just listen to the ex-human," Nathanael commented, pouring herself a cup of coffee as well after she had settled back in the chair. "How did it go with the sleep?"

"As I said, I slept but feel I didn't," Crowley replied wearily.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I would remember that!"

"Not necessarily," Nathanael corrected Crowley, "sometimes as a human being you sleep so deeply that you can't remember your dreams afterwards. Usually one is then also very tired the next day. This is because the subconscious mind is trying to process what it has dreamed!"

"Still, it's insane that you can't remember it afterwards!" echoed Crowley, and Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders. "Why, I can't give you an answer, you'll have to ask the boss..."

Without meaning to, Crowley had to smile at Nathanael's curt comment.

"Maybe it's still handy sometimes not to be able to remember..."

Only after he had uttered the sentence did Crowley realise that this had not just been in his mind. Caught, he looked up from his cup and noticed Nathanael's gaze. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"That would take too long," Crowley tried to sweep the matter under the carpet very quickly, but Nathanael's gaze remained iron.

"Look, I don't know how far you trust me," she began slowly, circling her finger over the round surface of the dish, "but I know you've been through a hell of a lot. Too much, even for a demon. That kind of thing doesn't pass someone by without a trace."

Crowley took a deep breath. A battle of arguments began to unfold inside him. On the one hand, he wanted to talk about it; on the other, he was dominated by fear of condemnation. He had already given Nathanael vague hints, but the whole truth was something else.

"I had actually always felt like a woman - did you know that?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Crowley, blinked at Nathanael a few times in disbelief. "Ever since I was a child. I was jealous of the girls in my village, though after all, the female sex had the status value of a pebble back then. Nevertheless, the longing to be a girl always prevailed in me. Of course, I had to bury this thought altogether. After all, one was created perfectly in the image of the authorities and as a human being one had to obey! Only after I died and helplessly found myself again in the body of an angel could I make myself what I really am. Much to the disapproval of Metatron. You would think after my brutal death by countless lashes, I would have deserved a little pity...instead my "creator" ignored me and still calls me son today."

"I'll give you an infinite whipping and leave you there, then we'll talk!"

Crowley remembered the phrase that Nathanael had dropped some time ago. Suddenly it had a completely different meaning.

"You were killed like this..." he understood, and Nathanael nodded slowly. "Some were crucified, others whipped. Thanks to my loudmouth, the latter was inflicted on me. With each blow, the desire to finally be able to leave increased and if the didn't finally do it...I would encourage it...even if it sounds stupid!"

Crowley swallowed hard. He now understood why Nathaniel was opening this to him. She wanted to show him that she trusted him completely. A feeling he was almost unfamiliar with.

"Then I must apologise for my saying that at the time," he replied openly and honestly and Nathaniel waved it off.

"You didn't know and you're entitled to your opinion," she dismissed the matter, "...my comment at the time was also meant more sarcastically."

"Nevertheless...and thank you...for your confidence!"

Nathanael noticed how difficult Crowley found those words. Not because he felt his words either, but because they were unfamiliar.

"It's okay. I mean, we're a team now and a team should be able to rely on each other. Otherwise, we can hand the victory trophy to Metatron already!"

Crowley had to agree with her.

"I've heard... that people with the dreams also try to process swallowed things," he continued quietly afterwards, "is that so?"

Nathanael nodded.

"Is that why they talk so often about what's bothering them?"

"Not always, but they try. Some just don't make it either. Some memories and experiences can be so difficult that talking about them seems impossible," Nathanael replied, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"I was really just asking questions at the time," Crowley began slowly, "I just wanted to understand. To see the meaning behind it. Why was only one of the countless planets, in the countless galaxies animated? Why the earth? It just didn't make sense to me, and it didn't seem like a good idea. The next thing I remember was waking up in a black swamp. My white wings were black and although it was night, I could no longer see the stars. When I managed to free myself from the swamp, I found myself in a garden and suddenly the authorities from above were no longer talking to me, but from below. I tried to make friends with it all. To embrace my new personality...but I think...sometimes of what would have happened if..."

Crowley took a deep breath. A thick lump began to form in his throat.

"The only constant has been Angel. Always had been. Even though we pretended all this time that we weren't a team...we are. You had heard the story too...and when I thought I had lost Aziraphale in the fire...there was that emptiness again, like that time in the swamp. And then also when Aziraphale went back to heaven...she was present. That's why...if it hadn't been for you..."

Crowley puffed out his cheeks for a moment and then pressed his lips together. He winced as he felt his hand, resting on the table, being clasped. When he turned his eyes to it, he saw that it was Nathaniel who had squeezed it and gently stroked the back of his hand with her thumb.

She did not say anything, however. She just smiled warmly as Crowley stared at her. As he had once done, she now kissed the back of his hand and then wiped the lipstick from his skin. "Thank you..." she whispered.