Nightmare

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Crowley stood on the battlefield. In his right hand, he held a familiar blazing sword. In the left was a shield from a slain demon. Both were dripping with blood. They couldn't do it. They couldn't stop Armageddon.

Crowley slashed aimlessly, hitting both angel and demon. He didn't care anymore. He didn't want to live, knowing Aziraphale was gone for good.

He killed him. He couldn't stop himself from burning him. Something possessed him to bring Azi into his arms and that's when it started. A familiar heat pooled into his hands and before, he knew it Azi was no more.

Tears streaked down his face. Giving a hoarse yell, he felt the intense burn of holy water on his leg. Realizing a nearby angel laying on the battlefield had a bottle, he knelt down ignoring the searing pain.

"Please." He begged, motioning toward the bottle.

The unnamed angel looked at him confused. They slowly handed Crowley the bottle, a silent plea in their eyes to put them out of their misery. Their armor, if you could call it that, was burnt and teared. Nasty burns and lesions were visible all over their body.

Nodding in understanding, Crowley built up a big enough flame to make sure it was as painless as possible, unlike Aziraphale's. After, he sat there as war raged around him. He took the bottle and studied it. There was just enough for him to be destroyed completely, 100% chance of death.

He didn't understand why he was not pouring it on him. That would make it better, wouldn't it? He sat there staring. He looked up, the battlefield had changed. It was the same battlefield, but the yelling and screams of pain were gone. Confused, he stood. It was quiet, not a single living thing was in eyesight.

A rumble and he was falling. His white wings, burning. He watched as heaven became further and further. He saw something though. A bright light was heading toward him.

The breath was knocked out of him as the something, or rather someone, caught up to him. He blinked at the blond. He was familiar in some way.

Before he could question him, the blond spoke. "Crowley!"

'Huh? My name's not Crowley.'

"Crowley, wake up! Please!"

'I am awake.'

"Crowley, open your eyes."

'My eyes are open.'

"Crowley!"

'Who are you?' The ground was getting closer. 'Wait, I know who you are. A-Az, Azria, no that's not it.'

"Crowley! Please!"

Only a few hundred feet. 'Come on, Raphael. Think!'

100 feet. 'A, what names start with A?' 50 feet. 'Angel's have such stupid names.' 25 feet. 'I got it!' 10 feet. "Aziraphale!"

Nothing. That's all he could see. His body felt paralyzed. He panicked. Realizing his eyes were closed, he opened them. His vision was blurry at first. When cleared, a familiar face appeared. Azi's face was pale and his whole body shook. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. Hands shaking, he moved some of Crowley's hair out of his eyes.

"Was it the same nightmare?" Azi asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"Yes." Crowley whispered.

"How close?" Azi closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks again.

"10. 10 feet." Crowley knew he was dying. Soon he won't be here for his angel anymore.

Azi stared at the bed sheets. "Only one more day then."

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