Aziraphale spotted Crowley at the other end of the ally near the van, on his knees, clutching his head and sobbing into his lap. The sight was pitiful and shocking. Aziraphale had never seen Crowley break down like this. He usually kept such a tight leash on his emotions. Even in the face of the unspeakable tragedies they’d witnessed together. The flood. Sodom and Gomorrah. The Plagues of Egypt. The Crucifixion. The French Revolution. Both World Wars. Countless humans like Elspeth and Wee Morag, who were the victims of circumstance and whom Crowley and Aziraphale could not save from the world’s harshest realities. Crowley had remained stoic and steadfast through all of them. The closest he’d seen Crowley to truly breaking down had been during the first apocalypse when Satan himself was coming for them. But even then, Crowley had kept it together enough to stop time.
This, though, was something entirely else. To see Crowley so overcome was unheard of. It broke Aziraphale’s heart to watch.
“I’m here,” Aziraphale called.
Crowley looked up in disbelief. His tears made silver tracks down his gaunt face as he stared slack-jawed at Aziraphale, but he leaped to his feet and started running towards him nonetheless.
He seemed to take an age to close the distance. Long enough for the oozing rage in Aziraphale’s veins, momentarily dampened by seeing Crowley in pain, to grow hot once more. If Crowley had been so terrified for his safety, it was his own damn fault. He had withheld the information that would have prepared Aziraphale for the attack. They could have planned for it and Crowley would not have had to be scared, at least not alone. But Crowley had chosen to keep mum and let Aziraphale fumble in the dark.
——————
I wish I could give you a soft, romantic reunion, but unfortunately, Aziraphale is big mad.
New chapter go May You Be Forgiven (pt 2) is out now.
Here’s a link to part 1 if you’re new to this story.
