Aziraphale & Crowley: An Ineffable Love Story

When Demons are in Pain

Crowley hadn't taken the foot from the gas pedal while driving through London. He is hitting over 90 mph and his Bentley is struggling to keep up with his desire to speed out of the city.

The rage crawled upon him, yet he stayed quiet. For the first time in his life, he is speechless and quiet. Besides, he did not know any words to describe the pain he was experiencing.

Although his heart was rapidly beating, he couldn't feel a pulse. His stomach fell into a pit. He also felt his lungs slowly collapsing. He could breathe anywhere in the universe, but at that moment, there wasn't any air for him.

He knew there wasn't anywhere to go. No one was waiting for him and no one would bother with his whereabouts. He was alone and Earth suddenly became the smallest planet in existence.

He had been driving full-speed for 2 hours. The setting sun painted the sky bright orange. The sunset heat started burning Crowley more than any room in hell. He pulled over at an abandoned rest stop. It looked filthy with overflowing rubbish bins and two forgotten cars, but at least he knew no one would bother him. He needed some isolation to untangle his overwhelming thoughts. There was a run-down gas station with broken windows. He parked the car on the back of the building and got out with the hope that the fresh air would alleviate his fever.

"A demon, with fever" he thought.

The heavens would love the irony.

He didn't know where he was, but he was unbothered by that. He spotted a picnic table under an oak tree. He walked towards it and took a sit on the side bench. Even though a human would be deterred from stepping a foot on that rest stop, the view was spectacular. The sun was leaving its last marks in the sky before it began to disappear behind the mountains. There was an explosion of blue, purple, and orange now. The last sunrays glistered against the vibrant grass. However, everything looked faded behind his black-tinted glasses.

Crowley stared at the horizon and finally took a moment to process what had happened in the bookshop. He touched briefly his lips, trying to reminisce about his kiss with Aziraphale, but he decided that he didn't want to remember.

"Why?" he let out the words with a crisp in his voice.

If he allowed himself to be honest, he would admit that he had been perceptibly holding back tears even before he stepped out of the bookshop.

"Why? Why? Why?" he asks in desperation.

The realization dawns upon him. He is not mad at Aziraphale. His anger is directed at the pain he is feeling. He cannot delineate the reasons his emotions are causing him physical pain.

It is a common unspoken experience that all demons felt excruciating pain when they fell from heaven. Their white luscious wings were replaced by two bleeding wounds. For the first time, they saw the color of their blood. Crowley remembers the desperation of waking up alone with a sharp pain in his back. He screamed and cried, and was furious with God.

Eventually, his wounds healed and his black wings grew through his scars. His pain started fading away and he put all his emotions in a little box deep inside him. Though he never managed to lock it in the same manner his fellow demons did.

Back then, he understood his pain. It was a retribution for his wrong-doings, whether he deserved it or not. Yet, he didn't understand why he was being punished now. His injuries from the fall had gradually healed, but he did not see an ending to the wounds Aziraphale left on his soul.

He was infuriated. And all of a sudden, a misconception he blindly carried with him during his life as a demon, crumbled down:

"Demons never lose their ability to feel pain"