~ Crowley's Perspective ~
"You really thought you could protect him." Satan drawled, his grip crushing Crowley's wings as tears flooded the demon's eyes. "You thought you could save him, didn't you?"
No, Crowley thought, his lip quivering as he looked down at the flames. Aziraphale was down there somewhere, Crowley had to get to him, had to -
"Aziraphale!" he cried, ignoring Satan's taunts, "AZIRAPHALE!"
He counted. He counted heartbeats as he waited for an answer, waited for anything.
One.
Two.
Three.
And there was nothing.
I failed. I've failed my Angel. He called for my help and I... I couldn't save him.
Crowley's heart shattered as he burst into tears.
"Y-you!" he cried, looking up at Satan, "... T-this is your f-fault! It's all your fault! You killed my best f-friend! You k-killed my Angel!"
"I did no such thing," Satan said calmly.
"He's g-gone, all because of you! They bow to you!"
"This is war, demon. The war bows to no one." Satan whispered into Crowley's ear. Whispered. The King of Hell did not whisper. Even so, the words broke Crowley. Tears fell from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, the demon realising he had no one to blame but himself. His heart crumpled in his chest as Satan let go of him, letting the demon slip from his grasp and tumble out of the sky. Crowley's eyes squeezed shut. He didn't want to fall. He was afraid.
But there was no one to catch him anymore. Not a single soul left to love him.
And the demon finally understood why he could not love. He was a demon, after all, and he could not love. He had loved Aziraphale, and because he had... He had lost his Angel.
The war bows to no one, Satan had said.
Neither did Crowley.
Crowley opened his wings, tears spilling as his feathers caught in the wind. He soared through the black smoke, choking and spitting as he did so. He flew through the fires, shooting down to the ground as fast as he could.
"Angel!" he cried, looking around wildly, "Angel, please, don't leave me!"
Every minute of silence caused Crowley tidal waves of grief. He called Aziraphale's name, over and over until his throat grew soar. Still, he didn't stop. He zipped through the flames, his feathers signed but not burnt.
"You can't be gone..." Crowley whimpered, "You can't be..."
But no answer came from the burning city. Not a whisper of anything that had once been there. It was all ashes and fire. Ashes that fell to the ground and coated his black wings like stars. The remains of souls who no longer existed.
Souls who were freed because of an angel. An angel whose light Crowley would never again see. An Angel whose voice he would never hear. An angel who was gone.
"I promised you I would protect you," Crowley sobbed, "That they would never hurt you. Look what they've done... Aziraphale, I'm sorry... I loved you."
He didn't know why he bothered. The angel - his angel - was gone. He spoke to no one, no one heard him. He was truly alone in the fire. Crowley's knees shook as he lowered himself to the ground, kneeling on the floor as tears streamed down his face and boiled in the heat. Once, Crowley had believed he had lost the angel for good. Had believed that his best friend was gone because of Heaven and Hell.
"He lied to you." said a low voice. The second in command of Hell stood behind him, but Crowley did not look. He didn't want to.
"He lied to you, Crowley," Beelzebub repeated.
"You," Crowley hissed, hatred bubbling inside him, "You tricked him."
"No tricks, Crowley. He knew. He knew when he signed the contract."
"This is your fault!" Crowley growled, his hands curling into fists on the ground and turning his knuckles white.
"Oh, Crowley, I really am sorry. I'm sorry that you thought you loved him." Beelzebub said sweetly, though their words were toxic.
"I LOVED HIM!"
They seemed to pause for a moment, contemplating. "I'm even more sorry you thought you could save him. You poor thing."
"YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND. MY ANGEL. Not the war, not Heaven or hell. YOU!" Crowley yelled, ignoring all her words. He shot up, tears clouding his vision and making everything blurry.
"Crowley," They tried.
"Bitch!" he screamed.
Crowley flung himself at her, pinning them to the ground. They yelped in surprise, struggling to fight Crowley off. He seized their throat, slamming their head into the concrete and smiling at the crack it made. Blood trickled from the back of their head, dripping onto the ground. They looked up at him with pure rage and hatred in those dull blue eyes. Crowley tightened his grip on their throat, choking the air out of them.
You see, humans could not kill angels or demons. Demons, however, could kill angels, angels could kill demons and they could kill their own kind.
Beelzebub gasped for breath, their hands clawing at his own, trying to tear his grip away.
"How does it feel, Princess?" he snarled, "To be powerless and suffocating? That's only half of the pain you've caused me!"
"Aziraphale... wouldn't... want this..." they wheezed.
"AZIRAPHALE IS DEAD!"
His words echoed into the fires. They bounced back and forth in his mind, giving him a headache. Dead.
Aziraphale is dead.
The world seemed to stop spinning and started crashing down. Crowley choked out another sob, realising just how much truth lay beneath those words. The silence killed him, tearing him apart from the inside.
"... Kill me..." Beelzebub gasped, "...I dare you. Your angel would... never... forgive you..."
Crowley's lip wobbled as his tears spilled. They were right. Aziraphale never would forgive him. He was unforgivable, after all. A demon. Nothing but a low-life demon whom no one loved. He bared his teeth, his eyes blazing with grief, hatred and rage.
"A-Aziraphale is gone! He's gone and he's never coming back, all because of YOU! YOU DID THIS, AND YOU DESERVE TO PAY!"
"And..." Beelzebub began, coughing and spluttering weakly, "...And you don't?"
"I..." Crowley trailed off, "I see what you're doing. Think you can fool me, Princess? Ha. Think again, b-because no one can h-hurt me anymore."
"You are already broken."
His stomach twisted into a knot that hurt. It made him feel sticky and pasty, sweat forming on his brow. He felt cold, however, even if he was standing in a fire.
He tightened his grip on Beelzebub's throat, their eyes rolling back as she gasped for air.
No.
Aziraphale would not want this.
I can't.
As long as you love him.
Crowley let go. His eyes were flooded with so many tears he couldn't see. Beelzebub's black hair had flakes of ashes in them as she squeezed their eyes shut, her chest heaving. Crowley stepped away, watching the fresh red blood trickle down her forehead.
"You're weak," They spat, shrinking away from Crowley. The demon pinned them against the wall, trying his very best to be able to see despite the water in his eyes.
"You are nothing. Nothing but a pathetic demon who can't do anything right. You couldn't even save an angel."
"S-stop it," he whimpered.
"You couldn't even save yourself, could you?" they stood up and brushed their arm against his shoulder. He winced slightly as blood trickled from a cut he hadn't realised was there.
"Look at yourself," they stared at him, something dark and evil glistening in their dull blue eyes. Crowley flinched as they paced around him, watching Hell's second in command point out all the bruises, scrapes and injuries he now bore.
He gazed at them with tears in his eyes that refused to spot falling.
"You killed my Angel," he whispered, "And you're going to pay for it."
Crowley opened his jet black wings, his dark feathers ruffled. He shot into the burning sky, and flew as far as he could.
He did not know where he was going.
He didn't care. It didn't matter now.
Nothing did.
And still he flew on, hoping he could get away. He would run away until he could fly no longer. Trying to run away from both the war, Heaven and Hell.
And when his wings began to hurt, and he couldn't go any further, Crowley knew where he was going. To his Angel's favourite place. The demon landed, pushing open the doors. He took in the smell of old papers and dusty books, mixed in with the still fresh scent of sweet flowers and angelic presence. Crowley looked at his ring, a dark serpent twisted around his pinkie finger.
And he knelt on the floors of the bookshop and cried.
~ Aziraphale's Perspective ~
The angel Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate and Principality was not in Heaven, nor Hell, but rather, lost somewhere in between. Thousands of iron clad chains were fastened to his wings, wrists and ankles. Chains that bound him to earth completely. He was currently just outside his bookshop, about to enter to attempt to find a way to remove the chains. He wasn't dead, simply without a body. Invisible to the eyes of any souls.
Aziraphale did not know this.
When he opened the door of his bookshop, he realised he could hear quiet whimpering and what sounded like crying. The angel entered the room, only to see Crowley, kneeling on the floor with his face buried in his hands. His whole body shook with the force of his uncontrollable sobbing.
"Oh, dearest!" Aziraphale exclaimed, rushing to the demon's side. He tried to reach for Crowley's hand, but when he did his own hand passed right through.
"...Dearest?" Aziraphale asked again, his eyes widening, "Crowley?!"
But the demon didn't flinch. Did not raise his head or acknowledge him at all.
"Oh, no..." the angel whispered softly, sitting next to the one he cared about more than anything. He wouldn't leave that spot. Aziraphale watched as Crowley stood up, snapping his fingers.
The angel could do nothing. Only watch as Crowley suffered.
"Oh, Angel..." Crowley's voice broke, and Aziraphale made a sound that would fall somewhere between a whimper and a cry.
Crowley didn't turn. Instead, a bottle of wine appeared in the demon's hand. He unscrewed the top and took a big sip, straight from the bottle.
"Crowley, no... Please, I'm here! I'm right... here..." the angel pleaded, "I'm here..."
Aziraphale sat on the floor with Crowley again, hoping, praying he could help his best friend. Crowley took another sip, drinking much too fast. Within moments the demon was mumbling to himself on the floor, drunk. His breathing was reduced to shaky sobbing, his chest rising and falling in an unsteady manner. Aziraphale could feel Crowley's pulse when he touched the demon, though Crowley could not feel him. The demon's heart was racing, heat pricking at his cheeks.
"I love you." Aziraphale told him.
And Crowley never heard.
~~~
Crowley had been drinking without pause for the last five hours. Aziraphale had watched him cry, and cry, and cry. The angel was shocked to find someone - a demon nonetheless - who loved him this much. Loved him enough to weep for so long. Crowley was sprawled on the floor, leaning against a bookshelf, talking to himself. Aziraphale sat right beside him, and neither had moved from that spot for hours.
"Oh, Crowley..." Aziraphale breathed, watching his beloved demon with desperate eyes. He would do everything in his power to keep Crowley safe from harm. The angel owed Crowley his life. He wouldn't let his demon get hurt.
I'll stay here, Crowley. Watching over you. Aziraphale thought.
The angel snorted.
Oh, Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Aziraphale thought to himself, What a wonderful Guardian you are, losing your sword, your body, making a deal with the Duke of Hell and falling in love with a demon. Truly angelic. Some Guardian I am.
And then it hit him.
Even if he could not help his best friend, he could still be there. He could still try. Aziraphale had never been a very good Guardian. Not in the Garden of Eden, anyway. He would no longer guard anything for Heaven nor Hell. But he would for Crowley.
He would be Crowley's Guardian Angel.
~ Crowley's Perspective ~
Crowley was very drunk, very heartbroken, very, very grief struck and immensely tired. Not exactly what one would consider a wonderful combination at four in the morning. He was alone in the bookshop, not a whisper for any souls but his sad excuse for a demon. His hands would not stop shaking, his head pounded with far too much alcohol and his wings were now unfolded, strewn across the floor. Black feathers littered the bookshop, as well as empty bottles of wine. He'd removed his sunglasses long ago, though he didn't remember if they'd fallen off or if he'd taken them off. He was still curled into a ball, his wings wrapped around himself as he cried for an angel whom he would never see. The whole world hadn't stopped spinning, and Crowley knew it was the wine.
He didn't want to sober up.
He wanted to drink himself into discorperation, and then throw himself into the deepest, darkest pits of Hell. Whatever fresh hell Crowley was being put through was far worse than Hell itself could ever be. Truth he told, he wanted to fly up to Heaven and go for a swim in their holiest water. That wouldn't be as bad as he left now.
It wasn't that Crowley had ever wanted to die. When Aziraphale was still alive, the demon had only wanted to live for that angel. Now that he was gone... the demon had nothing left and would rather not exist at all. He didn't care about the war, or Heaven, or Hell. He had cared about Aziraphale, and now his Angel was dead.
And it was all his fault.
Crowley didn't deserve forgiveness. He was a demon. His kind were just that; Unforgivable. Once, he'd tried to explain this to Aziraphale, who had proceeded to do the very thing angels were forbidden to do. He'd forgiven a demon. Aziraphale had forgiven Crowley once, and ever since, Crowley had been trying to make it up to him. His Angel had gone against Heaven's rules for him, against the nature of an angel. For him.
So the demon Crowley folded his hands, lowered his head and closed his eyes. He knelt on the floor, his body still shaking. And he began to pray.
Demons never prayed. Crowley didn't even know what would happen once he did. Would God even hear him? If She did, would she listen? Probably not. Would it hurt Crowley?
He didn't care. He began to pray anyway, and he prayed for Aziraphale.
"...S-so, uh, G-God?" he began, "I-I'm not sure how this works... but I'm going to try. I'm n-not sure if you can hear me, b-but I... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It's all m-my fault that Aziraphale is g-gone. I f-failed my A-Angel. I l-lost my best friend tonight. I-I know that d-demons can't love... B-but... I l-loved him." Crowley's voice broke as he went on, "And... If... Er... If it's not t-to much - ngk - trouble... Aziraphale and I-I wanted peace. I-I s-still do. I wanted it f-for him. The war has to stop. P-please... C-children are d-dying and it's all r-really b-bad and I... I... I'm s-scared. I'm s-scared and alone and I just want it all to s-stop. Please. Just make it s-stop."
Crowley's silent tears turned into quiet crying. He unfolded his hands, placed them over his heart and curled up on the floor.
The words of a demon's prayer echoed into the Heavens, heard by no one.
No one but one angel, who wrapped invisible wings around Crowley and held him there for the rest of the night.
The angel prayed that night too, for the demon whose prayers went unanswered.