When the demon finally came to, it wasn't pleasant. He could barely focus enough to discern his surroundings. His stomach was doing flips and making him increasingly nauseous. There was a body next to him that was radiating too much heat. There was a light somewhere in the distance that seemed to pierce to the very depths of him. It was all too much and was making him sick.
"Crowley dear?" Aziraphale said, his voice ricocheting through the demon's skull, getting increasingly louder. "Love?"
Crowley groaned and turned away from the light and the body that was Aziraphale. His fingers gripped the edge of the bed tightly and he hauled his upper half over the edge to release the contents of his stomach.
"Oh dear." Aziraphale's voice sounded again, making the demon wince at the sheer sound of his voice. It was too much.
There was a movement on the bed, as if someone was getting off, making the bed rock. The movement — similar to that of a rocking ship — brought a new wave of sickness over the demon and he retched once again. He squeezed his eyes shut as a gentle hand laced through his hair, pulling it back and miracling it clean. The touch was both welcomed and torturous.
His skin felt too hot, as if he was burning up from the inside out. Any touch to the skin just made him sicker. Thankfully the angel didn't do more than tie his hair back.
There was more noise as Aziraphale moved about the room, probably to grab the bin in case Crowley threw up some more. Each little noise filled the demon's head and just made him even sicker. He didn't even realize he was crying until there was a too hot touch to his cheek, wiping the tears away.
"Shh, love. You're okay," the angel's soft voice sounded, as if it was drifting through cotton.
He was about to pass out again, he knew it. He tried to open his mouth to warn the angel but as soon as he did Aziraphale's hand moved away quickly, letting his head drop; and the darkness took over.
The second time he awoke was much more pleasant. He felt warm and safe being covered in an abundance of blankets. The room was dark, there wasn't any light anymore and no body was resting next to him. A pleasant smell was wafting in the air, as if someone was baking in the other room. The door was cracked open just slightly, letting in a soft morning light.
Crowley attempted to sit up, peeling back the layers of tartan that covered his body. When he got upright a wave of dizziness came over him that was thankfully gone within a minute.
He sighed in relief and looked down, seeing that Aziraphale had put him in tartan pajamas. Well, that wasn't attractive.
With a snap, Crowley tried to miracle them to their normal silk but... nothing happened. He snapped again. Nothing. What?
The door creaked open and Aziraphale was peaking in, a look of concern and delight crossing his face when he saw the demon sitting up. "Hi love." he whispered.
Crowley grunted his hello, still thoroughly confused as to why his miracles weren't working.
"Are you feeling better?" Aziraphale asked, stepping into the room gingerly. He was wearing a tartan apron that tied around his waist. There was a dusting of flour on his chin that was incredibly endearing. So he had been baking.
"Yeah." Crowley furrowed his eyebrows trying to remember how he had gotten here like this. He only remembered the conversation in the garden and that was it, "What happened?"
Aziraphale sighed and walked up to Crowley, holding the back of his hand to the demon's forehead, taking his temperature, "You've been throwing up all night. Gave me quite the scare."
"Oh." the demon vaguely remembered that, "Well, I'm feeling better now." he reassured the nervous looking angel.
Aziraphale clasped his hands in front of him with a smile, "Oh that's good! Would you like something to drink? Something to eat?" he went to the side table and picked up the glass of water there, "I couldn't get you to consume anything last night, I was nervous there was going to be nothing left in your system to throw up at one point. Here drink some water." he lifted the glass to the demon's lips.
Crowley took a few baby sips of the water, enjoying how the cool liquid flowed down his sore throat like a balm. But soon enough he was pushing the glass away. "I'm okay, angel. Really," he muttered, throwing a leg over the side of the bed.
Aziraphale hovered by his side, as if he was about to collapse at any moment. The demon stretched and yawned, glancing down at his pajamas once again.
He glanced over to the angel, "Tartan pajamas? Really?" he asked, rolling his eyes playfully.
Aziraphale blushed and stepped away, "I think they look very dashing."
"Of course you do." The demon grumbled moving to the wardrobe to find something more suitable since his miracles didn't seem to be working at this point in time.
The angel cleared his throat from behind him, "Um, dear?"
Crowley paused, looking over at Aziraphale expectantly.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for clothes." the demon raised his eyebrows as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He had just seen Aziraphale rummaging around in this same wardrobe for his own clothes yesterday. "You don't expect me to stay in tartan forever do you?"
"Oh, well..." The angel fidgeted coming over next to him, "You don't really keep clothes here." He explained, "You don't keep clothes at all — besides what you wore to the wedding — you usually just... miracle everything on."
Crowley nodded. Well, that complicated things. Taking a deep breath, he tried once more to miracle proper clothes onto himself again. Snap. The miracle worked. He breathed a sigh of relief as tight clothing encompassed his body.
Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion at the dramatics of it all and shook his head. "Come along, love. I've made tea." he said, moving out the door, "I'm glad you're feeling better."
The world tilted around the demon as he stumbled after the angel. That miracle must have really taken it out of him.. Thankfully the world seemed to right itself as he entered the kitchen.
Breathing a sigh of relief as he sat down across from the angel for tea. Aziraphale was humming a little tune while he flit around the table, pushing some biscuits over to the demon. The worry lines on the angel's face had yet to disappear so Crowley reluctantly picked up a biscuit and nibbled on it. Hopefully it would appease Aziraphale's nerves. He didn't usually eat, it was never much of a priority. It wasn't like he needed food to survive and it wasn't enjoyable for him like it was for the angel.
Similar to how demon's didn't need food, they weren't supposed to get sick either. So what was going on? His miracles weren't working, he had been throwing up all night, his memories were gone and a million other issues. There was obviously something wrong with him; but, he didn't want to worry the angel anymore than he already had. Aziraphale had taken care of a barely conscious, sick demon all night and also his emotional outpour yesterday over the wedding photos. He was probably exhausted.
The angel moved to the kitchen to pull out a fully baked pie from the oven and inhaled deeply with a smile. "I was thinking of heading to the bookshop today," he called over his shoulder. "There might be some books there that can help with your memory loss."
"Huh," Crowley answered, attempting to swallow down at least a little of the tea. He wished he had a spare miracle to spike it, make it more tolerable. "That's a good idea, when do we leave?"
Aziraphale frowned, "Well, I wasn't sure if you were going to be up for it. You were not well at all last night-"
"I'm better now," Crowley interrupted.
The angel hummed, placing the pie on the counter so it could cool. "If you insist, my dear. I would love to have company at the shop."
"I'd be glad to see it," the demon said with genuine interest. He had been curious about the shop. From what he had been told, the shop had been the angel's home for centuries before moving here. They must have made loads of memory within those walls. "It might jog something," he muttered hopefully.
Aziraphale sighed wistfully, "I would hope so. We did have some good times there."
Crowley stared down at his cup, longing for those memories. What were the good times? How often did they hang out at the bookshop? Is that where the angel fell in love with him? He just wanted to know. He had this perfect life now but he didn't even remember some of the best parts! This was real torture. Maybe Beezlebub and Gabriel were onto something with taking his memories away. Maybe they knew it would absolutely wreck him.
The demon's phone rested on the table and Crowley eyed it warily. Were the pictures still on it? Reaching out he grabbed the device and opened it. Immediately the screen lit up with the last picture he had looked at: their hands clasped together with their newly exchanged rings. With a shaky breath he started swiping through them again. He just wanted to remember.
"Did you finish your tea?" Aziraphale asked, coming to sit back down at the table.
Without taking his eyes off his phone, Crowley took the cup and downed the entire thing, enjoying the warmth as it made its way down his throat. He continued to swipe through the pictures.
Aziraphale sighed and brought his own phone out, "Okay, I'll call the cab. It should be here in a jiffy."
Driving into London absolutely blew Crowley's mind. He was ever so grateful for his glasses so he could gawk and stare out the window as much as he desired.
Aziraphale was sitting primly next to him, fidgeting nervously. Obviously, Crowley noticed but he couldn't understand what was wrong. He really was feeling much better and had tried to convince the angel of that at every turn. Yet, still Aziraphale fretted.
Crowley's hand drifted to his neck where his ring hung on a necklace. He fiddled with it briefly, trying to keep an optimistic outlook. He was here to get his memories back. As soon as that happened they could figure out this strange sickness and lack of miracles that was plaguing him. The two weren't related at all... were they?
Turning his attention back to the city, questions once again filled his mind as strange contraptions and people doing strange activities passed the window. He tried to bite them down so as to not freak out the human they were with.
Eventually the car slowed down to a roll and stopped in front of a shop.
"We're here," Aziraphale said quietly.
The angel and demon left the car simultaneously and paused on the steps of the book shop. 'A.Z. Fell and co.' it read on the sign above the door. Aziraphale seemed to look at Crowley expectantly as if waiting for something to happen. "This is where you lived?" Crowley asked.
Aziraphale sighed and nodded, opening the door for the demon, "Yes, it was quite a lovely few centuries."
Once inside Crowley breathed deeply, hoping against hope that he might remember something. The place felt old, dust and ancient looking books were strewn across the place. He did get a strange sense of deja vu but nothing concrete popped up.
"Alright my love," Aziraphale reached out for the demon's hand and squeezed gently, "I'm going to look for some books that may help our... situation. There's a room in the back where you can rest."
"I can help," Crowley rushed, eager to get his memories back.
"Are you sure my dear?" he turned to face the demon, brushing a stray red hair behind his ear then cupping his face, "You're looking a bit pale."
Crowley frowned, he wasn't feeling much different but he still wanted to be helpful. He wanted to prove he wasn't just a useless snake that made the angel's life just a bit harder the past weeks. There had to be something he could do, "I can make you tea?" he offered.
The angel beamed, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead, "Sounds wonderful my love. Come, I'll show you our sitting area."
Aziraphale led him to the back where there was an arrangement of sofas and armchairs piled high with pillows and blankets along with a thick layer of dust. Aziraphale snapped and the dust disappeared.
"My kitchenette is through that door, kettle and tea should be in there in one of the cupboards," Aziraphale squeezed the demon's hand once more before letting go, "I'll go collect some books that may help us with your condition and come back in here to read them with you over a nice cup of tea. It should only take a moment."
Crowley nodded as the angel walked away. Time to make tea.. He made his way to the kitchenette that Aziraphale had pointed out and his mind lost focus. Before he realized what was happening, the kettle was plugged in and the teacups were gathered. How had he done that? Oh yeah, his subconscious seemed to really like making tea it seemed.
He rolled his eyes and let his mind wander as he prepared the cups. What went well with tea? Biscuits? Aziraphale had set those out this morning. Crowley rummaged through the cupboards for something the angel could snack on but came up empty. Aziraphale hadn't visited the shop in months most likely, any food left behind would most likely be stale.
Crowley stared down at the two cups of piping tea. A minor miracle wouldn't hurt, would it? You can't just serve tea without a biscuit, right? The demon focused on the tin of biscuits Aziraphale had placed out this morning, really imagined it in his mind's eye and... snap. The tray remained empty and Crowley stared down in confusion. Snap. Nothing happened.
Groaning he tried a few more futile times before giving up, settling to just serve the tea by itself.
If he remembered correctly, Aziraphale didn't even like miracled food anyway so this newest development was probably a blessing in disguise. It still had him worried that something was terribly wrong. Demon's weren't supposed to lose their ability to miracle.
He resolved not to think about it and set down the cups of tea on the table. Memories were top priority, once he got those back, he could worry about everything else. With an exhausted sigh, he curled up on the longer sofa, nuzzling the pillows that gave such a distinct 'Aziraphale' scent. Oh. He liked that, could curl up here forever if that was allowed, maybe he could sneak some blankets back to their home? Aziraphale wouldn't mind, would he? He hissed in contentment and sprawled out among the fluffy things, he got so comfortable that he didn't even notice when the angel re-entered the room a few minutes later.
"So I have these two. They're a bit on the older side if I'm honest, from the thirteenth century medicine. Then I have this one which is one our dear witch friend Anathema gifted us a while back that at a glance doesn't mention memory loss, but figured it would still be a good one to see-" he paused, taking in the sight of a cuddly demon in his pillows with a fond smile, "Was I interrupting something?"
Crowley hissed contentedly and rubbed his cheek against the pillow again, "Everything here smells like you."
Aziraphale's expression softened impossibly so, "I did spend a lot of time here, back in the day..." he sighed wistfully then righted himself handing a book over to the demon, "Are you still up for a little light reading?"
Crowley shrugged and nodded, taking the book from the angel graciously. Now, to get some answers. He settled back against the sofa while Aziraphale made himself comfortable in the armchair. Okay books. He looked down at the cover of the thick text the angel had given him. Frowning a bit as he couldn't recognize the symbols on the cover. Was that a new language? Maybe it was just the cover.
He flipped it open to see the symbols continued in nonsensical order inside the book. But why were the symbols moving? He flipped a page, trying to find something he could recognize but the symbols just kind of floated and danced in front of his eyes. What? Crowley could have sworn he could read a minute ago. He had read the sign above Aziraphale's shop, hadn't he?
With a frustrated groan he slammed the book shut. There was the faintest bit of a headache and a distant ringing in his ears he assumed was from his intense concentration on nonsense.
"Love?" Aziraphale hummed, not looking up from his own reading, "Was there nothing good in that one?"
The demon changed his gaze to the front of the shop, trying to focus on something other than the book in front of him, "I couldn't read it," he mumbled, purposely unintelligible.
Aziraphale looked up, confusion clear in his eyes. "What?"
"I couldn't read it," he said a bit clearer, causing the angel to frown.
"Oh. Did I grab the Latin one on accident?" he gently set down his own book to come over to Crowley's side and check out his.
The demon rolled his eyes, reluctant to point out that if it had been Latin, he would have been able to read at least some of it. No, it wasn't that, there was something bigger going on here. Maybe he should tell the angel his little miracle problem and the headache growing stronger in his head.
Aziraphale tutted as he sat down on the sofa next to Crowley, "That is quite strange. I can read it perfectly. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" There was a soft touch on the back of the demon's hand and he turned to face Aziraphale who frowned at the sight. "Oh my love, you're eyes have gone completely serpent and you're still dreadfully pale. Should we go home? Call it a day?"
"We haven't done anything!" Crowley hissed out. True, he didn't feel well but they had barely sat down to read these books on how to get his memories back. There was no way he was leaving without at least a hint on how to do that.
There was a calming hand running through his hair that the demon belatedly realized was Aziraphales, "Shh, it's okay. I can grab a few more books and we can head home and do the reading there. Something fruitful is bound to come of this, I'm sure."
Crowley shook his head, feeling tears come to his eyes unbid, "What if we miss something and have to come back? Why not just stay here until we figure it out?"
"If we miss something, we will come back later. There's no rush-" Aziraphale started.
"I don't want to wait!" the demon snapped. How could the angel not understand how awful this was for him? He was tired of all this confusion and constant playing of catch-up. He was tired of not remembering the best moments of his life. He just wanted to remember their first kiss, the first time they said 'I love you', their wedding. He wanted to know how the years of pining felt, the pain of the apocalypse, even their fights. For Someone's sake! He was missing more than a thousand years worth of memories! Even for an occult being, that was incredibly disorienting.
Aziraphale's eyes widened a bit and he leaned away.
"I'm sorry I just-" Crowley buried his head in his hands, wiping the tears away furiously, "I don't want to wait anymore."
There was a silence before warm arms enveloped the demon, "Don't apologize my love. I can't imagine how hard this is for you, I should've realized... Forgive me for being so inconsiderate," Aziraphale mumbled, sounding absolutely heartbroken.
The demon shook his head, about to refute what the angel had just said when a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him, "Ugh," he stiffened in Aziraphale's arms as he tried valiantly to get the world to right itself. The ringing in his ears from earlier returned at a much louder volume.
"What's wrong?" Aziraphale asked, pulling away to get a glimpse at the demon's pained expression, "Oh..." he murmured, understanding almost too well.
As gently as he could, he laid the demon down onto the sofa as Crowley hissed in pain.
"Oh my dear, you do not look well at all," the angel sighed, tugging a blanket so it rested over the demon's shivering form.
Crowley groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. The light and sound in the bookshop was gradually becoming too much for him to handle. "Gonna be sick," he choked out as the nausea set in.
Aziraphale hummed with just a hint of panic in the note, "Okay, what can I do?"
"The light," Crowley gasped out, fisting his hands in the blanket to get control over his urge to gag, "sound... too much."
With a snap the shutters closed and the shop was cast in imperfect darkness, "better?" Aziraphale whispered, voice impossibly soft.
A car honked from the street outside, and the noise of people chattering drifted into the shop and the demon grimaced. "No," he replied honestly.
There was a scuffing, shuffle sound from next to him as the angel moved off the couch and onto his knees next to the demon. Crowley didn't need to open his eyes to see the look of concern in Aziraphale's eyes, "Okay my love. Brace yourself." there were two hands cupping his chin and the demon shuddered at the touch. He didn't like the tone of that. What was the angel going to do?
A bright light flashed through the room causing the demon to reel backwards but the firm grip on his face forced him to stay still. He screamed as the light nearly blinded him, even as his eyes were closed. His own hands came to claw at Aziraphale, begging for him to let go, so he could hide from whatever huge miracle the angel was performing.
When the light faded, Crowley was reduced nothing more to a gagging, shivering mess. What had the angel done? He tried to open his eyes and found he couldn't do so, they seemed glued shut. Thankfully the city noises had faded away and the light in the room was much darker. Aziraphale's hands gently let go of his face, guiding him down to rest on a silk pillow. Wait, where were they?
Belatedly, Crowley realized Aziraphale had transported them back home. Back to their room. Ah, that was much better. Much quieter.
He was laid on a soft surface he recognized as their bed and as soon as his head hit the pillow he passed out.