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[14sunnyfly]

How Can I Escape This Inescapable Feeling Without You?

Stories of angels and demons always describe them as purely good or purely evil, but God doesn't see them as such. Frankly she's quite insulted that anyone believes she would create anything so utterly, boring. 

No, despite what the creatures themselves might believe, if they looked a little further into their own hearts and minds, they would find someone just a little more human. 

That humanity is nuanced and beautiful and everything she ever wanted, but it is also susceptible. It is weak to the terrors of the world, the faults of hubris and the grief of an all consuming loss. 

Most supernatural beings find it a foreign concept, but for those who live on earth, it is a constant fact of life. That means that all angels and demons who live above the mortal plane will never experience the sensation. 

No, only two of the holy and unholy armies have experienced the pain. 

Aziraphels first was quite early on in his life on earth, the death of Abel. 

He was a kind young man, and often could be found sharing his ideas with the heavens, and Aziraphel. They grew in friendship over their shared loyalty to God and love of knowledge. Abel actually wrote the first letter, over 3900 years before the other guy. 

It was a letter to his brother, Cain. He just wanted to let him know that he made him a nice fur coat. Unfortunately it never got delivered, said brother beat Abel’s head in with a rock that same day. 

The loss broke Aziraphale, this was the first time he had known death, and how it could take someone too soon. He burned Abel's body on an altar that night, hoping that head office could take him in. 

Though this loss was painful, it was a learning lesson for Aziraphale. He learned how fragile life on earth was and how to pick up the pieces of himself left when it got taken away. 

The angel broke quite often after that, his heart being kind and latching onto any living thing that caught his attention. He got quite adept at gluing it back together so that it was almost perfect until it could heal. He learned to enjoy the times he had with them a little bit more, savor their words just a little bit longer, and to hug them a bit tighter before they go. 

Crowley on the other hand was a whole different situation. He witnessed how loss broke others so many times before ever experiencing the feeling himself. 

  The first time Crowley ever saw how loss affected others, was actually with Aziraphale. 

The Demon was not the one who convinced a brother to kill a brother, that was humanity all on its own. 

No, at the time he was occupied with trying to get Adam to swear. He had already gotten them to eat the forbidden fruit, now he just has to secure their souls for head office and he can take the next few decades off. 

He morphed into a crow and sat on the first man’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. 

“Go away Crawley. I do not wish to hear your foul words." The first man was getting old, his voice cracking with pain as he spoke, "You already got me and my wife kicked out of paradise, haven’t you done enough?” The man looked at the bird, pleading with his eyes for the demon to go bother anyone else but himself. 

Fine, he’ll go away, not like he really wanted to talk to the dumb thing anyway, just there weren't too many other options, beginning of the world and all. 

The demon bristled his feathers, cawed loudly in the human’s ear just for good measure, then took off and flew away. He should go and find the young boy Cain. 

The angel loved his brother Abel so obviously the demon should hang out with the slightly broodier brother. 

That was the only option. 

So Crawley flew to find the other brother, really if he was going to be flying as a Crow, his name should be Crowley not Crawley. Never much like being a snake anyway, he much prefers the freedom of flying than being forced to travel around on his stomach in the dirt. 

The demon didn’t find the boy anywhere in the house, so he flew out to the fields. Both of the boys worked too much if you asked him, honestly he doesn’t even think God received the sacrifices. 

She didn't like them even if she did get them, she much preferred flowers and fruits to corn and slaughtered goats and lambs. At least, those were her favorite to create. 

He was lurched from his thoughts when he came upon the person he was searching for. Oh great, goody two shoes was there too, so the angel couldn't be that far behind. 

Later the demon would recall a look in his boy’s eyes that he didn’t recognize, an aggression in his stance similar to the one he used while hunting, but currently all he could feel was an extreme annoyance at how hard it was going to be to corrupt anyone with a messenger of the Lord nearby.

Crowley was still grumbling about this when Cain threw the first punch. There truly was no warning, one minute they were talking, the next Abel had a bloody nose and Cain a bloody hand. The sight was the first thing to truly shock the Demon. 

He didn’t yet know that humans could do so much evil without him. 

It didn’t stop with one punch, no there was second, and a third, and a fourth and on and on until Abel was on the ground. 

That was when Cain grabbed the rock. It was a good rock for smashing heads in as far as rocks go, not too round and easy to hold on to even with its above average size. There was a good point on it that Crowley observed making holes in Abel's head as it was repeatedly smashed down. 

The boy tried to defend himself, he truly did but there was no competition. One party aimed to kill while the other aimed to subdue, one feat is much harder than the other. This is especially certain when the killer had the advantage of surprise and the defender was still holding onto the hope that his brother loved him enough not to end his life. 

It was a foolish hope. 

As quickly as it had started, it had ended. The screaming and fighting back stopped, and after a few more blows to his brother's head with the rock that made a sickening squelch each time, Cain stood up covered in blood. The boy calmly walked over to the river and cleaned himself off. There was no remorse on his face, only solemn acceptance. 

After the human had left, the demon watched as the angel showed up. 

His enemy had some thinly shaved pieces of wood in his hand, bound together to form something similar to a stack of wooden leaves that were stuck together on one end. If the demon looked hard enough, he swore he could've saw some faint marks on the first page that seemed intentional. 

Aziraphale walked onto the scene with no idea of the horrors that had happened not moments ago, but as soon as the angel saw the body he dropped the strange object and fell to his knees. He crawled over to the corpse, and dipped his hand down to try and cradle the boy's head. 

The angel's hand just pushed the bloody mush around, staining his white robe a deep red. 

Crowley watched curiously as his enemy continued to try and find the boy’s head in the pile of flesh. The attempts were futile, but the supernatural being didn’t seem to realize it. 

Honestly, Crowley thought it was embarrassing for them both at this point, making the forces of heaven and hell look pathetic. He took pity– He went over and grabbed the angel harshly by the shoulders, causing the other to give a full body flinch in return. He loosened his grip slightly before trying to snap the other being out of whatever trance he was in. 

"Aziraphale, enough of this. I'm sure your head office won't be happy if you return these robes stained with blood." The angel made no reaction so he shook him a little to try and get his attention. When he got no reaction, he shook him a little harder. When it became clear the other being was in some sort of state that made him seemingly unconscious Crowley's annoyance dimmed. Unable to fix the big issue, the demon decided to fix what he could. 

“C’mon angel, let's get you cleaned up.” He led the other man by the wrist to the same river the human had washed himself in, though the traces of the other being were all gone by now. 

Crowley led the angel into the water up to his waist, letting himself get wet as well. He tried to rinse the other being’s sleeves by just letting them sit in the rushing water but the blood had already begun to dry. 

Chunks of flesh and bone that had stuck to the angel’s clothes came loose in the flowing water, and drifted slowly down stream. The angel had made no reaction to the demon still and honestly it was starting to worry  annoy him. He was just staring into the red ring forming around his body as the blood that had soaked into the lower-half of his robe slowly started to come off in the water. 

Not quite knowing what to do, Crowley stayed silent, and started to wash the blood from Aziraphale's sleeves. Once he got it almost back to the white it was before, the demon used a miracle to clear away the remaining stain. 

The angel had still not reacted, but that was fine by Crowley, he still had work to do. There were splashes of blood dotting all over the angel’s robe around his torso and neck. 

Crowley reached for the edge of a reed that was hanging over the river. When he picked the plant it died in his hands, becoming rough and scratchy. He used another miracle to increase the durability of the plant so that it would not crumble in his hands. 

The demon held the dead reed in his mouth as he cupped the water in his hands and poured it over the blood stains on the angel’s robe. He used the reed to scrub at the stains, paying little mind to the other’s comfort. 

Maybe some of the pain will clear the haunted look in his eyes. 

He continued in the same process he used to cleanse the sleeves on the rest of the robe. The demon poured water on then scrubbed the red marks until they were nothing more than a faint ghost of what they used to be, then moved onto the next. 

The angel had not been clean in his mourning, getting drops of blood up and down his chest and near his neck. Crowley took care of them all, scrubbing until they were all but gone. He got every tiny little splash of red or brown that stained the pure white fabric until there were nothing but the faint stains of orange. 

Then he snapped his fingers and those were gone too. 

Crowley looked the angel over and noticed that there were a few flecks of red on the angel’s face and in his hair. Not wanting to ruin all his hard work by using the rough reed on his face and making the angel bleed(No doubt he would let it drip back onto his clean robe in his delirious state), the demon grabbed another reed from the bank.

This time instead of killing it instantly in his hand, he imbued the plant with fear, so that it used its own willpower to hang onto the last threads of life in his hand and remain soft. He brushed the new plant delicately against the angel’s soft skin, careful to avoid his eyes. 

Finally the angel reacted, eyes darting up to meet Crowley’s as the plant brushed against his face. The demon paused, eyes questioning if he should continue. After a slight pause, Aziraphale nodded, but now his eyes trailed the other man’s every move. 

Crowley continued to clean his face, worry subsided by the presence of his new observer. Now that the angel was conscious, he was gentler with his movements. He didn’t want to spook him and have him fly away, getting himself even more wet. 

Once the red droplets on the angel’s face had been brushed away, he dropped the reed into the river in favor of using his hands for the hair. 

Crowley cupped more water in his hands and poured it over the angel’s head. His eyes closed when the cold water washed over them, but shot back open the moment they were clear. 

The demon thread his long, bony fingers into the angel's hair, weaving them in and out of the soft material. He pulled slightly at the curls to detangle the knots and remove the small amount of blood staining the white strands. He massaged the angel’s scalp as well, removing dirt that had accumulated there thanks to the desert winds. 

The tension in Aziraphale's shoulders finally began to disappear. His eyes softened with a unique euphoria, and a moment later he closed his eyes and leaned into the demon’s touch. 

A small smile broke through Crowley’s normally scowling face as he looked at the angel. He reminded him of one of the animals he had seen in the garden, a baby wolf. What had the women called it? Oh right, a puppy. 

The angel who had come down from heaven to guard the garden of God with a flaming sword, looked like a cute puppy. 

What a strange world this Earth is. 

After a few minutes of massaging the other’s scalp, Crowley's hands were getting tired, and the cold from the river was starting to get annoying. He untangled and removed his fingers from the angel’s hair, but he didn’t miss how the man's head tried to follow the sensation of his hands, almost as if he had wanted it to continue longer. 

Crowley almost put his hands back. Almost

Instead, he brought his hands down to Aziraphel's elbows. He looked him in the eyes and nodded his head toward the bank opposite to the side with the corpse. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “I– I want to give him a proper send off… Maybe, if we treat him like one of the goats, she will take him up and take care of him now that he’s…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, choking on a small sob. 

Crowley looked at the crumbling man. He didn’t understand his grief, but he did understand that the man in front of him was breaking. 

How can one feeling so utterly destroy a powerful being such as Aziraphale? It's not like the angel has to worry about dying himself. It's also not as if the being is gone forever, Armageddon will be here before they know it then they both will be off the clock for the foreseeable future, and angel here can reunite with his pet. 

How one being can have such control over another was beyond comprehension for Crowley, but the tears now freely falling down Aziraphale’s face caused him to put his own confusion aside.

Taking a deep breath he made his decision. 

“Ok.” 

There wasn’t a light in the angel’s eyes, but the darkness of grief that had consumed them since he found the body receded just a little, and that made the whole ordeal worth it. 

They drug themselves through the river, back towards the bank, towards the corpse. About an hour had passed since the demon led the angel into the river, now they trace their footsteps back to the horrific site. 

It was almost worse than Crowley remembered, the smell had definitely gotten worse. 

Aziraphale look at the scene, eyes beginning to cloud over once again. Crowley was close enough that he was able to grip onto the angel’s shoulder, digging his nails into his flesh. The demon did it just hard enough not to draw blood, the effect was instant. 

The holy man yelped and threw a scandalized look at the demon, but the dark clouds in his eyes and receded once again and he was here. 

“You didn’t need to do it that hard.” He said, rubbing his shoulder with a slight grimace on his face. 

The demon only smirked, “It worked, didn’t it?” He said with a small chuckle. 

Aziraphale glared at him, but solemnly turned back to the task at hand. He went over to what used to be Abel and bent down to try to start gathering up the body. Before his knees could even fully bend, Crowley growled. 

“Don’t. You. Dare.” 

The demon's pupils had narrowed into paper thin slits and his eyes were blown wide showing off his haunted yellow irises. Fear was rolling off him in waves, even the wind seemed to tremble on the edge of his word. 

Aziraphale’s holy confidence shielded him from the worst of it, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t affected at all. Angels don’t lie so he chose to remain silent. 

“I just spent thirty minutes cleaning those dreadful white robes, and you go and try to stain them again the first second you are out of the river? No, you go prepare your altar thing or whatever, I’ll deal with the… clean up.” The demon said, dropping his intimidation. 

At that, Aziraphale stood up. He wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up his friend so he was glad the demon had spoken up, even if it was for selfish reasons. Though, the reasoning did seem weak, even too him. If he weren’t an angel and the man across from him not a demon, he would dare to say Crawley was trying to be… kind… 

A demon being kind, what a thought? 

The angel smiled, and manners perfect as ever, he uttered a simple “Thank you Crawley.” and turned away to go find what he needed for the altar. 

The angel left the demon stunned. 

He had not been thanked in a long time. 

He’s a demon, he’s not supposed to get thanked for anything. Ever. 

Suddenly he was filled with the overwhelming need to defend his wicked and selfish intent to the world. 

“I’m not doing this for you!” He shouted, but the angel was gone, so he continued on even louder. 

“I’m doing it because you are making supernatural beings look bad! If people realize that they can walk all over YOU they might try and walk all over ME, so actually I’m being super selfish right now, this is all about me and not about you at all! You hear me angel!!” He screamed so loud that his voice was raw, but Aziraphale never heard, to focused on trying to find the best for the altar to his friend. 

Crowley breathed hard for a moment, attempting to recover his breath. Looking over to the body he realized that this task was going to be harder than he might have first assumed when he took it on. 

Maybe he should’ve let the angel do it, blood stained robes be damned. 

But now the angel was gone, and it was only him and the corpse, and maybe god if she was deciding to be an all seeing creep at the moment. 

Crowley looked around himself for something to put the pieces in, and settled once again upon the reeds. They haven’t failed him yet and he is sure that with his display from earlier, they know not to fail him now. 

The demon gathered several large reeds and started weaving them into a basket as he had seen Eve do hundreds of times since they left the garden. 

As he was weaving Crowley continued to grumble to himself. “Probably couldn’t even gather stuff for the altar anyway, most of it was probably holy items that would have burned me.” 

The repetitve action for his hands helped him to sort through his thoughts and process them better, coming up with all sorts of excuses for why he assisting the angel “I’m just doing this because knowing him it would’ve take all night and he probably would have woken me up with the fire.” he said as he was finishing up weaving the last row. 

After Crowley was done with the weaving he went back to the river and grabbed some sediment from the bank to rub on the inside of the basket creating a watertight seal. “Just doing this so that the blood won’t drip on me when I have to carry this thing to that damned holy altar.” he muttered under his breath. 

Crowley went back to the murder scene and saw the blood covered stone. Near it was another slightly flatter stone of roughly the same size. The demon picked up the murder stone and began chipping away at the flatter stone. He was attempting to cave it in so that it would be a better tool suited for scooping up skull-mush. “Stupid angel having a stupid friend who got his stupid head smashed in.” 

His demonic strength sped up the process, and only fifteen minutes later he had a spoon-like shovel that was perfect for scooping up the mess that was Abel’s body. “Not even nice enough to stick around and help out, could’ve at least miracled a tool for me, but nooo I had to make it myself.” 

Crowley began scooping up the mess into his woven basket. He made sure the reed’s he had used were completely dead so that it would burn nicely for the angel on the altar. He continued to complain, and justify his actions under his breath as he worked, but the excuses sounded weak, even to himself. 

Finally, after about two and a half hours of labor, he was done. The angel still wasn’t back yet so he sat down on a nearby log to admire his work. The body was fully in the basket and coerced with a lid to try and tamper down on the smell. The soil where the body had been was thoroughly mixed up, showing no visible signs of the blood that had stained its ground not ten minutes ago.

It was a nice area, Crowley can see why the angel and Abel had enjoyed hanging out here. He’ll have to put a tree here, something to come back to in a hundred years. Just as he was thinking about this, Aziraphale stumbled back out through the tall grass. 

The angel looked the demon in the eyes, taking a shaky breath, he said, 

“It's ready.” 

Crowley nodded once at the other man before walking over and picking up the basket. He hefted it up to his chest with a small grunt, before turning to Aziraphale with a solemn look on his face. 

“Lead the way.” he said neutrally. 

The angel gave a quick nod before turning back the way he came and trudging through the grass. Crowley followed close behind, trying to keep up so that he didn’t lose the angel in the brush. 

They walked for a good twenty minutes, and just when Crowley was about to start complaining, they arrived. 

The altar was simple, but extravagant. The demon recognized it as Abel’s old altar as the base for the display, but the angel had carved a beautiful mosaic all across the three stones. 

The mosaic was full of designs and depictions of all the good things the boy had done, from illustrations of his brilliant sacrifices to the times he helped out baby animals, to conversations he had with Aziraphale himself. All were shown. Around the altar were bouquets of the prettiest flowers Crowley had ever seen. Explosions of pink, yellow and purple interlaced with green and brown surrounded the stones, giving the whole area the feeling of spring incarnate. 

The altar was also covered with food. Vegetables and fruits were laid in a way that they did not obstruct any of the designs of the mosaic, but instead added to it. There was a blank hole in the center, the exact size of the basket Crowley was holding in his hands. How the angel knew the exact dimensions of the basket brought so many questions to the demon’s head but as soon as he looked at Aziraphale they all left. 

He was staring at the altar, shoulder still slumped giving away his grief, but a small proud smile on his face in sight of his work. 

“Its beautiful Aziraphale, he would be proud.” The out of character words escaped the demon’s mouth before he could stop them, but Aziraphale was too caught up in the moment to notice. 

“Thank you.” They stood there for a minute, one awed at the beauty of the scene, and the other preparing for what had to come next.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn’t last forever. 

The angel moved first, taking a step towards the altar. Crowley followed him, but his feet started burning. 

“Ah, eeh, ooh, hot hot hot hot. Holy ground, holy ground, holy ground.” He was hopping from one foot to the other as he advanced towards the altar, aiming to have his feet contact the ground as little as possible. 

“Oh my word, Crowley, are you all right?” Aziraphale was alarmed, having forgotten for a moment that the two of them were genetically opposed. 

“Yeahhhh, I’m-Ah! Fine-ooh!, Just gonna. Move past ya– Ow! – real quick.” He hopped past the angel, skipping towards the altar. He avoided the flowers just barely but he got the body on the altar then immediately transformed into a crow.

The demon flew over and landed on the angel’s shoulder, releasing a deep sigh. “Sorry about that, should’ve figured an altar set up by an angel would constitute as holy ground, but the thought didn’t cross my mind.” 

Aziraphale chuckled to himself at the absurdity of the situation. A demon, helping an angel set up an altar for a dead human. The world was ending when it had just barely begun!

His chuckles eventually evolved into full on hysterical laughter. The faint mix of fear and wrong that he knows should be there mixed with his feelings of belonging and safety with the demon next to him into a crazed hysteria. 

Crow-Crowley just looked at him quizzically, not understanding how the being could be broken by grief one moment, then laughing until he was crying at seemingly nothing the next. 

It only took five minutes for Aziraphale’s laughter to die in his throat, his reason for being there sobering him from the absurd release. 

He stared at the altar after that, contemplating how to do this. 

She wanted humans to pray right? That’s what she told them in the garden. 

So, for the first time in history, an Angel closed his eyes and began to pray.

 Hey, God. It’s me, Aziraphale, but you already knew that, didn't you? 

…

Right anyway, I was hoping you can keep Abel safe? Until the rapture at least? He was a good kid and I’m sure he will have plenty to discuss with you if you keep him in your presence. 

Anyway, Thank you. 

 The angel opened his eyes feeling quite calm, he could see why the humans had been so eager to do it. Well, maybe that and the threat of an eternity spent in an eternal burning pit of torture. 

Aziraphale once again looked at the altar, and his breath caught in his throat. Abel was really gone wasn’t he? He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t bring himself to burn his friend, let alone their body. 

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this.” The angel breathed out, sobs caught on the edge of his breath. 

Crowley was given whiplash by the abrupt changing of emotion. A moment ago the angel was laughing so hard that tears were coming to his eyes, now he was choking on sobs. 

Fearing that the angel would retreat back to the state he was when he found the body, Crowley did something he’s never done before and only done once or twice since: 

He offered to help. 

“I could burn the body.” The demon didn’t think about what he was saying, he didn’t even question it. It just felt.. right. 

This time the character slip-up didn't go unnoticed by the angel, who flinched at the words from the being beside him. He had forgotten he was there. Aziraphale’s eyes blew wide with shock as he stared at the demon in the body of a crow. 

He looked in those beady black eyes for some type of hidden motive, but even for a bird his body language was genuine. So the angel did something very human of him. Aziraphale trusted someone who he had every reason to believe would stab him in the back. 

Crow-Crowley nodded and flew away. He went back to the river and once again plucked the tip of one of the reeds. In his hands it dried out instantly and became brittle and hard. A second later it combusted in a brilliant flash of red and white. The demon watched as the fire danced over the reed without destroying it, just as he willed. 

Crowley had made the first burning bush about 2000 years before Moses had stumbled upon it. 

The demon once again became a bird and flew back to the altar, drawing a trail to the dead man with the burning plant through the sky. When he arrived he circled down toward the wicker basket, creating a spiral trail of smoke. When he was about 3 feet up from the altar, he swooped down and dropped the branch, coasting over to reclaim his spot on the angel's shoulder. 

Aziraphale watched the bird solemnly. He did not understand how something that hurt so much could be so beautiful. He watched as Crawley spiraled down and couldn’t help but think that the smoke trail he was leaving behind would help Abel to reach the heavens. 

When the deed was done, he nodded to the bird that was on his shoulder and watched the altar. 

The flames did not explode around the stones in a brilliant explosion worthy of a man such as Abel, nor did they come up in artistic displays that would confirm his soul was on its path to her side. Instead it burned slowly, just as a regular group of reeds and other flora would burn on top of stone. 

The fire slowly consumed every bit of beauty and work that Aziraphale had put into the display without discrimination. It destroyed the magnificent colors and foods that the angel had pain-stakingly collected. The red and yellow plasma left scorch marks that marred the beautiful murals that had taken him hours to carve out. 

On top of it all was Abel's body, slowly crackling into ash and dust. 

The altar took three hours and seventeen minutes to burn, the angel and the demon stood there watching the entire time. 

As the fire was fading out and the smoke was beginning to clear, Crowley did something that he wouldn’t do again until the end of the world. He prayed. 

Hey… your majesty? Is that what you go by? I don’t know, anyway god. I know we aren’t on the best of terms right now, my side having tried to overthrow your side and everything but despite our differences I just wanted to let you know… Abel was a good kid. 

A good human in fact, definitely harder to tempt than the rest of his family. Though, maybe that is because he never met a woman… 

That's besides the point, what I’m trying to say is, whatever expectations or rules that you are putting on these creatures, this one soared above and beyond them and then some. 

Do with that what you will. 

And though Crowley’s first prayer was more of a report than a spiritual experience it was still the first time a demon had prayed. 

The embers of the wicker basket finally fizzled out and died, leaving nothing behind of the ceremony but the marred murals and ash. With that, the first funeral ever, was over, and the relationship between a demon and an angel became just a little bit more human.