98prilla

He collapsed onto a bench in St. James park, where the two of them had met over the centuries hundreds of times to talk and feed the ducks. He rubbed his forehead, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He was still so tired. He was still half sure that this was a dream, and when he woke Aziraphale would have forgotten him all over again. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he didn’t want to. And then Her, waltzing into the book shop, talking to him, as if she had any right to ask him for anything, as if after everything he owed her a single fucking thing. No, no he’d played that game one too many times, he knew how

Crowley jolted awake, flailing, landing on the ground with a thump and a groan. He was breathing heavily as he pushed himself up. He’d rolled off the couch, where Aziraphale still lay, sleeping soundly. Slowly, Crowley took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm his racing heart. Aziraphale was right there, and everything was alright. He stared at Aziraphale’s sleeping face, half smiling. He let out a low breath, then dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking. He’d almost destroyed himself because he thought he’d lost Aziraphale, but he’d nearly done exactly that to his angel. Because he was a stup

“Aziraphale, what the hell happened!?” Anathema picked up on the first ring, clearly agitated. “He’s fine, I got there… I got there just in time.” He heard a heavy breath, a thump as she no doubt collapsed into a chair. She listened as Aziraphale summarized all that had happened, the sigil, the forgetting, the paper. “Good old Agnes.” Anathema muttered. Then, “Are you all right?” she asked, surprising Aziraphale. He stumbled over his thoughts for a second. “Oh, don’t worry about me. We’re back at the shop, the silly fool decided to miracle us but was so out of

Crowley stood on the steps, looking up. It was a rustic thing, all brickwork, old bell tower that still rang, chiming the time and calling people to prayer. He’d seen hundreds just like it, scattered throughout the world. He pushed the two wooden doors wide open, strolling in, passing slowly down the center aisle. He remembered another church, much grander, the only other time he’d entered one of these things. Then he’d danced from foot to foot, hissing at the feel of holy ground beneath his feet. Now he ignored the pins and needles burning into his soles, it didn’t phase him anymore. It couldn’t possibly hur

 Aziraphale woke suddenly, jerking upright. He looked around, confused. Hadn’t there been someone… no, no of course not. Just the tail end of a dream. He dressed, nipped down to the bakery to grab a croissant before flipping the shop sign to open. He stood by the counter, fingers rapping out a rhythm against the wood. He had the strangest sense of déjà vu. He pondered for a moment, before shaking it off. He was just being silly. He had work to do, books to bind, that filled him with excitement. He’d gotten a few new ones in the day before but hadn’t had the chance to look them over before… Hmm. Bef

 “Azira… Ziraphale! Come on, wake up, wake up you idiot, what happened… what… what did they do?” He opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. The man staring down at him with a panicked look on his face seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him. “Who… who are you? What happened?” He sat up, bringing a hand to his head, which pounded in pain. A headache, since he couldn’t feel a bump or bruise anywhere, thank goodness. The man had a stricken look on his face as he seemed to struggle for words, eyes pained. “You don’t… You don’t know me?R

 Crowley was sleeping in the garden. Aziraphale was watching him from the porch, where he leaned against the doorframe holding a cup of tea, in his angel wing mug he’d miracled from his bookshop. Crowley had been sleeping a lot lately, but he could only assume that was natural. His body was doing a lot of work, repairing a lot of damage. Aziraphale took another sip of tea, holding the mug with both hands to keep them from shaking at that thought. He was sprawled across the wooden bench, one arm pillowing his head, the other dramatically resting over his eyes to block out the bright afternoon light. He was laying on his side, one leg

 He woke slowly, blinking irritably at the bright sunbeam brushing across his face. For a moment he couldn’t place where he was. Then there was a soft exhale of breath beside him, and he felt an exhilarating rush of happiness as he rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow. There was Aziraphale, his beautiful Angel. His. For now and for forever. He was smiling in his sleep, one arm across his chest, the other pillowing his head. The light brushed across his white blond hair, mussed from sleep, so different from his usual put together look. He had crinkles around his eyes, around his mouth, marks from smiling so much, laughing so mu

He was back in the burning bookshop. Smoke filled his lungs and heat licked at his skin, not that heat meant anything to him. He spun, looking for any sign of Aziraphale, calling his name until his voice was cracked and hoarse, finally grabbing the only thing he could find and heading out the door, on the war path to destroy whoever had taken Aziraphale from him. He was in the park and they grabbed Aziraphale. They hadn’t traded faces, and they made him watch. He screamed and struggled and cursed but he couldn’t get free, couldn’t do anything as they summoned the Hell fire, as he watched it eat away at Aziraphale, as Azira

 Aziraphale hesitated outside the door. He’d never actually been inside Crowley’s flat before and didn’t quite know what to expect. In his mind he pictured an almost dungeon like room, filled with shadowy corners and flickering torches. He took a breath and knocked on the door, surprised as it opened easily at his touch. He hesitated again. Crowley didn’t seem the type to leave his doors unlocked, and something about this didn’t feel right. Still, he straightened his jacket and entered, surprised and delighted. It was filled with plants. Beautiful lush green ferns and flowers, as beautiful and perfect as anyt