The moment he found himself engulfed in a suddenly-clinging, sobbing demon almost felt as if his entire brain had decided to shut itself completely off. What? Why-what? But-...huh??? Any further questions he had died before they could even come out of his mouth, and it was a very long, stupefied moment before he was able to shift his arms around enough to wrap them around Crowley's shoulders and hold him as he lost any of the composure he'd barely been hanging onto just moments before.
Never, not once, in his entire 6,000 years of knowing the demon had he ever seen him reduced to such a state, and he didn't know what to do with it. Oh, sure, Crowley could be emotionally prickly - surly, upset, morose, angry, and in a small number of very notable occasions upset enough that he got himself so absolutely pissed that he didn't come out of it for weeks - but never had he so openly let himself lose control, not like this. It was terrifying, and if he were being completely honest with himself, the sound of his sobbing was enough to bring Aziraphale close to tears, himself, even as he did his best to fight it back. He didn't need to lose his cool right now, not when Crowley needed him to be there. But he was finding it very, very hard.
When he felt him burying his face in his shoulder, he let one of his hands reach up to cup the back of his head, gently stroking through his hair as he settled into a slow sway, shushing him softly. The sight of that strange little lizard sitting on top of his head became something of a focal point, though it was difficult to make his eyes focus on it at that distance. What was he supposed to do? How could he have missed whatever it was that had caused whatever was happening, when only days before they had been seemingly celebrating their victory and their freedom over what had been an almost certain destruction?
They were supposed to have been safe! He'd tried so hard to put the fear of...of someone into the forces of Hell and even Michael themself, tried to prove to them that hurting Crowley would have been asking for their own quick demise! Had they found out? Decided to enact some form of non-permanent punishment on him, anyway? Time didn't exactly work the same way for Above and Below the way it did on Earth. Maybe they had trapped him in some pocket reality after they'd parted ways. Maybe they'd used his power over time against him. But how? And what could they have possibly done that would have put him in such a horrible state?
Slowly, as the shock settled and he resigned himself to sitting there with him for as long as he needed, the briefest of memories flickered through his thoughts, compounding on the shock of that Not-Quite-Crowley's-Voice that had warbled out at him from the lizard. 'Aziraphale I can't believe it's you. I can't believe this is real' and 'Lost my best friend' flitted about his head. Oh, he'd barely given that statement a chance to process before, distracted as he'd been with finding a body and the fear of the impending destruction of everything they'd known. And by the time the dust had settled, it had been almost completely forgotten, just one little, confusing detail in a great big mountain of other confusing, emotional details.
Oh, he felt like such a prat. Why hadn't he paid more attention? He'd known their fighting had upset Crowley at the time, he had never seen him more frantic or panicked then when he'd been as he screeched to a halt in front of the bookshop and begged him to run away for a second time. And he had refused, even knowing how to read him well enough to see how those refusals, that denial that their relationship had meant anything to him, had hurt him deeply. That had been the point of it, after all. He hadn't even known if he would be able to succeed, and time had been so short. He would never have been able to live with himself if he'd just abandoned the Earth to it's fate without doing everything he could, even if it meant he was caught in the end times himself, but he hadn't wanted Crowley's death on his shoulders, either. If he had been the only reason the demon had been staying, the he had decided to take himself out of that equation, cut the ties Crowley hadn't been able to cut himself, and let him go where he would be safe.
But it hadn't worked, had it? He may not have been able to see him when he found his presence as he flitted about the Earth without a body, but he'd heard enough in his voice to know that there was indeed a great deal of hurt. He'd carelessly ignored the implications of what that meant at the time, had let him go off on his own after everything had been said and done, foolishly thinking that whatever harms had been done must have surely been relieved, and now look at him. It was impossible not to wonder if he was somehow responsible, at least in some part, for what had brought him to the state he was in now.
Still, speculation would get him nowhere, and until Crowley was ready or able to explain, the best he could do was be there when he very obviously needed him, and apparently him in particular.
He rested his cheek against the top of his head, his comforting susserations quietly changing to a gentle, tuneless humming, and he reached out ever so gently with his grace, afraid of hurting him - he had never tried to comfort a demon this way, but it seemed to work so well for humans when they needed a more holy sort of comfort - simply wanting to let him feel the presence of his true form, know he was there even if he wasn't looking at him, hoping to at least chase out some of that dark, painful void that had encompassed his dearest friend. Oh, he so desperately hoped that their energies weren't so opposed on such an essential level that it would cause him harm, but it was all he could think to do to pull him out of such a broken state.
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rosecarmine
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Date: 2020-04-05 08:05 am (UTC)Never, not once, in his entire 6,000 years of knowing the demon had he ever seen him reduced to such a state, and he didn't know what to do with it. Oh, sure, Crowley could be emotionally prickly - surly, upset, morose, angry, and in a small number of very notable occasions upset enough that he got himself so absolutely pissed that he didn't come out of it for weeks - but never had he so openly let himself lose control, not like this. It was terrifying, and if he were being completely honest with himself, the sound of his sobbing was enough to bring Aziraphale close to tears, himself, even as he did his best to fight it back. He didn't need to lose his cool right now, not when Crowley needed him to be there. But he was finding it very, very hard.
When he felt him burying his face in his shoulder, he let one of his hands reach up to cup the back of his head, gently stroking through his hair as he settled into a slow sway, shushing him softly. The sight of that strange little lizard sitting on top of his head became something of a focal point, though it was difficult to make his eyes focus on it at that distance. What was he supposed to do? How could he have missed whatever it was that had caused whatever was happening, when only days before they had been seemingly celebrating their victory and their freedom over what had been an almost certain destruction?
They were supposed to have been safe! He'd tried so hard to put the fear of...of someone into the forces of Hell and even Michael themself, tried to prove to them that hurting Crowley would have been asking for their own quick demise! Had they found out? Decided to enact some form of non-permanent punishment on him, anyway? Time didn't exactly work the same way for Above and Below the way it did on Earth. Maybe they had trapped him in some pocket reality after they'd parted ways. Maybe they'd used his power over time against him. But how? And what could they have possibly done that would have put him in such a horrible state?
Slowly, as the shock settled and he resigned himself to sitting there with him for as long as he needed, the briefest of memories flickered through his thoughts, compounding on the shock of that Not-Quite-Crowley's-Voice that had warbled out at him from the lizard. 'Aziraphale I can't believe it's you. I can't believe this is real' and 'Lost my best friend' flitted about his head. Oh, he'd barely given that statement a chance to process before, distracted as he'd been with finding a body and the fear of the impending destruction of everything they'd known. And by the time the dust had settled, it had been almost completely forgotten, just one little, confusing detail in a great big mountain of other confusing, emotional details.
Oh, he felt like such a prat. Why hadn't he paid more attention? He'd known their fighting had upset Crowley at the time, he had never seen him more frantic or panicked then when he'd been as he screeched to a halt in front of the bookshop and begged him to run away for a second time. And he had refused, even knowing how to read him well enough to see how those refusals, that denial that their relationship had meant anything to him, had hurt him deeply. That had been the point of it, after all. He hadn't even known if he would be able to succeed, and time had been so short. He would never have been able to live with himself if he'd just abandoned the Earth to it's fate without doing everything he could, even if it meant he was caught in the end times himself, but he hadn't wanted Crowley's death on his shoulders, either. If he had been the only reason the demon had been staying, the he had decided to take himself out of that equation, cut the ties Crowley hadn't been able to cut himself, and let him go where he would be safe.
But it hadn't worked, had it? He may not have been able to see him when he found his presence as he flitted about the Earth without a body, but he'd heard enough in his voice to know that there was indeed a great deal of hurt. He'd carelessly ignored the implications of what that meant at the time, had let him go off on his own after everything had been said and done, foolishly thinking that whatever harms had been done must have surely been relieved, and now look at him. It was impossible not to wonder if he was somehow responsible, at least in some part, for what had brought him to the state he was in now.
Still, speculation would get him nowhere, and until Crowley was ready or able to explain, the best he could do was be there when he very obviously needed him, and apparently him in particular.
He rested his cheek against the top of his head, his comforting susserations quietly changing to a gentle, tuneless humming, and he reached out ever so gently with his grace, afraid of hurting him - he had never tried to comfort a demon this way, but it seemed to work so well for humans when they needed a more holy sort of comfort - simply wanting to let him feel the presence of his true form, know he was there even if he wasn't looking at him, hoping to at least chase out some of that dark, painful void that had encompassed his dearest friend. Oh, he so desperately hoped that their energies weren't so opposed on such an essential level that it would cause him harm, but it was all he could think to do to pull him out of such a broken state.