One of the most important things to know how to do, at least when dealing with humans and their fragile emotional states, was to just turn off his mouth and listen when someone was in a very bad place. He didn't use it very often; Aziraphale had stopped dealing very much in the direct lives of humans a long time ago, unless he absolutely had to. But it was still something he could do when he needed to, practically came with the whole "protecting" thing.
So, though Crowley wasn't a human, and was so much more resilient then humans and their delicate minds, that was what he did. Even as his obvious panic and the pain that he could practically sense coming off of him in waves made his heart feel as if it wanted to just take a vacation for a week - in fact, yes, he thought perhaps it had decided to do just that, thank the Lord that it wasn't exactly needed - and made tears burn at the edges of his vision. He let him pull away, fighting the way he wanted to just pull him against his chest and tell him he was going to be ok, his wing still reaching out to shield him but lifting away just enough that he had more room if he needed it.
And he was silent, even as the reality Crowley had seen clashed with the one in his own memories and ran headlong into the increasingly-believable theory that had blossomed into life in his mind. If he had seen a world where the war was merely postponed and not stopped, where Heaven and Hell went to battle despite them all and succeeded in their misguided hatred and desire to destroy everything She had created, then could that happen again? How much time did they have? When did the War start again? He was terrified, beginning to fight not only his need to reassure the demon that everything was fine without having the full picture but also the sense of panic he was feeling in himself. And what was his first instinct when things went south?
Call Crowley.
He couldn't. Crowley was in front of him. But this wasn't the Crowley he'd left a week ago, even if he had the same soul. Whether changed by time or by reality itself, he was a different demon, and Aziraphale's hands flexed in anxiety as he mentally stamped down the urge to rush to the bookshop and ring Crowley's flat. Perhaps, if what this Crowley was saying was true, they were on borrowed time, but that would still have to wait. He wasn't just going to abandon him here in the park on his own, when he very obviously wasn't alright.
But then Crowley was laying the weight of everything that had happened on his own shoulders, and Aziraphale couldn't fight the need to comfort any longer, and he reached out again, tutting as he put a hand on his back, shifted again, broadcasting what he was about to do with his posture before he was pulling him into a hug. Blinking away tears that had decided they were going to rebel against him the way his heart had and finally roll down his face. This, it seemed, was a line too far for him to handle.
"Oh, no, Crowley, no. I don't care what happened, none of it was your fault. You were the one who wanted to stop the whole thing! I...If you hadn't been here, I never would have..." He huffed to himself gently, his own self-doubts rearing their heads, reminding him of how much he'd fought against the whole plan, how he'd forced Crowley to twist his arm into even trying in the first place. How he'd fought him on it even until the last minute, even then. "I never would have taken my head out of my own arse and realized what a fool I'd been. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I won't have you blaming yourself."
He rubbed his back, his other hand reaching up to hold the back of his neck as he poured as much love and reassurance as he dared out through his grace, the demon's earlier acceptance of it assuring him that it wouldn't cause him any undue harm. At the same time, he had never felt the need to give in to Crowley's insistence that he "get with the times" and at least buy a mobile phone more then he did right that moment. Alright. First things first, he would get this entire mess sorted, and then he would let Crowley take him to that..."Eye-Apple" store everyone seemed to get all their fancy gadgets from and show him which one of those little idiot boxes was a mobile.
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So, though Crowley wasn't a human, and was so much more resilient then humans and their delicate minds, that was what he did. Even as his obvious panic and the pain that he could practically sense coming off of him in waves made his heart feel as if it wanted to just take a vacation for a week - in fact, yes, he thought perhaps it had decided to do just that, thank the Lord that it wasn't exactly needed - and made tears burn at the edges of his vision. He let him pull away, fighting the way he wanted to just pull him against his chest and tell him he was going to be ok, his wing still reaching out to shield him but lifting away just enough that he had more room if he needed it.
And he was silent, even as the reality Crowley had seen clashed with the one in his own memories and ran headlong into the increasingly-believable theory that had blossomed into life in his mind. If he had seen a world where the war was merely postponed and not stopped, where Heaven and Hell went to battle despite them all and succeeded in their misguided hatred and desire to destroy everything She had created, then could that happen again? How much time did they have? When did the War start again? He was terrified, beginning to fight not only his need to reassure the demon that everything was fine without having the full picture but also the sense of panic he was feeling in himself. And what was his first instinct when things went south?
Call Crowley.
He couldn't. Crowley was in front of him. But this wasn't the Crowley he'd left a week ago, even if he had the same soul. Whether changed by time or by reality itself, he was a different demon, and Aziraphale's hands flexed in anxiety as he mentally stamped down the urge to rush to the bookshop and ring Crowley's flat. Perhaps, if what this Crowley was saying was true, they were on borrowed time, but that would still have to wait. He wasn't just going to abandon him here in the park on his own, when he very obviously wasn't alright.
But then Crowley was laying the weight of everything that had happened on his own shoulders, and Aziraphale couldn't fight the need to comfort any longer, and he reached out again, tutting as he put a hand on his back, shifted again, broadcasting what he was about to do with his posture before he was pulling him into a hug. Blinking away tears that had decided they were going to rebel against him the way his heart had and finally roll down his face. This, it seemed, was a line too far for him to handle.
"Oh, no, Crowley, no. I don't care what happened, none of it was your fault. You were the one who wanted to stop the whole thing! I...If you hadn't been here, I never would have..." He huffed to himself gently, his own self-doubts rearing their heads, reminding him of how much he'd fought against the whole plan, how he'd forced Crowley to twist his arm into even trying in the first place. How he'd fought him on it even until the last minute, even then. "I never would have taken my head out of my own arse and realized what a fool I'd been. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I won't have you blaming yourself."
He rubbed his back, his other hand reaching up to hold the back of his neck as he poured as much love and reassurance as he dared out through his grace, the demon's earlier acceptance of it assuring him that it wouldn't cause him any undue harm. At the same time, he had never felt the need to give in to Crowley's insistence that he "get with the times" and at least buy a mobile phone more then he did right that moment. Alright. First things first, he would get this entire mess sorted, and then he would let Crowley take him to that..."Eye-Apple" store everyone seemed to get all their fancy gadgets from and show him which one of those little idiot boxes was a mobile.