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“Angel, wait, no! ”
Crowley scrambles over onto his other side, angling his back away from Aziraphale, panic in his eyes.
It’s too late.
The warm glow of morning, the lingering sweetness of the night they’ve just shared together has been washed in icy horror, trickling down Aziraphale’s spine, a sense of dread swelling up in his chest.
Crowley swiftly, desperately removed that… thing from his line of vision the moment he awakened - but Aziraphale can’t stop seeing it.
Three simple words that tell a story of such vivid cruelty - more terrible than he’s allowed himself to imagine thus far.
Gabriel.
Crowley.
Slave.
Aziraphale knows exactly what that mark means.
“Crowley… what is that?”
He asks anyway.
A part of his mind still denies it, can’t process it, can’t tolerate the thought that it might be real .
He has to be misunderstanding.
Not even Gabriel could conceive such an unspeakable cruelty - could he?
But Crowley’s panic, the absolute injustice of Crowley’s shame , leave no space for the mercy of doubt.
Then Crowley offers to show Aziraphale the memory - and Aziraphale accepts the offer, though a part of his mind is screaming no, I don’t want to see, I can’t let this be real!
But it is real.
And perhaps the only thing Aziraphale can do to ease Crowley’s pain - is to take some portion of it upon his own shoulders, and help Crowley to bear it.
Crowley’s trembling when Aziraphale touches him - but he clings to Aziraphale, pulls him in closer - and then allows him inside , gifting Aziraphale with the honor of his trust - a trust Aziraphale has never granted any other living being in his entire existence.
Aziraphale is drawn in - and then he’s drowning .
Crowley’s agony is no longer just Crowley’s, but it’s Aziraphale’s too, Aziraphale is Crowley , and he remembers the months of torment that have led to this moment, the evidence of what his captor is capable of.
His pain is all-consuming, his terror suffocating as Gabriel looms over him, stiflingly close - large, strong hands tracing arcs of fire across his ribs, down his thighs, between his legs.
Aziraphale tries to choke back the anguished screams that rise to his lips, his heart racing with panic when he can’t because his Master will punish him if he makes a sound without permission, if he struggles, if he offers even the slightest plea or resistance.
He resists anyway - refusing what Gabriel is demanding.
It’s the last trace of hope he has left - the last piece of himself he’s been hiding away.
He can feel that hope slipping, though… fading into despair.
Because… Gabriel wants Aziraphale.
Gabriel wants everything .
And Gabriel gets what he wants. Every time.
He feels the shame swell up within him, cresting and washing over him when he surrenders, when he invites Gabriel into his bed - the bed he’s been given. He feels the certainty of his own guilt, of the unforgivable betrayal he’s just commited.
He surrendered his love to Gabriel.
All is lost. It doesn’t matter anymore that he’ll never see his love again.
Aziraphale would never want him now.
Aziraphale emerges from Crowley’s memories swiftly and suddenly - the haze of Crowley’s suffering and shame fading, the confusion of mingled memories and reality, giving way to the clarity of utter certainty .
He holds Crowley close, murmurs soft reassurances - declares his love for Crowley.
Declares him faithful.
Declares him blameless .
Aziraphale knows exactly who is to blame for Crowley’s brokenness - and what he deserves.
He rises from the bed and begins to dress, his mind taking comfort and reassurance in the familiar, habitual actions - even as it racing ahead, piecing together a plan. One step at a time.
First… ensure that Crowley is safe.
Then… ensure that he always will be .
In those quiet moments, the Guardian of Eden becomes an avenging force for righteous judgment, certain in the sentence he’s already cast in his mind - and ready and willing to carry it out.
Gabriel is going to die.