Aziraphale (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bibliophale) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bigapplesauce2014-11-02 04:09 pm
bibliophale) wrote in bigapplesauce2014-11-02 04:09 pm
Entry tags:
So enough of this terror, we deserve to know light (and grow evermore lighter and lighter) [CLOSED]
[[ooc: This is the immediate follow-up to a (currently unfinished) very violent and unpleasant thread wherein Lucifer makes a deal with Crowley, basically that he won't kill Aziraphale as long as Crowley works for him and does everything he says. And then, just to be a dick, he has Crowley prove his loyalty by beating on Aziraphale for a while. Crowley was then instructed to deposit Aziraphale back in the bookshop and return without tending to him, which brings us here.]]
After Crowley leaves him, Aziraphale drifts in and out of consciousness for a time, into the internal murky, dreamless dark, where there is only overpowering hopelessness, and then back again to his corporeal body, which is all breaks and burns and blood and bruises. Nowhere can he escape the bitterness of defeat. Lucifer has won. He has taken Crowley from him, forced Crowley to hurt him, and there is nothing he or anyone can do.
He knows, distantly, that he'll have to summon help soon - his own power is keeping his body alive for now, but if that runs out, this body will die, and him along with it. He knows there's nothing Crowley can do for him now. He'll have to call Gabriel. He can barely think straight. He's too tired and hurt to move now; later will be all right. Just a little later.
For the first time in a very long time, he misses Heaven. The simplicity of it, the pure light and warmth, ineffability reigning true, where everything was someone else's problem. He doesn't dwell on this too closely, partly because he cannot dwell closely on anything, partly because what he really misses is Crowley, and there is no Crowley in Heaven.
He can't spare any of his power to keep people away from the shop or lock the door, and the perhaps prudent question of privacy is barely on his mind anyway. All he can do is curl inward on the couch and feel horribly, piteously sorry for himself.
After Crowley leaves him, Aziraphale drifts in and out of consciousness for a time, into the internal murky, dreamless dark, where there is only overpowering hopelessness, and then back again to his corporeal body, which is all breaks and burns and blood and bruises. Nowhere can he escape the bitterness of defeat. Lucifer has won. He has taken Crowley from him, forced Crowley to hurt him, and there is nothing he or anyone can do.
He knows, distantly, that he'll have to summon help soon - his own power is keeping his body alive for now, but if that runs out, this body will die, and him along with it. He knows there's nothing Crowley can do for him now. He'll have to call Gabriel. He can barely think straight. He's too tired and hurt to move now; later will be all right. Just a little later.
For the first time in a very long time, he misses Heaven. The simplicity of it, the pure light and warmth, ineffability reigning true, where everything was someone else's problem. He doesn't dwell on this too closely, partly because he cannot dwell closely on anything, partly because what he really misses is Crowley, and there is no Crowley in Heaven.
He can't spare any of his power to keep people away from the shop or lock the door, and the perhaps prudent question of privacy is barely on his mind anyway. All he can do is curl inward on the couch and feel horribly, piteously sorry for himself.