Chapter Text
Crowley opened his eyes wide, he'd been startled, possibly from a dream he could not recall at the moment. Crowley then reached a hand to reached for the bedside table lamp, moving his hand around, he could not locate it. In fact, he could not feel the table at all, only what felt like the dead leaves. He patted all around him and realized that he was laying on the ground, surrounded by dead leaves. It was then, that panic set in and Crowley's heart began to feel like it was pumping swiftly in his throat. A flash of some kind of memory and various sticky wet patches on parts of his body caused him to use both hands to pat himself down over his black silk pajamas. He indeed found a sticky thick substance in places, that were thick like treacle, but most likely he believed was blood. Pinching himself, he'd hoped he was having a bad dream, but he could not be any more awake. Sitting up quickly, leaf debris tangled in his hair, Crowley let out a blood curdling scream, that led to him vomiting enough blood, to have it run down his chin and neck. He then covered his mouth with both hands and moved his eyes from side to side. Crowley saw no one, only the bare outline of trees, due to the moon. He tried to fixate on Sirius, but everything was a bit out of focus. Crowley did not want to believe, but in the back of his mind he knew.
Something of this nature had happened to Crowley years ago, and it left him having nightmares so bad, that he would wake up drenched in sweat because of it. Anxiety and adrenalin coursing through him. If Aziraphale woke because of him, he would lie about his nightmare. It was too painful to talk about, and he knew his angel had enough trauma of his own from being in Heaven. Most of the time when he had one, he woke up without disturbing his angel and would just hold himself as tears rolled from the sides of his eyes onto his pillow. That vampire had been disposed of, but he would be lying to himself if he thought there were not more out there. The fact that he had murdered the one here, made him want to believe in a false sense of security, but he had literally been an angel that fell to Hell only to deal with being a traitor to both. A vampire a second time, and he hoped it was just one, terrified him all over again.
Crowley's next thoughts were not about himself, but, Aziraphale. He could not know if something had not happened to him, or if for some reason he was left to slumber in their bed and he just taken again. Crowley's blood ran cold except for what was on his pajamas. That had coagulated.
"I've gotta get out of h-here..." Crowley mumbled, as he tried to stand. He could only move slow, but once he was up, he widened his gait and began to walk where he saw more light. His body fought against him, even after his fall from Heaven, he had not been this weak. However, eventually, he exited the forest and made it to the edge where he stood in front of a highway, traffic making the occasional flash of light. He felt exposed and believed he would look monstrous in someone's headlights, but he dare not go back into that forest.
As Crowley continued to figure what to do, he felt a sudden weakness, and collapsed by the side of the road. Cars drove by, but did not see him in the darkness. Or did see him, and think him road kill. Luckily, he was far enough away, not to get hit as he was out cold.
Aziraphale turned to put his arm around Crowley, to find he was not there. Usually, Crowley slept hard and sometimes had to be woken up. He very much enjoyed staying in bed, and staying in bed and making love to Aziraphale all day, would have been considered paradise.
Aziraphale turned on his bedside lamp and saw that Crowley was not there, but also curious drops of blood! Immediately, the angel got up and started calling Crowley's name, his heart all a flutter.
"Crowley, are you okay? Where are you, my dear?" only echoes greeted him. After checking all of the bookshop and the green house at the back, he was certain something must have happened. Determined, he grabbed the key to the Bentley without even changing out of his tartan pajamas. The Bentley was more than pleased to have Aziraphale driving her and even played music to his taste. "Thank you, dear, but I must have quiet. Crowley is missing." The Bentley turned off the music, and Aziraphale could almost feel her fear.
Aziraphale drove their street and the ones nearby with no luck. He then slowly drove out of town, not really having a plan. The angel did have hope, he always did, but also massive amounts of anxiety and trauma.
He then saw something or someone on the side of the road, who did not look to be in good shape. No matter who it could be, he would have stopped as he was an angel. Upon getting out, he saw that it was indeed Crowley and knelt down beside him. He could see the dried blood, and that Crowley was even more pale than he usually was. He was even still in his pajamas, which only led him to believe he was involuntarily abducted! Reaching a hand out, Aziraphale tried to wake the other.
"Crowley, Crowley, wake up, oh!" tears filled his eyes, as Aziraphale held his lover's hand. Eventually, he heard Crowley take in a lung full of air and then cough. After that, he opened his amber eyes. He had a massive headache.
Aziraphale kissed Crowley's hand and whispered his name. He had the fear of god in him, he could not lose the one he loved.
"What happened to you? I turned over to be the 'big spoon' and you were gone." Aziraphale's tears glistened in the moonlight, his eyes appearing to be each a small sea.
"Not for sure, but from my wounds...vampire." Crowley let out his breath while Aziraphale's blood went cold. He remembered all too well what happened before.
"It's clear you need my help, let's get you in the back of the Bentley so I can clean you up and we can talk, if you are up for it." it felt empowering to speak like he had a plan. In truth, he really did not know what to think.
"Sure, love..." Crowley whispered slowly, as he drifted off into unconsciousness, again.
Once they were at the book shop, Aziraphale parked as close as he could to the back entrance. It was still dark, but just in case anyone was awake, he waned to make sure no one would see the both of them. Opening the rear door to the Bentley, Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on Crowley's leg where there was no blood.
The angel realized it would be best to miracle Crowley to their bed, and made it so, along with himself. He went and turned Crowley's bedside table lamp on, so he could get a better look. Crowley squinted his eyes and covered them, a moan escaping his split lips. Crowley had grown his hair past his shoulders, which drove Aziraphale mad. Such a beautiful creature he was, it was almost too easy at times to forget he was not an angel. Sadly, his hair was now matted with blood as well as all the other areas around his lover's body. As horrible as this was, he was not going to let himself get emotional, he had to help his beloved.
Miracling Crowley's pajamas off, he could finally view the extent of his wounds. It looked like he had been fed on by multiple vampires all at once, leaving ugly puncture wounds that were turning purple. Blood had encrusted certain wounds, as if the vampires were short on time. Made sense, Crowley had not been gone long. Shaking his head, heart aching, he went into the bathroom and got a basin, filled it with warm water and mild soap, then got a washcloth. Walking out, Aziraphale placed the basin on Crowley's side table and then sat on the edge of the bed. Taking the washcloth, he got it wet, and then wrung it out. When first applying it to Crowley's neck, he winced and then hissed. Aziraphale did not take it personally.
"Crowley, dear, I have to clean these wounds and see what is actual damage, and what is just blood." Crowley nodded, and received caresses to his forehead and cheeks. He knew he was getting the best care.
Aziraphale began to think about how the vampires found Crowley and if he is still a target. He also wondered why he was never taken. Possibly, being a Holy angel had something to do with it, even though at times he knew his halo was slipping. If this were so, might there be a way to protect Crowley. He would have to go to his books and see, when he could. For now, Aziraphale was gingerly tending Crowley's wounds as he lay, naked and still, only flinching and muttering at times.
After washing Crowley, he tried to stand to take care of the basin, but Crowley locked onto his arm so hard, he found that he could not. He was actually shocked to find that Crowley could grip that hard, due to the shape he was in.
"S-stay..." a quiet cry emanated from Crowley's throat, like that of a wounded animal. Aziraphale blinked back tears and miracled some pain relief for his poor dear, and felt guilty that he had not thought to do it in the beginning. Gently, Aziraphale lay his head on Crowley's belly, so he could try to rest. A few tears rolled down Crowley's skin, like warm raindrops.
Eventually, they both found temporary relief in unconsciousness.