Kay, just a depressing little fic here. Could stop here, or I might do a sequel, but tell me what you think!! The title is from twenty one pilots Hometown, and I listened to the song while writing this, you should go listen to it :) anyway, onwards!!Disclaimer: [insert long, unnessesary and utterly unread disclaimer here]

Crowley and Aziraphale were drinking. Not, all in all, an uncommon occurance, but because of 'one thing and another' as the demon put it it was the first time Aziraphale had properly seen him scince the Apocaletsnot.

That was ok though, because it was common for the two to be apart for months at a time when upstairs and downstairs respectively remembered their existance and cast a half-hearted, slightly (read very) jugemental glance their way.

The thankfully still present sky was a deep blue scattered with stars, lit up by the lights of London. At some point (probably after a circuous discussion (read argument) about constellations) they had left the glowing warmth of Aziraphales dusty old back room (now filled with first editions of Thomas the Tank Engine, courtesy of Adam) and relocated to the top of a low wall separating somebody's vaguely depressing square of concrete from somebody else's vaguely depressing square of concrete.

"Sssee!" hissed Crowley exitedly, "I told you, I told you..."

"You told me what, dear?" slurred Aziraphale.

"I told you, umm..." Crowley trailed off as Aziraphale hummed triumphantly.

"You didn't tell me." He announced, "See, I told you you didn't tell me!" It may be worth mentioning at this point that Crowley had had a substantial amount more of Aziraphale's alcohol than he himself had.

"What." said Crowley. He had gotten somewhat distracted by glaring at his wine bottle, which had had the nerve to become empty. He scowled pointedly at the bottle, which meekly refilled itself. Crowley took a huge gulp of the wine just as Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak.

"I told you you didn't tell me!" he said insistently. "I did!"

"Nope you didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Really, Crowley, you're acting like a three year old." Huffed Aziraphale. Crowley hummed in a kind of vague acknowledgement. His bottle was empty again. A few minutes later Aziraphale piped up again.

"How much have you had, Crowley?" Crowley just looked at him with an expression which was either 'can't you take a guess' or 'I don't know and its not like I'm gonna guess'.

"Hmm." Aziraphale looked at Crowley properly for the first time that night. He looked, excuse his french, like hell. He had a split lip, and he was paler than normal. Aziraphale frowned and blinked, sobering up immediately.

"Crowley?" he asked hesitantly. "Crowley dear?" but there was no reply from the demon sitting next to him. Aziraphale frowned and, on a whim, leant over slightly to touch Crowley's hand, still slackly holding the empty bottle. As Aziraphale's fingers made contact with Crowley's cool skin Crowley's hand jerked violently and his whole frame winced - almost flinched - back from him. The bottle Crowley had been holding fell and shattered on the concrete below as Crowley snatched both arms up close to his chest in a distinctively defensive position. His shoulders went up as he ducked his head reflexively, legs twitching with the desire to curl up into a small, inconspicuous ball.

"Crowley?" said Aziraphale again, panic and a tiny, well disguised hint of worry colouring his voice. "Crowley! Talk to me!" Aziraphale reached up again to remove Crowley's sunglasses but thought better of it at the last moment and let his hand drop back to his lap.

"Crowley?" he said softly "it's me, it's Aziraphale. Can you talk to me?"

"Angel?" Crowley whimpered. Aziraphales heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, it was so afraid. What could have made Crowley like this?

"Yes dear, it's Aziraphale." he replied quietly. He gently brushed a finger along Crowley's hand again but Crowley jumped and pushed him away.

"No, Angel!" he hissed, "you need to run, you need to go! Why did you come, why would you be here! GO!" Crowley was clearly panicking but he kept his voice eerily low and quiet as he whisper-shouted at Aziraphale to run.

Aziraphale stopped, mind in overdrive. Crowley clearly didn't know where he was, and Aziraphale knew he should reassure Crowley that he was on Earth, just a few streets away from his musty old bookshop. But curiosity got the better of him, and before he really thought the situation through, Aziraphale leant next to Crowley and whispered,

"Why do I need to run?"

"They're coming! They're coming, you can't let them get you! Run!" Crowley sounded truely frantic now. "You need to go, Angel! Go! NOW!"

"Who's coming, Crowley?"

"NO! YOU NEED TO LEAVE!" Hissed Crowley, terror forcing his voice louder.

"I'll go when you tell me who's coming." said Aziraphale resouloutly. Crowley shook and sobbed slightly. Aziraphale jerked back this time, shocked and, yes, he'd adimit it in the (relative) privicy of his own mind, horrified at the thought of Crowley crying.

"B-b-b-"

"Beelzebub?" asked Aziraphale softly. Crowley nodded.

"And-and-"

"And Hastur?" guessed Aziraphale.

"And the rest..." Crowley whispered. Aziraphale's heart clenched. What had happened? And what did 'and the rest' mean? Other demons, presumably.

"Ok." he muttered. "Oh...kay. Crowley, we're going to go back to my bookshop. You're ok, you're on Earth." he said firmly, "come on, up you get."

Crowley shook his head frantically,

"No no no no... they'll see, they'll see, they'll ssssee!" he hissed.

"No, it's ok Crowley, they won't see, they're gone, we're on Earth, they're not here." said Aziraphale calmly. 'Calm in a crisis...' he thought dryly. Crowley shook his head again, but allowed Aziraphale to haul him to his feet. As soon as Aziraphale let go, however, Crowley almost pitched head first off the wall. Aziraphale grabbed his arm again as he choked out a cry and his legs collapsed out from underneath him. Crowley whimpered and flinched again at the sudden touch and Aziraphale hurried to reassure him,

"It's ok, it's ok, it's Aziraphale." he said again.

"Angel?" whispered Crowley.

"Yes Crowley, it's me, it's Aziraphale."

"Angel!" said Crowley with relief, but soon his expression tensed to panic once more, "Angel run!"

Aziraphale frowned with worry and and placed a hand on Crowley's forhead. Crowley jumped back again but Aziraphale held him still by his arm.

"You're going to fall asleep, Crowley." he commanded and Crowley slumped forward into his arms.

"Ok." said Aziraphale and lifted the demon with all the ease of a warrior of heaven lifting a very slim, very - hold on, very slim body. Too slim. Skinny, underweight.

"Oh, Crowley, what did they do to you? And why were you so worried about me coming to you?" Aziraphale murmered, and carefully carried Crowley the short distance back to his shop.

=

The next time Crowley opened his eyes, it was to a warm, musty bedroom above a warm musty bookshop. However with the headache he had the only thing he was interested in was paracetamol. Although to be fair paracetamol was pretty much the only thing he was interested in lately. He groaned and slowly raised a hand to his head. It was like someone flipped the switch to a very bright light. The memories of last night came flooding back to him all at once and he shot up to a sitting position in the bed, his back ram-rod straight. But as soon as his mangled brain managed to catch up with the influx of new information he sank back onto the double pillow with an even longer groan than before.

Flashback. Of all the g- all the someone forsaken times to have a flashback he had one on the one night he decided to spend calling (read checking up) on Aziraphale. Typical. Just his luck. Really, brilliant. Oh yay. He sighed. This was going to take a hell of explaining, and he really, truely didn't want to think about his trip to the office, let alone talk about it. Maybe Aziraphale wouldn't bring it up. 'Don't hope, Crowley.' said Hastur's voice in his head. 'no one will ever help you, no one will come, let alone an angel. He will never come, he would never risk his life for a demon, in fact I bet he hasn't even realised that you're missing!'

'I don't want him to come, Hastur. I'm fine. I'm fine...'

'Why don't you want him to come, Crowley?' crooned Hastur, 'do you want him safe?'

'I don't care, I don't care, I don't, I don't!' Shrieked Crowley as phantom knives tore into his skin

'I think you do, Crowley. I think you care. Do you know what happens to demons who care, Crowley?'

'Yes! Yes, I know, I don't care about him, I don't, I don't care!'

'You do!' cried Hastur triumphantly, 'you care!'

'NO!' screamed Crowley,

'Zzzip it, traitor,' Beelzebubs voice joined Hastur's, but in the dark Crowley couldn't see him, couldnt tell where the voice came from.

'no...' whispered Crowley as rough hands dragged him away again, 'no...'

=

"CROWLEY WAKE UP!" Screeched Aziraphale kneeling next to Crowley on the bed but afraid to touch him after he had screamed 'NO' last time Aziraphale had taken his shoulder.

"CROWLEY!" Suddenly Crowley's eyelids fluttered and opened to reveal golden eyes that were more slit pupil than iris with fear. His gaze flickered around yhe room before locking on Aziraphale.

"Angel?" he muttered, "angel..."

"Hush Crowley" Aziraphale whispered, "we're at the bookshop, it's ok, you're ok." He honestly didn't know if he was reassuring Crowley or himself. "you're fine, Crowley."

He brushed Crowley's hand gently but immediately felt guilty as Crowley shied away. He hurriedly drew his hand back and and left it splayed on the bedclothes as if to show he wasn't about to try and touch Crowley again. Crowley looked down at his hand with an unintelligible expression. Crowley glanced up at Aziraphale's face, and seeing him watching quickly looked down.

"Crowley..." said Aziraphale softly. But what was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to ask what happened? How could he help Crowley through something if he didn't even know what what it was?

"Crowley, it's ok. You're ok." he wanted to reach out to him, to hold his hand, but he couldn't, not after he'd seen Crowley jump when he so much as moved towards him.

"Angel?" said Crowley again.

"Yes Crowley, it's ok, I'm here."

"Why." said Crowley blankly. It was a question, but he made it sound like a statement. "Why am I here. With you. Why?"

Aziraphale blinked, confused. "Where else would you be?" he said just as blankly.

"I don't know. Anywhere. Not here." Mumbled Crowley.

"Why wouldn't you be here Crowley?" asked Aziraphale, tilting his head slightly.

"Because- because-" Crowley broke off suddenly. Staring ahead with the expression of someone utterly and comepletely lost. Aziraphale waited, expecting him to continue, but when it became clear that Crowley had abandoned the conversation, he shifted slightly to get the demon's attention.

"Do you want something to drink? Tea?" he asked quietly.

"I-" Crowley looked amazed. "Yes. -please! thank you."

"Ok." said Aziraphale with a small smile - finally something he could do! - "I'll be right back." Crowley nodded slightly, looking bewildered, and somewhat in shock.

Aziraphale stood up and trotted down the stairs, shooting another small smile at the demon as he left the room. Crowley just stared after him, his face schooled blank of emotion.

Aziraphale careened into his kitchen, taking the right angle corner in far to quickly and hardly stopped as he grabbed the kettle, miracled it full and dropped it on the hob, flicking the gas on instead of heating the water instantly. Of course, he could have just miracled a cup of tea up but truthfully, he wanted to think. As he waited for the kettle to boil he thought (read worried) about his associate come friend who was lying numbly on the bed upstairs and ran through the events of the past night. What could gave happened to Crowley? Supposedly he had been in Hell, but that hardly explained his behaviour. Obviously Hell wasn't exactly hospitable, not the best spot for a summer holiday, you might say, but surely they wouldn't hurt one of their own?

'But angels cast out other angels all the time.' said an annoying little voice which he usually kept thoroughly buried under books and alcohol. 'if angels will do that to each other, image what demons do.'

Aziraphale swallowed. 'But how does that explain his behaviour around me? Why is he suprised that I want to help him?' Aziraphale abruptly stood up and was turning to get out a bottle of very strong whiskey when the kettle whistled with it's usual air of piercing disregard for anything else occuring at moment.

He spun round and turned off the gas, snatching two cups off the shelf with more force than strictly necessary and added a teabag to each. Pulling out the sugar with one hand and jerking the cutlery draw open with the other he grabbed a tea spoon and added two sugars to one of the cups. He thrust the sugar further back on the worktop and picked up the hot kettle with a blatant disregard for the safety of his hand before tipping the water into each cup. Fishing out the milk he finished making the tea and picked up both cups before heading back upstairs.

When he came back into the bedroom Crowley was fiddling nervously with the duvet cover, but as Aziraphale entered he stopped abruptly and shifted away from the door.

Aziraphale smiled gently, "here you go, Crowley, tea, no sugar." He held the cup out to the demon and smiled reassuringly. Crowley reached out hesitantly, glancing at the cup, then at Aziraphale, then quickly back down at his lap.

"Thank you." he whispered, taking the cup gently.

"No problem." said Aziraphale, and took a big gulp of his own sweet tea.

Crowley didn't drink his straight away, though he looked at it as though he might eat the cup, too. He held it close to his face and sniffed slightly, glancing warily at Aziraphale the whole time. He seemed satisfied as he took a tiny sip, swallowing quickly, but soon took a much larger mouthful when nothing happened. He looked at Aziraphale again as though he wanted to speak, but quickly looked back down at his tea which he now had nestled between his hands as he waited for it too cool a little more. Aziraphale caught the look, though.

"What is it, Crowley?" he asked gently. Crowley shot another quick look his way, but didn't speak. "It's ok, you can ask." Aziraphale reassured him. Crowley swallowed, but squeezed his cup firmly and looked up at Aziraphale again. His gaze dropped again as he said,

"Could- could you, um, come-" he swallowed clenching his fists around his cup to stop them from shaking, "come closer?" he whispered faintly, then said quickly, much faster, "it's ok if you don't want to, I know you don't, I'm fine-" he looked up at the Angel in something like awe as he suddenly felt Aziraphale's soft hand on his, shock and joy, buried under layers of fear the only things visible on his face.

"Is this ok?" murmured Aziraphale gently. Crowley nodded, looking a little more sure of himself.

"Thank- thank you" he said, his hand subconsciously tightening around Aziraphale's, before abruptly relaxing. Aziraphale squeezed back softly. "No problem, dear." Crowley's eyes widened on the word 'dear', but Aziraphale was too caught up with joy at this tiny show of trust in the middle of all that fear to care. He smiled at Crowley and was rewarded with a hesitant twitch of one corner of Crowleys mouth.

"No problem at all."