When Crowley woke to golden sunlight streaming through the large gap in-between the curtains the first sight his eyes met was Aziraphale, curled in a remarkably uncomfortable looking way in a camping chair next to the bed. Glancing down, he saw their fingers still entwined on the duvet and smiled. He let his mind wander over what had happened the night before, and wondered over the assurances Aziraphale had offered him. That made him smile even more, and he gave a tiny, contented little hum at the back of his throat. Eyes fixed on Aziraphale's sleeping face, he continued to mull over all that had happened in the last day. Aziraphale had used his Grace to heal Crowley's injuries, and had said he was Aziraphale's friend. Crowley tried to concentrate on the split-second of conscious when he had felt Aziraphale's soul healing him, but he couldn't really get a fix. All he could remember was feeling safe, that is, until the realisation of something Holy touching him again hit him and all he felt was fear. But for that instant of drowzy softness he remembered truely feeling home. Crowley let his slightly tense muscles relax fully for the first time in far too long and blinked, coming out of his reverie and using a little of his virtually non existent power to restore his shirt to it's former shirtiness (it was more hole than shirt) he gasped and clamped a hand over his heart at that, and resolved not to use him magic again for quite a while. He looked up then, to see big, blue eyes peering blurrily at him from the chair.

"Crowley? You're awake." groaned Aziraphale. He squeezed Crowley's hand before letting go and stretching, yawning and blinking to banish the sleep from his eyes. "Suppose I drifted off. A most disconcerting experience, night one second and day the next. Are you feeling ok?"

"Yes." confirmed Crowley, before quickly adding, "Thank you."

Aziraphale smiled at the dark haired demon in the bed, sitting down on the duvet and looking at him critically. "How's your injuries? I healed your back and legs last night, but your front's only got human measures applied to it, I'm afraid."

"It's fine." assured Crowley, "Thank you. For, you know, healing it." his eyes flicked down again, a look of disbelief crossing his face for a moment, before being replaced with a quiet wonder at being healed.

"No problem, my dear. Tea? I'll make it properly, I still feel a little drowzy." asked Aziraphale. Crowley hesitated for a minute, which Aziraphale suspected had more to do with being wary of accepting anything that could so easily contain Holy water than being unsure about what to drink.

"Please." he said eventually. Aziraphale smiled fully, standing up and nodding. Another show of trust on the demon's part.

"Call if you want anything." he said, turning and heading downstairs, making sure to leave the door open.

Aziraphale bustled about making tea, and also dug out some more painkillers, because he didn't believe Crowley in the slightest when he said he was ok. Well, perhaps he was, but he must be hurting. The kettle whistled piercingly and Aziraphale snapped off the gas, grabbing two cups and making tea for the two of them. Taking the painkillers he made his way back up to the bedroom, meeting Crowley's eyes when he went in and smiling.

"Here you go. And I got you some more medicine, can't be too careful." Aziraphale set the tea and tablets down on the bedside table, and looked at Crowley. "Have all of those."

"Thank you." he said again. Aziraphale just smiled and plopped back down onto the camping chair, sipping his own tea. The two sat in silence for a time, Aziraphale serenely drinking his tea and Crowley testing his slowly at first, before acknowledging it's safety and drinking it openly.

"So, Crowley," said Aziraphale eventually, "We need to talk at some point." Crowley's eyes flickered up in alarm, before staring down at his tea, looking mildly like a child who has realised they've done something wrong, and are waiting for the 'explain why you thought that would be a good idea' speech. Aziraphale noticed the look, and ploughed on immediately. "But I don't want you to talk until you're ready. You don't have to do anything you dont want to, Crowley, I promise. And if you ever want anything, just say. I know you probably don't trust me, but I swear I'll never do anything you don't want me to, ok?" Crowley glanced up, swallowed, and nodded to his tea, biting his lip.

"Ok. I wanted to ask, Crowley, when I healed you last night, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to." Crowley looked up at that, clutching his tea, and said,

"No. It was fine. I just... I just panicked a little. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. And thank you, as well, cos it doesn't hurt anymore. So thank you." said Crowley, his voice a little wobbly still, but thankfully raised above a whisper now.

"You don't need to apologize. Of course you panicked, it's normal, don't worry. And I'm glad it didn't hurt. I wanted to heal you as soon as we got upstairs, Crowley, but I was worried it wouldn't work. Anyway, if it didn't hurt, do you think maybe I could heal your front?" asked Aziraphale tentatively. Crowley squeezed his cup tighter, and stared down at his white knuckles.

"It's ok to say no, Crowley. I don't mind, whatever you want." Aziraphale reassured him. Crowley glanced up, then looked down again, and shook his head slightly. Immediately he flinched back, as though he expected punishment for refusing, and his jaw clenched. Aziraphale sighed guiltily, and hurried to calm the demon. "Ok, that's fine. Thank you for telling me, Crowley. I'm glad you didn't let me heal you if you don't want me to. Good job." he said clearly. Crowley relaxed slightly and looked up at him again, seeking approval. When Aziraphale nodded, he swallowed and straightened back up, checking Aziraphale's face for signs of anger or any other dangerous look constantly. Aziraphale kept his face passive and slightly grateful, and finally said, "Ok Crowley, you need to rest. Try to sleep and I'll keep coming to check on you. Just call if you want anything." Aziraphale stood up, and with a last smile at Crowley, left the room.

Crowley watched Aziraphale leave, and silently thanked him for not closing the curtains. Lying down defencelessly in the dark and watching people stride through doors (with smirks on their faces and blood on their hands...) was never something he particularly enjoyed. But the light would let him remember that he wasn't down there anymore, that he was on Earth, and that it was ok. Crowley settled back on the pillows and closed his eyes obediently. Ah, now this wasn't quite so good. Lying, helpless with closed eyes and shaking breaths as he waited... he opened his eyes. It was ok, Aziraphale said he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to. But he would. He would close his eyes and sleep, but not right now. Not right now. He couldn't. Crowley shifted in the bed and clenched his fists, focusing on the feeling of his fingernails digging into his palms. That was better. He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to relax and compensating for the limp, useless feeling by pressing his nails back into his skin. He stayed like that for a minute, until he felt the first trickle of blood run down his palm. He let go then, leaving the blood to clot, and praising himself curtly for relaxing. Not long after, he slipped into sleep.

"Hurting yourself again, little snake? Haven't we talked about this already?"

Crowley lay on the cold, hard floor which was now slick with blood. He trembled as the demon grabbed his arm in a vice like grip, easily lifting his starved frame from the floor and ran a finger down one of the long, bloody scratches there.

"Well? Answer me!" she commanded.

"They-" Crowley winced at being forced to use his recently regrown vocal chords so soon. The demon scowled and dug her fingers into one of the cuts, prying up the skin. Crowley gasped and hurried to continue, "They said... it was good... to... hurt." he panted between whimpers. The demon kicked him viciously, snapping one of his already fractured ribs.

"Fine. Then why the Hell haven't you healed?! Useless!" she bent a finger back until the ligaments popped, the ping echoing through the cell, accompanied by Crowley's scream. The demon tore into the skin on his arm again, then dropped him abruptly. Crowley cried out as he hit the floor amd stayed there, whimpering.

"Shut up, you pathetic little excuse for a demon!" she yelled, stamping on his wrist as she marched to a table against the far wall. Crowley fell silent immediately, well aware of what would happen if he failed to follow an order. The demon waved her hand and some chains suspended from the ceiling, and Crowley was lifted off the floor, the harsh movement jarring his injuries. The cuffs on the end of each chain fastened too tightly round his arms just above his wrists, the chains long enough to let him kneel with his arms stretched above him. The demon turned, a hideous smirk on her face, holding a needle with a syringe of clear liquid on the end. Crowley shook his head frantically, trying to shuffle away as the demon stepped closer.

"Stand up, little snake." she whispered. Crowley stood shakily, arms now level with his face. "Stretch it out, Crowley." Crowley held out his wrists for her, trembling and almost falling back to his knees as he did so. The demon smirked wickedly and held one of Crowley's arms still. "You have to watch, Crowley." she said quietly. Crowley kept his eyes fixed unblinkingly on his wrist as she injected him with the Holy water. She removed the needle and he shuddered and squirmed, hanging his head and gasping as he tried not to make a sound. "Ok, Crowley, you can do whatever you want now." Crowley promptly fell back onto his knees, tiny whimpering sobs escaping his throat. The demon sighed loudly, "thought so. Utterly useless." she gestured at the chains again, and they pulled Crowley painfully into the air, so that only the tips of his toes were brushing the floor. Crowley whimpered loudly, and she leaned closer to his ear. "Well if you hate this so much, we'll do it on the rack in three hours, ok?" Crowley made a panicked humming noise and shook his head violently, flinching back. The demon just smirked, and left the room. Halfway down the corridor she stopped, as the agonised screams of Crowley echoed from the room as the Holy water hit his nervous system. Really, it was impressive he didn't scream as she injected him.

"Crowley, wake up. Come on, wake up Crowley, it's ok!" Crowley was flinching and whimpering on the bed as Aziraphale sat on the bed. "Crowley!" Aziraphale gave up eventually and decided to touch him, eliciting a louder panicked whine as Crowley flinched back from his hand. Aziraphale endured, however, and eventually succeeded in waking him.

Crowley lay, completely stiff and still, watching Aziraphale warily. The angel still hadn't taken his hand from Crowley's shoulder, and Crowley found himself slowly relaxing into the warm touch.

"A- a-" Crowley groaned, but was quickly shushed by Aziraphale.

"It's ok, Crowley. Just a dream, you're back on earth now, you're safe." Aziraphale murmured, before shifting closer to the demon and lacing an arm round his shoulders. Crowley flinched a little again, but Aziraphale let him, gently pulling him into a hug. Crowley held stiff for a moment, tense in Aziraphale's arms, before he let go. The demon sagged against Aziraphale's chest, burying his face in the angel's shoulder and letting out a shaky breath. Aziraphale held Crowley gently, whispering soft promises and reassurances in his ear. They stayed togather like that for what felt like an eternity, with Aziraphale softly stroking Crowley's hair and Crowley clutching Aziraphale's shirt.

Eventually Aziraphale disentangled himself from the demon and placed both hands on Crowley's shoulders. Crowley hung his head, refusing to look at the angel, and Aziraphale suspected it had something to do with the wet patch on his shoulder.

"Crowley. Look at me." said Aziraphale firmly. Crowley raised his head immediately, keeping his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Aziraphale's face. There were shining tear tracks still streaking down his face, flashing in the sunlight and Aziraphale could feel his shoulders shaking. His expression, however, was one of blank submission. Aziraphale raised a hand to rest on Crowley's face, but let it drop when Crowley flinched back from the touch, gold eyes still fixed unblinkingly on Aziraphale's face.

"Ok, Crowley." said Aziraphale softly, "you're ok. You had a nightmare, it's fine. You're in my bookshop, remember? I- I won't hurt you." Crowley swallowed, and nodded. This was a risk, but Aziraphale couldn't think of anything else to do or say at this point. "Ok. Just relax, Crowley. Lie down." Crowley let himself drop back onto the pillows, and forced himself to relax. All the time, his eyes never left Aziraphale's face. "Close your eyes, Crowley." said Aziraphale softly. Crowley's breathing hitched, and he stifled a flinch. Keeping himself relaxed, he closed his eyes obediently but bit his lip hard. "Ok, Crowley good job." Aziraphale gently reached over and took Crowley's limp hand in his own. He felt the muscles tense before relaxing abruptly, and squeezed it gently. Then, he sang.

The songs that flowed from Aziraphale's lips to fill the room were old, and for the most part in Enochian, the language of the Angels. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley understood, if he could remember his old language. He might, he seemed to remember quite a bit about heaven. Crowley layed submissively on the bed as Aziraphale sang, but gradually his breathing evened out, and he stopped biting his lip. Aziraphale watched a drop of blood make it's way down Crowley's cheek from his mouth, but he just kept singing. Eventually Crowley's breathing evened out, and he slipped into sleep. Aziraphale continued his song, thanking God that the Enochian half-magic (for it wasn't a true spell, it just inclined people to feel at peace.) had worked, and hadn't hurt the demon. But really, it was unlikely if Crowley had been unhurt by healing. Aziraphale stayed next to Crowley for hours, determined that Crowley would have no more nightmares today. Eventually his song of peace changed, sutbly at first, but more obviously as he grew bolder. He found himself wondering again if Crowley knew Enochian, if he could hear the words in his sleep.

And what effect an angel singing a song of love above him would have on his self-esteem.