Happy Holidays, EdosianOrchids901!

[goe_mod]

Title: There for him
Rating: T

Summary: Aziraphale helps Crowley through his panic attack

EastgateAngel (11-5-2028, 8:41am): Hello dears,

You may call me Ezra Fell. I shall decline to mention my age as I do not believe it matters beyond that I am a legal adult person.

I have joined this forum in hopes that I might get some advice as I found the enormous amount of information the Google supplied me rather overwhelming and confusing.

I will do my best to explain the situation such as it is. I am the owner and proprietor of an antique bookshop. Some years ago during a rather stressful time for myself and my dear friend there was a fire in the shop and it burned down quite badly. At the time I was not in town, but my dear friend thought I was at the shop and from what little they have spoken of the events of that day, they were convinced I had died in the fire.

As I am writing to you now however, it is safe to say I did not die, but the events were terribly traumatic for my dear friend and even now they still struggle with what happened. I am doing the best I can to be supportive, but it is very clear that I know not nearly enough about trauma recovery to effectively support them through this.

As I am also rather old fashioned I decided I would, as mentioned above, use the Google to try and locate books which might teach me how to help my dear friend, but the Google gave me so many titles and websites that I got rather overwhelmed. It also suggested this forum and so I joined today to ask you lovely people whether you could advise me on what titles I ought to purchase to learn how to help my friend with their trauma.

Yours sincerely, Ezra Fell.

Aziraphale sat back and read through the post several times. When he could find no flaws or reason not to post it as far as the rules of the forum went, he pressed send. He then went about his day, re-shelving books, thinking it would be a while before any forthcoming answers would arrive, and was therefore surprised to find the old computer making a repeated series of urgent beeps not a minute later.

Aziraphale was rather overwhelmed by the sheer number of responses, but gathered his wits and set himself to reading them eagerly. About halfway through he felt rather discouraged, as a lot of posts were humans angrily asking whether he had asked his friend for permission to talk about their trauma like this and a few of the even more rude ones demanding who he thought he was trying to force his friend into confronting a trauma they were not ready to face. At the very bottom a moderator of the forum quickly ended the arguments and reminded everyone of the rules.

EastgateAngel (8:58am): I apologize for causing such a ruckus. Firstly, no, I have not asked my friend if he was okay with me asking this as I had hoped that the books might instruct me how to broach the subject. Furthermore I would like to say that I do not intend on forcing my dearest friend into anything. I merely wish to learn how to support them when they are so clearly struggling with what happened. I had hoped to gain knowledge and am very sorry to have caused distress.

I will say no more on the matter, rest assured.

No sooner had he posted it the computer pinged twice. With dread he scrolled down and found the first ding was a moderator assuring him that he had not done anything wrong. Some members simply had very strong feelings about these matters and to please not feel discouraged by them as he was doing the right thing wanting to educate himself.

The second ping was not a post on the forum itself and so it took Aziraphale a bit to realize it was some sort of personal message and figure out how to navigate to it.

E (9:06am): I’m so sorry about what happened in #Introductions. I hope you’ll not give up on your quest to gain knowledge. Below are some titles I highly recommend. The first one especially is a very good guide on how to help one’s partner (I’m sorry to have assumed if I am wrong).

-Loving someone with PTSD. It’s got a 4,5 out of 5 stars on Amazon and very positive reviews. -When someone you love suffers from PTSD. It had a 4 out of 5 stars, but is considered quite good by the reviewers in offering advice on not only helping your partner/friend, but also how to take care of yourself while helping them.

EastgateAngel (9:17am): Thank you, dear chap. Your advice is most helpful and not to worry, I never planned to give up on helping my friend. It would simply have taken me much longer to sift through the enormous amount of results the Google gave me.

Now armed with some useful titles that he discreetly ordered right away and added three more books to as they were recommended and had the same star rating as the suggested books and must thus be useful in some way, Aziraphale felt a bit less tense. He’d managed to convince the Amazon to kindly overnight him the books and would no sooner than tomorrow afternoon be armed with all the tools he’d need to help Crowley.

2-12-2032, London Soho

The shop door slamming shut startled Aziraphale and he quickly shoved the book he’d been studying and his notes into his desk drawer and out of sight.

“Crowley?” he asked.

The demon frantically stalked around the shop shutting curtains as he went, but didn’t answer. Aziraphale cast his awareness out as far as possible to check their surroundings for threats; nothing.

To your partner the perceived threat is real, even if there is no actual threat.

“Crowley, what happened? Are you hurt?” Aziraphale prompted, calmly approaching the clearly distressed demon.

“I... I’m... fine. I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Crowley ground out.

His body language betrayed him though. He was tense as a coiled spring, or rather more aptly a snake ready to strike.

Don’t push for an answer. A distraction.

“Will you come sit with me, my dear? I’ll pour us something to drink, shall I?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah, drink... sounds... sounds good, Angel,” Crowley answered, slinking over to the couch and slumping down into it in his usual ‘Spine? What spine?’ way.

Aziraphale meanwhile brought out two glasses and a bottle of Talisker Surge; a special treat for the demon that he kept in his liquor collection.

“Some Talisker, I think. Good to soothe the nerves,” Aziraphale said, placing the full glass in the demon’s shaking hands.

“’m not nervous...” Crowley grumbled.

Nevertheless he clutched the glass possessively and drunk deeply. Aziraphale didn’t respond to that and simply filled the demon’s glass when it was empty.

---------------

“Angel?” Crowley asked.

He’d arrived at the shop to find it in complete disarray. It set something deep inside him on edge and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Back here, dear boy! Mind the mess. I’ve been doing some much needed decluttering,” Aziraphale called from the backroom.

“You wot?!” Crowley cried, voice pitching up by several octaves as panic shot through him.

“Oh my, it’s nothing to worry about, my dear. I’m not throwing out any of my books or furniture. I’ve been talking to Anathema, you remember her? Agnes’ descendant? Anyway, that got me thinking,” Aziraphale explained quickly.

“Thinking?” Crowley asked, calming slightly, but still on edge.

“Yes, dear boy. About several things, but mostly about the shop and how it burned down last time because there was no one to blow out the candles. The candles really are just symbolical you know? I don’t need real candles for any of it. I don’t plan to contact HQ anymore. If I need to talk to a higher power it will be to Her alone and then the human way is just as efficient really. Warding spells don’t need the candles either, it’s just about the representation of light as protection against dark forces. Dark forces that wish to cause us harm, I should say,” Aziraphale rambled on nervously.

“So? You what? Figured if I’m tossing out the candles might as well toss out some other stuff cluttering up the space?” Crowley asked, sceptical.

“If there is anything, yes. Mostly it’s just locating and packing up all these candles. I honestly never understood why Gabriel insisted on always leaving a new set of circle candles at my shop whenever he visited. I mean I used the circle once in the last 3000 years to talk to Heaven. Anyway, back during my nomadic days I used to just gift the candles to whatever family needed them and couldn’t afford to buy them. Then I got the shop and the humans invented electric light and well... the candles just became redundant and it became second nature to just find some empty space in a drawer or cupboard to stuff them in and get them out of my way. I just never considered throwing them away for some reason, until now,” Aziraphale finished.

“I get it, you were scared Heaven might get on your case about squandering Heavenly resources. The wankers,” Crowley growled.

“Probably, yes,” Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “Oh! I forgot something, haven’t I?”

He fluttered anxiously as he wracked his brain for what they had planned to do.

“Just a little. Doesn’t matter, there will be another performance of ‘Much ado’, the tickets can be adjusted,” Crowley said quietly.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. That was terribly rude of me. I know there will be another showing and I promise I will not allow myself to be distracted a second time. You could even call me to make sure!” Aziraphale said, taking Crowley’s hand gently.

The demon spluttered uselessly a few minutes before getting himself back under control.

“It’s fine, I figured you probably found an old favourite and got lost in it,” he finally answered with a shrug.

“Still, it was poor form of me to just forget about our date. Why don’t you help me locate these blasted candles and after we dispose of them we can go out, wherever you’d like to go. What do you say, my dear?” Aziraphale said, smiling warmly at the demon.

“I...hnk... y-yeah... fine... good... Yep, sounds like a plan,” Crowley stammered, his brain sputtering to a halt over the word ‘date’.

------------------

It took nearly five hours, but eventually with Crowley’s help Aziraphale had managed to locate and pack up every single candle in the bookshop. In all, the number of completely full up moving boxes totalled 34 and one half full boxes.

“That should be all of them,” Aziraphale said, after Crowley and he had done a final circuit of the shop and the flat above it and come up with no further candles.

“Yep, now what?” Crowley agreed.

The angel looked thoughtful and then began to dither as he considered what to do with the candles. Crowley sighed and pulled out his phone, showing the angel a social media post of a small business that would take any used and unused candles to turn into new beautiful art candles which they sold to raise money for a foundation that provided aid to burn victims.

“Yes, that would work. Thank you, my dearest. Why don’t you decide where we shall go out to while I make a call to this person,” Aziraphale said, wiggling happily as he noted down the phone number.

Aziraphale quickly made the call and arranged for the young lady to have the candles picked up the next Monday. He wondered quietly as he talked to the lady what kind of thing Crowley might have chosen to do on their date.

It turned out Crowley hadn’t chosen anything. He was sitting on the couch staring ahead of himself and the phone hung in his lax grip. Aziraphale went over their conversation before the call, trying to figure out what had gone wrong to cause this.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked quietly, sitting down beside the demon and taking hold of his hand.

Hand holding was a good way to help keep Crowley grounded and it helped Aziraphale too. That is was just all around a very pleasant activity was a nice bonus. Crowley gripped the angel’s hand tightly and looked at him, his eyes still glassy and wide.

“What happened?” Aziraphale prompted.

“Nothing. I...you... nothing, it’s nothing,” Crowley answered, shaking his head.

“It isn’t nothing if it affects you so, Crowley. We can talk about it and work it out together,” Aziraphale said seriously.

“It’s... just... you asked and...” Crowley mumbled, glaring at the floor now.

“I asked... Is it because I asked you to decide where we will go on our date?” Aziraphale asked calmly.

Crowley sputtered and turned a rather fetching pink around the ears and cheek.

“Oh dear, do you... is that what is bothering you? Because I call them dates? Do you not consider them as such? We can decide on a name for them together if you don’t like to call them that,” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands.

He’d always thought of his outings with Crowley as dates; did the demon not feel the same? Had he been accidentally insensitive?

“Hmgh... it’s... I jussst never thought we would get to call them that... it’s not that though... It’s jussst...You choose where we go. I tempt you to go out and you choose where... that’s how we do things it’s...” Crowley spit out quickly.

He disliked when Aziraphale blamed himself needlessly.

“If I understand correctly the problem is that I asked you to choose where we would go? It isn’t how we normally do things and so it feels unsafe? Overwhelming?” Aziraphale asked, quickly reining in his own insecurity.

“Hmyeah... unsssafe...” Crowley admitted quietly.

“I see. How is it unsafe? No, I mean, how is me choosing the venue different from you choosing it?” Aziraphale asked after some thought.

In the years since purchasing the books Aziraphale had studied them religiously and taken their advice to heart, as he noticed it helped Crowley and lessened the number of panic attacks the demon seemed to have. He denied having them still, but Aziraphale had learned how to tell from his body language when something had triggered the demon.

“Jussst, it’s not you choosing... sss me tempting you... tempting is proper Hellish...” Crowley answered reluctantly.

“I think I understand. It isn’t about choosing, it is because I asked you out in this situation. How about this? I’ll let you tempt me into going out with you anywhere you want to go,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley’s body relaxed by degrees, but he remained sullen.

“Sure, angel. Whatever you want,” he responded.

“No, darling. Whatever you want; your choice this time. I’d even go with you to one of those loud music events you seem to enjoy so much,” Aziraphale said teasingly.

Crowley grinned at this.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really, I’ll even wear something appropriate for the venue. Better yet, you can give me pointers on what is appropriate!” Aziraphale replied excitedly.

“Too much, Angel,” Crowley mumbled, now bright red down to his chest.

“Really? After all the times you said I could do with a wardrobe update?” Aziraphale teased easily.

6-29-2042, Petersfield East Hampshire

Aziraphale blinked as a door loudly slammed open somewhere in the house. It was worrying as Crowley had left not an hour and a half earlier to do some groceries for lunch. He shouldn’t yet be back, though. Crowley would call to let Aziraphale know he was on his way home as he always did when Aziraphale was working on restoring a book.

With an ear on the sounds downstairs Aziraphale quickly, but carefully adjusted the old press to apply the right amount of pressure to bind the pages to the cover and spine. He’d just finished the final adjustments when the shouting began.

Chucking off his work gloves, the angel raced down the stairs and was just in time to catch Crowley as he tripped over a rug.

“A-Aziraphale! Angel! W-where are you! I can’t... I-I can’t!” Crowley cried, struggling in Aziraphale’s hold.

“I’m right here Crowley, it’s Aziraphale. I’m here, I’ve got you. We’re safe, I’m safe, I’m right here,” Aziraphale said calmly.

While he stopped struggling upon hearing the angel’s voice, Crowley remained tense, and kept up a stream of panicked half-words between distressed gasping breaths.

“Oh my dearest, you’re having a flashback. You’re at the cottage with Aziraphale,” Aziraphale said urgently.

He tried to wrestle the terrified demon into his lap while said demon ineffectually seemed to be fighting an enemy he alone could see. Aziraphale hated seeing Crowley like this when he could do nothing but be there and remind his demon where he was.

“We’re safe, we’re in the cottage. I’m right here with you, my dearest,” Aziraphale repeated over and over.

He held Crowley close and focussed on keeping his breathing steady and slow, but Crowley wasn’t mimicking his breathing pattern and kept taking quick panicked breaths which were becoming alarmingly squeaky now. Aziraphale tightened his arms around Crowley’s waist on his next exhale, holding tight and not allowing the demon to inhale until he himself started to inhale. He hated doing this, but having Crowley pass out from hyperventilation would only serve to make the flashback-induced panic attack so much worse.

After what could have been hours, but also merely minutes of just sitting there tightening and relaxing his hold on the demon and keeping up a steady stream of reassurance, the demon’s breathing finally seemed to become slower and Crowley sagged against Aziraphale, just clinging to him and shaking.

Aziraphale now shifted the demon about so he could wrap Crowley in a hug and mantle his wings around them. His wings, being closest to his true form, would have a much stronger scent and Aziraphale knew from previous episodes that the scent helped Crowley to be able to recognize Aziraphale and calm down.

“You had a very bad flashback, my dearest. You’re in the cottage with Aziraphale. Can you keep taking deep breaths?” Aziraphale said quietly, as he began to rock them both slowly.

The first time Crowley had experienced one of these flashbacks, Aziraphale had been wholly unprepared, and when nothing had seemed to work had desperately clung to his demon and rocked them like this in an attempt to self-soothe and keep from panicking himself. He’d found it helped Crowley and himself so would always do this once the demon finally sagged in his hold.

After that first time, Aziraphale, determined never to fail his demon like that again, had studied every scrap of information he could find on how to help someone through a flashback and applied it to the best of his ability to help his beloved demon.

“...’ngl...” Crowley mumbled tiredly.

“Right here my dear,” Aziraphale answered rubbing Crowley’s back now.

“Hate flassshbacksss...” Crowley grumbled, tightening his grip slightly.

“I know, my dear. Think you can get up? I’d like to get you off this cold floor,” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley made a valiant attempt to wrangle his trembling body into obedience and failed. He groaned dramatically at this.

“Body not listening?” Aziraphale guessed.

Crowley nodded into Aziraphale’s shirt, not ready to face the world around them. Aziraphale simply got up, holding Crowley carefully, and walked them over to the couch. He miracled a cup of hot cocoa for himself and a glass of Talisker with the bottle for Crowley onto the table, ready to be enjoyed when the demon was ready. He then wrapped the tartan duvet around his shivering demon and sat back.

Crowley would continue to cling to Aziraphale for hours to come, and Aziraphale would hold him close until the demon was ready to let go of him. It didn’t matter what caused these flashbacks, Aziraphale would be right here to help his demon through them and pamper him with hugs and love afterward.