[Aziraphale thinks it's a dream. The voice, the pain, the thrust of darkness upon him β the way his arm dangles from the side of a bed far smaller than what he's accustomed to, the scratch of a starchy pillowcase against his cheek. He thinks it's Warlock, but then he hears Crowley.
no subject
And he wakes up.
And he still thinks it's a dream.
Wrong room. Wrong bed. Wrong-looking demon.]
...Crowley? What's β ?