20

We ended our conversation without talking for the rest of the night. Instead we went upstairs to bed. We both lay awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling silently as we listened to the sounds of traffic outside and the soft rustle of clothes as we shifted around in bed to get comfortable. Eventually, I mustered up the courage to move close to him again and wrap myself around his arm, resting my head against his chest as his hand moved over my hair softly, combing through it tenderly and reassuringly.

After a couple of minutes, my breathing began to steady as sleep pulled me under and my thoughts became hazy as fatigue set in and I closed my eyes, drifting back into unconsciousness. A couple of minutes later, however, I was shaken awake by a sudden loud knock on the door. My heart pounded frantically as I leapt out of bed to open the door and see who might be standing outside. There was an unknown number written on a piece of paper taped up underneath the door. Without thinking twice, I stepped backwards and opened the door just a crack, leaning against the frame and looking through the gap to see who was there. It was a woman wearing sunglasses, her brown curls tied up into a bun, and holding a large bouquet of roses; she was obviously a delivery lady with the flowers tucked neatly into the bundle in her arms.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and handed me the flowers with the back of her hand and a smile as I accepted them hesitantly.

"Thank you, they're beautiful…" I muttered, taking the bouquet carefully from her hands.

She smiled again and gave me a thumbs up.

"Anytime, Miss," she called cheerfully as she backed up and walked away down the road.

I shut the door behind her and leaned back against it as the realisation sank into me; those beautiful flowers were from Crowley. It was clear from the look on their faces that he sent the bouquet over to me specifically to give me something special on Christmas, to make sure that I knew that he loved me; that he would always love me.

The next day, Crowley came home late, and I didn't expect to see him until after lunch. It wasn't unusual for him to stay out all day sometimes because he was so used to working from home that most days he spent his mornings and nights working and his evenings and weekends were mostly dedicated to visiting me, or he spent them watching TV and reading books. He would often come home covered in dust, paintbrushes, paint, brushes and other tools sticking out of his baggy trousers, and occasionally with blood stains on his shirt

or skin. His usual clean, neat and tidy appearance was gone completely. The way he usually dressed now looked like someone had dragged him through a hedge backwards, leaving a trail of ripped up grass behind him and messy footprints leading off down the hallway.

As I got into the living room to watch some television after making dinner I spotted him walking down the hallway and heading toward me as he pulled himself up on the top step. I watched him curiously as he stumbled and tripped slightly as he tried to walk forward, dropping his keys onto the coffee table and almost falling down. I jumped up out of my seat and ran out into the hall, catching him at the last minute before he fell onto his butt, pulling his knees up to hug himself tightly to try and stop his trembling legs from giving out completely.

"What's wrong, angel? Why did you let go of me so suddenly?" Crowley asked worriedly, looking up into my concerned face as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

My hands automatically moved to his shoulders, squeezing gently as I rested my forehead against his, my eyebrows furrowing together anxiously as my heart ached and ached with guilt at the sight of my husband in such obvious distress. I pressed my lips against his warmly, and I could feel how tense he was, how much pain he was in.

As his hands gripped my shirt tightly as if his life depended on it, my own trembled slightly from fright. I was scared, terrified, but at the same time, excited as well. I could see him in front of me, he was here in front of me. All those weeks and months of not being able to find him had made everything disappear in an instant, as if it had never existed in the first place.

All he had to do was take the time to breathe deeply and relax as I held him tightly to me. I could feel his body quivering slightly as the cold air blew in the door, chilling us to the bone but I didn't care. He was alive, he was here, he was finally here with me and nothing else mattered. The only thing I cared about was that he was safe, alive. He was here, and that was all that matters.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong? What are you doing up so early, Angel? What are you hiding from?" he mused quietly, stroking my hair comfortingly as his fingers dug slightly into the skin of my lower back, rubbing circles around my lower spine soothingly to ground me to reality.

I hesitated briefly as my hands clenched around his shoulders lightly, pressing him firmly against mine.