From where Crowley is sitting, nothing could be worse. He lays Aziraphale down on the couch, still unconscious. The flat they've rented is small, but it has modern touches to it. A little television, a little book collection---things he thought they both could enjoy while hiding out here. A place for a wine collection...nothing Crowley would want if he were going to be alone.
And he can't be alone. There is no way he's going to be here alone.
Aziraphale's coat be damned. He pulls the coat off and swiftly unbuttons his shirt, revealing the burn mark on the angel's chest. He has no way of telling how bad the injury is, but it looks awful. It looks like something demonic has blazed its way through the angel's body. Aziraphale doesn't need to breathe, he doesn't need a heartbeat, but right now Crowley wishes that he'd have both, just so that he'd be able to tell if Aziraphale were still with him. Discorporation would send him to Heaven, and who knows what will happen to him there. An injury like this could mean far worse.
"Angel, stay with me, please," he murmurs.
He puts a hand over the wound and focuses. There has to be something he can do. Some part of him that remembers being an angel, some part of him that remembers how to heal properly, that can help to fix this.
He focuses, pouring himself into healing the injury. And, for the first time in a very long time, he prays. That this works. That Aziraphale can come back from this.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-08-20 04:53 pm (UTC)And he can't be alone. There is no way he's going to be here alone.
Aziraphale's coat be damned. He pulls the coat off and swiftly unbuttons his shirt, revealing the burn mark on the angel's chest. He has no way of telling how bad the injury is, but it looks awful. It looks like something demonic has blazed its way through the angel's body. Aziraphale doesn't need to breathe, he doesn't need a heartbeat, but right now Crowley wishes that he'd have both, just so that he'd be able to tell if Aziraphale were still with him. Discorporation would send him to Heaven, and who knows what will happen to him there. An injury like this could mean far worse.
"Angel, stay with me, please," he murmurs.
He puts a hand over the wound and focuses. There has to be something he can do. Some part of him that remembers being an angel, some part of him that remembers how to heal properly, that can help to fix this.
He focuses, pouring himself into healing the injury. And, for the first time in a very long time, he prays. That this works. That Aziraphale can come back from this.