Aziraphale held Crowley close to him and didn't move for a long, long time.

The demon had fallen asleep some time ago, and although the angel wasn't exactly happy with that - he was worried, no, afraid that he might not wake up again - he also wasn't so cruel as to try and keep him awake any longer. He could just pay special mind towards keeping a figurative eye on his vitals, instead.

Because he was worried - no, terrified - that Crowley was frighteningly close to discorporation, or worse. He didn't know what would happen to him if he passed in this state, in these circumstances, but he was ready to do his level best and ensure that they wouldn't be finding out.

He healed what he could, as best he could, and didn't give a damn if Heaven had a problem with it. Even sent a little glare of defiance upwards, in case anyone happened to be watching. But no one and nothing interrupted them, and while Aziraphale only seemed to be able to do away with superficial wounds, it would help to ease Crowley's pain if nothing else. He willed the demon's wings back to the other plane with a concentrated thought, both to keep them safer and so Crowley wouldn't see them when he woke up. But the dark patterns under his skin, now a vivid black and nearly reaching his hairline at the back of his neck and creeping out from under the cuffs of his sleeves, didn't fade in the least no matter what he tried.

And then he waited, stayed still save for a hand that continued to run through Crowley's hair and over his back in a careful fashion. He waited, and wept, and paid no mind to the blood on the floor that stained his clothes and the tips of his wings a dark and somber red.

It wasn't all that long before Crowley stirred again though, not with a scream or a whimper but only a quiet, ragged cough. Aziraphale glanced down at the top of his head but Crowley only tightened his arms around the angel the slightest amount, pressed his face back into his shirt. He mumbled something quietly after a moment.

"What was that, love?"

The grip around him tightened just a bit further, and Crowley turned his head slightly so he wouldn't be speaking into fabric. "Don't do that, my heart can't handle it right now."

Aziraphale smiled softly even though Crowley couldn't see his face. "If you say so. Dear."

Crowley huffed, absolutely no real annoyance behind it, and finally pulled himself up and away slightly so they could talk face to face. Aziraphale let his grasp fall away as he did so, but then took no time in reaching for one of Crowley's hands to hold with both his own instead. No longer embracing, but still close, still touching, still just the two of them shielded from the rest of the world by a cocoon of soft, white feathers.

"I ssaid," Crowley continued, placing his other hand on top of Aziraphale's after only half a moment's hesitation. "Two down, three to go. Shall we get on with it?"

"Crowley, you're in no condition to be doing anything of the sort!"

"I'm fine, angel. I'm fine now."

Aziraphale would have scoffed if those words hadn't already chipped away at another piece of his heart. He felt the frozen hand trembling between his own, heard the shallow breathing that seemed to rattle the demon's chest, saw the dull yellow eyes sunken into a deathly pale face made worse by the dark veins slowly creeping up his neck.

"You're not fine at all. Just rest for now."

"Angel..." Crowley's voice grew quieter and he dropped his gaze to stare resolutely at their hands instead. "I don't think we should wait."

He knew that, of course. But he wasn't ready to acknowledge it quite yet, or the implications behind it. "You need to regain some strength. Just a day or two, you'll be right as rain and -"

"Aziraphale. I don't think I can wait."

The finality and distress in his tone were as painful as the words themselves.

"I...I know. Of course. I'm sorry. I'm just..." For someone who had spent centuries talking just to fill a silence while he searched for something worth actually saying, he found himself at a loss now. "I'm just afraid. For you."

There was a small, gentle smile on Crowley's face, the one he only ever seemed to wear when it was just the two of them, when he raised their hands and pressed his lips to Aziraphale's knuckles. "I know. I'm blessed, aren't I?"

And Aziraphale wanted to cry again, for a dozen new reasons in addition to the old.


He helped Crowley to the couch, made sure he was comfortable as could be before he turned back to the rest of the room and began preparing it for another summoning. He'd only just started drawing a new circle when a knock on a door turned two pairs of eyes towards the hallway.

The knock had been at the door at the end of that hallway, the exit of the flat at the top of the stairs, and not at the bookshop entrance itself.

"Do you think it's Anathema?" Crowley asked after a moment, already dragging himself back to his feet and swaying an alarming amount as he did so.

"I'm not sure," Aziraphale was fairly certain it had to be a human, the ward that he'd never dropped hadn't warned him otherwise. "Wait here."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Crowley was already stumbling his way towards the door, and Aziraphale quickly caught up and pulled one of the demon's arms around his shoulders.

"Stubborn. Let me help you, at least."

They made their way down the hall, and Crowley pulled away as they arrived at the door to lean rather heavily on the wall instead.

Aziraphale imagined he thought he might pass as exuding an air of cool indifference. Aziraphale also knew he would be the last person on earth to tell the demon he looked rather more like someone very close to knocking on a different, final door belonging to Someone Else.

Best not to think about Him, though. Didn't want to bring about any unwanted attention.

He opened the door, expecting to see Anathema or Newton, and was surprised to see another, still familiar human instead.

"Package for you, sir," said the deliveryman cheerfully, holding out a long, slim parcel and a clipboard. "Urgent delivery, they said. Must have been, because truthfully I don't even remember how I got to work. One moment I was enjoying the game, next I was on my way here. Were you expecting something?" He didn't seem put off in the least by any of that, nor by the fact he was conversing quite happily with two past acquaintances covered in drying blood.

"I was not," Aziraphale replied, although he already knew what it was. Perhaps Someone upstairs had been watching after all. "But it's a pleasant surprise, thank you."

The deliveryman touched a finger to the brim of his hat in acknowledgement, took back his signed paperwork, and wished them both a pleasant day before heading back down the stairs, whistling a cheerful tune.

"How very thoughtful." Crowley's remark was flippant, but lacking some of the usual contempt that was present when he spoke about the Almighty. Aziraphale didn't reply, only opened the parcel and pulled out his sword, definitely the same one despite the fact it looked recently polished. And there was something else in the box as well.

Two somethings.

"Oh, that's definitely holy," Crowley frowned and leaned away from the package and its contents as Aziraphale pulled out another, much shorter blade, as though it were radiating something unpleasant.

Though for a demon, it really was doing just that. "Yes, I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Maybe they're for our human friends?" Aziraphale was almost touched that She would offer some extra protection for the two of them, after everything that had happened. Almost. He couldn't help thinking it all would have been much nicer if She had decided to intervene just a tad sooner.

Still. Better late than never.

Even though he wanted to be annoyed, maybe a little angry with Her, he was still grateful. And feeling much more confident.

He placed the sword and the dagger back into the box and closed it up before reaching for Crowley's arm with his free hand. "Back to it, then?"

"Are you going to stab them?" Crowley asked as they walked, slowly, back towards the other room. "Or, you know..." he mimicked a gun with one hand and aimed it at the former demons, or what was left of them, still smoking slightly on the other side of the room as they rounded the corner.

"I don't know. The latter would probably be quicker," he led Crowley back to the couch.

"More fun, too." Crowley sounded damn near cheerful as he said it, and Aziraphale found the notion a little bit unsettling as he turned back towards the circle he'd started some minutes previously.

But then he thought briefly of the two demons he'd already destroyed as he began to draw again. Before today, he'd always thought he would feel some grief, some regret, some disappointment in having purposefully taken another creature's life. Even if that creature was a demon.

Now he knew better. He'd felt nothing of the sort, and while it hadn't exactly been 'fun', he was entirely prepared to do it again.

Crowley had fallen asleep again by the time Aziraphale was ready, three summoning circles beside each other on the floor and a few buckets that hadn't existed a few minutes before, filled with freshly blessed water, sitting innocently beside them. He rolled up his sleeves, retrieved his sword from the box, and let a careful hand rest gently on Crowley's shoulder. "Rise and shine, dear."

"Oh, I wasn't sleeping," Crowley said, very much with a tone and expression of one who had most definitely been sleeping. He pulled himself back into a sitting position before promptly leaning forward in a harsh coughing fit. Aziraphale gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, frowned at the blood in his hand when he finally settled, and Crowley wiped it away on already thoroughly ruined dark jeans.

"I can only summon one at a time, but we'll have to be quick about it anyway."

Crowley only nodded and held out his other hand so Aziraphale could help him to his feet. He glanced approvingly at the setup. "Next time let's try a kiddie pool and a markered circle on some cellophane. Now that would be quick."

"What?"

"Nothing." He had one hand still resting heavily on Aziraphale's shoulder, but only for another moment before he let it fall away and straightened up as much as he could. "Do you think canes might be coming back into fashion anytime soon? I could go for one, I think."

"Do you want one now? I can miracle it, or I'm sure I still have mine from the seventeenth century. Maybe I'll -"

"I appreciate that, angel, but let's get this over with first."

"Right, right. You should maybe stand back, just a little."

Crowley did as requested, and Aziraphale approached the first circle.

It wasn't long before he was standing before another familiar demon. One he had actually met in passing, once, several weeks ago on a busy London sidewalk. One who had saved a bottle of wine from shattering on the ground, and Aziraphale had thanked him with the greatest lie he'd spoken in centuries, although he hadn't known it at the time.

"No harm done."

"Reinildis, is it?" Aziraphale spoke evenly, sword still held loosely by his side. Honestly, the audacity of these demons and their chosen names...

"Who else would I be? You called me here," he snarled in reply, very much looking like he'd enjoy nothing more than to step through that circle and tear the angel apart. And he possibly could, Aziraphale though grimly, thinking of Crowley's poor wings.

The angel nodded and carefully set his sword down, before reaching for a bucket instead. "Alright, I only wanted to make sure before I did this."

He didn't wait for what the demon's last words might be, didn't wait for him to potentially plead his case or beg for mercy. It didn't matter, because it wouldn't have done any good.

Contrary to popular belief, angels didn't always carry out fair trials, nor were they always merciful.

"A bit unpleasant, isn't it?" Crowley asked conversationally as Aziraphale moved onto the second circle, not taking any time to regard the newest pile of former-demon oozing into the floorboards of his home. He would definitely need to find somewhere else to live, after this.

They both would. Maybe Crowley would ask him to stay at his flat, again?

He wouldn't turn him down this time.

"Just make sure you're well enough away," was what he said out loud, before starting the next summoning. "Wouldn't want you getting splashed."

The next demon - Sebaldus, oh please - wasn't even granted the time to confirm his name before being doused with another bucket and promptly melted into the floor.

"Getting a little trigger-happy now, angel," Crowley said approvingly from the other side of the couch, and Aziraphale wasn't sure whether he'd moved there for an extra barrier between him and the water or for something to lean on. Or both. Either way, he was dismayed to see what little colour may have been left in the demon's face had quickly disappeared in the last few minutes.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Crowley tried and failed to wave his concern away with a stiff hand laced with black veins. "It's just, she's lost a lot of energy sources, hasn't she? I might be the only one left."

"We'll finish this now," Aziraphale approached the last circle, already whispering well-known words, just before a soft alarm chimed a warning in his head at the same time Crowley did aloud.

"Aziraphale!"

He felt the shift in the air behind him, the slight movement in space as another entity suddenly made itself present, and he barely had time to grab for his sword, spinning around and bringing it up to defend himself just as another, darker blade met it with a harsh clang of metal.

"It's nice to finally meet, angel," Amabilis hissed. She grinned at him from between crossed blades, happy to display pointed teeth, but her eyes held a rage and a hatred the likes of which he'd never witnessed face to face before.

But she didn't look...well. Sallow, almost translucent skin, and there was a tremor in her arms that shook his own sword, though it didn't seem to lessen her strength any.

She leaned towards him, forcing him to steady himself before pushing back. "You've cost me quite a lot today, you know that? I'll be happy to return that favour."

Aziraphale didn't answer, only met her burning gaze and pressed onwards, determined not to let her get the upper-hand in their deadlock. If only Crowley weren't there, then he could use some more...angelic countermeasures.

Crowley.

Where was Crowley?

"Don't you dare," Amabilis gave another sudden push that caused him to stumble back half a step, but she hadn't been talking to him and she used the second of free movement to throw a hand out towards the other demon, who had just wrapped a hand around one of the blessed daggers in the forgotten parcel. The motion threw him backwards and his head hit the wall with a harsh crack on the opposite side of the room.

Aziraphale would have been shocked - with horror or relief, it would be hard to say - that Crowley was still conscious, crumpled on the floor, as he groaned and dropped the knife to hold an already blistered hand gingerly to the back of his head.

He would have been shocked, but he wasn't because he didn't notice. He didn't waste that half an instant when Amabilis was otherwise occupied, and didn't hesitate as he drove his sword straight through her chest.

She let out a cry, one more of rage than pain, and dropped her own sword as she reached for his, hands gripping at the blade in a frenzied attempt to pull it out.

The angel pushed it through a little further, the movement slicing through her hands as well as her body. The sword wasn't holy, but it was still made in Heaven, and it would do the trick if he waited long enough. With a thought, the blade burst into flame. "You won't hurt him, or anyone else, ever again."

She glared down at the fire starting to catch on her skin and clothes, let out a small, wet cough before grinning up at him again, teeth darkened with black blood as more of it began to run down her chin. "Maybe just one more."

And Aziraphale could see the sparks of another kind of fire lighting up behind pointed teeth, felt the painful, repellent heat between them as her hand burst into flames, and considered the unfortunate thought that maybe she, unlike most of her kind, hadn't heard the news that he was supposedly immune to Hellfire.

But, just as suddenly, that fire died away, disappeared from her hand and the back of her throat as red eyes broke contact with his and instead focused on something behind him. She seemed to wilt, slumped forwards a little, sliding even further onto his sword. The flames began catching in earnest, burning skin even as her body started to disintegrate outwards from where the blade was impaled.

Amabilis met his stare one last time, still managed to smile even as the flames made their way up her neck. "Just one more."

Aziraphale waited a moment longer, for her face to go up in flames and start turning to black dust, before looking to follow where her gaze had been moments before.

He hadn't let go of the sword when he did so, but it did clatter to the floor a second later to join a quickly growing pile of dark, smoking ash.

Crowley was still sitting, leaning against the wall with one shoulder, broken wings hanging limply at his back. From the distance across the room, it looked as though he were meeting the angel's terrified gaze, and the soft, barely-there smile was back on his lips. But he wasn't really watching him, Aziraphale knew that even as he was already running the short distance to be at his side.

Because he also had two hands gripped around the handle of a smoking holy dagger, its blade pressed straight through his chest, right where any human body's heart would be.

Amabilis would die just as quickly as any other demon if there was no one left to draw strength from.

Aziraphale, too panicked to try and form words, dropped to his knees beside the demon. What had been the demon. He reached for the knife, pried it from cold, burned hands and out of Crowley's chest. It hadn't been the knife that was smoking, it was the wound it had created, dark and much wider than a regular blade would have done.

And much more final. The tiny part of him that had hoped, had prayed that the removal of the weapon would miraculously bring Crowley back to him, flaked away like so much blackened ash as it died in his chest.

He stared into golden eyes, empty and unseeing but still locked with his own, echoing with a love that Aziraphale understood all too well.

Aziraphale held Crowley's body close to him and didn't move for a long, long time.