Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: You didn't really think I'd let Aziraphale suffer too much, did you?

Chapter 10:

Healing Hurts

Suddenly they heard a rather cheerful voice behind them. "My, my, what is the problem here?" asked Gabriel brightly, looking from one angel to another. "You look like somebody had died!"

"Fuck off," Crowley hissed, his eyes blazing fiercely as he clutched Aziraphale to his chest. "I thought you angels' job was to help those in need, not taunt them!"

"What?" It seemed that it wasn't until now that Gabriel noticed the badly injured angel. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed, rushing forward. "What's happened to him? Who did this?" His blue eyes flashed angrily as he again glanced at the angels, demanding for an answer about his little brother's poor condition.

"A Hellbeast," Michael said levelly, forcing himself to face his fellow archangel's fierce gaze. "And before you can ask, yes, it's been taken care of. Crowley here pretty much slaughtered it."

"So that is why I was called here," another voice joined the discussion. Everybody looked towards the source of the voice, and then, everyone but Gabriel froze in shock. Seemingly not noticing or not caring about their surprise, Raphael walked nearer to the one angel in dire need of healing.

"What do you mean, called?" asked Michael, rising a questioning eyebrow. "Whoever called you here, and how? Sure, I would have called for you, but I knew I couldn't find you in time."

"Why, our dear demon here, of course," Raphael replied brightly as he knelt in front of Crowley and his unconscious load. "And before you can ask, yes, that whisper of his was indeed counted as a prayer -- the part with the 'please.' I definitely couldn't have stayed away; if a demon is desperate enough to pray, well, they should at least get an answer for their effort, shouldn't they?"

"Shut up and do what you're supposed to," snapped the demon, apparently still too worried and fearful to even appear embarrassed by the fact that his whisper had been taken as a prayer. Thrusting Aziraphale towards the Angel of Healing, he then stared at Raphael, waiting for him to start his work.

With a tiny smile the archangel did so. Placing his hands over Aziraphale's burned form, he then closed his eyes in concentration, a bright light enveloping both his hands and the lower angel's body. The others all watched, the warrior angels in fascination, as they'd never seen Raphael heal before, Michael with just a tiny bit of wonder, Gabriel with a fond smile, and Crowley in extreme concentration. Under their watchful eyes burned flesh was formed anew, heavenly light wiping away any traces of the hellfire, wounds closing and burns fading. And finally Aziraphale lay there, his angelic body healed, not one feather missing from his newly formed wings. He was still not awake, but sleeping rather than unconscious.

"Well, that's it," Raphael said, standing up and wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "He'll probably sleep for a couple of days, but after that, he should be fine." Smiling a bit at Crowley, he said, "Take good care of him during his recovery. I'll be very displeased if you let my work go to waste."

Crowley didn't comment, just nodded a bit, his eyes fixed at the peaceful face of his sleeping lover. He didn't notice as Gabriel stepped forward to place a hand on Raphael's arm and was waved away, nor did he notice as the brunet archangel walked nearer. It wasn't until Gabriel stopped beside him that he looked up. "Stand up," Gabriel said with a gentle smile. "I'll take both you and my dear brother to his shop."

The demon seemingly didn't even think about protesting. Instead, he stood up with Aziraphale still in his arms, allowing the archangel to grasp his shoulders. A second later, all three disappeared.

For a moment everybody was silent. Then, however, Michael spoke. "Go back to Heaven," he ordered his warriors. "Raphael, if you only could, please stay back for a while. I have something to discuss with you." Not questioning his orders, the warrior angels all spread their wings, preparing to fly Heaven. The two archangels were left alone, for a moment both staying silent.

Once he was sure nobody else was in the hearing range, Michael glanced at his friend. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes," Raphael replied, "just a tad tired. The damage was truly horrible. At the moment, I think the one who's worst off is Crowley. He appears to be somewhat immune to Aziraphale's aura, but the light of our dear angel's essence leaking right into him most definitely did some damage, not to mention my aura during healing. Hopefully Gabriel will have the good sense to order him to rest as well."

"Doubtlessly," muttered Michael. Then he walked towards the corpse of the Hellbeast, beckoning the other archangel to follow him. Raphael did so. Once they reached the beast's side, Michael reached out a hand to point at a wound at its side. "Here, look carefully. What do you see -- and what caused it?"

Raphael leant forward. His eyes widened as he inspected the wound. "My, my," he murmured. "The wound's edges have been burned with divine fire. But didn't you say that Crowley killed it?"

"Yes, I indeed said so, because he was the one to do it," Michael replied levelly. "He was also the one to inflict these wounds, with a sword nicked from one of my soldiers -- no doubt he burned his hands with that at the very least. However, when he put his sword on fire, something strange happened." He made a little pause, then continued, "I don't think any of the soldiers noticed; they were too stunned by his 'borrowing' and then the battle. However, the fire wasn't black, like hellfire... it was silver."

"Indeed," murmured the redhead, nodding slightly as he continued his inspection of the beast's wound and its burned edges. "So you suspect that his fire was half divine? Couldn't it be because of the sword?"

"The origin of the sword has nothing to do with the nature of the fire," the Warrior Prince replied. "I've seen an angel taking a sword fallen from a demon in a battle. Although he did burn his hands at it, the fire on the sword was wholly divine. Therefore, I have a good reason to believe that Gabriel was indeed right."

"You mean, Crowley might actually be capable of Rising?" asked Raphael with a little smile.

Now, a smirk crossed the blond's face. "My dear," he said in perfect mimicry of Gabriel's voice, "he's not just capable of it... He's already halfway there."

"Oh," said Raphael, and then, "oh." Then he said, "We shouldn't mention this to anyone, though. Even if he truly is something purer than a demon, it would be all too easy to knock him back down. And we don't want that, now do we?" He turned towards his fellow archangel with a questioning expression.

"No, we don't," Michael replied, then made a complicated gesture to get rid of the beast's corpse. He then made sure no sign of demon blood remained on his shining armour. "You can tell your lover, though," he then added, inwardly smirking at Raphael's expression. "It's not like you could keep it from him anyway."

Raphael shook his head, smiling. "Is there anything you don't know, my friend?" he asked lightly.

Michael just snorted at that. "When your auras reek of sex and each other almost every single time you two have had a moment of time together? Not very likely to stay a secret from me, Raphael. Do not worry, though," he added then. "I'm certain Uriel doesn't even recognize the changes in your auras, nor do any of the lower angels. Your little secret is safe with me." He winked a bit, then disappeared.

With a slight chuckle, Raphael again shook his head in amusement. Then he, too, left for Heaven.

"Now, make sure that you get enough rest," Gabriel said gently as he watched Crowley carefully laying Aziraphale on the angel's bed. "And don't even try to tell me that you're fine. You may be unharmed by Aziraphale's aura in general, but you were touched by his pure essence, and that's bound to damage you -- never mind that you were in direct touch with Raphael's aura. You're not fine, so now rest."

"Or what?" asked the demon, raising an eyebrow. "You'll shake a finger at me?"

"Oh, no," the archangel replied levelly. "If you don't rest, you'll most probably collapse in front of Aziraphale. And he'll be very upset to find out that you were so badly damaged because of him."

For a moment Crowley just stared at him. Then, the demon smirked. "I definitely see where Aziraphale gets his little inner bastard from," he said approvingly. "Who'd known angels could be so devious?"

"My, my, such accusations," the archangel replied brightly. "Now, go to sleep, my dear demon. When my brother wakes up at last, he'll most definitely need some comfort from you." Then, he was away.

For a moment Crowley still looked at the empty space previously occupied by an archangel. Then he chuckled slightly, shook his head, and lay down next to his lover. Wrapping an arm securely around Aziraphale's waist, he settled to sleep, one of his wings extended over them both.

Soon the room was absolutely silent.

"Raphael!" Gabriel called out as he walked into his -- well, their -- apartment. "Are you here, love?"

"I'm here," said a quiet voice, and he turned to see the red-haired archangel from the next room. "You did tell Crowley to go to sleep, didn't you? The poor demon was quite badly off."

"Yes, I did," Gabriel said, then added sternly, "and I'll continue by telling you the same thing. You look absolutely dreadful, my dear." He stepped forward to wipe a stray lock of hair from the other angel's face.

"Why, love you too, Gabriel." Raphael smiled at him weakly. "Don't worry, I most certainly am going to go to sleep. Healing Aziraphale took a lot out of me; he was as good as dead, the poor dear."

"Oh, yes. I still haven't even thanked you for healing my brother," the other archangel said, starting to lead his lover towards their shared bedroom. "You saved him from a lot of pain."

"Don't thank me. I only did what I had to," replied the angelic healer. "Of course, had I known about the situation, I would have healed him, for Aziraphale himself, if not otherwise. I still do remember how he used to tug at my wings." A fond smile rose to his lips. "However, what brought me -- and, consequently, you -- there was Crowley's little prayer. And answering prayers is an angel's duty -- especially if it's such a rare call like this one. I don't think any demon has ever before uttered anything to be counted as a prayer."

"Well, Crowley is rather special," Gabriel commented. "Which is only a good thing, mind you."

"Oh, and that reminds me," Raphael continued, not resisting as he was gently pushed onto the bed. "Michael told me he had noticed something strange as Crowley battled the Hellbeast." As Gabriel looked at him questioningly, he continued, "The demon took a sword from one of the angels... and set it on divine fire."

"Really?" Gabriel's eyes widened in surprise. Then a broad smile lit up his features. "Why, that is absolutely wonderful. Apparently my dear brother has indeed been a very good influence on his lover."

"Apparently, yes." The redhead's eyes started to slide closed. "I am truly glad for him..."

Now, Gabriel shook his head. Raphael had apparently fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. Gently arranging his lover's wings so that he wouldn't be uncomfortable, he then spread a soft blanket over the sleeping creature. With a small kiss onto the pale forehead, he left, careful to be silent.

The smile remained on his face for the rest of the day.

Next chapter:

Rumours start to spread through the Heaven. Certain lower angels hear them as well.