Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Okay, so here it is at last (yet again). This is rather short, for which I apologize, but I most certainly can't promise anything longer in the future -- my exams week (more like week and a half) is beginning tomorrow, and although I'll do my best to update, I make no promises about the length.

Chapter 12:

Telling Tales

Crowley opened his eyes a bit, only to shut them quickly again. It was bright. Far too bright, to be exact. Plus his hands hurt like he had just sticked them into holy water -- well, not as badly, considering that he still had hands, but badly enough. For a moment he wondered what had caused it.

Then he remembered and shot up on the bed, frantically looking for Aziraphale. The angel had to be all right; if he wasn't, then Crowley wasn't sure that he'd do. Something extreme, most likely.

"Calm down, my dear," he then heard a soothing voice, and calmed instantly. Following these words was a hand, cool and soft, coming to rest on his shoulder. "What exactly happened?"

At that, Crowley sighed. "Well... How much do you remember?" he asked hesitantly.

"The last thing I remember is the Hellbeast attacking me," the angel replied, looking a bit confused and very curious. "What happened then? And why am I not somewhere in the Heaven recovering?"

"Well..." For a moment the demon pondered just how he should answer this one. Then, finally, he settled for the easiest way. Turning his hands around, he revealed his palms, the burn marks there, and looked up to Aziraphale. "As impossible as it sounds, Michael showed up," he started his tale. "He'd apparently been looking for me for a moment. They'd been fighting with some demons when they saw a Hellbeast -- one that clearly wasn't after them. Knowing that you were the only possible victim, the bloody archangel then sent his men after the beast and came to look for me himself."

A brief grimace crossed Crowley's face at this point. The mere thought of the archangel's presence was almost enough to bring the headache and nausea back. Fighting the feelings back, he continued the story.

"Anyway. He found me, told the situation, and we found the beast just in time to see you being surrounded in hellfire." Crowley closed his eyes for a moment, definitely not wanting to relive the pain of that moment. "So, I of course rushed forward to save you. By the time I finally managed to knock the beast aside for long enough to take you to safety, Michael's men had already returned, though none made a move to hurt me. It appears that they're all under orders to leave us be." Ignoring Aziraphale's surprised expression, he just continued. "Anyway, so I put you into Michael's arms, thinking that if anybody then he could keep you somewhat safe. Then I nicked a sword from one of the angels -- hence the burns on my hands -- and went to fight the beast. I cut it up, but by that time you were as good as dead. So, I ranted at Him, and then pleaded for somebody to save you. Apparently that qualified as a prayer, because the next thing any of us knew Gabriel and Raphael were there. Raphael healed you, Gabriel took us here, end of story."

"You -- you took an angel's sword?" asked Aziraphale in horrified fascination. "But -- but that's -- oh." For a moment the angel just sat there, seemingly not knowing what to say. Then, however, he sighed. "I still feel a bit weak," he muttered. "Perhaps I should rest some more."

"You do that," Crowley said. "As I said, you were practically dead back there. You're certainly entitled to some tiredness. Just rest as long as you want; I'll watch over you."

Now, a smile tickled Aziraphale's lips. "Thank you," he said. Then, in quite a spontaneous act, he leant forward and placed a soft kiss onto the surprised demon's lips. And then, before Crowley could even react properly, he lay back on the bed. "Good night," he muttered, already half asleep.

For a moment Crowley just stared down at the angel, murmuring something like "damned tease" under his breath. Then, however, the demon just smiled a bit. Stretching his wings back -- he was still in his true form, as Aziraphale's true form was too ethereal for his corporeal body to touch -- he laid himself beside his angel. Wrapping an arm around the slim waist, he then snuggled as close to the angels as their wings would allow, seeing that they were a bit on the way. Like sensing his intentions, Aziraphale muttered something in his sleep, then readjusted his wings to cover them both under a soft curtain of white feathers.

Crowley smiled a bit, pressing his face against the wonderful, slender neck in front of him, hugging Aziraphale close to himself. This was where he wanted to be, where he belonged -- in his beloved's arms.

A moment later, both supernatural beings had fallen into a healing sleep, all their griefs forgotten.

Next chapter:

Some more C/A, and possibly an archangelic appearance. (Anael, Lyriel, and Unsurel might show up, too. You never know, at least not until tomorrow.)