Time to start wrapping things up. I'm glad that everyone enjoyed this small story and the headaches that poor Raphael had to deal with. Hopefully this ending will be equally satisfying.

Aziraphale had started to get a handle on sleeping. It still didn't come naturally to him and he certainly didn't enjoy it the same way that Crowley did, but he was getting better at letting himself doze off and then waking up without too much panicked confusion. Waking up would probably always be somewhat disorienting afterwards. But the whole thing was easier. Sleep could occasionally be relaxing if he tried it next to his demon.

But nothing could prepare him to be awakened by a loud voice and Crowley scrambling off the narrow bed. That would always be a rough wake-up call.

"Where are they?"

Aziraphale managed to sit up and Crowley was standing defensively in front of him by the time a miracle wrenched the creamy yellow curtains open. Gabriel's eyes narrowed as soon as he spotted them. The Archangel's posture straightened as he marched in their direction, aggressive and forceful.

Crowley tensed and Aziraphale desperately wondered where he left his sword this time. [24] The angel ignored the aching feeling to his true form. He knew he shouldn't perform any miracles, but he wouldn't leave Crowley to defend them both on his own. But a sharp bark of an order made Gabriel halt as suddenly as if someone nailed his feet to the floor.

"Stop."

Gabriel staggered, trying to remain upright when his legs refused to move further. Then he craned his neck around. Trying to follow the sound of a cane banging firmly as Raphael stalked forward. The healer limped slightly, but his back was straight and his expression remained firm. He moved like an angel on a mission. Despite Gabriel's height, Raphael seemed to loom over him.

"Do you know who they are, Raphael?" he asked, "Aziraphale—"

"—is my patient," said Raphael coolly.

Blinking as his mind almost visibly rebooted, Gabriel said, "But… But he's… and the other is…"

"The other one is also my patient. Both are recovering nicely and should be discharged before long. Thank you for your concern though."

"But Aziraphale is a traitor to Heaven," he said, as if that explained everything. "A traitor invulnerable to hellfire."

"He wasn't brought to my healing ward because of hellfire wounds, Gabriel. But that doesn't not mean that he can't be injured or almost discorporated by other means. Thankfully, I can treat wounds from a wide variety of sources. Besides, his injuries are no longer a concern and I intend to discharge him tomorrow."

"That's not what I meant, Raphael."

Crowley carefully sat down next to Aziraphale, though the angel could still feel the tension in the demon's body. Ready to snap forward if necessary. But he was sitting beside him on the narrow bed, the pair exchanging uncertain and bemused looks. It certainly wasn't playing out the way that they expected. Though part of Aziraphale rather appreciated seeing Gabriel off-balanced.

"You can't just heal a known traitor," continued Gabriel. "That's not what proper angels would do."

Raising an eyebrow and shaking his head, Raphael said, "No, you can't just heal a known traitor. You have many talents, but healing isn't one of them. You were never that good with healing miracles. And you never practiced them to improve in over six thousand years. I, on the other hand, am quite skilled at healing and can heal both of my patients just fine."

"You're being purposefully obtuse."

"Yes, I am," he said simply, leaning heavily on his cane. "What did you expect? You came in here, to my healing ward, yelling and disturbing my patients. Did you expect me to be happy about it?"

Sputtering slightly, Gabriel said, "But… but what about the other one? The demon, Crowley? We can't have demons just wandering around Heaven whenever they want."

"Unless they're delivering hellfire for shady executions," muttered Crowley under his breath.

"He's not wandering around aimlessly. Crowley is in my healing ward at my invitation," said Raphael firmly.

Shifting his weight, as if trying to free his feet, Gabriel snapped, "He's a demon. He should be smited. Or at least discorporated."

The movement was fast. Aziraphale almost missed how it happened. But Raphael shifted his weight to his good leg, freeing his cane. Which he swung low and hard. It connected with the back of Gabriel's legs, sending him to crash down hard on his knees. Then the healer caught himself with his cane before he could stumble, unconcerned by the yelp of pain from his fellow Archangel.

"Why do you keep doing that?" snarled Gabriel.

"Because you keep saying stupid things to me," he snapped back.

That startled a laugh out of Crowley. One that the demon didn't even try to muffle, earning a vicious glare from Gabriel. At least Aziraphale was polite enough to resist the urge to laugh at his former boss to his face. [25]

"I already told you that both of them are my patients," continued Raphael. "And yet you keep talking about harming them. No one is allowed to harm my patients. You should know better than that, Gabriel. No one hurts my patients."

"But—"

"Get out and stay out," he interrupted. "I don't want to see you here again unless you are hurt. Otherwise, you'll soon be in need of my healing. Do we have an understanding?"

Gabriel opened his mouth, but no words came out. Raphael twitched his head towards the exit. And whatever force held him in place before seemed to release him, letting Gabriel stomp his way out.

"Angel, you'll always be my favorite," said Crowley quietly, "but I think we've found the second tolerable angel in Heaven."

Taking his hand and squeezing it, Aziraphale smiled at him. The tension slowly melted out of both of them. The danger had passed without touching them.

Everything was fine. They were safe. Aziraphale's grave wounds were healing and there was no threat to Crowley. All would be well. The angel held onto that thought as he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the demon's hand. There was no danger. No threat to either of them.

Raphael waited until Gabriel was gone before slumping tiredly. He reached with his free hand to rub at his leg, a subtle miracle that Aziraphale could barely sense. Then he turned and hobbled over to them.

"I'm very sorry about that disturbance," said Raphael, miracling up a stool and almost collapsing on it. He kept rubbing at his leg as he rested in his seat. "I should have known that rumors would eventually spread and get back to Gabriel. But he knows better than to interfere in my healing ward. He won't bother you for the rest of your recovery."

"So, can you do that to anyone in here?" asked Crowley. "Make them do whatever you want like you did to make Gabriel stop? Or just angels?"

"If they are in my healing ward, I can exert my will on them. Though I prefer not to do so outside of emergencies where I need them to let me heal them and they are not in any state to give proper consent. Or to keep them from harming themselves or others," he said tiredly. "It is not something that I would ever do casually. And I don't know if it would work on a demon in my healing ward. You're one of the first that I've invited in here."

Crowley smirked slightly, as if proud of the achievement. Aziraphale leaned in closer to him.

Pausing briefly as he Looked Aziraphale over, he added, "And thank you for not doing something dumb and hurting yourself again. If you continue to demonstrate that type of sense, you might get to go home tomorrow."

Smiling as he also leaned towards the angel and squeezed his hand, Crowley said, "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him."

"You always have," said Aziraphale quietly.

Giving them both a nod, Raphael said, "Try to take it easy for the rest of the day. Calm and quiet." He glanced briefly at Warlock's music player, a soft song still drifting out. "Or at least relative quiet. I'll look in on you later to check how you are doing and Zadkiel will be nearby if you need anything."

He moved slowly, but Raphael climbed back to his feet with a slight grimace and carefully head towards the far end of the healing ward. Crowley stood up briefly to pull the curtains around the bed again. Then he slithered back into the narrow bed.

"Did you get any sleep?" asked Aziraphale, carefully noting his expression and posture.

"Someone needed to keep watch," he mumbled. He let his head sink until it rested on the angel's shoulder, breathing in his scent and relaxing a little. "And I didn't want to risk it. Haven't slept since everything happened."

Reaching up and running a hand through the demon's hair, Aziraphale said, "Well, I'm awake now." Then he reached over to touch the frames of Crowley's sunglasses. "May I?"

Crowley gave the tiniest nod as he lifted his head again. Aziraphale slid them off to reveal tired, relieved, and adoring golden eyes. He smiled at the angel and Aziraphale felt the familiar wave of warm love from the demon. Crowley let the angel guide him down and shift around until his head rested on Aziraphale's lap.

"No nightmares," murmured Aziraphale, his fingers dragging along the demon's scalp in a slow and rhythmic pattern. "It'll be all right. We're safe. Sleep peacefully, my dearest. I won't let any nightmares touch you."

There was no power behind his words. No miracles. Only a promise to stay and guard his dreams personally. A promise to stay with him.

Aziraphale gently ran his fingers through his hair, letting the repeating motion relax the demon. He could feel the tension melting away under the angel's careful attention. He could feel him relaxing and calming. No longer ready for a threat to appear. Aziraphale continued his efforts as Crowley's breathing grew slower and deeper. After a little while, the demon drifted off to sleep.

They stayed like that for a while, the soft music from Warlock's device and Crowley's quiet breathing breaking the silence. The creamy yellow curtains, the tartan flannel pajamas, and the demon's dark clothes broke up the monotonous white of Heaven. Aziraphale remained grounded and calm as he stayed there. Part of him wished that he had a book to read, but he could handle a few hours without one.

And when Crowley's body grew tense, his breathing hitched, and his sleeping expression darkened, Aziraphale was ready to find his hand. He squeezed it gently before bringing it up. Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's hand.

"I won't leave you, Crowley. I know that I worried you and I'm sorry. But I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

The gesture and the words did exactly as he hoped. Whatever nightmares that might be plaguing Crowley, undoubtedly starring Aziraphale and Hastur's brutal stabbing attempt, were pushed back. He watched the demon settle back down. His furrowed brow smoothed out and his breathing calmed. Aziraphale watched him relax as the angel began running his fingers through his hair again. Guarding his demon's rest.


Crowley had come to one solid conclusion from everything that happened: Raphael was thorough when it came to his patients.

He forced both of them to go through a very long final examination and made them repeat back his instructions before agreeing to discharge them. Most of the focus was on Aziraphale and his recovery, ensuring that Crowley knew what to watch out for in case of complications. But he still recommended that the demon avoid large-scale demonic miracles for at least a couple of days to be on the safe side. As if he didn't trust them to be careful. [26]

But eventually they were cleared to leave. They returned to their slightly-singed front yard, the same place that Crowley watched Raphael take his angel away. The spot where he thought he would lose Aziraphale permanently.

It must have rained while they were gone. There was no sign left of blood staining the ground.

Crowley didn't dare let him out of his sight. Not quite yet. He needed to keep his angel safe as he finished healing. A few weeks of rest and a month without miracles. Crowley would make certain that it happened. Aziraphale would finish healing in peace.

Safe. He was safe. Safe and healing. And Hastur was gone and wouldn't hurt his angel ever again.

Though that reminded Crowley that eventually he would have to tell Aziraphale about Warlock apparently going out to murder a Duke of Hell. That seemed like the sort of thing that someone should inform the angel about.

Once he settled Aziraphale in the sitting room on the sofa, wrapped him in a fuzzy blanket, pressed a mug of hot cocoa into the angel's hands, stacked a small collection of his favorite books within arm's reach, and tuned the radio to a station playing classical music, Crowley could finally spare enough thought to send a quick text message to Anathema to let her know that they were back. He mostly ignored her frantic response, his mobile quickly filling up with questions sent in all-caps. He didn't feel like explaining anything. But at least she and her nerd knew that they weren't dead or locked up in Heaven. Which meant that they could pass the news along to Warlock. That's all that really mattered.

Warlock made it home quickly enough that Crowley suspected that he ran the entire way and that he'd skipped school that day. [28] He stumbled into the cottage, dropping his backpack by the door before hurrying towards his guardians. Crowley needed to grab Aziraphale's shoulder to keep the angel in his seat. But it didn't matter because Warlock was perfectly content to curl up next to Aziraphale, wrapping his arms around the angel to hug him.

"You're all right," murmured Warlock.

Smiling and patting his back awkwardly, Aziraphale said, "I'm very sorry that you were exposed to that unpleasantness. I didn't mean to upset you."

Somehow Warlock and Crowley managed to snort in unison. The angel had a knack for understatement.

"Doc wants him to take it easy for a while," said Crowley, "but yeah, he's going to be fine."

He sat down next to Aziraphale and Warlock. Once they had a chance to calm down and relax, they would need to consider some additional precautions. The wards around the property worked well, but they needed more. Some kind of detection spell for unwelcome angels or demons. A warning system. One that wouldn't be set off by Aziraphale, Crowley, Adam, or Dog. And they should probably consider a fast and easy method of contacting Raphael in an emergency because the Archangel didn't seem happy about the summoning.

But that could wait. For now, the three of them were curled on the sofa together. Alive and safe. The dread and near loss were mere memories. The lingering wounds were healing. And for now, that was enough.


[24] It remained on the floor of the exam room where Aziraphale dropped it until one of the healers eventually collected it and set the weapon aside with the angel's previously-ruined clothes.

[25] He would wait until they were both back home and he could relay the story to Warlock. Then he would let himself properly enjoy the moment and share a laugh with them.

[26] Raphael didn't trust them. Not with regards to their own wellbeing. Between Aziraphale's refusal to stop using miracles while still recovering and Crowley's self-sacrificing tendencies combined with his inability to spot obvious loopholes, he wasn't paid nearly enough to deal with them. [27]

[27] Celestial wages were only limitedly useful for him anyway

[28] Though he did stop briefly to collect the water gun and the infernal dagger from where he hid them, disposing of the holy water before tucking the blade in his backpack. Just in case.

I will admit. I really enjoyed writing Raphael. He was a fun character and I definitely might have to use him again someday. Thanks for reading my fic.