"Come on, lets get you all cleaned up for bed," the angel gestured for the little boy on the sofa to get up and follow. Barnaby wanted to follow, he really did, he was just tired and sore. He couldn't seem to be able to make his legs work. So Aziraphale simply scooped him up oversized coat and all, and headed to the bathroom. Carefully, he set down the bundled boy on the edge of the tub.
The bathroom was a lot like the rest of the apartment, except less cluttered. Dainty soaps and shampoos with flowery names were placed next to the sink and bath, and matching fluffy towels were hung up on the wall. Barnaby sat patiently as he watched Aziraphale fiddle with the faucet. The angel wanted to make sure the temperature was perfect, nice and warm but not scalding. Once the temperature met his expectations Aziraphale stepped back and let the tub fill.
"I'm sure you know what to do from here," he said moving to give the boy some privacy. But Barnaby just gave Aziraphale a confused look, unsure of what his guardian wanted.
"You have taken a bath before, right?"
At that the child shook his head no. Then this would be a first for both of them. With a kind smile Aziraphale knelled down and unwrapped Barnaby from his coat. For the first time he could finally get a good look at the boy's wings. Even in the light it was hard to tell what color they were, dried mud and oil had matted the feathers together. Small fledgling feathers were also stuck into the mess, the kind that naturally fall out when the flight feathers grow in. His wings must have just matured. It must be uncomfortable being weighed down and stuck together like that.
"Okay, now you're going to have to trust me on this," Aziraphale said softly. He expected much more of a fight as he removed the dirty hospital gown but, Barnaby just sat there calmly letting himself be manipulated. Once he finally got the gown untangled, Aziraphale let out a pained gasp, not only could he see each of the boy's ribs, but bruises covered both his chest and arms. Some of them were fresh probably from tonight, other yellowing ones must have happened a while ago. He looked like a bony abstract painting and it broke Aziraphale's heart.
Surprisingly, there was no struggle as the principality lowered Barnaby into the warm water. The boy gave a tired smile at the warmth, and sloshed the water with his fingers. It was a new experience for him, put not exactly unpleasant. Aziraphale put some body wash in his hands and gently started to gently rub the filth from Barnaby's torso. Startled, the child jerked back splashing up soapy water.
"Hey, hey, I'm just getting rid of the dirt, okay," shushed Aziraphale. Barnaby relaxed and moved forward again but, still flinched whenever the angel touched a bruise. Finally the angel couldn't take it anymore. Closing his eyes, Aziraphale channeled healing energy into his fingers. It didn't take much for the ugly purple marks to fade away. Shocked, Barnaby's eyes almost fell out of their sockets, he let out a small gasp and traced the perfectly healthy skin with his finger.
"How?" he whispered looking up at Aziraphale. There was a new look of respect and reverence on his small face. All that pain and discomfort gone with a gentle touch.
"I'm an angel remember, I can do special things," the principality explained with a smile. That was enough for the boy, if Aziraphale said it, it must be true. Aziraphale moved carefully and slowly, washing away the grime and healing where needed to reveal olive skin. But the principality stopped horrified at the feet. How had he not noticed before? The soft bottom of the small feet were covered in deep gashes and scabs, some of them already turning green from infection. Barnaby must have been without shoes for some time.
Healing the gashes were harder than healing bruises. The damage was deep and infection was beginning to spread. By, the time he finished Aziraphale knew he was pushing it with the miracles. If he did any more heaven would start to notice. Now, what made Aziraphale nervous was trying to clean Barnaby's head. Soap had a bad tendency to sting when applied to the wrong places. But sure enough, he managed not to get any in the poor child's eyes. As Aziraphale ran in hands over the dark brown fuzz, he could see little swirls in the hairs that would one day grow into cowlicks. Barnaby's hair was shaved so short it was hard to tell it was there except for its softness to the touch. If he had a chance to grow his hair out a bit, Barnaby would actually be quite the handsome boy.
All that was left was the wings. They would need the most work, even after soaking in the warm water they were still matted and jumbled. Luckily, after years of experience and some advice from his favorite demon, Aziraphale knew the perfect solution for messy wings. It actually was horse shampoo, strong enough to lift deep-set oils yet still gentle on the skin and soft tissue. The angel rubbed two whole bottles of it into the mess of feathers. Black and brown muddied the tub more and more with every rinse along with stay baby feathers. Moving his hands carefully, Aziraphale straightened the feathers and untangled the excess down. The dirty white fluff floated on the top of the water like small strange snowflakes. The more Aziraphale groomed and straitened, the more filth washed into the water. And bit by bit the true color underneath was revealed.
Barnaby had the most beautiful wings any angel, demon, or anything in between had ever seen. The outer feathers were a vibrant russet outlined with a rich brown. Small flecks of a lighter more tawny brown specked the darker browns. On the inner side of the wings it was mostly a warm cream color with spots of varying browns mixed in. They were more compact and rounded than the average angel's or demon's wings, like that of a hawk. It was just so different from the pain black and white of the supernatural world, and Aziraphale couldn't help but stare.
"Aziraphale?" Barnaby's voice snapped the principality back to reality. The water was getting cold, and the staring was starting to unnerve the little boy.
"Oh, sorry," the angel quickly let out the water and wrapped Barnaby in the fluffiest towel he could find. Now that Aziraphale saw Barnaby completely, he looked more of seven to eight years old. But the angel was never good at guessing ages. Aziraphale once again lifted up Barnaby, and this time set him on the rarely used bed. The child looked as if he would fall asleep just like that, his head kept nodding asleep then bouncing back up.
"Just hold on for a little bit more, love. I need to find you something to wear," said Aziraphale moving to rummage through his dresser. All of his underwear were far too big, so Barnaby would just have to wear his old pair. Even with a belt any pair of Aziraphale's pants would fall right off. A shirt would work though, it would be more of a night gown, but that would be fine. Except most of the angel's shirts were the fancy button up kind, not very comfortable to sleep in. Aziraphale pulled out a baby blue sweater. It was one of his favorites, warm and soft. Barnaby's hands didn't make it out of the selves, and it almost went down to his knees. He pouted and struggled his wings against the sweater.
"It's crushing me," whined Barnaby. The child probably never had to cover his wings before. With a sigh Aziraphale removed the sweater and grabbed a pair of scissors, it was almost painful cutting long slits into the soft material. But Barnaby's face made it all better. He pushed his damp wings through the slits, and curled up in a bundle of feathers. He didn't really need blankets, but Aziraphale tucked him in anyway. And as the angel eased the door shut, Barnaby covered his nose with the sweater breathing in the relaxing scent.
That night Aziraphale organized the entire book shop. He couldn't help himself, he just had to do something. Crowley was gone and who knew what those two men from the alley were up to. He had no one to talk to and there was no way he could leave Barnaby alone to go out and clear his head. So for the long hours of night and into the morning Aziraphale did anything to keep himself busy. It probably wasn't a good idea to open shop today, not that he had many customers anyway. As he made his way upstairs, Aziraphale could hear some rustling. He assumed Barnaby would sleep in, since they were up so late last night.
But the boy curiously explored the apartment, picking up unfamiliar objects to get a better look at them. He almost dropped a quite expensive vase as Aziraphale steeped into the living room. Sheepishly, he placed it back in the windowsill with a shrug.
"How about some breakfast?" Aziraphale offred to distract the child from any other breakable objects. It was kind of funny how fascinated Barnaby was by everyday things. Just the everyday act of cooking eggs had his full attention. He marveled at the 'magic' of liquid egg turned into solid. But it was obvious that Barnaby's favorite part was the eating. He ate slower than before, savoring the flavor.
"Barnaby, I want to talk to you about last night," Aziraphale spoke up. He just had to know, there were so many questions bouncing around his brain. Barnaby's face hardened into an expressionless mask.
"Why were those people after you?" the angel continued. The boy's gaze fell down to his plate.
"They wanted to take me back," he whispered.
"Where?"
"To where I was made," Barnaby shuddered at the thought. Instinctively his wings began to shield his small frame.
"You don't want to go back home?" the principality asked confused. The boy just shook his head with a haunted look in his eyes.
If you found this chapter boring tell me, I'm trying to make my writing more engaging. P.S don't worry there will be some action in a few chapters. I am always open for advice. Thanks :D