A/N: Alright, we've reached the end! A quick note about Azi being able to heal Crowley vs not... I know there's nothing in canon saying that angels and demons CAN'T heal each other, but every now and then a writer just finds themselves with no way of avoiding a too-easy solution, so my head-canon on this tends to vary depending on what I need for the plot XD

But I did have another idea about what if Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones it worked for? How would that have come about?

Well, I accidentally wrote a fic about it. It'll be posted on here eventually, but for now is being posted as serial installments on Tumblr (come find me, I'm 29-pieces!). Once it's finished being posted there (couple weeks?) I'll have it here in its entirety as well. Stay tuned if you're interested for Singularity.

For my guest reviewer: Azi knew he had successfully started the healing process but that was all he had time for before Kevin showed up. He was *pretty sure* he'd given Crowley enough impetus to finish healing on his own, and he *hoped* it would be in time that he could stall that long! So, yeah he knew but there was a lot of "man I hope this works" going on XD And yes LOL good call, Kevin had a Russian accent... I'd watched a kiddie movie the night before I wrote him with an evil circus keeper and that's what stuck in my mind for Kevin XD XD

And now the comfort you've all been waiting for. Thanks for reading! ^_^

Chapter 5 - Cooling Down at Last

"Oh, good show," Aziraphale murmured, collapsing back onto the floor. Crowley didn't like the way his eyes went unfocused, staring straight up at the ceiling. "Splendidly done, old boy, just… s-splendid…" The angel coughed and shuddered. From the pinched expression on his face, he must have been in a lot of pain, and of course he was. After Kevin had just beaten his ass into the ground.

Crowley threw the knife aside, disgusted by the evil he could feel emanating from the blade. And while Aziraphale might have just discovered that they could heal each other after all, he'd only had to deal with a little bullet. This? Crowley didn't have Aziraphale's conviction. He couldn't heal a cursed injury up the magical way.

"Angel," he muttered, crawling over to pat Aziraphale's cheek firmly. "Hey? Still with me, then?"

"Oh-" cough "yes, I- I believe so." But his breath hitched and there was suddenly a tear in Aziraphale's eye as his body spasmed with pain. He reached up and clutched Crowley's hand. "Crowley?"

"Yeah, 's me. Shit, you're really busted up, huh?"

"Crowley… oh, Crowley, everything hurts."

"That'd be the hell-blade, I reckon," the demon replied, trying to keep his voice light and unpanicked so that Aziraphale wouldn't pick up on how panicked he was. "Now listen, it's not enough to finish you off. I've seen what those blades can do, and it's not pretty, but doesn't look like he did enough damage for a discorporation. You'll be fine, you hear me? Just… stay awake."

"You did so well, my dear," Aziraphale said with a smile—Crowley suspected the angel hadn't heard a word he'd said.

In spite of Crowley's instructions, it was something between a relief and a nightmare when Aziraphale's eyes fell closed and his breathing evened out. Crowley was pretty sure he really would be fine, but not here. He needed to get the angel home. Exhaling and rolling his head this way and that, feeling out his own returning strength, the demon slid his hands under Aziraphale's shoulders and legs and lifted him off the ground.

"Fine, go to sleep then," he said to no one in particular. "When you wake up, we'll be home."

Spreading his coal-black wings, the demon took flight.

o.O.o

Aziraphale woke to fire in his veins and a hand holding him down. The pain made him cry out and the fear made him thrash.

"Blast it- hold still, it's just me! Angel, it's me!"

The hand tightened a fraction of a second before the voice registered, so Aziraphale didn't stop himself in time from swiping out weakly and hitting something in what felt like a face. The hand disappeared and the same voice yelped.

"Angel!"

"Oh, I… sorry… Crowley, I- I'm sorry." Aziraphale let himself collapse back down onto whatever he was on. His face tightened in pain. "S-sorry- agh!" It felt like his very bones were being eaten from within by a caustic acid, entire body aflame.

"I don't know what to do," Crowley said helplessly from somewhere above him. "It's not going to kill you or you'd have discorporated by now, but I don't know how to speed this up. The evil will just have to burn itself out, I'm afraid."

Aziraphale exhaled and nodded. "Alright… alright, it's alright."

"Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?"

"Both, I suppose." Aziraphale squinted up at his friend and released a sharp puff of air that didn't quite sound like a laugh but would have to do. "Is it working?"

Crowley stared at him. "No! This was an awful plan! Letting him damn near kill you-"

"It was the only way we were… both getting out of there alive. I'm not sorry." Aziraphale weakly grasped for Crowley's hand and added, "Except for having worried you."

"Worried," Crowley snorted, though he didn't let go of Aziraphale's hand. "Wasn't worried. Still not worried. I don't worry. Not a worrier, me."

The angel tried to chuckle but it didn't work all that well. "Alright then." He paused, then looked around at last at the books surrounding him, felt the soft couch beneath his weary body. "Oh, you brought me home."

"Yeah, thought it couldn't hurt and it might even help," Crowley said with a shrug. "Hoped you'd sleep longer, honestly. Through the worst of it. I'm going to have to clean those injuries, because if they fester you really will be dead."

Aziraphale glanced down at his shoulder and chest and shuddered at the sight of the blood staining his shirt. He couldn't see the wounds themselves through the layers of clothes, but from what he knew of evil-induced injuries, it was bound to be inflamed and blackened. He didn't relish even the small amount of movement it would take to remove his coat and shirt.

"What else is there?" Crowley asked, hovering his hands over Aziraphale's body uncertainly. "I wasn't conscious for most of it." He scowled. "I wouldn't go looking in a mirror for a while, if I was you. Scratched you pretty good with that frog-sticker. Anything else?"

With his entire body coursing with cursed magic, it was hard to separate out individual hurts and the pain was making his head too swimmy to think adequately. Only when Aziraphale twitched as though to sit up did his knee remind him in no uncertain terms that it was completely shattered.

"Broke my leg," he whispered hoarsely, nodding down at it. "Gave me what-for, I'm sorry to say."

"Ngh. That wasn't magic though. Maybe…" Crowley looked up at him with uncertainty splashed across his face. "You healed me. Do you think…? How did you do that? Maybe I could… or maybe demons can't do anything like that since it's… good…"

Aziraphale smiled and closed his eyes. "No, I don't think it's just me, dear. I gave it a good thought, and it occurred to me… how would anyone know whether angels and demons could heal each other or not? When in the history of our race have any of them tried? It pains me to admit but usually it's the opposite they're trying to do to each other. I do believe the notion has always been an assumption that no one's bothered to test." He opened his eyes again to an uncertain Crowley and shrugged. "I don't expect even you could deal with what that wretched blade has done, but the more mundane things…"

The demon shook his head and flexed his fingers. "Glad that theory paid off," he muttered. "Total guess, that's what it was. Sheer luck."

"I suppose you could call it that. Or perhaps faith."

"If you say so. Right then, let me give it a try."

With a deep breath, Crowley hovered his hand over the shattered knee. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the demon gasped in surprise as light—crimson and gold—emanated from his hand to bathe the injury in its glow.

The odd sensation of having pieces of bone put back together from the inside made Aziraphale wriggle a bit, but in only a moment the pain eased away. The angel sighed with relief, though of course that hurt was very little in the face of what Kevin's dagger had done. Still, it was something, and now they knew it worked in both directions.

Crowley chortled in a short bark of surprised laughter. "Huh. Alright, that's good to know, then."

"Quite," Aziraphale agreed, though he felt his face shift into a grimace and knew that Crowley saw it, too.

"I have to at least wash everything else," the demon said, heavy with apology. "If… if you have any holy water it might work faster-"

"Out of the question."

"I'd be careful."

"Well, I haven't got any and it's too dangerous for you to be handling it, dear boy. It's alright. If it'll burn itself out eventually, I'll just… hold on until then." Aziraphale reached for the demon's hand once again, wrapping his fingers around Crowley's and sinking back into the sofa. "I… I thought I had lost you," he admitted, not bothering to try masking the emotion. "You musn't ever tell me to leave you behind again, Crowley, am I quite clear? I simply won't have it."

Looking away, Crowley nevertheless squeezed the angel's hand. "I don't like it either, but we have to look at reality, angel. If they ever get me to Hell, you can't come after me. A demon here or there, that's one thing, you can't take on all of Hell. Not even you."

"Do you know," Aziraphale said, coughing and wincing. "I find it ever so tiresome-"

"Being told what you can't do," Crowley finished for him, but at least now he was smirking, as Aziraphale had intended. He did know his demon, after all. "It's not that I doubt you, I just… worry."

"Thought you weren't a worrier. And what would you do if- if Gabriel came and took me back to Heaven? No matter how much I told you to let me go and not come after me?"

Crowley bobbed his head in acknowledgment and huffed. "Tear it all down until I found you."

"There, so you see, we're in agreement. Oh dear, my shoulder is starting to throb something awful. And I don't suppose I've anything stronger than wine here at the bookshop."

"What are you talking about, there's a bottle of Cardhu right here on the table." Crowley leaned over and plucked a bottle of single malt off the end table, holding it up as evidence. "Hadn't figured you for a whiskey angel. When did you start drinking scotch?"

"Oh heavens, I don't recall buying that at all," Aziraphale said, struggling to sit up. "Do you know, I feel rather like sometimes things just appear in this bookshop? No sense questioning it, it's just what I was needing so might as well leave well enough alone. Do pour me a glass, won't you? I expect I won't feel the pain so badly after a sip or two."

The demon nodded and disappeared to find some glasses. When he returned, they both drank rather heavily, both to numb the pain and to start erasing some of the dreadful memories of the past few hours. This accomplished, Crowley (a tad unsteadily) worked Aziraphale's coat and waistcoat off of him, unbuttoning the shirt to see the awful knife wounds there. Aziraphale did his best not to look, clenching his whiskey glass tighter and tighter as Crowley dabbed the wounds off with (regular) water as gently as he could. It still hurt fiercely, as though he was being stabbed all over again; no matter how hard Aziraphale tried to keep from showing the pain, he was soon arching off the couch with hoarse cries tearing through gritted teeth and tears squeezing through tightly closed eyes.

"Sorry… god- Satan- someone, I'm sorry, angel, we're almost done!"

Crowley sounded distraught, so Aziraphale tried even harder to hold back, but really he was helpless against the sheer agony of the evil wounds. True to his word, the demon finished quickly and Aziraphale collapsed back down onto the couch, panting for breath.

"I do hope… that wretched Kevin fellow… is dead for good," he bit out, feeling only a very little remorse for such an uncharitable wish. "What an awful demon!"

"Oh, he's dead, alright," Crowley assured him darkly. "Made it a little too easy on him, you ask me. Killing him so fast like that. He deserved worse."

Except the element of surprise and the swift death was the only reason they'd won, but Aziraphale no longer had the strength to hold much of a conversation, and at any rate he was sure Crowley knew it was true. Not that he didn't understand the sentiment.

With a weary sigh, he settled for nodding and closing his eyes. There was a brief stillness, then Crowley asked,

"Should I, er… get you anything? Or just… leave you to it-"

"Oh please stay, won't you?" Aziraphale pleaded, taking the demon's hand once more. "I expect I'll be in tip top condition before too long… just need to rest… Unless you've somewhere to be, of course, I wouldn't want to keep you-"

"Nowhere better to be, angel."

Comforted, Aziraphale fought through the pain in an attempt to rest. It was an enormous burden lifted, just knowing that Crowley was fully healed and in no danger and was there with him. Aziraphale couldn't imagine what he would do if ever anything were to actually happen to the demon. To be left here, alone… he shuddered. No, no matter what Crowley said, Aziraphale knew he would never, could never, abandon him to torment in Hell.

"Angel?"

"Mm?"

"You know, you really do make a scary demon."

Aziraphale felt blood rushing to his cheeks and he peeped his eyes open with guilty amusement. "I must say," he admitted, "their faces were quite the treat."

"'Darling, we're not that close', what possessed you?" Crowley snorted, then chuckled. "Going to have to use that plan more often."

"Oh no, next time it's your turn," Aziraphale protested. The corner of his mouth twitched, the image managing to banish just a slight sliver of the agony still wracking his body. "Next time you're-"

"Don't say it."

"-going to be an angel, it'll be marvelous!"

"Marvelous? It'll be humiliating! I'll discorporate of sheer embarrassment to be seen like that."

Aziraphale settled back once more, starting to feel the first soothing tug of sleep pulling at his mind. "Not to worry," he yawned. "I'll heal you before you do."

Another silence descended.

"'Spose you will," the demon finally murmured. A cold hand fell across Aziraphale's aching face helping ease the pain a little more. "Right. Sleep it off. I'll be here."

And that, Aziraphale thought as he drifted away at last, that was the only thing that mattered.