The earth gave way beneath Crowley with cavernous roar, and the yell of shock left his mouth before he'd even realized what happened. Slightly ahead, Aziraphale had turned a split second before to remark on the creaking underfoot. Without pausing to think, he threw himself bodily at Crowley, and just managed to clasp his fingers around the demon's wrist before he disappeared into the chasm. Aziraphale gritted his teeth as Crowley's weight jerked at his shoulder, but focused on keeping his grip intact.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale shouted, "Don't let go!"

"Aye," Crowley replied bemusedly, tightening his fingers against the angel's wrist as his laudanum-soaked mind struggled to process what was happening, "Gonnae no dae that." With a hiss of effort, Aziraphale flung his other arm over the edge of the hole to grab Crowley's arm as well. With a monumental heave, digging his heels into the graveyard earth, Aziraphale pulled Crowley's upper body back over the edge.

"You could help out," he panted, and Crowley obligingly maneuvered his free arm onto the ground, where he clawed and contorted his body in a wormlike fashion as Aziraphale continued to pull. What was only a matter of seconds —but felt like an eternity to the angel— later, Crowley was fully above ground again. But their troubles weren't over yet: the disappointed howls of angered demons drifted up from the hold even as it began to seal itself, and Crowley grimaced.

"Haud yer wheesht!" the demon bellowed, shaking his fist at the still faintly glowing ground, "An lea'z alane! Ah'll gie ye a skelpit—"

Not normally one to lose patience or to impose his will on others, Aziraphale recognized the urgency of the situation and made a decision. Standing quickly, he brushed the dirt from his trousers, then strode up behind Crowley (who was still grubbing about on the ground), and gestured. As he called down the miracle, the angel's hands concluded their path by clamping on to both sides of Crowley's head, where it promptly took effect, leeching the laudanum from his system. The demon froze, then contorted, then groaned, and toppled slowly over.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale said anxiously, leaning down to turn his face upward, flapping his hand to rapidly pat Crowley's cheek. "Crowley!"

"Uuugh… was that really necessary, Angel?" Crowley, unpleasantly sober now, laid the back of a hand dramatically on his forehead.

"Yes, I daresay it was. You've just narrowly escaped a violent summons by Hell, in case you'd forgotten, and I imagine they don't like that," Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, where the ground was still vaguely angry. Crowley pushed himself up, and held out a hand. Aziraphale grasped it as he straightened, and helped Crowley to his feet. The demon put his hands on the small of his back and stretched, twisting his torso from side to side.

"Ooh. Let me tell you, a sudden sober-up from laudanum is not—" Mid-sentence, Crowley froze, and sniffed hard. "Uh oh."

"Uh oh?" Aziraphale retorted sharply, "What do you mean, uh oh?"

"Hellhound," Crowley replied, now stretching his neck, "Looks like you were right about Hell not liking this situation, Angel." Whether by Hellish intent or merely the typically cantankerous Edinburgh weather, the light fog that had spread over the graveyard when the pair had entered it had now coalesced into a thick, dense atmospheric mass that reduced visibility to near zero.

"Crowley, do you know a way out of here?" The demon looked about, then shook his head.

"Nope. Not in this mess, and besides, we won't outrun a hound anyway."

"Well then, what do we do?"

"Wait til it shows up and hope dogs still like me, I suppose."

"You're not going to try to reason with a hellhound," Aziraphale stared at Crowley aghast, but his companion shrugged helplessly.

"Not much else we can do besides scratch its ears and feed it a few corpses."

Further argument was forestalled by a sudden movement in the fog: a sweeping circle around angel and demon rippled, and both spun about to try and catch sight of its source. The temperature around them dropped several degrees, and a low, rumbling growl sounded out of the floating morass. Aziraphale clutched Crowley's arm.

"Where is it?" he whispered, and Crowley pointed.

"There." No sooner had he said it than a pair of glowing red eyes emerged from the gloom, exactly where he had indicated. An enormous black shape was attached to the eyes, its edges blurred and formless, but nonetheless obviously the beast they were expecting. Crowley took a deep breath. "I'll deal with this. It's after me, so if I have to let it take me, just make sure you get out of here, ok A—"

Before Crowley could finish, Aziraphale stepped in front of him. But it was not plump, mild-mannered, bookshop-keeper Aziraphale: with a blinding flash of light, the angel burst into his true form. A whirling colossus of eyes and wings surrounding the beacon of his Heavenly body, Aziraphale towered high above the graves, the demon, and the hound. Crowley threw up his hands to shield himself, but the light did not singe him, and from behind his sunglasses, he saw the awful Aziraphale stretch out a hand.

"AVAUNT," the angel said in a terrible voice, and a flame of light jetted from his hand. The hellhound shrieked and screamed, writhing upon the ground until it disintegrated into a crumbling pile of ash. As suddenly as it had come, the blinding light diminished, and when it had gone, Aziraphale stood upon the wind-blown grass, hair mussed, examining his sleeves.

"…absolutely ruined the cuffs!" was the first thing Crowley heard after the ringing left his ears. Rapidly recovering from his slack-jawed shock, the demon staggered over to Aziraphale.

"Since when have you been able to do that?!" he gawped, and Aziraphale blushed.

"Oh, well, I wasn't entirely sure I could. But trying seemed preferable to the alternative."

"And what about the people?" Aziraphale looked about guiltily.

"They'll write it off as a Divine Happening, I suppose. We'd better find out way out of here though, in case anyone comes looking."

Together they picked their way through the graves, in what they vaguely thought might be the direction of a gate out of the cemetery. Crowley was still not satisfied.

"And what about Heaven? Won't you be in trouble?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a miracle, was it?" Aziraphale said cagily, "I mean, that's just something I can do in that form. So I don't think it'll have registered. And," he went on, warming to the idea he'd just had, "Hell won't know it was me either! So they'll just think you managed to destroy their hound and leave you alone, right?"

Crowley wasn't so sure, but it seemed like a good enough conclusion for the moment. And, deep in his demonic heart, he really was touched at the risk Aziraphale had taken to save him from being dragged to Hell. And so, he gave in.

"Thanks, Angel."