Summary:

Heaven insists on sending a female Aziraphale to Europe at the weight of the witch trials. It does not go well.

Notes:

Prompts- Fingerprints; wrongly arrested; "I warned you"

Prompts Used: wrongly arrested, "I warned you"

Post-torture. Not a lot of graphic description, but still mentions some things done.

I might revise this one later. There's more I wanted to do with it, but I couldn't quite figure out how I wanted to do it just yet.

Chapter 3: Set Up For Failure

Aziraphale sat in a dank prison cell, feeling quite sorry for herself.

She had known, of course, that this would happen. Had even tried to talk Heaven out of this ridiculous idea. But Gabriel had would hear none of it, and so here she was- tried and sentenced for witchcraft, awaiting a terrible discorporation.

Of course, that wasn't even the worst part. Once she got back to Heaven, Gabriel would mostcertainlyreprimand her (hopefully him again by then). She was not allowed to use a miracle to save herself, but she wasn't allowed to discorporate either.

Oh bother.

"Looks like you're in a spot of trouble there, angel."

Aziraphale sighed in relief. Really, it was all shecoulddo, what with her poor tongue in the state it was currently. Having a sound driven through it was not very conducive to conversations.

Crowley leaned up against the bars, eyes searching Aziraphale's manacled form. The angel could immediately tell by his change in posture that the demon did not like what he saw.

Her theory was affirmed when the sounds of Crowley's curses began echoing through the dungeon. Over the colorful commentary she could hear a series of snaps: the first opened the door, the second released her manacles, and the third... Well, she couldn't see anything immediately, but knowing Crowley, the building had most likely just caught fire.

Aziraphale rubbed her raw wrists as she hurried through the open cell door. To her surprise, Crowley gently grabbed her arm and snapped again.

The scenery instantly changed from dungeon to bedroom. She recognized it as Crowley's room at the local inn, where they had shared drinks only a few evenings prior.

The demon in question turned to her, finally giving her a clearer view of his face. This close, she could see the tell-tale lines of anger around his mouth, the furrowed brow visible around his dark glasses.

Apparently Heaven wouldn't be alone in its disappointment.

She lowered her eyes, waiting for the lecture she knew was coming.

But again, the demon surprised her.

Gentle hands guided her towards the straw mattress, the lightest pressure pushing her to sit on its edge. Then those same hands ghosted across her dirty, battered form in search of each hurt. At every wince the hands would pause just long enough for the warmth of demonic energy to heal and soothe before moving on.

He eventually worked his way up to her round face. Long, graceful fingers traced along her jaw, turning her to get a good look.

"You're awfully quiet, angel," he stated softly. "What else did those bastards do? What did I miss?"

Reluctantly, she motioned to her lips before dropping her eyes down. She did not want to see his reaction.

The hand still cupping her face tensed briefly before forcibly relaxing. "Damn them all," he whispered harshly, even as she felt the healing energy for across and repair the damaged muscle.

Now fully healed and clean (when had he done that?) Aziraphale breathed a soft sigh of relief. "Thank you, my dear. That was...well, positively dreadful."

Crowley removed his hand and quickly put space between them. His features were still dark with anger, and it didn't take Aziraphale long to realize that now that she was safe and healed, it was time for the lecture.

"I warned you, Aziraphale. I told you this plan was absolute bollocks. That's there was no way they would listen to you, especially inthatcorporation. Why in Heaven did you think they'd listen?"

"You don't understand, Crowley! I had no choice! I was under direct orders from Heaven-"

"Oh, Heaven can sod off!"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale yelled as she stood abruptly, only to realize she had moved too quickly when the room began to spin.

"Oh, for someone's sake angel, sit back down!" Those hands were on her shoulders again (when had he gotten this close?) as he carefully guided her down to the mattress. "You just went through two days of torture and we're almost burned at the stake. Just-just take it easy, yeah?"

The angel huffed, even as she gratefully eased into a more prone position. "You mustn't say such things about Heaven, dear. You know they are only doing what they believe is right. And they didn't realize that a female corporation would, well, be a poor choice," a yawn escaped her, though she valiantly tried to hide it. "I tried to tell them, but they insisted on this form, you know. Thought... They thought it would be better received..."

The demon shook his head, fiery red locks longer than his usual style. Aziraphale rather liked his hair long, though she'd never admit it out loud.

"They're idiots, the lot of 'em. And don't you defend them, angel! They should have listened to you. I'm guessing they limited your miracles, too?" he shook his head again. "Bunch of wankers they are. Bloody fools. They should have listened to you, angel."

Another yawn tore through Aziraphale, and Crowley pulled the thin blanket up over her shoulders. "All right, all right. Get some rest. I don't need you falling asleep in the drink you owe me."

Too worn out to argue anymore, Aziraphale settled against the bed and closed her eyes. She knew Crowley would be there when she awoke. Tomorrow she would need to figure out what to write in her report. But for now she could rest, knowing a watchful pair of golden eyes would keep the world at bay until she was strong enough to face it again.