#dang it I'm going to finish this challenge...even if it takes another month...XD

[codicesandflora]

Ineffable Inktober-Day Twenty Seven: Wings

Yep, this is me, ignoring the fact that October is over and still working on finishing this....

This takes place a couple of years after the Notpocalypse. And just as a heads up, there are some brief mentions of an injury and pain in this one.

Barriers Broken (AO3 Link)

“Angel? Are you all right?”

Aziraphale started and looked at Crowley with a hasty smile. “Oh yes, everything’s tickety….”

Crowley frowned. “Angel, if you say ‘tickety-boo’, I’ll set your Oscar Wilde’s on fire.”

Aziraphale’s lips formed an ‘o’. “You wouldn’t dare,” he spluttered.

Indignation lit up Aziraphale’s eyes which relieved some of the tension that had been building up inside Crowley. At least the angel could still be offended. That was a comforting sign.

“I might,” Crowley said with a half smirk. “I still haven’t forgiven you for the mess you got us into just so you could get that copy of A House of Pomegranates.”

“That was hardly my fault. No reasonable person would respond to an offer of generous financial compensation with a request for a gun duel.”

“And no sane person would stick around to see what happens after a threat like that.” Crowley sighed and gave him a fond smile. “Come on, angel quit trying to change the subject. You’ve had that look on your face like someone actually managed to worm a book away from you all morning. What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t just the expression on Aziraphale’s face that had Crowley worried. There was also pallor the angel had and the way his features were pinched with pain. Aziraphale’s step had been sluggish and punctuated with the occasional stumble. Now, beads of sweat were appearing on the angel’s forehead, and Crowley refused to put his questions off any longer.

Aziraphale shook his head and pulled a small handkerchief that had embroidered golden wings on the corners out of his pocket. He wiped his forehead with it and frowned when he pulled it away from his face.

“I, I’m afraid I might have to make an appointment to visit Heaven soon. And I’m really not looking forward to it.”

Crowley let out a huge breath. Neither of them visited their former head offices in the two years since they had been released after the Nearpocalypse. Although he never said a word about it, Crowley was certain that Aziraphale dearly wanted to avoid Heaven.

However, if the angel was truly ill, a visit to Heaven might be necessary. The fact that Aziraphale was considering it meant that, whatever this was, it was serious.

“Why?” Crowley asked. He hadn’t meant for that to come out as an accusation, but the worry that had frayed his nerves had also stretched his vocal cords past sounding casual or simply concerned.

“I….” Aziraphale cast his eyes downward. “It’s my wings. I think there is something wrong with them.”

At that moment, Crowley was grateful for the sunglasses on his face because he doubted that he could hide the terror that was sure to widening his eyes. While their wings were usually kept out of the physical plane, that didn’t meant that they could be ignored or that they couldn’t be injured.

Even worse, because an angel and a demon’s wings were so intertwined with their True Self, a severe injury or a minor one that was neglected could spread to the rest of the non-corporeal form. And if that was allowed to happen…it meant a death as sure and as permanent as one delivered with holy water or Hellfire.

“What happened?” Crowley said, his voice morphing into a low growl.

“I…there was a demon who visited the shop a couple of weeks ago,” Aziraphale replied. “They was looking for you. But after I refused to tell them anything, I suppose they decided to get rid of me before continuing their search.”

Crowley’s hands curled into fists, his jaw tightening. “I warned them. Looks like I’ll have to….”

“No, not really,” Aziraphale said, holding up a hand. “I already Smote them. Quite decisively too. They won’t be back for a long while. But I’m afraid they did manage to land a nasty gash to my right wing before I dispatched it. I, I thought I could take care of it on my own….”

“Open your wings,” Crowley cut in. Aziraphale took a step back from him, and Crowley struggled to ignore the twist in his heart at the sight. “Look, I’m not going to do anything to them unless you want me to, but we got to see how bad the damage is, right? So please, angel. For me?”

That last part was blackmail, and Crowley knew it, but he was too worried to focus on that right now. He would deal with the repercussions of that later when he knew that Aziraphale was going to be all right.

The angel ducked his head and nodded. Slowly, he pulled his wings out of the celestial plane and into the physical one. Once they were fully out, Crowley did another sharp intake of breath.

Aziraphale’s wings were beautiful, but they were also horribly messy, full of broken and disheveled feathers and what looked like a molt that hadn’t been completely cleared away. Worst of all though, was a long slash in the upper part of the right wing. The wound was scarlet through the fluff of sparse feathers that stuck to it and it was trickling stray drips of a green ooze.

“Aziraphale,” he breathed. “This…this is….”

“Crowley…I’m, I’m afraid that I….”

The angel put his hand to his forehead again, his eyelids fluttering and his posture wavering. Crowley immediately took the hint and rushed over just in time to catch him before Aziraphale fell face first onto the floor.

‘Shit! Shit, shit, shit...!’ “Hey, I’ve got you,” Crowley said, struggling to sound reassuring. “Ok, I’ve got you. Can you walk? Angel? Hey, can you hear me?”

Aziraphale didn’t respond. His head flopped onto Crowley’s shoulder, and the demon didn’t have to see his face to know that Aziraphale was likely unconscious by now. Deciding not to waste any more time on conversation, Crowley hoisted Aziraphale over his shoulder, the angel’s wings draped around him like a shroud.

“It’s ok,” Crowley babbled. “It’ll be all right. We’ll get you fixed up and it’ll be fine. Just hold on, Aziraphale, ok? I’ve got you.”

He continued the steady stream of comforting nonsense while using a miracle to move both of them to the bedroom and as he lowered Aziraphale onto the bed. A bed which suddenly became much larger and wider to accommodate the wings and both of them being on it. Crowley snapped his fingers to brighten the light in the room, because despite the discomfort it would cause, he needed to be able to see even the smallest details of what he was doing.

Crowley ripped the sunglasses off his face and tossed them aside as he climbed onto the bed. He turned Aziraphale face down so he could examine the wing from a better angle.

‘Don’t think it has spread through the whole wing yet. So at least there’s that. Hard to tell though with how they look right now….’

Crowley frowned. It was obvious that the angel hadn’t taken care of his wings at all and the neglect had exacerbated the trauma of the wound. He was going to have a talk with Aziraphale about this when the angel woke up, but for now, he needed to focus on the bigger problem at hand.

“Angel, if you can hear me, I’m going to treat your wound, all right? So, I’m going to have to touch you and….”

That got a response, but not one Crowley had hoped for. Aziraphale’s wings trembled, curling away from him and there was a pained whimper. Whispers laced with shame and agony.

“Please…please don’t, Crowley…please….”

‘Damn him.’ Crowley’s eyes stung. To do nothing would mean death, and he already knew which he would prefer if he had to decide between Aziraphale loathing him and Aziraphale not existing.

“Aziraphale,” he said, his voice deliberately stern. “If I don’t take care of this…you know what will happen. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want me to do this, but…ngk….”

He could have said more. He was a tempter, and damn good at his job. He should have been able to find the words to convince Aziraphale, but words could break through the hurt he felt at the husky sob he heard from the angel.

‘Please,’ Crowley’s heart cried out. ‘Please, Aziraphale…’

Slowly, awkwardly, Aziraphale’s wings stretched out again, still trembling, but steady enough so that Crowley could work.

‘Right….’ Crowley snapped his fingers and a stack of soft, green towels appeared on the stand next to the bed. Another snap and some tonics he had stored at his flat sat next to them.

There was so much Crowley wanted to do to Aziraphale’s wings. Not just heal them, but fix them. Straighten and clean them so that they could be as beautiful as Crowley remembered them being in Eden. But doing more than what was necessary to save Aziraphale’s life would be a violation of trust at this point. As much as he burned to do more, he swore to himself he would make this quick.

Crowley looked through his tonics, chose one, and sprinkled a tiny pool of it onto his hand. “Ok, this will sting a little, but I promise it will help, ok?”

There was no response, but Crowley knew better than to assume that Aziraphale hadn’t heard him. More likely, the angel just shut himself down to conserve his strength and as a way to cope with what was coming. But Aziraphale was probably still aware, and Crowley made sure that that remained at the forefront of his brain throughout this.

Gingerly, he rubbed the tonic into the wound. Aziraphale moaned and shuddered, but did not open his eyes or make any other sound. Crowley rubbed the excess away with one of the towels, mopping up the green goo that had congealed on the nearby feathers.

Crowley took a deep breath. “Ok, this is going to be the worst of it. But I’m going to make this as fast as possible, I promise.”

There was still no reply from the inert form on the bed. Crowley slowly blinked and then placed his hands on either side of the wound. A harsh cry rang out, and Crowley almost let go. But then he reminded himself that this was coming and held on.

Then he closed his eyes and focused everything into drawing out the poison and repairing the damaged flesh. The poison turned his stomach. The knitting of soft tissue drained him. But Crowley was sure that none of it could compare to how dreadful Aziraphale felt right now.

Once he was certain that the wound was purified and healed, Crowley let go, releasing a long sigh as he did. Aziraphale was completely out, boneless, his wings drooping over the sides of the bed.

Crowley scooted to the foot of the bed, lying down and curling into a ball on his side. He wanted to be there when Aziraphale woke up. He told himself it was just to make sure that Aziraphale was going to recover.

It hurt too much to acknowledge that it was also because he couldn’t bear the thought of Aziraphale being alone after all that.

#good omens #fanfic #My fic #ineffableinktober #dang it I'm going to finish this challenge...even if it takes another month...XD