The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 52: Flood of Light

Chapter 52: Flood of Light

Crowley drifted in darkness for what seemed like forever.

Then came the pain. What started as a stinging pressure became a dull ache then first slowly ebbed into a nauseating, flushing heat.

Shortly after, he was vaguely aware of his body being lifted and caressed roughly to someone's chest. The smell of the angel overpowered his senses and the stinging wetness of his tears brought a sort of sleepy comfort.

These sensations prompted a fight for wakefulness. He rode their presence, forcing their energies to stimulate his synapses and muscles, until at last he could pry open his eyes. Eventually the ceiling of the bookshop materialized, Aziraphale's head hovering above him. The coolness of the shop's floor came up through his limp fingers.

Crowley floated confused in a dreamworld, trying to ground himself with the site of the angel. He let himself feel the flood of love and relief spreading over his soul to see those silly, bobbing downy curls.

"Angel," he croaked, unable to speak anything else. Angel. your eyes, so blue, so blue....

"Stay with me, Anthony!"

Oh, things must be very dire, if he is calling me that.

The pain in his arm increased and in response he threw all his attention to Aziraphale's fretting face. Briefly it disappeared, and for an excruciating moment Crowley panicked, though the feeling seemed distant. But the angel came back, along with his smell and touch and so did the dreamy comfort. That's all Crowley wanted. Just that face. Just those eyes.

Directing more attention to those, clarity came back and with it, strength. Gathering them, the demon coughed and rasped with considerable effort," How did you get to me?"

The angel's voice held a solid presence. It was flat. "Your powers were waning. I fought the doors, and won."

"Is that...monster...gone?"

"Not even a smoldering heap. Anthony. I need to work on you."

It was a statement edged with warning. The demon tried to understand.

"I'll have to heal you. There will be discomfort."

"More than there already is?"

"Hush, and listen to me."

The demon nodded.

"I'm going to give you strength to stand."

"No."

"Hush. I can spare it. Nothing of the taint will flow into me."

"There's a taint?"

"Yes, Anthony, my love. There is a taint."

"You know I cherish the color of your eyes."

"Quiet, please."

"I want it to be the last thing I see."

"Another day. Not today. Be still."

Crowley obeyed.

And what flooded into his limbs and chest was alarming, but not unwelcomed. It was a warm, velvety feeling, reenergizing his muscles, filling his stomach with a liquid joy. And clarity at last slammed into focus.

Struggling, he rose with a groan, and his eyes were clear and bright. Before him squatted Aziraphale heaving and with sweat dripping from his face. But the angel was neither spent nor excited.

Crowley regarded his wound. "Oh, that's ugly."

"Rise."

"Yes, my angel."