Plan Me No Plans

In Which There Are Machinations

-/-

Raphael appeared with the other Archangels at the same time that Gabriel rejoined them, creating the tidy effect of a stormcloud coming down to materialize into two people: the lightning into Gabriel, the cloud funneling into Raphael. She exchanged a look with her brother, eyebrows raised, and met his triumphant grin. Oh dear. That didn't bode well.

"I've kickstarted everything," he said. "The Demon Crowley was on his way to Aziraphale's shop when I hit him with a bolt of holy lightning. Not very hard!" he added, when Raphael glared at him in shock. "Just enough to lay him up for awhile. Holy injuries are the only ones we can guarantee will take time to heal. What are you doing here?"

"God sent me to keep an eye on you lot," she said. "And I should have gotten here sooner! What do you mean, going about injuring someone just for your plans?"

"Raphael, please," Michael said. "It's just a demon, and this way, Aziraphale will have time to fall in love while he nurses him back to health."

Raphael decided not to admit that Aziraphale was already in love, and instead said, "Just a demon? Just a demon? He's a demon your Mother has deemed worthy of the love of one of our own! That should be enough for you to care about his well-being, even if him being a living person isn't enough for you."

"Oh, come," Sandalphon said. "You know what a bleeding heart Aziraphale is. Loves everyone, that one. He won't be able to resist nursing the demon back to health, it's the perfect plan."

"That's not the point," Raphael insisted, and then sighed. "Never mind, it's done now. Whatever. Hopefully you're right, and you haven't just killed him for no reason."

-/-

Crowley was having a very strange day.

First, Beelzebub had called him, and sent him to spy on his angelic Adversary and find out what heaven were up to right now. That hadn't been that strange, really; he wasn't often ordered to spy on Aziraphale, but on the occasion he was, he usually used it as an excuse to take Aziraphale out for dinner or something, and Aziraphale could tell him the bits that he felt allowed to tell, and Crowley could pass that on, and it all worked out.

But then he'd gotten to the shop and was about to approach the door when a bolt of holy lightning had come out of nowhere and zapped him. He collapsed backwards against his car, clutching his arm, which had gone numb, and tried to stagger to the door on legs that were also going numb- aw, fuck, this was bad.

Was he going to discorporate? It would really suck to discorporate; last time he'd been discorporated Dagon had set him copying lines on a blackboard that wiped itself clean as fast as he could write for six years before letting him have a body again. He was pretty sure he still had chalkdust on his tail in the dimension where he kept the bits of his Self that wouldn't fit in his corporation.

Just as the world was starting to pop and spot and fade away, Aziraphale appeared at the shop door and hurried over to him. Warm, strong arms got under him, hauling him to presumably his feet, not that he could tell, since he couldn't feel them- and that was bad, too, he couldn't feel Aziraphale's arms tight around him while he was guided into the bookshop.

Crowley managed to stay conscious through sheer force of will long enough for Aziraphale to get him to the backroom, and then he didn't have anything left: he made a noise that was really just a string of consonants and collapsed in the general direction of the couch, which was helpful enough to be under him when he landed.

And then unconsciousness pulled him under.

-/-

Aziraphale pursed his lips in thought as he stared down at Crowley's unconscious form. Holy lightning- that was Gabriel's thing, or at least Gabriel was the first one to come to mind associated with holy lightning. But if Gabriel had spotted the demon near his bookshop and felt the need to zap him—