Good Omens: Ineffable Prompts

Day Two: Look Up to the Sky and See...

Aziraphale urged the stallion onward with a small miracle. Thousands of stars glittered in the night sky and remained the only light for miles around. The horse whinnied before pressing onto a gallop across the dirt path. The angel knew it was dangerous to ride at night. Any number of obstacles could cripple his steed or throw him from the saddle, but he had to press on.

Some part of him over the last few millennia had developed a sixth sense for Crowley, and within the last hour, that signal had begun to fade.

The sound of galloping hooves mixed with the beating pulse in his ears. His heart hammered against his ribs, threatening to break them if he did not find the demon soon. Aziraphale knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Crowley.

"Please," he whispered, begging for anyone willing to listen. "Please don't let me be too late."

The sensation was so faint. It was difficult to pinpoint which way he was supposed to ride. If he was off even in the slightest, it could be the difference between feet and miles away. Aziraphale rode on. One hand clung to the reins of the horse, while the other gripped at the front of his coat. Its silver buttons gleamed in the starlight. He chewed on his lip, scanning the sides of the woods lining the road for any sign of the demon.

"Please," he begged once more. "Please help me find him. I...I don't know what I would do without him."

His horse rasped as it rode on. Its back had a sheen of sweat that glistened under the pale light. The poor beast would collapse if he urged it on without a break.

Aziraphale pulled on the reins, slowing them to a sluggish trot. He patted the neck of the large steed, adding one more miracle to his list. He winced, trying not to think about the questions he would get for riding the beast so hard and giving it a bit more stamina than any animal should have.

His senses tingled, and he froze, trying to isolate Crowley's location. But something shimmered just beyond his mental grasp. Something soft, more delicate than the beating wings of a butterfly. Aziraphale let out a ragged breath, easing his heartbeat and calming his terrified nerves.

Look up to the sky and see...find your way.

The angel glanced at the glittering stars. His eyes searched them, praying for his own miracle and praying for the safety of the own being who really mattered to him in the last five millennia. He froze as his eyes caught a small flicker.

A star ahead of him and slightly east of his position, pulsed with a frantic light. It seemed to shine brighter than its sisters and quicker than the combined glitter of the speckled sea of darkness above.

Aziraphale cried out, urging the horse on and hoped he would be close enough to Crowley before the horse could run no more.

Crowley lay in a heap at the edge of the tree line half a mile from where Aziraphale had followed the blinking star. He wore a dark highwayman's coat with gold buttons. His waistcoat and undershirt had been slashed. Dark blood gleamed in the night, staining the grass all around him.

Aziraphale leaped from the horse and knelt by the shivering demon. His skin had paled, lighter than the angel's fair hair. Crowley had forced his head up as Aziraphale stooped beside him. His face had contorted into a snarl until the angel spoke. "Crowley, it's me. I'm here. Oh, my heavens. I'm so sorry. I came here as soon as I could."

"Angel? What are you doing?" He blinked, trying to focus his eyes. "Blood loss. Must be hallucinating. Did I ever tell you...that I find your backside insanely attractive?"

Aziraphale eased Crowley up to a sitting position against the trunk of a tree. "As flattering as that is, my dear, I need to heal you before you discorporate. Please try to remain still while I work."

"It's too late," he hissed. His eyes had curtained with golden agony. "I'm done for. Can't even feel the pain anymore."

Aziraphale sucked in a breath as he worked off Crowley's coat and waistcoat. He had lost so much blood. Aziraphale tugged off the demon's damp shirt and assessed the damage. Two large stab marks punctured his abdomen, and one massive slash had cut along his right side. His skin felt clammy to the touch. The angel almost laughed, thinking it had to be a miracle that he hadn't discorporated already.

"I'm going to heal you, so stay still until I am completely finished." Aziraphale rubbed his hands together, readying his power.

"Heal me?" Crowley's head lolled back against the trunk. "Angel, I still don't know how you can be so sure you can even heal me. I mean, I know you've done it before and all, but really, angel, angelic, divine, whatever power, shouldn'tthat, youknowhurtme?" His words had begun to slur together. Aziraphale knew he had little time remaining.

He placed his hands on the wounds, and Crowley flinched, hissing in pain.

"Oh, fuck, that stings!"

"I'm sorry, dear, but try to bear it for the moment. I should be done soon. And," he paused, wetting his lips. "As for how, well...most angels heal with the power they have inside them. They use their loyalty to Heaven, their gentle guidance to justice, and their faith in the ineffable word of the Almighty to heal the injured." He paused, letting his eyes flick up to meet Crowley's wincing stare before returning back to concentrate on his wounds. "When I heal you, I do not think of those things. My reasons to heal you are selfish. I want you to live on, to be here...with me. I feel defiant of the ineffable, anger toward the injustice of losing you, and a desire to be near you, to feel that you are there even if I can't see you. I'm a selfish angel, and," he licked his dry lips. "It is those passionate qualities were darkness thrives the most, and it is those feelings I latch onto when I make you whole again. I know it's rather selfish and cruel of me to keep you here, but...well, I've realized over the years that I just can't stand to have it any other way." He glanced up once more to find Crowley's eyes closed.

The demon's head rested against the tree. Apparently, he had exhausted himself, waiting...waiting for what? For Aziraphale?

The angel didn't know if Crowley could sense him coming to his aide. Perhaps a small part of him had waited for that exact thing because what else could've kept him from discorporating after losing so much blood.

Aziraphale sagged as the last bit of power flowed through and closed the wounds. He checked Crowley's lungs and pulse. All appeared to be returning to normal. He needed sleep. They both did after that excitement.

Perhaps he could ask Crowley what had gotten him into such a wretched state in the morning. For now, he needed to find an inn, one that would accommodate an exhausted angel and a snoring demon.