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"Shit, shit, shit," Crowley chanted under his breath, a litany of background noise he barely paid attention to. He ripped his sunglasses off and tossed them away, hands hovering shakily over Aziraphale's body. He hadn't the faintest idea how to fix this.
"It's all right, dear." The words would have been gentle and reassuring if it weren't for the raspy, weak way Aziraphale spoke. He coughed, and the way his chest moved was wrong. "The child?"
Crowley whined in the back of his throat, but spared a glance for the young teenager sitting dazed on the side of the road. "Fine. The kid's fine, I swear. Angel, tell me what to do." His hands finally came down to cup Aziraphale's jaw, clumsily wiping the bloody spittle from the corner of his mouth. Miracles he could do, but healing wasn't in any demon's wheelhouse. He was the only demon he knew who could heal at all, and this was... this was beyond him.
Distantly, Crowley was aware of the driver panicking, their shattered car embedded in a pole nearby; the gathered humans were making a lot of distracting noise, and someone had called for emergency services.
None of it mattered, only the idiotic angel in front of him who had used his fragile human body instead of a miracle to shove a child out of harm's way. "How could you be so stupid?" Crowley muttered, trying to feel out the damage. Lungs, yes, that's what the blood meant. And bones, at least a few broken...
"Hush. No big loss." Aziraphale smiled, reaching towards Crowley with one arm. The other lay crooked, unnaturally still at his side. Crowley grabbed the offered hand immediately, clutching it to his chest, eyes wide and fully yellow. "Glad she's all right. I'll be - ngh - back in a jiffy."
"You don't know that!" Crowley cried, curling forward. The angel grunted sharply at the motion, and Crowley cursed in frustration, dropping Aziraphale's hand like it burned. "We haven't heard from Head Office in months! Angel, please. Aziraphale. You can't discorporate. They might not let you go this time! They'll have you just where they want you! Why, why, you stupid, beautiful, noble - "
He cut himself off abruptly, trying to pull himself together. Focus. Lungs. Lungs must be the most immediate problem. He could fix that. Couldn't he?
Crowley closed his eyes, pressing his hands to Aziraphale's chest, muttering an apology when that drew a pained gasp. A miracle from below - he'd done millions of them, he'd healed his own corporeal form of nicks and scratches, he'd brought a dove back to life, for Satan's sake, this couldn't be that hard -
There, the cracked sternum, the fractured ribs, the torn lungs. He could sense it like he was there, existing amongst the capillaries and the flesh that made up Aziraphale's earthly body, more intimate than they'd ever been. Somewhere outside of himself, Crowley laughed hysterically. He was finally inside Aziraphale. It was definitely not what he had imagined.
Focus.
Demonic miracles were not meant to do this, but Crowley wasn't just any demon. Crowley never did what he was supposed to; he bent the rules, he found loopholes, he took credit and passed blame and he knew how to twist the universe to his will, and the universe was not going to take Aziraphale from him, not after all they had been through, not to some stupid human vehicle hammered together from the bones of the earth. If anything took Aziraphale from him, it would have to be God Herself and nothing less.
The puzzle pieces fit together. The universe bent.
A sudden rush of energy nearly froze Crowley's fingertips with the shock of holiness that edged it.
And Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath, clear and healthy.
Crowley would never admit to crying; it was sweat that dripped off the tip of his nose and landed on Aziraphale's ruined waistcoat. He crumpled forward, suddenly exhausted, and laughed dazedly, staring at Aziraphale's shocked face.
"My dear, that was - " Aziraphale lifted his arm again, and blinked. Lifted both arms and marveled. "That was wonderful. How ever did you - that was practically Heavenly!" Awe filled the angel's voice as he moved, discovering nothing broken, nothing damaged. The only lingering sign of how he'd been thrown across the pavement was his ripped clothing.
"Don't know," Crowley croaked. He shook his head and scraped his hands through the tears dampening his face, but he couldn't stop crying and didn't know why. "I - I fixed you?"
"You did ever so well!" Finally sitting up, Aziraphale assessed their surroundings. The humans were handling themselves, emergency personnel bundling the driver onto a stretcher and others comforting the confused child. Their reflexive 'don't look here' celestial defense had taken care of their privacy quite nicely.
"That shouldn't have worked. But... but I couldn't let them have you." Crowley lifted his chin stubbornly, hands still shaking at his sides, until Aziraphale reached forward to clasp them in his own. Something buckled in Crowley's expression. "Upstairs wouldn't send you back, angel."
"I'm sure you would have marched into Heaven straightaway to fetch me, and given them a good tongue lashing in the process." Aziraphale squeezed his hands with a radiant smile, and Crowley offered him a watery one in return. "You have ever been my guardian demon, after all."