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Crawley usually loved the sun.
That star was at the right distance from earth to be enjoyable: that's why he usually loved basking under the golden sun rays outside, especially after his visit in the cramped, cold and damp offices in Hell.
However, at that moment, Crawley was wishing to be as far as possible from that star or, even, to be back in Hell: the sun, that usually warm nicely his corporation, was ravaging his skin even if that shouldn't happen due to his demonic nature.
However his demonic powers had been dampened by the holiness of the ground he had been standing still on in the last six or seven hours.
It wasn't his choice to be here: some humans saw his eyes the previous night and thought he was a malevolent spirit that was going to spread diseases and discord through their community.
Crawley, however, was just passing by that village, minding his business, and he had tried really hard to explain that to those humans but nobody listened to him and they led him to the holy site, which wasn't stinging him too much, and bound him there with blessed chains between two pillars. The humans tore his clothes to let the sun “cleanse” his demonic soul and “undo” all his wrongdoing.
At first, it hadn't been too bad, despite the uncomfortable position of his limbs (or the limited range of moving) and the radiance of the rising sun annoying his eyes.
However, after five or six hours under the scorching sun, painful burns and nasty blisters were blooming everywhere on his exposed skin. His eyes weren't in a better condition either: even if he was keeping them as closed as possible, Crawley was almost blinded by the constant radiance that seeped through his eyelids.
The demon had tried to ask for help a couple of times but he couldn't no longer do that even if he wished, due to his parched throat.
More hours passed by under the blazing sun and Crawley was at his limit: slowly but inexorably, the demon was starting to collapse.
“What an idiotic way to discorporate…” Crawley thought.
“Oh, dear… …what have they done to you, Crawley?”
The demon gathered enough strength to slightly open one of his eyes: a blurry white figure was standing in front of him and smelled like a concerned angel he knew well.
Crawley wanted to smile and greet Aziraphale but only a pained groan left his chipped lips.
“It won't be pleasant,” the angel warned after taking a quick look at the situation, “but we have to leave this dreadful place.”
Even if Aziraphale was freeing and carrying the demon away as carefully and gently as possible, trying to avoid touching or moving the sorest and the most damaged part of the demon's corporation, Crawley was drowning in pain.
The demon bravely tried to hang in there but he couldn't suppress all his sobs and gasps; he didn't cry just because his tears were all dried up.
The angel kept apologizing till they arrived at his safe house where he gently laid the demon in a tub full of fresh water.
Since the demon started squirming in the water, the angel explained: “I'm sorry but I need to cool you down because your temperature is too elevated. When it gets better, I'll treat your sunburn”.
Then, Aziraphale started delicately sponging the demon's face and head or wetting his lips to make him drink some water.
After an hour, in which the demon almost fell asleep, Crawley was carried and laid supine on a soft mattress.
There, Aziraphale took a little metal container that, to the demon, smelled nutty, oily and herbaceous.
“It's a little healing salve against sunburns I always carry with me after my ‘misadventure’ in the desert, since I don't want to repeat that experience,” the angel explained with a little shiver in his voice. Crawley wasn't too fond of that memory either.
The angel continued: “I have to apply it on your skin: you have to tell me if it gets too uncomfortable or painful.”
With a soft brush, Aziraphale carefully spread the ointment on the reddened skin: that seemed working fine until he brushed a huge blister and the demon groaned in pain.
“Too… …harsh,”. Crawley muttered.
“We need something softer,” the angel whispered while looking around in the room.
Then, looking at the cushion, Aziraphale had an idea.
The demon felt a little “whose” over his head and noticed two big white blurs around the angel: that were his wings. He completely trusted Aziraphale’s idea.
Aziraphale collected several feather downs that were about to fall and, after tying them together on a stylus, he tried to spread the ointment once more with that makeshift brush on a little patch of the demon's wrist.
Since no adverse reaction happened and with feathers being noticeably more delicate, Aziraphale started to use it everywhere, even on the nastiest burns.
For Crawley, those feathers caressing his skin felt amazing: he could almost swear they were having some soothing and healing effects too and, considering Aziraphale, it could have been like that.
“Thanks,” Crawley said in a really soft voice.
“Don't strain your voice, my dear. Now you need to rest for a while.”
Crawley felt extremely tired and slowly closed his eyes. The last words he heard before he slipped into a wonderful dream with a smile on his lips were “have a dream of what you like best.”