Aziraphale felt him become deadweight, and ripped off the last of the wet clothes feverishly. He used his wings to give them extra momentum, and and limped to the door from which they entered. He collapsed in the hallway, holding Crowley on his lap.

"Crowley," he whispered, holding him on his lap and rocking him, surrounded by feathers. His cheek had burned in the fire, and Crowley's skin had blistered from the water.

Why? he wondered.