Crowley feels the miracle, feels the muscle and fracture to the bone mend instantly. Aziraphale has always been excellent with restorative spells like this, in the times that Crowley has needed them. Some of the pain is healed instantly, but when he puts weight on his leg, he feels whatever Hastur has done to him is deeper than just a wound. A demonic curse of some sort. Pity the other demon went into a cloud full of blessed rainwater. It would have taken an actual miracle for Hastur to have survived.

He leans against Aziraphale as the wing goes over his head. The angel looks tired, shaken. And, really, very dirty. It would take no more than a little miracle to clean him up, to make things at least look right, but it would take a lot more to make things better. All the same, he waves his hand over him, removing the blood, the damage from his suit. Restoring something to him.

"Ineffable Plan," Crowley says. "The Plan. We can't have been a part of it."