"Crowley!" His heart leapt into his throat as he saw him fall. He pulled down a hand but there was nothing answering that call. No power behind it. Instead he could only wince as the demon hit a bush.

He was so distracted he nearly got clawed again and had to throw himself out of the way, nearly falling himself, wings flared to keep balance.

"Well you can try to be civil, you know! And it always worked for Saint Francis!" And this thing was half animal."

Aziraphale saw the rock fly off the creature's back and then it whipped round to Crowley.

"I can't leave you here! Are you mad?! You'll be killed!" And not the kind that paperwork could fix! He'd be absolutely extinct!

The thought of that roared through him like holy fire. An angel was a soldier, after all! He had been primed and conditioned for something like this! It had been six thousand years but--

But--!

An idea struck him almost painfully, wonderfully, just like a miracle should.

He saw the werewolf lunge down at Crowley, great jaws snapping. Aziraphale half flew in front of him, wings flared to shield the demon; then grabbed his silver watch from his chain.

"Bad dog!" he said and shoved it in the werewolf's mouth. The creature let out an ear peircing howl as it crashed to the ground, frothing, crushing him along with it with its massive paw.

"Go on! It's alright! I'll be just fine!"