"Let me see him."

"You are not well enough."

"Let me see him or I will smite you."

Raphael crossed his arms and pursed his lips.

I let my angelic essence pour out of me. My eyes glowed—I glowed. I heard the unmistakable snapping of lightning. "Try me."

Raphael rolled his eyes heavily and scooted his stool off the side. He continued to glare at me.

"Just remember, Seraphin, you are my friend too, and I am the one who is going to have to heal you."

"Fine," I gritted.

As I got out of bed I was unsteady on my feet. To prove his point, he didn't even move to help me. When I didn't fall over, I looked at him.

"I'm going to need supplies."

Raphael cocked his eyebrow.

~

"What are you doing?"

I ground the ingredients in my mortar and pistol. I frowned and didn't respond.

"You know, I actually have better things to do than babysit you."

Ignoring the sweat on my face just from the exertion of remaining upright, I still didn't respond.

"Why don't you just let the medics take care of this?"

"They can't," I replied.

It was perfect timing. Technically, yes, I could have just told the medics what to do. However, this was a powerful binding spell. It strengthened if the person whose ingredients were needed did the physical act of making the potion.

So I calmly picked up the knife I had requested and sliced my palm open. It was a deep cut, deep enough so I bled freely.

"Sera!" Mikha'el said.

I ignored him once more, clenching my hand so a steady stream of blood poured into the mortar. Once done, I felt like I might pass out. I held out my fist to my friend. "Heal me, please?"

He hesitated, but then did. I think he put a little extra behind it, for I felt briefly revitalized. I nodded, though didn't look at him as I began smashing the ingredients together. "Thank you."

I caught Mikha'el looking at me in genuine curiosity. "What are you making?"

"Healing spell, out of that book Metatron gave me."

"All those years ago?"

I nodded. "Ingredients required are basic herbs for healing, the feather from the angel that has wounded you—" I took one of my molting feathers, held it up to show him before dropping it down into the blood and herbs. "And the feather of the wounded angel—"

I looked down at Auriel. Truthfully he looked dead, and I understood why Mikha'el had insisted the medics focus on me. His face was still and ashen. Every few minutes he gave a short, little gasp of breath; besides that he didn't move. So, with that in mind, I didn't feel bad when I plucked one of his feathers out. I watched; sure enough he didn't move. I didn't want to reveal how upsetting that was to me so I just threw myself into the spell.

"What's the apothecary reasoning behind this?"

"The herbs for healing—"

"Obviously."

I picked my head up and glared. Mikha'el held up his hands.

"The feather of the angel who wounded you so the spell knows what it's binding to. The feather of who needs to be healed because angel feather's, as you know, are the most concentrated area of angelic essence, second only to angel tears. But, since our friend here—" I smiled at Auriel, " isn't awake to give us his tears, his feathers will do. "

"'Feathers'? Don't you mean feather, singular? "

"Oh no. I have to do this once every hour, approximately."

"Sera!" Mikha'el cried. "You can't be doing blood letting every hour, not in the condition you're in!"

"It's just my hand—I'm fine."

"You need to heal and rest. You're molting, your wings were damaged so you're not healing correctly—we were able to mend your partially-cracked collarbone but after that your body refused to heal much else, which means you'll have to do it the old fashioned way—with. Rest. "

"Nope."

Mikha'el paused. "Nope? Nope?! My God, is this how everyone else views you, because you really are an insufferable bastard."

"The blood is the binding agent for everything."

"So then use someone else's! Take mine!"

"My feather was the one that harmed him, so it is better if it's my blood used. Using ingredients from the people involved makes for better and stronger magic."

"This is preposterous."

"If you're going to pester me with complaints just leave. Otherwise either be quiet or I'll smite you."

He laughed.

"I'm serious."

Mikha'el quieted. I went back to what I was doing. Once it was a sludge, I took some water and mixed it in. Then I held out my hand over the bowl and recited the incantation. After a brief flash of purple light, it returned to its watery grey sludge.

"Is that it?" Mikha'el asked, peering into the bowl.

"I think so. Here, lift him up for me. He has to drink this."

"Drink? Can't we smear it on his forehead or something?"

"It has to be ingested."

Mikha'el sighed but lifted Auriel into a sitting position. I grabbed his mouth and held it open with Mikha'el holding his limp head. I was worried because most of it dribbled out of his mouth. There was a brief squabble between Raphael and I over Auriel choking, but it seemed like he got most of what made it into his mouth down without issue.

The next few hours were frustrating. We weren't sure if he was actually swallowing any. I was growing weaker with each letting, to the point where Mikha'el made a bed appear so I could rest in between.

"Either let me use my blood or let me call a medic in here," Mikha'el insisted after the fourth hour. "Your pride is going to kill you. Literally."

I felt so awful I couldn't agree more. Feebly I waved a hand and muttered, "Medic."

At Raphael's insistence, I had an entire team. It was him, Braleil, the head nurse, and an intern. They took shifts healing me with Raphael overseeing everything and checking me after every heal.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," Braleil snapped at me at one point, feeling my head. "I would rather not have two dead Seraphims on my hands by the end of the night."

"I'm fine."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're starting to feel feverish."

Raphael walked over, looking concerned. He touched my forehead, then the back of my neck. A deep frown took over his lips. "She's right—you're starting to feel warm. If you get a fever—"

"I won't."

"You have no control over it!"

"I won't allow it. I need all the help I can get with my plan, so I need all the archangels I can get, which means Auriel can't die, which means I have to keep healing him."

"Plan? What plan?" He twisted around. "Mikha'el, what in the blazes is he talking about?"

Mikha'el chuckled. "I learned long ago not to question him. He will explain when he is good and ready."

Raphael glared off to the side. "If he doesn't die, first."

By the seventh hour, Auriel had started to show signs of improvement, swallowing. He was still largely unconscious. The ninth hour, he sputtered and gasped, coughing and choking for a moment. After that, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went back into full unconsciousness.

By the eleventh hour, I was definitely feverish. When the medical team insisted I stop, I refused. All were surprised when they looked to Mikha'el for guidance, assuming he would be the voice of reason.

"If he doesn't want to stop, then he won't."

Everyone gawked at him. Then, everyone but Mikha'el gawked at me as I sliced my hand open once again.

On the twelfth feeding, Auriel's eyes fluttered open as I swayed on my feet. When he focused on me, he looked very confused. "Sera?"

The last thing I knew I was hitting the ground with my shoulder, hard, with the clay bowl I had been using shattering next to me.

~

"I'm happy you're alive! Now I get to kill you for being so infuriatingly stupid!"

I opened my eyes. Braleil was glaring down at me, hands on her hips. I glanced around; I was in the medic tent.

"You can't kill him, not when he saved my life."

I looked over to Auriel. He looked like he was going to die. But at least he was awake. I smiled.

"Are you sure I saved you? You look terrible."

He laughed, and it was music to my ears. "You're not in such good shape I'd say."

Braleil slapped my shoulder. At least it was softly this time. Even so, I looked at her with indignation.

"Hey!"

She gathered me into her arms and put a furtive kiss to my brow, whispering into my ear, "Please don't frighten us like that anymore."

I chuckled and hugged her back. "No promises."