Crowley's abruptness brought Gabriel back to their situation: angel and demon, despite Crowley's tattered wings, despite living together under cover of the Antichrist's rules. He would still help Crowley to the best of his abilities, but he wasn't going to expend any energy on sympathy when Crowley set such a precedent; he and the demon were not on the best of terms even when Crowley's manner wasn't sharpened by pain. He turned his attention to the crooked right wing.

As he traced the paths of the delicate bones in his mind, he found fractures in several places, some so concentrated it looked as though they'd crushed his wings... but he didn't need the details, he thought firmly, just needed to know how to fit the pieces back together.

Wordlessly, Gabriel reached out his hands to cautiously support the broken wing, starting his work quickly before Crowley could protest. He began at the base, radiating outward; working as quickly as he could to reduce the pain without missing anything. He could not restore the strength - nor even, he was afraid, the feathers - but he sealed together bone and marrow until there was no sign left that the pieces had been cleft. By the time he'd finished, the right wing arched up in proper form, mirroring the left.

"All right?" Gabriel asked after the concentrated silence, looking over his work critically. His own joints felt stiff after the expenditure of energy. "Did I miss anything?"