#aziraphale was giving crowley a raging ***** from miles away and he had to shut it down

[wraithee]

The way Aziraphale talked to the Bentley, soft and gentle, but with a hint of something else making it behave the way he liked was a lot actually and I really feel that the way he said ‘Now you’re getting it. OoOooh that’s much better. What do we do? We play classical music that staaaays classical music.’ was just…

Listen. It was horny as hell and that’s why Crowley cut in like that. He’s trying to ‘work’ at the bookshop and babysit Gabriel all the while Aziraphale is there talking to his car Like That?? No. Too much.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Long Walk

(We have a lot to celebrate this month: 30 years from the publication of Good Omens, one year since the series came out. I, myself, have some big milestones: 666 followers, 200k+ on AO3, and 30 fics posted! And I’m about to hit 4,000 Tumblr posts. Naturally, I choose to celebrate with something VERY melancholy

(This fic was inspired by my prompt for @itsthearoway - milestones of Crowley and Aziraphale through history - but was written right after I went into self-isolation. It’s a bit of a reflection on death, life, and hope. I’m not tagging it for death because technically there are no on-screen deaths, but if you are avoiding fic that make you think about mortality DO NOT READ THIS. It’s hopeful, but also very angst.

(Thank you all! I’m working on a longer light-hearted fic about the early days of the arrangement for @itsthearoway that I hope to have the first chapter ready for in a couple of days. Here’s to another 200k!)

--

The Long Walk - A short saga of the world, two observers, and the question: what is it all for? (1697 words)

Also on AO3

The sands stretch away from the Walls of Eden, eternally in either direction. Endless empty wasteland. Unrelenting heat fills the air, beaming down from the sun, up from the dunes. The kind of heat that nothing can live in.

Through the endless empty wasteland walk an angel and a demon, side-by-side.

“Seems an awful waste,” says the demon. “Build a whole world with nothing in it. If the Almighty is so powerful, why not make everywhere like Eden?”

“Eden was special,” says the angel, sadly. He hasn’t been cast out, not in the way the humans and the demon have. But the Garden’s time is over, and he can move on, or fade with it. “Eden was perfect.”

“Yeah, a perfect prison.” The demon rolls his eyes. “Too perfect for the likes of me.”

“No, not perfect like that. Perfectly balanced.” The angel holds out a hand, tipping it side to side. “The weather, the animals, all life, everything hung perfectly from the slightest thread. The was no…no room for deviation, you might say. No room for evil, yes, but also for good. For knowledge. For choice or free will. Once the humans had that, they had to leave. Even if they stayed, it all would have fallen apart.”

The demon considers as they walked. “That’s your ‘ineffable’ explanation?”

A shrug. “It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Not really.” The demon looks at their surroundings. “And it still seems an awful waste. Sending the humans out here to die.”

“Oh, I don’t think it will come to that. They may yet find something outside the Garden. Look.”

Ahead of them, a shape bursts from the shade of a dune, a small lizard, mottled brown, running for all it's worth to cower in the next shadow. “There’s still life,” says the angel. “Still a chance.”

A thousand years.

Frozen winters.

Drought-filled summers.

A Flood covers the land, and recedes.

Through lands scoured clear of any trace of life walk an angel and a demon, side-by-side.

“Not much of a chance, if our sides keep interfering,” the demon says, watching the brown river rush past between barren banks.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” the angel chides.

A snort. “You’d say the same if it were my side that did this.” Silence, apart from footfalls in the mud. “Well, go on. Tell me it’s all part of the Plan. I can practically hear you thinking it.”

“Well it is. I might not understand it, but it must be.”

“Some Plan. A thousand years of struggle and toil, for what? Just to be destroyed like that.”

“Nonsense.” The angel points overhead at a flitting dove. The first bird either of them has seen since the rains began. “It isn’t over yet. And we can’t know until it’s over.”

Two thousand more years.

Cities rise.

Cities fall.

Sodom.

Thera.

Troy.

They walk together through the empty streets of what had once been the world’s greatest city, past shattered walls and burned out homes and the remains of a wooden horse.

“They’ve learned from you,” the angel says, an edge of bitterness.

“They’ve learned from us,” the demon corrects, but without rancor.

The angel pauses to study the remains of a temple, altar within shattered, blood spattered across the floor from more than sacrificial animals. “Either way, they surpassed their teachers.”

“They did.” In the distance, past once-impregnable gates that will never close again, high-masted ships depart. Not the attackers, returning victorious to kingdoms that have been destroyed in other ways; these are the survivors, in search of a new home. “Do you suppose they’ll do any better the next time?”

“We must hope,” said the angel, looking where white flowers grow through the cracks in the path. “We must always hope.”

Phoenicia.

Persia.

Carthage.

Rome.

Empires grow.

Empires topple.

They walk, tracing the path of an aqueduct, still valiantly carrying water to an empty city, miles away.

“You know, I really thought they had something this time,” sighs the angel, watching the rodents burrow beneath the monumental stones.

The demon tosses his head, looking at the endless span of arch on arch, crossing a continent. “They did.”

“Next time,” the angel says, with confidence he doesn’t feel. “Next time they’ll get it right.”

“They will. For a time.”

“Oh, there is no need for you to be…pessimistic,” the angel snaps.

“It’s not pessimism, it’s – oh, never mind.” The demon saunters a little faster. “I think I see a village up ahead. Probably have something to drink there.”

Wars rage, brought by raiders or kings or desperate humans.

Famine crawls from town to town, spurred on by locusts, by ice storms, by greed.

Pestilence crosses the world again and again.

Death. Death. Death.

An angel kneels in the street, holding a human’s hand. The human isn’t moving.

A demon materializes from the shadows behind him. “Give it a rest. You can’t do anything for him now.”

“I know.” He stands up. “But I had to try.”

All around them, the city stands silent. Not empty. Humans locked in their homes, afraid to go out, afraid to be too close, afraid the plague may catch them, too.

“He should have fled,” the angel says sadly. “Left the city while he still had a chance.”

“Not everyone can run,” the demon points out.

“I know.” After a time, he walks again, the demon beside him. Past empty fountains, abandoned marketplaces, homes boarded shut. “The city has changed so much. Do you remember that lovely restaurant we used to visit?”

“Burned down. Almost a thousand years ago.” The demon shrugs. “Vandals. Or Goths, maybe.”

“Ah. Pity.”

From a nearby alley, the stench of death. The demon tries to look away, only to find himself meeting the angel’s eyes.

“You won’t find anyone in there.”

“I know. But I have to try.”

The demon sighs, but follows him in. “I hate this century.”

“You always say that, dear.”

New continents.

New art styles.

New wars.

New technologies.

Until one afternoon the world ends – and is made anew.

And only one small group of humans will ever know – and an angel and a demon, stepping off a bus together at three in the morning. The city isn’t empty, merely asleep.

Not ready to go inside just yet, they walk around the block, listening to foxes rummage through rubbish bins, watching lights flick on, here and there, where another insomniac has risen from bed.

“What do you suppose comes next?” the angel wonders, when the silence becomes too much. “For the humans.”

“Dunno.” The demon tosses his head, hands stuck in his pockets. “More of the same, I would guess. Life, death, love, hate, good, bad. Human stuff.”

“But something has to change,” the angel insists. “The world nearly ended for…for Heaven’s sake,” he finishes, voice full of irony. “But if it was the Plan, it must mean something. What’s it all leading to?”

“We might find out. Depends what comes next. For us.”

“Ah.” The angel slows. Stops. “Do you…do you suppose they’re very angry?”

The demon turns to face him with a snort. “What do you think?”

“I think…I think…” His hands straighten his waistcoat, smooth his tie. “I think that whatever comes next, however much time we have…I should like to carry on as we always have.” His tone is light, his eyes searching.

A slow nod. “Yeah.” The demon reaches out, gently squeezes the angel’s shoulder. “Yeah. Me too.”

When they start walking again it is, as always, side-by-side.

“And, you know, I would like to see how it all turns out.”

“You and me both, Angel.”

More time passes.

The world grows old. Ancient.

Another war. The Really Big One. Bigger than any seen on Earth or in Heaven.

Everybody fights.

Everybody loses.

When it is over – when all things are over – there is nothing left.

No world, no Paradise, no eternal torment. No Hosts of Heaven, no Legions of Hell.

No humans, no Satan, no God.

Just an endless, eternal expanse of nothing and, somewhere in the featureless plane, an angel in white, kneeling, alone.

Slowly, the darkness around him resolves into another shape. The demon steps forward, fighting back a smile. “There you are. You survived.” As if he hasn’t been frantically searching. “Thought as much. You’re very hard to kill.”

The angel doesn’t respond.

“It sure was a mess, though, wasn’t it?” The demon shakes his head ruefully. “Should have expected it, really, but right at the end when –”

“I was wrong.” The angel hasn’t moved, eyes still locked on the endless Nothing. “Thousands of years, millions of sunrises, and for what? There was never any point.”

“No, Angel.” The demon kneels beside him, rests a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, yeah, you were wrong. Because the ending was never the point. It was the journey – all those millions of days, filled with love and hate and smiling children and fighting with friends and favorite foods and annoying songs and struggles and choices and…and life. Everything they never would have had if they’d stayed in the Garden. That was the point. That was always the point.”

“Perhaps,” the angel tries to smile. “It was lovely, wasn’t it? While it lasted?”

“Yeah. It really was.” The demon helps him to his feet. “And, you know, it’s not completely gone.”

He waves a hand, long fingers trailing through the void as they had at the beginning of time, helping to shape the stars. He gathers together every atom, every wisp of matter, closer, closer, into a ball. The angel presses his hands into it, and together they compress it, tighter, denser, until –

A spark. From neither. From both.

BANG.

The void fills once more.

With chaos.

With potential.

With light.

The demon looks around, nodding with approval. “What do you think, Angel? Time for another walk?”

He gazes out at the disks of galaxies forming in the expanding cloud of debris. “Do you…do you think things will be different this time?”

A shrug. “Only one way to find out.”

Through the glowing crucible of a newborn universe walk an angel and a demon, side-by-side.

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Sweet Tooth

for @top-crowley-central for your protective dom crowley needs

Aziraphale pouted as he sat in their nest made out of clothes, blankets, and pillows. His heat for the first time since coming to earth was due any day now and Crowley was driving him insane. His dom had him under house arrest and though the first few days were fun, Aziraphale now really wanted to be able to wonder!!

“Sir please!!!! Can i please just take a walk outside!!!” pleaded aziraphale as crowley played on his phone next to him. 

“No dove too dangerous….your heat is due any day now and i'm not risking any alphas smelling you in heat” crowley tried to soothe sending calming pheromones to his omega. Azira had been restless lately and was starting to act out. His sub knew the punishments but Crowley was being lenient this time because he understood why. 

“But i can walk with you!!!” aziraphale pleaded. 

Crowley sighed and gently kissed Aziraphales head “the answer remains the same as it always has for the past week dove...no” 

“....your chicken aren't you? Scared of a couple of alphas” Aziraphale spat out only to have his collar yanked on and pulled to face Crowley who was hissing.

“Now dove i have been lenient with your outbursts this past week but don't forget for a moment who is in charge, or would like a reminder in the form of a firm spanking?” crowley hissed 

Aziraphale looked defiant at first before submitting and mumbling no

“No...what?” crowley ordered

“No sir” grumbled aziraphale 

Crowley let go of his collar and laid back again rubbing aziraphales back and playing more games on his phone. Suddenly Aziraphale had a brilliant plan to get crowley to release him and smiled at his dom.

“Sir…...could you please grab me another book?” pouted aziraphale.

Crowley smiled though and nodded and got up and had his back to aziraphale. Aziraphale grinned and snapped his fingers causing crowley to go down like a lead weight and caught him and put him in the nest.

“Its only for an hour or so darling….be back in a tic!” aziraphale said before wiggling a bit and bolting out the door to his favorite bakery. 

Aziraphale grinned as he walked into the bakery. It smelled divine!! Aziraphale grinned as he looked through the case and chatted with the lovely young women about her upcoming baby. He choose out an Oreo cheesecake and a strawberry cheesecake. The women started packing it up when the door to the bakery opened again. Azira was just about to turn around when he felt the cold barrel of a gun against his head. 

He heard the owner gasp out and back away from the counter. Then the man behind him spoke “give me all the money in the register or I will blow his brains out all over the counter” he ordered. The women nodded weakly and went to the register. 

Azira was quiet for a moment before speaking “my good sir, we do not have to point guns to each other….let us talk civaly about this matter” said azira gently 

The barrel dug deep into the skin on his scalp now causeing a slight wince “shut the fuck up fag! Or I will shoot you once I have the money” he shouted. 

“Oh my….if it's money you're after i can give you plenty…..but leave the poor girl alone” azira said only to be grabbed by the shoulder and turned around with the gun pointing right between his eyes now. “Where is your fucking money then fag!” yelled the man

Aziraphale took a deep breath “just give me a moment to find it and-” he was cut off as he heard a click from the gun and the trigger was pulled. There was a loud bang but….no bullet. The robber looked confused but then a very angry alphas scent flooded the store. 

“How dare you…….HOW FUCKING DARE YOU POINT A GUN AT MY MATE!!!” screamed crowley scales all over his body. Crowley grabbed the man's hand and snapped it backwards, the man hollowing in agony. Crowley then uses his claws to dig into the man's back, tearing all the muscles in it to shreds. Finally Crowley uses his devil's tail to strangle the man to death and drops his dead on the floor before looking up.

The woman at the register has fainted and aziraphale is right behind her fanning her face. Crowley snaps his fingers getting rid of the body and blood. And then storms over to aziraphale grabbing him by the arm and lifting him over his shoulder.

“Crowley put me down!!! That poor woman will be traumatized when she wakes up!!!” aziraphale complained. Crowley snapped his fingers without word wiping her memory before storming to the Bentley and shoving aziraphale inside. 

Aziraphale went dead silent from the scent his Dom was edmitting as Crowley floored it back to the bookshop without another word. Finally they arrived at the bookshop and crowley carried azira inside and set him down in the nest pacing before speaking. His voice ice cold and controlled.

“Aziraphale…..what did i say about leaving the nest right now?” crowley demanded to know. “......................not...to?” Aziraphale whispered back. Crowley hissed so aziraphale quickly added “sir” 

“Thats right….i did. Funny, i dont think a bakery is your nest Aziraphale…..in face i would argue its a solid mile from where your nest is!” hissed crowley as his scales shimmered in the light of their bedroom. “..........i just wanted a bit of fresh air sir!!! I didn't feel like I was going into heat any time soon!!!” azira argued

“ANGEL THAT IS NOT THE POINT!!! You could have been in danger and then there was the robbery!!! Do you feel it was perfectly fine to trick me with a spell and leave just to have a cake!!” hissed crowley

Aziraphale pouted at his dom. “I feel it was justified sir” Aziraphale said, fluttering his eyelashes in hopes of calming crowley down. His dom had a look equivlent to murder though. “Your overdue for your heat any day now and you had the brillant idea to sneak off to the bakery without me….where there was a fucking robery….AND THEN TRY TO STOP THE ROBBER!?” yelled crowley.

Azira paled a bit as when Crowley put his actions in that light it seemed really bad. “I..i...i was just trying to protect the human crowley darling! And that poor human was very confused. He didn't know what he was doing wrong!!” aziraphale tried to argue but shrunk back at the glowing gold eyes. Crowley paced the floor of the bookshop quietly snarling and hissing at the floor. “....he had a gun angel!!! He was pointing it at your bloody skull and pulled the bloody trigger!!” hissed crowley. 

Azira had nothing to say and looked at the floor ashamed and red faced. Crowley sighed as his rage left him and he looked at the shamed and guilty sub. 

Walking over he hugged azira tight to his chest. “.....i just…..ive already lost you once in that damned fire….i will be blessed if i lose you again so simply to something i can easily prevent…..angel….those alphas wont care your bonded or anything…..and i refuse to let you be hurt like that. Thats why it scared me to wake up and find you gone...do you understand?” crowley asked softly

Aziraphale nodded quietly, hugging Crowley back. Finally crowley let Aziraphale go and paced the room. “That doesn't mean your off scott free...i need to think of a punishment that will stick in your head!” he said pacing 

Finally Crowley faced him and walked over and yanked aziras face up to look at him. Azira went reder at the grin that now covered his doms face. Crowley smiled and hissed in aziras ear “I know just how to punish you my precious dove….when your heat comes….im going to tie you up and have my way with you...but you will not be allowed to touch me” he smiled. 

Aziras face went shocked as he whispered “you wouldn't….” but Crowley only grinned bigger. Of course Crowley himself knew he wouldn't do that for the full heat…..just two days of it to really make it clear to azira that when he says don't leave the nest….it means….DON'T LEAVE THE NEST!

“.....you made your bed angel….now lets lay in it” snickered crowley as he lead his sub to their nest. 

He was right though, Azira did not disobey His Dom after that heat….for at least 6 months. Back to the drawing board crowley.

[amuseoffyre]

Crossing Paths - 1846-1859 - London & Rome

You know that satisfied sigh that ‘Aziraphale’ gives while he cricks his neck from side to side in the Hellfire? That’s me right now :) I needed this chapter.

1846 – Whitechapel

Crowley hated prophets.

Always had, always would.

They were like the idiot who thinks it’s a good idea to kick a beehive, then acted surprised and offended when people complained about being stung. Most of them were frauds – which he could excuse – but some of them made work a lot harder than it needed to be. And what was worse was when they were right.

Most of them weren’t, but some of them got close enough that it was starting to make Crowley’s skin creep and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

They were talking about Armageddon.

Not just one or two anymore. Every week, someone new popped up and their deadline was suddenly a lot shorter.

The volcano that turned the world icy three decades ago was the start of it all. His favourite comet hadn’t helped. The year after it appeared in the sky, Albrecht and Wesley started putting the fear of God into people. And now, a bunch of loonies were quoting Revelation and shouting from the rooftops about the End of Days and the coming of the Antichrist.

All fine and dandy for the humans who laughed at them and called them charlatans, but not so good when you go into Head Office and they’re just as excited as some of the nutters upstairs. Not long now, they were saying. It’s coming soon.

He’d grinned along with them, then fled back to his house and dug out the ancient battered copy of the Bible he kept locked up in his safe. It was like carrying a grenade around, that thing, but sometimes, it helped to know what everyone was thinking. Also, for coming up with better arguments to throw at the angel. He always got so offended by them.

Crowley put on his heavy alchemist’s gloves and lifted the book down onto his desk, turning the thick vellum pages all the way to the back. The book of Revelations might have been the ramblings of a sun-stroke addled madman on a mushroom high, but he’d got enough right that it was worth keeping an eye on.

Crowley adjusted his glasses to keep his eyes from burning as he read through it, his heart sinking with every word. The four horsemen were legends down below. Everyone had heard of them. If they were involved, then it wasn’t good. Combined with some of the Jewish theories about the timeline – bloody sacred numbers were always annoying – and all the other evidence, it didn’t sound promising.

He sank back in his seat, his hands trembling.

Shit, shit, shit.

They were right. It was coming. It was coming soon. A world that would last six thousand years. They were in the home stretch now. Hundred years left. Maybe two at a push. And then…

And then war.

The Fallen against the Heavens.

Demons against Angels.

The world didn’t matter to them. They didn’t care. It was just a convenient battlefield. It would be left in ash and ruin and no one upstairs or downstairs would even notice. They never had and they never would and everything would be gone and he would be expected to take up arms and stand with them and–

“Shit,” he whispered again.

He remembered the last battle. He remembered the fire in his wings and the pain and worse than anything else, feeling Her Grace being stripped away. It had been like the air in his lungs, as natural as breathing, and then it was gone and all he had done was ask. Was it so wrong to ask? Was it so wrong to wonder? Was he so wrong?

When She had let him Fall, when the only world he had known was ripped from him, he had screamed and raged and wept, everything raw and painful and broken. He had been so sure he was ready to hate Her – hate them – hate everything about the world that had led to their undoing until he was allowed to seek daylight again and felt grass and stone beneath his feet…

And then an angel smiled at him.

Oh God.

Aziraphale.

Lucifer, Beelzebub, the others – they wouldn’t show mercy. The only good angel, they often said, was a dead angel. And Aziraphale – the bloody stupid idiot – had given away his divine weapon. He wouldn’t be able to defend himself against them, not even if he wanted to.

Crowley felt sick, brutal, bloody images slithering unwanted across his vision.

And it wasn’t like he could stand against them, not all of them, if they came after the angel. They would as well. Everyone knew Aziraphale was the Heavenly beacon on earth. He would be a prime target for them, a symbolic kill, head on a pike to show that earth was their domain and battleground now.

“No, no, no…” Crowley keened, his whole body coiling in on itself in horror at the thought.

What the Heaven was he meant to do against the full might of the armies of Hell?

The only advantage he had was that they had no idea that he was sitting on the fence. It wasn’t much of a trump card, but it was better than nothing. They wouldn’t expect trouble from him, especially not for the sake of a Heavenly Principality.

Right.

Okay.

Element of surprise. That was something to use. Something they wouldn’t see coming. Enough to get him and Aziraphale safely out of the way if it came down to it. Anything beyond that, they could worry about when the time came, but now…

He pushed back from his desk. The low-level hum of the Bible’s power was making his skin itch and his head ache. He needed to be away, to think. Holiness was always so…

He froze, halfway out of the seat.

Holiness.

Well… no demon would ever see a holy attack coming from behind them.

He stared down at the Bible, until his face was aching from the prickling of the power. Couldn’t just use a bible. Running around whacking people on the head with a book was a solid mode of attack – Aziraphale had proved that one evening when Crowley had surprised him – but the Bible was more of a slow-burn on contact, not exactly the kind of thing to keep a powerful demon down for long.

Crucifixes?

Nah. Needed to get too close for them to be useful.

He swung out of the chair, pacing back and forward across the room. Relics fired out of a cannon, maybe? Saints could be pretty holy, but then there was the problem of sifting the real bones from the false ones. If he remembered right, the Habsburgs had three left thighs of John the Baptist last time he passed through. He was pretty sure one of those was a cow bone as well.

Also, a cannon wasn’t exactly the most subtle stab-someone-in-the-back weapon.

He went over to the window, looking out on the gloom of the city. Rain was rattling against the windows and he stared at the glass, putting out a finger to track a single from the middle of the pane to the bottom, where it merged with its brethren and flowed down into the gutters below.

“Oh…” he breathed.

Yes.

That–

It wouldn’t just hurt anyone who came after Aziraphale. It would stop them dead. Okay, yes, technically, if he managed to splash himself with it, he would be out of the equation as well, but that was the advantage of not being a complete moron. Precautions could be taken.

But killing…

He sank to sit against the edge of the window, pressing his shaking hands to the frame. It wasn’t as if he wanted to harm anyone, but given a choice of someone like Hastur or the angel. Hell, given the choice of Hastur or himself, it was an easy answer. He was a demon. What were they expecting? Self-interest came with the territory.

“Shit,” he whispered again, knocking his head back against the glass. He pulled off his glasses and tugged off one glove with his teeth, so he could rub at his eyes.

It–

They had time. They had decades. That was plenty, wasn’t it? There had to be options. Some other way that didn’t mean killing one of his own. But if worst came to worst…

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember how to breathe and trying desperately not to think of what the worst could be, of the fire and brimstone and blood and bodies and Aziraphale gone, burned away by the wrath of Hell because Crowley wasn’t there, wasn’t fast enough, couldn’t – wouldn’t – didn’t stop them.

“Shut up,” he whispered. “Shut, up, shut up, shut up.”

 1859 – Rome

Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept.

It was after that volcano incident, but not much. That when things started going a bit squiffy. And definitely before some fancy wanker had decided to stick his name on the comet that the demon had considered his since time immemorial. Saw it first, Crowley had grumbled. Should be my name on it.  

Hell was still buzzing with excitement. Portents and doom were in the air. Prophets were still popping out of the woodwork. The proverbial clock was definitely ticking now. Everyone knew it, even if they didn’t know exactly when it was meant to chime.

The demon was crouched on his toes on the edge of the rooftop, staring out across Rome.

The Vatican pulsed with the power of faith, throbbing against his aching eyes. Everything about it made him want to scratch at his skin. If there was anywhere to steal a weapon, this was the place. Trouble was getting inside. Grabbing one of the Pope’s staffs or something blessed by him… not exactly a divine sword, but almost close enough?

The wind made Crowley’s coat flap around him. He shuddered and straightened up, stepping into the air and emerging on the street below.

Every step he took closer to the Basilica and the centre of the church’s power felt like tar was wrapping around his legs, slowing him down and forcing him back. Every step was harder and the closer he got, the tighter his skin felt, until he had to stop, staggering, gasping against a wall. Not even within a mile of the place and he could barely move.

No chance of getting there.

He swore furiously, miserably under his breath. What kind of demon was he if he couldn’t even find a way to steal a weapon of God?

Once he finally managed to gather the energy to retreat to a safe distance, he huddled in the shade of a building overlooking the Trevi fountain, drowning his frustrations in a pricy bottle of wine. Over the bustle of the city, he could hear the constant rush of the water on stone.

Crowley looked out of the window at the fountain, gleaming in the afternoon light.

Back to that, then.

Holy Water. The only substance that could truly kill a demon. Even crosses were only an inconvenience by comparison, but Holy Water…

“Shit,” he breathed against the rim of the glass.

Only place to get the stuff was in a church. Only way to get to it was to step on consecrated ground. If he couldn’t even walk up to the exterior wall of a bloody basilica, how was he even meant to get anywhere near their… well? Plumbing? Spring? Hell only knew where they kept it.

Could kidnap a Priest, he supposed. But a blessing over water under duress probably wouldn’t work anyway. And if he let a priest make some water holy for him, he’d probably find it being thrown in his face a second and a half later.

But he had to get it. No choice anymore. If things went tits up – and all the signs said that they would some time in the not-too-distant-future – it was better to be ready for every eventuality.

Not from a priest. Impossible from a church. Maybe the angel could give him some advice…

Crowley lowered his glass, staring into space.

The angel.

Bloody hellfire.

All this time worrying about how to get the most fatal liquid known to his kind and all the while, he was friends with one of the only creatures in the world who could make it with nothing more than a gesture.

But he wouldn’t. He’d never. Not one of the most powerful weapons in Heaven’s arsenal. It had taken enough to persuade him to do temptations in the beginning. Several centuries of convincing him was all when and good when they had time, but they didn’t. Not anymore.

Crowley prodded at his glass, distracted. Other options first, he decided, and if there was no other way, that was the only time the angel needed to know. Better not to get him worried about what might be coming. He had enough pressure from above. He didn’t need any more.

“Right,” Crowley murmured. “How do I break into a church?”

[ineffably-effable]

Come up and see me (make me smile)

Mesopotamia, 3004 BC

Summary:  Mesopotamia, 3004 BC.

1690 words

AN: Couldn’t get this scene out of my head, it continues the role-reversal au started in Come up and see me (make me smile)

Thanks again to @mia-ugly for being being an amazing beta reader.

(read on ao3)

Crowley was in a horrible mood. He had spent the better part of the week arguing with his superiors, and all he had to show for it was a splitting headache and a reputation as a bleeding-heart humanitarian. 

So, instead of wasting his breath, Crowley had chosen to channel his rage into protecting the eight measly lives he was permitted to save. This was the reason he was standing in the hot sun, in the midst of the crowd that had turned out to watch wild animals being wrangled by three absurdly unqualified men. A few feet from Crowley, he overheard a woman sniping to her husband, “It’s a miracle those idiots haven’t been mauled to death", and was sorely tempted to tell her just how right she was. 

It was only a short while later, right when he was contemplating the morality of letting Shem get kicked by a giraffe, that Crowley felt a tap on his shoulder and turned (the wrong way first, sneaky bastard ) to see a familiar salt-and-pepper haired demon grinning cheerfully at his side. 

“Crowley! I thought it was you! Those flaming locks of yours are quite distinctive,” he babbled excitedly, charming in a way that softened Crowley’s bad mood considerably. 

“Hello, Aziraphale.” he said, trying very hard not to smile. 

“I don’t suppose you know what all this is about?” Aziraphale asked. “Did upstairs request some sort of nautical menagerie?” 

Crowley smirked.  

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Please. I could sense the divine energy holding that thing together from a mile away.”

“I’d hardly be a decent angel if I went around divulging divine plans to my occult foe,” Crowley teased.

“Oh, don’t be so… prejudiced.”

“Prejudiced?”

“It means narrow-minded, discriminatory.” Azirphale informed him, smugly.

“I know what it m-”

“So what’s going on?” Aziraphale interrupted. “Why would you build it so far inland? Are you expecting a flood?”

“A flood?” (Crowley, who was painfully aware of how high his voice had just pitched, determinedly ignored Aziraphale’s raised eyebrow and sidelong glance.) “Of course not-  why would you- I mean- that would be an awful lot of rain- and the area is in a drought so- you know what- don’t you dare laugh at me!”  

“ My dear, you’re very fetching when you’re flustered.” 

(Fetching.)

Crowley had a horrible suspicion his face had turned as red as his hair.

(He thinks you’re f-)

“For the love of- demon, please go pester someone else.” 

“Where would be the fun in that?” he replied cheekily, glancing from the boat to the surrounding crowds. His expression sobered.

“I hope you’ll forgive me asking, but that doesn’t seem like a very large boat,” he pursed his lips, “especially not with all those animals.” He turned to look at Crowley. “How many humans are you planning to squeeze in there?”

Crowley could feel his bad mood returning with a vengeance.

“All in all? Eight.” Crowley tried to keep his voice level. 

“Eight? ”  Aziraphale repeated, in the dry tone of someone who had heard perfectly well the first time, but would prefer a different answer.

“Eight.” Crowley confirmed.

“ She’s going to drown everybody else ?” 

“The other continents will be excluded, and most of this one, it’s really just the space enclosed by the two great rivers,” Crowley said flatly, repeating almost verbatim the answer he’d received from Gabriel. Aziraphale had gone pale.

“That’s- hundreds of settlements, thousands of people…” he trailed off as a group of children ran past them, giggling. He stared at Crowley with a horrified expression on his face. 

Crowley nodded miserably. 

“Oh Crowley.”  The unexpected sympathy in the demon’s voice felt like a gut-punch. Aziraphale reached out - perhaps to squeeze Crowley’s shoulder - but retracted his hand guiltily, when the angel flinched away from the offered comfort.

“It’s not like they asked me for my opinion. They didn’t even have the decency to tell me in person.” Crowley grit his teeth. “Gabriel sent a memo .” 

“Crowley…”

“Oh, and get this, after it’s done, She’s going to promise not to do it again by refracting light through the leftover water in the atmosphere. Isn’t that nice? ” His tone was scathing now, he felt hot tears pooling in his eyes but he didn’t care. He was about to continue, really lay into some of the idiotic notions Gabriel had used to explain the affair, when he felt a tentative hand resting on his arm.

“I think,” Aziraphale said slowly - as if he were talking Crowley down from a cliff’s edge - “that you’re upset, and you need to choose your words very carefully.” 

Crowley waved off the demon’s concern.

“We’re allowed to have doubts, as long as we’re good soldiers and follow orders. It’s only questioning Her outright that leads to trouble.” 

“Is that so?” Aziraphale said, face blank. Crowley couldn’t look at him.

Instead they both watched the chaos together, silently observing as one of the unicorns escaped the containment area and made a break for it. 

Crowley wondered if the ineffable plan anticipated the extinction of that species, or if it was just dumb luck.

“What if there were another boat?” Aziraphale asked out of nowhere.

Crowley scoffed. 

“We’re in the middle of the desert. Who else would be building another boat?”

Aziraphale, who had been staring at Crowley expectantly, stayed silent. 

Crowley frowned.

“You can’t.” 

“Can’t miracle anything too big, no,” the demon mused. “Won’t be enough space for everyone obviously, but might do for a score of children, maybe even some adults.” He had a distant expression on his face, as though he were doing the arithmetic right then and there. 

“Aziraphale. It’s out of the question.” 

“Your opinion has been duly noted.” 

“What if you get caught ?” Crowley asked, voice strained.

Aziraphale laughed bitterly, “I don’t see your lot down here getting their hands dirty,“ he said snidely. “A storm seems like an exceptionally passive aggresive method of genocide.” 

Crowley would have agreed with that point, if he weren’t trying to talk the demon out of getting himself smote or worse.

“What about your lot? You think they’ll look favourably on an act of compassion?!” 

“Compassion? I’m a demon, dear boy, thwarting the will of heaven is literally in the job description.” He smiled reassuringly at Crowley. “If they’re truly sinners we’ll get them in the end, and if they’re not, well at least we’ll have a chance at tempting them.” He shrugged. “Hell, I can even bring some teenagers on board, stock the boat with some fermented juice,  that’ll guarantee some licentiousness.” 

Crowley could feel a headache coming on.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I thought it might make you feel better?” he said, sounding very much like he thought it was obvious. “Surely you can’t want children to die?”

“I- that’s- not the point. God’s plans are ineff- oh, don’t smirk at me - so what am I supposed to do, just look the other way?”

“When the time comes you’ll be on the ark,” the demon said, matter-of-factly, “It gives you plausible deniability - even an angel can’t be everywhere at once.” 

“You’ve really thought this through.” It could work, Crowley was shocked to find himself thinking.

“You needn’t sound so surprised.” Aziraphale replied, insulted.

Crowley laughed.

“To be fair, this is a bit of a leap from accidentally abetting original sin. I need a second to adjust.”

“You’re awfully snippy for an angel, dear.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

“That reminds me, how did giving away your sword work out for you?“ 

Crowley bit his lip.

(When he’d been asked outright by the Almighty - Where is the sword I gave you, Crowliel - he’d caved immediately. Shame-faced he’d admitted what he’d done to protect the humans and, in lieu of punishment, he received the ethereal equivalent of having his hair ruffled. He had been sent on his way with the warm feeling of being hugged, and the sound of her gentle laughter warm in his chest.)

“Crowley?” 

“Oh… I got the feeling She was amused by it,” he said, embarrassed.

“She must have a soft spot for you,” Aziraphale said, in a tone that was difficult to read. He looked away. “How long is the flood meant to last anyway?”

“Once the storm starts? Forty days and forty nights.” 

“Hmm. Heaven does like their nice tidy numbers don’t they.” Crowley wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Aziraphale gave him an apologetic smile. “I should probably get going. Heavenly plans to thwart, no rest for the wicked and so on.” 

“Ah, yes,” Crowley responded, dumbly. A little surprised (but definitely not hurt) by the abrupt transition. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to delay the demon’s departure, but when Aziraphale turned to leave, Crowley found himself speaking up.

“Maybe I’ll see you around afterwards then?” he asked.

Aziraphale’s yellow eyes lit up. Suddenly nervous, Crowley back-pedaled, “I’ll have to er- try and salvage all those souls you’ve damned.” 

Aziraphale studied his face, giving Crowley a scrutinizing look that slowly morphed into a bemused expression. 

“You’re welcome to give it your best shot, angel,” he replied with a grin. 

Before Crowley could snark back the demon had vanished.

It was funny, Crowley thought, that the demon had been the one to come up with a way to save people. That he could even be bothered to try.

(“Be funny if we both got it wrong eh? If I did the bad thing and you did the good one?” )

Above him the sky was growing dark with approaching storm clouds. The first drops of rain had started to fall and a sharp, loud, crack of thunder rang out.  

Crowley cringed.

On second thought, it wasn’t very funny at all.

[muses-darling]

Fire & Fury - A Star Wars AU - Ch.12 Malachor V

Ships of Sith and Jedi landed on the planet each attempting to stop the other. Fighting in futility. Sith Troopers, Sith Inquisitors, Sith Warriors, Republic Troopers, Jedi Knights, Jedi Masters all fighting in a flash of violence as the war was coming to a tumultuous head. War was ugly, war was brutish, it needed to end. Hades moved through with the darkness in Kit’s mind the darkness that had filled it was not meant to be there. There were parts of him that had become shut off in the wake of it all. 

“Kit?” 

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted Hades to the presence of new comers. He stood turning ready to fight them off but stopped as he saw the approach of the exact people he needed. “Crowley! Aziraphale! Harper and Ben!” He was certain he had never been more happy to see the four of them. “You’re alive.”

“No thanks to you and your lot.” Crowley gestured to the sky above.

“The war has to come to an end.” Hades looked them over.

“Is he dead?” Ben asked looking at Kit who lay on the ground.

“Thankfully no,” Hades looked to Kit, “HK’s got a wonderful shot, incapacitated him.”

“Oh well that’s wonderful could have mentioned that when we let him aboard.” Crowley looked to Kit on the ground. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Hades admitted. “I don’t know in the time I’ve been separated from him. Something is wrong. There is so much more darkness than light.” 

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look.

“Either way I don’t think we have much time, we need to get off this planet and fast then away from here. With the lot of you.”

“Oh no you’re not dying not now that you have reunited with Kit.”

“I’ve got to end this, before it is too late.”

“Hades you can’t just-”

“-I can and I will.” Hades glared at Aziraphale. “I am an Emperor. I do as I please. Now get him off of here, leave I’ve some unfinished business to attend to.” Hades watched the star fighter enter the stratosphere. “But leave Casper, I need him still.”

“Haven’t you tormented him enough?”

“I need him to end this. Unless you want this war to continue?”

Crowley sighed watching Azirphale take Kit. “Fine, fine! Just let the poor bastard live.”

“I intend too.” Hades watched them go. 

_

Darth Ceres approached where Hades stood with Casper, “I believe you are needed Engineer.”

“Am I?” Casper asked.

“Cheeky boy! He built a biometric bypass into the remote.”

“I know he did, I suggested it.”

“Why?”

“Because traitorous witch, I know your tricks all to well, you think yourself so clever, but in all actuality you are only as clever as the backend of a Nerf.” Hades watched her seethe where she stood.

“Where is Darth Kore?”

“Oh you mean Kit? Nasty work you’ve done with him will be hard to undo, but rest assured you won’t live to see it reversed. You’ve hurt that man for the last time. You’ve betrayed me for the last time and you won’t succeed in killing my engineer.” Hades walked up to her. “Now then draw your blade or accept your death vile woman, for I have come to lay you low. Casper get to her ship and wait there.”

“You think I won’t kill him all I need is-” 

“Him alive? Yes I’m well aware of needing his biometrics that require him to have a very specific range of temperature the one humans’ have when alive.” Hades drew his blades once more igniting them. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Not if you die first.” She hissed her lightsaber whip igniting as she lashed out at Hades. 

Hades brought up one blade watching the end catch around it and feeling her pulling him towards her. Using the force to ground himself where he stood he clenched his teeth before pulling the woman close throwing his lightsaber with the force sending her all the way to him moving to impale her on his blade. 

A blade ignited in Hades’ peripherals, Kit stood as Crowley lay in Aziraphale’s arms a silent cry of rage on the light haired man’s face. “Sorry to keep you Mother.”

“Good boy now be a dear and help me kill Hades won’t you?” Darth Ceres looked at Kit.

“With pleasure.”

“Kit,” Hades spoke brokenly. “Please come to your senses.”

“Why? What’s the fun in that darling?” Kit asked him nearing him. “Kit.” Hades watched Kit come closer feeling his heart beat race with every step. He would not fight him not here not now. “Kit.” He backed away from him.

“Aww what’s that Ignis? Afraid of dying by his hand? Looks like even the great Ignis has something to be afraid of.” Darth Ceres walked closer as she neared Hades and Kit she looked to Kit. “Do it, kill and be done with this.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kit said a terrible smile on his face before his eyes became green and he turned thrusting his lightsaber into Ceres or what had been where she was standing. 

Darth Ceres landed behind Hades with the agility of a cat, “Do you really think I became a Lady of the Sith by not seeing betrayals coming a mile away BOY?” She sneered throwing up her hand and pushing Kit far into a tree.

“I don’t think it worked Crowley,” Aziraphale said watching Kit fly backwards. “We may have to step in ourselves.” 

Crowley sighed kissed Aziraphale getting up drawing his lightsaber. “Get the bloody ship ready for us for the moment we leave.”

“But-” Ben started before Harper pulled him away from the shuttle ramp. 

Hades watched the shuttle with Kit leave unable to help himself needing to know his love was safe.

“You really should keep focused dear,” Darth Ceres grasped him in her hand before slamming her knee into him. 

Hades dropped with a gasp watching her whip come back to life as it reached her. 

Darth Ceres pulled back the whip before throwing the length in Hades’ direction with a snap. Her Cortosis gloves allowing her to touch the blade and guide it to where it needed to go. “A shame you were once the most powerful Sith now look at you kneeling before me.” She stood over him a cat playing with the proverbial mouse smile on her face. “As you always should have.”

Hades once more caught the whip length on his blade using the force to summon his other blade back to him as he saw the terrain behind her. He stood rushing her once more pulling her length back with the one blade and sending it back from her towards a tree. She was pulled back due to her grip on the blade. 

Darth Ceres landed hard watching as Hades closed the distance she brought up a shoto sized lightsaber. “What nothing to say?” She asked as she stood up with a laugh. “I can only wonder what is going through that mind of yours. You can’t possibly conceive a plan where you come out on top! Let alone alive.” 

Hades used the force to push her at her then reached for a rock pulling it towards her tripping her again. Lightning moved along his body as his anger twisted in the force wrapping the energy around him.  They fought hard and long their distance from the ship growing farther and farther as they moved along the terrain.

-

Kit sat up as Aziraphale and Crowley reached him. “Hades?”

“Can finish this, we need to get you back to the ship,” Aziraphale pulled out a bacta pack pressing it to the wound at Kit’s side. “Come on dear boy.” 

Crowley silenced any further protest from Kit and helped him stand. “Come on I think we can still watch for your beloved’s safety from the ship.”

-

Casper looked at HK-47 who seemed to be watching through the scope on his blaster. “Isn’t he your master and aren’t you supposed to he helping him?”

HK-47 didn’t look at him but replied, “Statement: There are more than one ways to shut a meatbag up who breaks your focus, shall I demonstrate one of them on you?”

“N-no please don’t,” Casper said somehow becoming a shade paler.

“Reply: then don’t be one of those meatbags.”

-

Hades looked up at Ceres, “You know have I ever had HK-47 tell you what love is?” 

Ceres looked at him, “What?”

“HK-47 what is the definition of love?” Hades asked pulling out his comm.

“Definition: 'Love' is making a shot to the knees of a target 120 kilometers away using an Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope... Love is knowing your target, putting them in your targeting reticule, and together, achieving a singular purpose against statistically long odds." HK-47 said as his sniper blaster went off.

Ceres’ body jerked as her knee was utterly and devastatingly destroyed. 

Hades smiled, “I think everyone should know what love is before they die.” Hades reached a hand into the thick mass of her hair dragging her. “You made me suffer, you attempted to take Kit and twist him up into someone he is not, what kind of Mother does that to her own son?” He asked using the force to keep her from moving. Ceres attempted to speak. “Shhhh-shhhh-shhh-shhh, don’t speak it’s better for you if you learned to let other’s talk instead, I’ve not quite finished what I have to say.” He made her look up at him with the force. “I want you to be alive when this planet goes off. I want you to feel the whole of the experience many above will only be able to imagine.” Hades grinned at her there was few times where he let himself give into the violence especially after marrying Kit but there was something about Ceres that made his blood boil. “Just remember the force is in all things.” Hades told her. “But not you,” He closed his eyes and reached out in the force doing as he had with Kit to seal away the darkness in him then to restore his memories but for her, he sealed the force completely from her. 

Ceres sat there in dumb silence. 

“Finally you have no words with which to speak. I cannot imagine a more terrible thing than the fate you have been sentenced, but an equally terrible person should get such a fate.” Hades turned from her and walked away to the ship, “Shall we?”

They made their way aboard the Flag Ship watching the ships fight in the fray from a very great distance. 

-

Alucard looked at the cluster of Sith ships that had not once made their way into battle. “Sonething’s not right.” 

“I’ll say,” Honey felt it too, something. “We need to get away from all of this!” She fired a turret blast watching a Sith fighter blow up. “Now!”

“Agreed.” Alucard looked at the Sith flag ship there was something on it. “What is that? The device attached to the nose of the ship?” He turned on the comm. “Sir I think the Sith have something-”

“-Never mind what it is keep fighting that is an order.”

“But-” Alucard started something felt wrong in the force. 

“I said-” The com cut as the ship exploded.

Alucard watched as one of the Republic command ships disintegrated in the space before them. “Well he conscripted us now he is gone, I say we leave.” 

“I second,” Honey looked at him. “We did our part. I don’t know about you but I’m tired of this war.”

“As am I.” Alucard leaned the controls back and fought his way from the Sith and the Republic to where they could get away from all of it. 

-

Hades looked to Casper, “Now do what you must do this war must come to an end, swiftly.”

“And if I refuse?” Casper asked.

“Then this war will continue until the galaxy is destroyed, either way those on that planet are already dead.” Hades told him. “Either in what will come next or the battles to come with your refusal.” 

Casper looked at him, then nodded before reaching forward and pressing his hand to the biometric scanner. “I will not press the button.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Hades told him before pressing the button watching as energy arched up from the planet all around. The ship they were on moved forward. The ships around the planet or near it all buckled, smashed or were destroyed as the planet broke before the gravity pulled it back along with the ships into a tight mass held together. 

If one thought that Hades felt nothing in regards to any of this, they were wrong, but he also knew that all of those who survived this day would also have felt it. It would cause them all to question why they continued fighting it had too! This war had become senseless violence. Hades had, had his fill of bloodshed, he felt it all, every last one of those on the planet, in the ships all of it a terrible feeling in the force. There was only one way to end this. 

“So now that it is done?” Casper asked.

“You are free to go about your life whatever planet you wish, I will personally see to it that you are sent there.” He reached up in the force and smiled. “Though you won’t remember this. I can’t have you remembering any of it. The Republic will blame you, you will blame yourself, not fair really.” Hades smiled then looked to where Kit was. “So now you see the monster you have married.” 

Kit looked at Hades a face of sadness and anguish, he went to Hades, “Why?”

“Because the war must end, one way or another.” 

“And you have become judge and executioner?” Kit asked.

“If that is what you believe I have made myself.” Hades said softly. “An Emperor must do what is best for his people.” 

Kit walked over to Hades, “I want to hate you, I want to, I want to despise you! I can’t, I just can’t.” Kit said sobbing into Hades’ arms. “I can’t, I still love you.” 

“As I love you.” Hades said wrapping his arms around Kit. “I always will.”

Kit frowned, “Hades what are you doing?”

“Keeping you safe........” 

Hades opened his eyes looking at the truth of what had transpired. He had fought Ceres with HK-47′s help, removed her connection with the force found a Sith shuttle together and piloted it off of the planet to the Sith Ship. Once there he made his way to the bridge to see Kit still seething in the darkside forcing Casper, who had gone aboard Crowley’s ship to wait, to unleash the terrible weapon the planet had become. Then the overwhelming pain of Malachor V being destroyed had kept Hades down it had taken Kit down too the level of pain in the force as so many were wiped out. Hades had come out of it perhaps his longer time with the darkside had helped in some masochistic way. Hurrying to Kit’s side he reached with the force changing Kit’s memories, then Casper’s. Neither would remember the events as they had happened. In regards to Kit he had added the fake memory of Kit plotting with Crowley and Aziraphale, the fake memory on the bridge of arguing too.

“Hades?” Kit asked his bright green eyes opening as the darkside left him and all memory leading up the moment on board after Hades had taken him out on Malachor V was altered.

Hades murmured softly. “I’m keeping you safe.” He smiled sadly.

Hades stood seeing Republic troops and Jedi. “Well at long last you’ve caught me, the dreaded Sith Emperor.” Kit’s memories were altered Casper’s erased, and Hades would take the fall for all of it. Isn’t that what love was? Protecting those you cared about?

[scintillating-galaxias]

give ‘em hell, darling

Chapter Three—Step 2

Uriel makes an example out of Aziraphale.

CW for descriptions of body horror. (Read it here on ao3!)

Aziraphale had forgotten how absolutely clinical Heaven was.

The air had a sterile tastelessness to it that laid heavy on his tongue. Everything was an inoffensive gray, white, or beige, or possibly a daring khaki. Every building was made of polished and unblemished marble and cut perfectly into either cubes or a strange design that, in the human world, would be called ‘modern art’ and then be scoffed at for being labeled as such. There were no decorations to be found. Fountains of holy water and nature were the only exceptions and both were native only to the living quarters of the good human souls that had made it up here. The angelic HQ had no need for such lavacious things. 

Crowley was right about the smell of bleach. Aziraphale hadn’t noticed it before, but it was everywhere, soaking into the cold, cold stone and purging any disease from its purity. It stung his nose and reminded him of the ghastly stories of hospitals that took patients in with no intention of allowing them to leave again. It made him yearn for the metallic smell of rain, the belching fumes of gasoline, the rich, the faintly sweet smell of his leather-bound books, oh his books. He missed them dearly. He missed Earth dearly. And he had only been here for a couple of minutes.

Aziraphale was beginning to feel that he had made a mistake turning himself in so easily. 

He shifted his wrists beneath his tightly bound cuffs. Upon Aziraphale’s arrival, Uriel had bound them and his wings as well so that if he tried to go back down to Earth, he would fall and reach terminal velocity before becoming angelic paste on the pavement. He didn’t use his wings to literally fly from Earth to Heaven or vice versa, but he required their Holy presence to properly go to and from the two places. That being said, he had an extremely painful cramp that was seizing up his entire left side, and he very much doubted he could convince Uriel to loosen the cuffs on his wings so that he may stretch them out.

Speaking of Uriel. That was a rather wicked looking dagger they had.

“What is it?” Their face was a perfectly cut mask of cool indifference, as per usual. But something about it looked pleased at Aziraphale’s discomfort.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Aziraphale said quickly. He glanced away, warily watching the dagger out of the corner of his eye. It was made of some pulsating purple-black material that hissed and bubbled and dripped with something that clearly disagreed with being in such a holy space. He could feel its tarlike aura molding itself onto his, trying to capture as much as it could before drowning it. It made him feel a bit nauseous. It was a mystery how Uriel could hold it at all, even with the glove.

Aziraphale tensed and untensed his arms, trying to relieve some of the pain. “Erm,” he said awkwardly. “That’s a fascinating... knife you’ve got there. Is it new?”

Uriel hardly spared him a glance. “It was specially commissioned from the Hell Forge just for you.”

“I-I see.” Aziraphale swallowed and inched further away from the blade. It appeared Crowley had been correct. Again. Aziraphale should really start to heed his cautiousness more often. You’d think he’d be a little less uppity about it, especially after six thousand years. He bit his lip and hoped Crowley was doing alright without him. 

He tried to distract himself by flicking his eyes to a familiar cityscape. He took in skyscrapers and apartment complexes gleaming in the too-bright sunshine. They stretched their bony structures and scraped an ivory intrusion against the pure blue sky, punctuated by painting-like clouds. Rain was a rarity, yet a rainbow arched gracefully above it all, its colors bold and bright in a way they never would be on Earth. This felt incredibly ironic to Aziraphale. The rainbow had been made for humans after the Almighty had demolished the entire population of Mesopotamia and then some. It was a gift, a promise, to never let it happen again. Shouldn’t that have been proof enough that the whole Written Plan about the Apocalypse was a load of old tosh? Humanity was not meant to come to an End. And here was Heaven using Her promise as a minute detail to a perfect picture.

Aziraphale felt a venomous critter of disgust creep through him. He smiled thinly. “Lucky me.”

“Yes. Lucky you.”

He decided Heaven’s imitation of Earth’s atmosphere was not for him. He focused instead on the floating Globe lazily spinning in the middle of the floor. It felt like yesterday that he was being berated by the Quartermaster as he dipped his finger into the little brown-green patch that was England. He desperately wanted to relive that moment right now. In fact, his finger actually twitched in a desperate attempt to flee, despite being fully aware of what would happen if he did.

He wondered what was going to happen if he didn’t. They’d been standing here for a good ten minutes now and had not moved. “Pardon me, but could you perhaps enlighten me of my fate?” he said, allowing a bit of a plea to slip into his voice. “I am your prisoner. I’d like to think I have a right to know.”

“You’d be wrong.”

Well then. So much for that. Aziraphale pressed his lips together and nodded. Questions still bounced uselessly around his head like the balls inside of a bingo wheel. He picked whichever one popped out first. “What is it that we’re waiting for?”

Uriel finally looked at him, but he almost wished they hadn’t. “Your cell is being prepared. You need to stop asking questions.”

Heaven has a prison? thought Aziraphale. What was the point of that? Why would anyone need to be punished if they, with himself and his Fallen brethren as the exceptions, could do no wrong? Perhaps humans could still be a bit rowdy.  

Or maybe they merely made one just for him. They made a dagger just for him. A room didn’t feel like that large of a stretch. 

Uriel’s chin came up slightly as though they were listening to something. Aziraphale turned his head about, but didn’t see anyone, until he noticed the earpiece place snugly on Uriel’s head. They were silent for a few more seconds. Then they brought a finger to their ear and said, “We’re on our way.” Then, to Aziraphale, “Follow me.”

“Wh—I demand you tell me where we’re going first!”

Uriel barked out a wrathfully amused laugh. “You’re in no position to be making demands. Come.”

They began to walk away. Aziraphale followed them after a hesitant moment.

Together they went down stairwell after stairwell, through hallway after hallway. Every place was strangely devoid of life. Aziraphale peered into offices as they passed by—not a single soul. No one at the desks, no one bustling back and forth with a clipboard, not even a single friendly conversation. The only sounds were the colliding echoes of their footsteps: Uriel’s, firm thuds from the heel of their boots, Aziraphale’s gentler shuffles from his loafers. Apprehension and curiosity began to struggle beneath his skin, straining for answers. He swallowed them down and tred on.

They finally made it to the first floor after what was paradoxically a short eternity and thirty seconds. Uriel went straight for the sliding doors without a single glance back. Either they were confident Aziraphale would not make a harebrained escape attempt, or—no, Uriel was quick as a whip, and could be as dangerous as one, too. Especially with that dagger. Aziraphale wouldn’t be going anywhere. He trudged after Uriel, trying to keep his gaze from drooping to the ground for too long. They went through the sliding doors and Aziraphale—

Aziraphale… stopped.

Because before them, stretching for miles and miles and miles, were millions of angels. The ground and sky were swallowed up by grey suits, white dressed, five thousand all-seeing eyes staring in directions that could never be named. A cacophonous mix of true forms melding around corporeal forms lit up space in impossible colors and shapes. Heat and cold lived as one, light and dark, unified and separate. All types of heavenly creatures from raging seraphim whose being swelled and engulfed everything in a five hundred meter radius to a ninth rank angel who was dwarfed in comparison and everything in-between was there. 

And every single one was staring at Aziraphale. 

Stupefied, he could only manage, “So that’s where everyone went.”

The front of the crowd swelled towards him at his words, taking him in, picking him apart, like a greedy ocean tide lapping at the soles of his feet.

“That’s the traitor?” murmured a Throne. “He doesn’t look it.”

A buzz of agreement rose and fell. Some were even dubiously daring to dart their gaze back and forth between him and Uriel. He could feel it too—the strange mix of righteous anger and unyielding love, yet doubt was melting holes into that steely resolve. Aziraphale coaxed a weak smile to his face. Perhaps—perhaps Heaven had some hope.

“Shut it,” snapped Uriel. Evidently, they were not pleased with the reaction. “Don’t you feel it? This is who sabotaged the Great Plan. This is who turned God’s Will into something of his own creation.”

A few Powers shared a glance. “Do you… want an answer?” said one, very carefully avoiding the word “honesty.”

A nearby Cherub bristled, its interlocking wheels made up of nonexistent planes of existence spinning faster in agitation. This is who renounced God’s will, it howled, their celestial voice resonating from every atom and screaming into every angel’s head, this is who twisted the Great Plan and put Her plans to ruin! This is he who turns his back on the Almighty!

And just like that, the crowd shrank away from Aziraphale, hissing like water on a burning skillet. Uriel smirked and strode into the crowd. It slowly parted around Uriel at first, but as Aziraphale reluctantly went to follow, it shot away as if he were poison. Which, if Heavenly propaganda was up to its old standards, he may as well be.

“There is hope for you yet!” shouted a fellow Principality as he passed. “Renounce, and God’s Love will shine on you once again!”

Aziraphale cringed but did not allow his head to bow in shame. He resolutely kept his eyes up. They couldn’t possibly know what had really happened on Earth. They couldn’t possibly really know Earth. Humanity. He could forgive them.

“Look upon the grayness to his being? He has been tempted to Sin by that demon! Oh, for shame, for shame!”

They didn’t know what a wonderful creature Crowley was. He could forgive them.

“Save him, save him!”

They didn’t know.

“O Lord, bestow upon your lost child the sight to see what is good and just once again…”

He could forgive them.

Aziraphale walked on, and on, and on, walked on through the jeers, walked on through the judging glares, walked on through the tears. The anger was overwhelming him, but he couldn’t tell if it was his own, or simply what he was absorbing from twenty million angels. The tide returned and snared his ankles. It felt like drowning in a boiling sea. Foaming waves dragged his struggling body away from the safety of the shore, tossing him out to churning open water and plunging him deep, deep down into seething depths. Reaching for air wasn’t possible—it was burning too. It forced its way into his mouth and began to broil his insides, setting his very heart aflame. His skin blistered and popped, liquified salt poured into his wounds before he could heal again, taking him apart one quark at a time, until—

“All I have done!” roared Aziraphale, his cuffs humming as they strained to keep his wings from flaring out. The tears on his face steamed up as soon as they touched his flesh. “All I have done is love humanity just as She commanded me!”

Uriel spun around, an ugly rage marring their face. “You went against Her Written Plan!” they bellowed back, dagger jabbing closer to him with each word. “Did She not command that, too?”

“It never was Her Ineffable Plan!”

A collective gasp went up. Heaving, Aziraphale spat, “Or did Gabriel fail to mention that, too?”

The jury of Heaven fell completely silent. Uriel worked their mouth. Aziraphale closed his eyes and desperately tried to control the solar flares leaping from his body. When he reopened his eyes, it was to the sound of Uriel stalking forward, taking Aziraphale by the front of his shirt, and hissing, “We’re going.”

And then they were in a new room. The audience had vanished but their voices echoed again and again. Aziraphale wrenched himself away from Uriel and stumbled back. In the same instant, Uriel disappeared again, leaving him alone.

Like most of Heaven, the room was composed of white. The only color was the golden sigils engraved into the marble walls and himself. He noted with some hysterical despair that the room had nothing in it to fill the space—no beds, no tables, no windows, not even a chair. And, like most of Heaven, it was very cold.

There were no such things as shadows here, no creases in the corners to indicate there even was a corner. He could not tell when one wall ended until another one began. It all stretched into an everlasting white expanse wherever the golden sigils were not present. He sighed; the sound barely made it off his lips before it fell dead. The gazes of the sigils bore down on him, waiting to see what he would do. He closed his eyes against them; they felt too much like what amalgamation waited for him outside.

Quietly, Aziraphale knew this would not last. He remembered the first few angelic beings who doubted his crime. There must be more beyond them. The Cherub had gotten everyone riled up, Aziraphale included. That was simply how Cherubs were. He had seen Uriel’s face when they did not immediately denounce him; clearly, something was incorrect about how they thought Heaven really was. He swiped away another tear and struggled to steady himself with one, two, three shaking breaths. Under better circumstances, perhaps they would have listened. 

There was hope yet. He was not alone. He firmly held on to that thought as he knelt down and wept.