#i did azrael's pose myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-a-space-alien · 6 years ago

Text

Into the Unknown, Part 5: A Desperate Meeting

Series masterpost

On AO3

Despite almost the entirety of Hell and a decent chunk of Heaven scrambling about like a hive-mind of ants to locate Satan or any of the other troublemakers, they turned up mostly empty-handed. It seemed Satan had decided he would quite like to stay hidden for now. Not his usual modus operandi, but he wasn’t so stupid he couldn’t see when he was clearly outnumbered and outgunned, and he was powerful enough to accomplish a disappearing act when he wanted to.

They did spot Hastur, briefly, in the stratosphere above the Atlantic Ocean, but he was gone by the time the scout managed to come back with reinforcements to confront him. They speculated he had likely joined up with Satan, who had always been his primary loyalty, besides Ligur.

They also caught sight of Gabriel with Kabata, of all people, lurking outside of Heaven’s gate, of all places. That pair made themselves difficult to find, too. But with Maltha’s report about what exactly Uriel had done to Gabriel, and Crowley’s report of Kabata’s seemingly ambivalent attitude about everything nowadays, they didn’t seem to be the likely source of any further trouble. Still...one had to wonder what they were up to.

In the wake of these efforts, Metatron called for a meeting. Calling for a meeting was really all that was left of Metatron’s power, but everyone was unusually eager to confer, given the circumstances. The Metatron left it to Noah’s discretion exactly who should come, but they made it quite clear they intended to have a discussion about what course of actions they should take.

Crowley and Aziraphale were invited, of course. They were still preoccupied with their rings, truth be told. They activated the charm every twelve hours like clockwork, blushing and giggling to each other upon feelings its effects, hugging in close to each other.

Victoria rolled her eyes whenever they did this. Nevertheless, she refrained from commenting and escorted them up to Heaven with the utmost professionalism.

They arrived in Heaven without giving much thought to what security measures would await them. No one had guarded the pearly gate in years, except to keep dead humans from wandering out, which they already seemed disinclined to do. And there hadn’t been anything in Heaven harmful to demons in a while, not since they drained the holy water fountains. Demons didn’t generally prefer to hang out there, but it wasn’t unusual to find some up here, especially when they had some business with the Victoria or Raphael.

Aziraphale and Crowley found Maltha waiting for them at the entrance, smoking a cigarette. She ground it out as they approached. “Good to see you again.”

Their escort appeared behind them, breaching the cloudy entrance to Heaven. “No trouble,” Victoria said. “It was smooth sailing getting up here.”

Maltha nodded. “Metatron is in the Judgement Hall.”

The statement didn’t alarm any of them. The Judgement Hall hadn’t been used for its intended purpose since Michael’s fall. They mostly used it for hosting large meetings when the occasion arose, simply because it had a lot of space and seating intended for such thing.

“Noah should be arriving shortly,” said Maltha as they set off. “I don’t know who else is coming. I told Uriel she should probably come, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be joining us.”

“Why the hell not?” said Victoria, stormily. “We need all hands on deck.”

Maltha shrugged. “Probably because Mykas is coming.”

Victoria crossed her arms. “Fine, I guess, but we have bigger things to worry about.”

“I’m sure she’s already worrying about them.”

“I’m not sure she is. She needs to get with the program.”

“Then you can tell her that if and when she shows up.”

Victoria scowled. She was extremely cranky because of this whole situation. She hadn’t slept, and she was one of the angels who had let herself get used to sleeping occasionally. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They entered the antechamber for the Judgement Hall. The Metatron’s voice could be heard cursing loudly from within, and there was the sound of papers spilling and ripping.

Maltha rushed forwards and threw the doors open. Metatron was the only one in the room; they had a large stack of papers on their section of the bench and were ripping sheets up in an incredibly frustrated way.

“Metatron!” said Maltha.

Metatron paused mid-rip to look at Maltha. “Oh. Hello. Thank you for coming.”

Maltha came in and took a seat in front of the dais. Metatron seemed to lose steam and started shuffling the bits of torn paper into a neat pile.

“What’s that you’ve got?” said Crowley, sitting next to Maltha.

“It’s Gabriel’s paperwork,” said Metatron. “Since he was spotted lurking outside Heaven with Kabata, I thought he might crash the meeting. So I brought out the paperwork, because he always took care of that sort of thing.”

“Oh,” said Crowley.

“Then why did you, ah…rip it up?” said Aziraphale.

“Because I remembered that I hate him,” said Metatron.

Victoria positioned herself behind the bench where she could keep an eye on everyone. The door creaked open and Raphael tiptoed in, trying to avoid drawing everyone’s attention but failing.

“Come in, come in,” said Metatron.

Raphael moved to shut the door behind him, but another attendant was coming in behind him.

“Oh, Azrael,” said Metatron. “I…ah…didn’t expect you to show up.”

His biker boots clomped on the red carpet as Death strode in. He removed his helmet, revealing a grinning skull. THIS IS VERY MUCH MY BUSINESS.

“Right…” said Maltha.

“What’s your take on what’s happening?” said Crowley.

Death held up a hand. LET US WAIT UNTIL WE ARE ALL HERE, SO I DO NOT HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF OVER AND OVER.

An arrival on Hellhorse could be heard outside, the beat of hooves and jangle of bridles. Crowley tensed as he remembered Satan had last been seen fleeing on Hellhorse, but when the door pushed open it only revealed Noah. He had none of the usual escort that jostled about him in Hell, and he had foregone the usual crown and cape and come dressed in simple riding clothes. The way he carried himself spoke of his intention to manage the situation with all the kingly wisdom and fortitude the years of training and love from his upbringing had graced him with, to take action and get down to business.

“I came as soon as I could,” said Noah, removing his gloves.

“Thank you for coming,” said Metatron.

Noah scooted past Aziraphale to sit at the bench, facing Metatron. “Angelo is bringing Mykas. They should be here shortly.”

Angelo was indeed there shortly, Mykas trotting in behind him and honing in on a seat at the bench in front of the dais. He was dressed in his battle armor, with his enormous sword swinging at his belt, and he propped his feet up on the bench irreverently. Angelo slapped his dirty boot as he scooted past him to get a chair.

“Are we all here?” said Maltha.

Metatron looked at the faces who had gathered: Aziraphale, Crowley, Victoria, Maltha, Raphael, Azrael, Noah, Mykas, and Angelo. A motley crew, for sure, and one that would never have been able to meet in the old order. But if anyone could come up with a plan, it was this group.

“Is Uriel coming?” said Metatron.

Mykas’s nostrils flared. “She better not. I’d hardly trust someone like her with the fate of the new order.”

“Uriel could make important contributions,” said Maltha. “She’s really been developing her critical thinking skills.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Mykas. “Sure.”

“Regardless,” said Metatron. “We can start without her.”

Maltha nodded in assent.

“This meeting is hereby in session.” Metatron flung the papers off their section of the desk with an angry gesture. “And our official proclamation is that we do not like this one bit.”

“Have you had a run-in with Gabriel?” said Angelo.

“Yes,” said Metatron. “He’s back, and I don’t know how, and I don’t like it one bit.”

“I assume you got our message?” said Noah.

“Yes,” said Metatron. “But as long as Gabriel is alive, regardless of what Uriel’s done to him, he poses a threat.”

“I don’t know,” said Noah. “Maybe we can win him over now that he’s been knocked down a peg.”

“Killing him would be easier,” said Mykas.

“We can figure out how to deal with Gabriel after the immediate crisis is resolved,” said Maltha.

“Maltha’s right,” said Victoria. “Gabriel will have to be dealt with, but Satan is the much bigger threat right now.”

“All right,” said Crowley, counting on his fingers. “Who all do we know has come back from the dead? Gabriel, Hastur, Kris, Satan, Agares, and Kabata. Is that it?”

Death sat stormily with his arms crossed. Everyone looked at him out of the corner of their eye, but he didn’t comment.

“That’s all we know about right now,” said Raphael. “I think.”

“I’ve already been asked this several times and no, I’m not responsible for it,” said Noah. “And neither is Adam. I’ve talked with him extensively about whether or not he still has supernatural powers, and he’s adamant he doesn’t. And even if either of us were going to bring anyone back to life, that lot would have been pretty low on the list.”

“I think I speak for everyone,” said Mykas, “on Earth, and up in Heaven and down in Hell, that everyone, when pushed, is going to side with us and with the way things are now, rather than wanting to go back to the old order.”

“He’s right,” said Angelo. “Even those who didn’t want to admit they liked the new way of things up until now will drop the charade when faced with the possibility of going back to the way things were.”

“Then we are in agreement,” said Metatron. “This can’t be allowed to stand. We need them out of the way again. We need to figure out what’s happened so that we can reverse it.”

Crowley noticed the manic way the Metatron’s hands worked at a scrap of paper on the desk. They were more scared than they were letting on.

Aziraphale drummed his fingers on the table. “We could simply reverse it by killing them again.”

Noah and Metatron looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Maybe,” said Victoria. “But there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t just come back again unless we take care of whatever caused this in the first place.”

Raphael leaned back and crossed his arms. “So let’s brainstorm as to all the possible ways this could happen.”

They all took on looks of exaggerated thoughtfulness. They were, in reality, waiting for Death to inevitably give his input, without any of them having to directly ask him.

Maltha was the first to speak: “It sounds like one of the foundation angels has misbehaved.”

All heads turned towards Death, whose toothy visage did not shift even a millimeter.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE EITHER, said Death, AND WHOEVER DID THIS HAS GRAVELY OVERSTEPPED THEIR BOUNDARIES AND BYPASSED MY AUTHORITY. IT IS AN INSULT COMING FROM AN ANTICHRIST, BUT FROM ANOTHER ANGEL IT IS UNFORGIVABLE. I WILL HAVE WORDS FOR THE CULPRIT WHENEVER WE DISCOVER THEM. THEY HAVE DONE SERIOUS DAMAGE.

“Damage?” said Noah.

Death looked as upset as it was possible to with no facial muscles. WHEN AN ANTICHRIST BRINGS SOMEONE BACK TO LIFE—WELL, THAT IS NOT PREFERABLE, BUT IT AT LEAST LEAVES THE FABRIC OF REALITY IN TACT.

“What?” said Crowley, nearly falling out of his chair.

THE FOUNDATION ANGELS ARE ALL IN A FUSS, said Death. THEY CAN ALL FEEL IT. WHOEVER DID THIS HAS NOT DONE IT CAREFULLY, AND THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE UNIVERSE HAVE STARTED TO FRAY. WE MAY BE ABLE TO FIX IT, BUT SOMETHING MUST BE DONE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

“What do you mean?” said Mykas, brow furrowed.

“It’s like this,” said Metatron. “The foundation angels are given special access to the mechanisms that make the basic laws of the universe work, with the intention of having them keep everything running smoothly. It has never happened before, but there is theoretically nothing stopping a foundation angel from seizing the mechanism of the universe and using them for things they weren’t intended for. Even Satan never dared to touch them for anything like that; he knew the fabric of the universe might begin to unravel if the foundation angels abused their authority like that.”

THE FOUNDATION ANGELS ARE GENERALLY UNINCLINED TO DO SO, said Death. THERE IS LITTLE WE DESIRE IN THE SAME WAY LESSER ANGELS DO.

Metatron coughed on the phrase “lesser angels.”

WE ARE A RELIC FROM A TIME WHEN ANGELS ACTUALLY DID THEIR JOBS.

Aziraphale, Victoria, Raphael, Metatron, and Angelo all turned red and found various items in the room suddenly very interesting to look at.

MAYBE YOU SHOULD CONSIDER THAT YOUR BLATANT DISREGARD FOR THE ORDER MAY HAVE CONSEQUENCES. IF THE FOUNDATION ANGELS DID NOT CARRY OUT THEIR DUTIES, THE UNIVERSE WOULD COLLAPSE. ONE COULD ARGUE IT HARDLY SEEMS FAIR THE FOUNDATION ANGELS ARE BOUND TO SERVE FOREVER, WHILE EVERYONE ELSE GALLIVANTS ABOUT WITH FREE WILL.

“Well what do you want us to do about it?” said Victoria crankily. “It’s not our fault.”

Death’s faceless visage of a skull very slowly turned towards her. She shifted in her seat in an unsettled way.

I DO NOT EXPECT YOU TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT, said Death, voice flat. I AM MERELY POINTING OUT HOW FORTUNATE IT IS THAT THE FOUNDATION ANGELS GENERALLY DESIRE NOTHING ELSE OTHER THAN TO SEE THE NATURAL ORDER OF PHYSICS RUN LIKE A WELL-OILED MACHINE, TO TAKE PLEASURE IN THE COMPLEX MACHINATIONS OF THE UNIVERSE.

“I think what Death is saying,” said Noah politely, “is that it’s a little remarkable something like this hasn’t happened already. It’s a testament to the discipline the foundation angels have.”

If it were possible, Death looked a little bit pleased.

“And I think, therefore,” said Noah, “that whoever did this might be even more dangerous than Satan. It could be catastrophic if the foundation angels started using their powers however they wanted.”

CONVENIENT THAT YOU SUPPORT ENFORCING THE NATURAL ORDER WHEN IT BENEFITS YOU, said Death. EVEN IF IT INVOLVES FORCING OTHER ANGELS TO FALL IN LINE. ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU REJECTED WHEN YOU ABANDONED THE INEFFABLE PLAN?

“Azrael!” Victoria snapped. “I don’t know what you want us to do. We’re trying our best to make the world safer for everyone, but we’re not omnipotent like God was. We didn’t set it up like this.”

“Death, aren’t you mad at whoever did this?” said Aziraphale snippily. “Why are you defending them?”

“Please, please,” said Noah, waving them both down. “Everyone, it’s all right. We didn’t come here to fight. We came to plan. I’m sure we can simply talk to whoever did this and find out what’s going on. We’ll think of something that will make everyone happy. Now.” He tented his fingers. “Which of the foundation angels would have the power to do something like this? Azrael? Please help us out.”

Death’s leather jacket crinkled as he crossed his arms. THEORETICALLY, ALL OF THE FOUNDATION ANGELS HAVE ACCESS TO THE MECHANICS TO DO THIS, BUT THEY WERE NEVER INTENDED TO BE USED LIKE THIS, AND FEW ARE POWERFUL ENOUGH TO USE THEM. THE LIST IS SHORT. LUCIFER, BUT FOR OBVIOUS REASONS I DOUBT IT WAS HIM. MOTHER EARTH. TIME. SPACE. THE OCEAN. MAYBE THE MAN IN THE MOON, IF HE WAS FEELING PARTICULARLY CHEEKY.

Maltha sat back, tapping the table. “Okay, so out of all those capable, who would have the motivation to try and set things back to the old order?”

Her question hung unanswered in the air.

“All right, let’s look at it this way,” said Crowley, scooting forward to try and take the center of attention. “Let’s think about those who came back.” He counted on his fingers. “Hastur, Agares, Satan, Kabata, Gabriel, Kris. What do all these people have in common?”

“Hmm,” hummed Metatron. “Nothing, as far as is immediately obvious.”

“No, that’s not true,” said Aziraphale. “They all died fairly recently. In the events leading up to and during the second rebellion. I think Satan’s death is the oldest one on the list, and that started everything.”

“What about God?” said Mykas.

The thought oppressively blanked the room.

The doors to the hall boomed open. All heads whipped towards it in panic, as though they might have been caught doing something not allowed.

Uriel slid into the room, pushing the door shut behind her. Everyone exhaled a breath of relief. Except for Mykas, who merely crossed his arms sourly.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Uriel. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Mykas grumbled.

Uriel stood with her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Come in and sit down,” said Maltha. “The meeting is already well under way.”

“I came up because I had an idea,” said Uriel, striding into the room.

“Get lost,” Mykas said.

Uriel stopped in her tracks.

“Sit down,” said Maltha. “Hurry up.”

Uriel jostled past everyone on the dais to sit next to Maltha. Mykas glowered at her, arms crossed.

“We don’t have time for this, Mykas,” said Maltha. “Uriel, tell us what you were going to say.”

“Here’s my question,” said Uriel. “Have any humans come back to life? Or was it only angels and demons?”

NO HUMANS, said Death. I COUNTED MULTIPLE TIMES TO ENSURE THAT.

Uriel nodded. “And was there…anyone else?”

“We were just entertaining that possibility,” said Metatron. “The thing is, we cannot know if God was resurrected or not because we do not know that He was dead. I was the last one to see Him, and I merely came upon an empty throne. I do not know where He has gone.”

I DO, said Death.

All eyes turned to him. He grinned. He could make no other expression.

“Did you…reap God?” said Metatron.

YES, said Death.

The room was filled with gasps.

“But how is that possible?” said Aziraphale. “He made you. He was more powerful than any of us.”

DEATH IS NOT A MATTER OF POWER, said Death. I DO NOT OVERPOWER ANYONE TO REAP THEM. I MERELY GUIDE THEM TO WHATEVER AWAITS THEM.

“And where did you…guide Him?” said Maltha.

Death tapped his fingers. I ADMIT IT WAS MY TRICKIEST CASE. I GUIDED HIM TO THE SAME PATH ANGELS AND DEMONS TAKE WHEN THEY DISAPPEAR FROM THIS WORLD.

Metatron shook in their chair.

“So it’s possible He’s back too?” said Crowley. “Why hasn’t He shown up, then?”

“Mysterious ways,” muttered Uriel. She raised her head. “Why does He do anything? He told us not to question it, but that was just because there wasn’t a reason, was there?”

Metatron grimaced.

Uriel stood. “There just wasn’t a reason for any of it. I don’t know why He did what He did, but He abused us all and made us believe that’s what love is supposed to be like. I don’t know why He brought beings like us into existence, just to throw them around like garbage. I wouldn’t be surprised if He hadn’t shown up yet because He was just toying with us, seeing what we were up to without Him.”

The hair on the back of Uriel’s neck stood up as she felt something she hadn’t in a long time.

Everyone else seemed to hear it too, based on the looks on their faces.

Uriel whirled around.

“Is that…?” said Metatron.

The ground under them began to rumble.

“No,” said Metatron.

“The demons,” said Raphael. “They’ll burn up.”

Maltha’s eyes widened. Crowley stood frozen to the spot, disbelief overwhelming him.

Death’s grin remained as indifferent as ever.

“He’s coming?” said Mykas.

“It can’t be,” said Metatron, but the door to the hall drew open with the sound of a great wind.

“They’ll burn up,” Raphael repeated. “Somebody.”

Uriel pivoted back to look at Maltha, who met her eyes and Uriel saw for the first time: Maltha was truly at a loss for what to do, and had no way to avert the disaster that was about to unfold.

“Get behind me,” Uriel said, voice suddenly hard with resolve.

The doors of the Judgement Hall flew open amidst the howling of a raging storm, golden, angry light pulsing into the hall and swirling around them, pouring Heavenly aura into the room.

Crowley and Maltha, quickly identifying their most likely source of survival, dived behind Uriel. Noah reflexively followed, dragging Mykas with him.

Uriel pivoted and extended her arms, and her aura surged outwards and wrapped around the demons in a protective bubble so thick it shimmered translucent in the air. The incoming wave of burning holy energy glanced off the newly materialised shield with a sound like a hammer coming down on metal, whinging off with a shower of sparks and an ear-splitting bong.

Everyone flinched back, except for Uriel herself, whose arms trembled with the effort of staying extended.

“Wh-what?” Uriel gasped. Tendrils of that fiery aura snaked forwards to curl around her.

Uriel squeezed her eyes shut and kept her arms out. “Don’t.”

“Favourite daughter? More like favourite plaything.” Metatron stepped forwards with an accusatory finger pointed outwards, face burning with anger nobody had seen in years.

The pressure withdrew from Uriel, and the shifting golden light coalesced in front of Metatron with a rumbling growl that shook the room.

“Uriel is right,” Metatron thundered. “You’ve never treated any of us like children. We’re not your children, we’re your toys. Or your food. I don’t know, but definitely not your children!”

The light pulsed furiously. Metatron didn’t back down.

“And you keep us all in line by not letting us think—”

A vine lashed out from the holy aura and solidified into an iron-like rod, smashing into Metatron and flinging them out of the Judgement Hall like a golf ball being teed off.

Uriel’s eyes were wide open now, open and fixed on the floor in front of her, on Crowley’s feet within the bubble she was struggling to keep up. Aziraphale saw that her wavering concentration was the only thing keeping those with infernal blood in the room from burning up and bolted for her, whispering, “Don’t look at Him. Just focus.”

Uriel nodded, sweating.

The Divine voice boomed again, rumbling with anger.

Aziraphale let out a panicked gasp as he felt an enormous aural hand close around him, pinning his arms and wings to his body and hefting him off the ground.

“Aziraphale!” cried Crowley’s muffled voice, accompanied by a chorus of similar exclamations from the group gathered.

Aziraphale squirmed, trying to avoid looking directly at that blinding light as it surged around him.

“It deserved ruining,” Aziraphale spat.

The light pulsed contemplatively.

Aziraphale let out another pained breath as he felt a probe ram into his head, tearing out the answer to the question just asked.

“No!” said Aziraphale. “No, no…”

Another appendage reached out, heading straight for Crowley. It wrapped like a snake around the bubble protecting him.

“Mercy,” said Aziraphale.

Uriel gasped as the section of the protective bubble around Crowley withdrew, and the tentacle seized him, constricting.

Crowley did not even have time to scream. He was a blur of motion as he was flung upwards, then disappeared.

“Wh—” said Aziraphale. “What—What did you do to him? Where did he go?”

“You coward!” Mykas snarled. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!”

“Don’t!” Angelo yelled. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

But Mykas was already in the process of dashing forwards, savagely but far too slow to save Crowley.

He burst into flames the second he crossed Uriel’s protective barrier, going down among unearthly howling. His red eyes burned with hatred from between the sizzling skin on his face, his mouth crunched in a bloody snarl, hell-bent on murder as he dragged his rapidly disintegrating form forwards.

Panting, straining, Uriel hauled her aura back over Mykas, and the flames went out.

Aziraphale struggled again to free himself. “What did you do? Where did Crowley go?”

God ignored him, his squirming not even enough to merit His attention. The tendrils came around Uriel again, brushing her gently, and she stumbled slightly to keep her footing.

Uriel took in huge, ragged breaths.

“Maltha?” said Noah, sounding again like a scared little boy. “What should I do?”

Maltha’s eyes flew around the scene, absolutely at a loss.

“I...” said Uriel, sweat dripping down her face.

“Uriel,” said Malta, and the two of them locked eyes, but neither could form words.

“But--Why?” said Uriel.

A huge hand wrapped around Uriel, yanking her away with a pained yelp, and the bubble went down.

Maltha exploded into a cacophony of hisses as she was enveloped in Divine aura, like a hellish kettle whistling, keening a warbled cry as she collapsed to the ground, burning. Noah stayed on his feet for a second longer, but his skin started to smoke, his knees locked up, and he fell to the ground seizing.

Death watched impassively, readying his scythe.

The doors to the Judgement Hall banging open was barely audible over the screaming, but everyone heard it all right, accompanied by the tack tack tack of hoofed feet on a hard floor.

“I told you I’d get you, you bastard!”

Kabata sprinted across the red carpet, streaking into the Judgement Hall like a vengeful comet, wings flared. In his right hand he held a short-sword, a weapon with occult sigils carved along its length.

Kabata began to scream in an infernal language at the top of his lungs, running his hand along the length of the blade tracing the designs with each word. They began to glow under his hand.

God’s ethereal essence swirled to face him. A torrent of supernatural energy burst into Kabata’s weapon, being channeled by the sigils, and the blade started to vibrate.

God reached out a fist to smite him.

Kabata leapt into the air to meet Him, pumping his wings, taking the sword in both hands and throwing all his weight into the force of the jump.

The blade sparked as it swam through the thick air, pulsing with dark energy, and sunk square into the solid part of the aura extending to meet him. An other-worldly ripping sound tore through the air, and the ground shook with a cry of pain that everyone in the room—no, everyone in Heaven—felt down to their bones.

Kabata’s skin started to smoke. He pumped his wings until the short sword had forced itself into the center of that swirling mass, the blade throwing off sparks as though put up against a grinding wheel, and used the force of his weight combined with the downward motion of his wings to tear the weapon down along the entire length of the manifested presence.

Uriel and Aziraphale both screamed in pain as the hands holding them squeezed and spasmed, then both broke free as the grip slackened. Aziraphale shouted something to those on the ground, but the roaring was so loud it rendered it inaudible.

The Divine aura spiked and pulsed and retracted wildly, as though in death throes.

Kabata forced the blade in so deep he was elbow-deep in yellow light. All the skin had peeled back from his forearms, and his flesh dissolved with a sizzling bubble of red tissue.

The outraged howling began to peter out into pained moans. Kabata pulled the blade out with what was left of his hands and jammed it back in, motions growing weaker, muttering a string of pained curses.

The golden light exploded outwards and funneled up towards the ceiling, snaking out of the building through the cracks between the bricks in the Judgement Hall, leaving a golden puddle of ooze on the red carpet and covering Kabata. The sound finally faded, leaving them all in silence with ears ringing.

“Ha,” said Kabata, wobbling. “Ha. Fucker. I said I’d…Fu…” His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed face-down onto the floor, the short sword rolling out of his hand.

As soon as Aziraphale was free, he fluttered about the rafters looking for Crowley but found nothing. “Did anyone see where Crowley went?”

Angelo swooped onto Mykas immediately, clutching him. “Raphael!”

Raphael sprinted at the injured in the room, zeroing in on Mykas first, who lay completely still on the ground. “He’s still alive, but just barely. We might be able to save him if we hurry.”

“Maltha’s not moving,” said Victoria, pushing Uriel out of the way and kneeling. “Fuck. Maltha? Maltha!”

Aziraphale continued to flitter around the ceiling. “What happened to Crowley? Did anyone see?”

“Where’s Metatron?” said Raphael, scanning the room rapidly. “Victoria, go find Metatron.” By his ankle, Noah began to moan and his limbs roved about aimlessly. “Uriel, Angelo, Aziraphale, go to the infirmary and tell them to get all available healers in here right now.” He leaned over Kabata, who was immobile and bleeding out. “Now.”

Victoria, Uriel, and Angelo took off. Aziraphale swooped down. “What about Crowley?”

Raphael, one hand each in Maltha’s and Mykas’s wounds, barked, “I’m a little busy right now. Go find him.”

Aziraphale wrung his hands and returned his attention towards the ceiling where Crowley had vanished. He covered every square inch of the roof, then checked the outside of the building for good measure, but there was no sign of Crowley at all.

Stomach sinking, despair growing, he remained kneeling on the roof, palms down on the tiles, as he saw a small battalion of healers rushing in beneath him. He stood, trying to contain his tears.

A lone figure walked out of the Judgement Hall against the flurry of activity.

Aziraphale swooped down upon Death like a predatory bird. “Did you reap Crowley? Bring him back,” Aziraphale demanded, because the past few decades of defying the natural order of things had made him forget to even pretend to care about it.

Death’s visor slid down, replacing his skeletal visage with a reflection of Aziraphale’s own tight, panicked expression. I HAVEN’T TOUCHED HIM. NOW IF YOU’LL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE A RATHER UNCONVENTIONAL JOB I HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO. AGAIN.

His starry wings spread wide and he lifted off into the sky, following where the swirl of light that indicated God’s wounded presence where it had disappeared, scythe at the ready.

Aziraphale watched him go, staring up into the sky in despair. He wrung his hands, feeling his fingers brush against the golden ring there. Through blurred vision, he could see the sigil remain unlit.

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic

9 notes · View notes

comicbooknerd21 · 7 years ago

Text