#and crowley looks at him in absolute horror as he realizes that he's losing or has already lost his best friend. permanently this time. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

new-endings · 4 years

Note

Ayy I want to hear about Beta!Aziraphale :D

so glad you do!~

fic idea #1112

It started with the premise of beta Aziraphale thinking that alpha Crowley’s been trying to court some poor omega sod for the past few centuries. Crowley had been displaying rather alpha-like characteristics around him since Rome, what with the innocuous gifts, the food, the protection he's provided—

All served with the same dour expression that leads Aziraphale to believe that the alpha really doesn’t intend on it, doesn’t really seem to realize what he’s doing, nor does he really want to do it. Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that something or someone must be some causing Crowley’s instincts to pop off like this.

Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that his …err, acquaintance, must have met a "nice" omega demon and that the beta is just dealing with a twitter pated alpha in the aftermath.

((He knows it's not him, knows better than to even think for a second all those little gestures meant something more. Why—to think anything more would be utterly absurd—impossible! He’s—an angel, a beta—))

But it’s not until centuries later that Aziraphale knows there's another involved after Crowley asks him for the holy water

Crowley found someone he was willing to risk not only Aziraphale's life for, but his own.

And given the latter, Aziraphale naturally said no.

I don't need you.

Yes...that's right.

Betas are intermediaries— useful, but not essential.

—————————————————

On the other hand, Crowley's been tryna court the oblivious git for millennia now but naturally, none of the regular "alpha" tactics work. Puffed up pride and the sharpness of his scent indicating an interested alpha only makes Aziraphale uncomfortable. The instinct to force the angel to submit, to bare his neck and bend to his whim, only inflicted fear.

And when frightened, Aziraphale did not whimper and did not bow. He would instead lash out with his own silver tongue, his own venomous words, and turn away.

He was not an omega— he was not an omega an alpha was meant to tame.

He was a beta without a hint of instinct to let him know that Crowley only wanted him safe— only wanted him loved.

But Crowley learned. He adapted. Gifting the beta soft silks and cloths soaked in his scent was often met with the cloth thoroughly cleaned within the hour "to get rid of the stench of evil; angels can smell it, you know," creating a nest with him was out of the question given their respective…offices, but foods—yes, foods were among his beta’s favorite—

an offering of oysters...

was that where it started?

—and Crowley was more than happy to show the beta he can provide, he can protect—

((Crowley has even gone as far as developed a sense for when his beta would be in a spot of trouble. There were no distressed omegan hormones, no telltale shifts in Aziraphale’s mild scent when something was amiss, of course not.

No, it was other things—things that were so heartbreakingly Aziraphale in every way—from his dithering, from the curl of his lip, just barely a sneer when Crowley was misbehaving, or the change of pitch in his voice when he was scheduled to meet with his superiors.

And last but not least…

…a tugging, at the back of Crowley’s head. Insistent when Aziraphale was in the area. And it downright dragged him to the center of the mess when Aziraphale landed himself out of the pan and into the fire (so to speak)

Aziraphale always forced Crowley to learn things the hard way—

and that was one of the things he loved about his bastard beta.))

—but he wanted—needed—that reciprocated too.

Fraternising.

The word sliced his chest wide open.

Maybe he couldn't get through to him. Perhaps it was all in vain. A transaction for the beta, just as he'd proposed it all those centuries ago.

I don't need you.

It was true. Crowley got on just fine without him.

((It didn't curb the want. The longing.))

The feeling is mutual!

obviously...

-----------------------

And then— 1941. The scene at the church happens.

Where Crowley's instinct that Aziraphale was in trouble still functioned quite impeccably despite a century apart and an argument that fractured what they had.

And Crowley limps away, feet burnt on consecrated ground, knowing—without a doubt—that he would walk across the sun if it meant Aziraphale is safe.

And Aziraphale stands there in the rubble of faith, understanding and facing, with certain and absolute sincerity that he was in love with this demon,

Knowing—without a doubt—that Crowley loves another.

---------------------

20 years later, Aziraphale learns of a heist and a cold fear grips him. he can't lose Crowley—absolutely refuses to.

He can't look Crowley in the eye as he gifts him—insurance the demon called it. Protection. For himself...and for his omega.

Crowley must have concocted this arrangement to protect himself and his mate should an angelic threat arrive. Maybe he'd meant to use Aziraphale as insurance too—

“I'll give you a lift, anywhere you wanna go.”

Aziraphale looks at him then. Look at him and saw the patience, the hoping, the quiet, tenderness behind those dark glasses and it took everything Aziraphale had to rip himself away and exit the car.

He...he mustn't get ahead of himself. But it was hard to tamp down the tiny seeds of hope, smashing them so they would never see light.

But really…what did it change?

Everything, maybe

Because Crowley may have his mate, but he made it clear that Aziraphale was part of his pack too.

And that was enough

It had to be.

You go too fast for me.

------------------------

In the years following, Aziraphale finds coping with his…unideal… feelings not-so difficult. He may be the beta of Crowley's pack, but for much longer than that, he'd been a thorn on his side, so it was easy to slip back into that role.

They spend a few years raising the wrong boy ((and Aziraphale bites his tongue to avoid asking why he didn't ask his omega to have a hand in raising Warlock)), but despite the unusual convention (which is honestly par for the course for the two), the child comes out normal.

Unfortunately, they are unsure if the same could have been said for the real antichrist.

And Aziraphale is not sure what gripped him to withhold the boy's whereabouts— to go against the alpha—his alpha—and lie to him.

There is no our side.

Not anymore.

Maybe it was the insistence that heaven must be good, that a part of him believed with all his heart that they wanted the right thing too.

and maybe...just maybe...he knew that if things went...pear-shaped...

There was still a chance for Crowley and his mate to escape all this. That the blame could easily fall on Aziraphale, sparing the two.

And when I'm off in the stars—I won't even think about you!

Good, Aziraphale muses as Crowley drives away, even as every meter that separates them physically burns him.

Betas are not essential.

Crowley doesn't need him.

He and his mate just need to be safe.

--------------------------

At the heart of it, Crowley is a liar. A pretty shite one, really. Says things he doesn't mean—doesn't want to say. But what else can he do when his beta refuses him at every turn?

Lash out-like a child, apparently.

All his plans have gone up in smoke, time was running out, and Crowley knows there's no turning back after Ligur ends up a pile of smoldering goo at the floor of his apartment. He feels a tug at his heart, knowing that it was Aziraphale who protected him that time, betraying everything he knew to give Crowley thermos. He can't give up—he'll drag Aziraphale away kicking and screaming if he could.

Crowley walks out of his apartment, sidestepping the mess on his floor, when he feels— knows something is wrong. Every sense in-tune to Aziraphale is blaring—

and just as suddenly, it all goes quiet.

Crowley breaks both traffic laws and the laws of physics to find a burning book shop and no trace of his beta.

Remorse battles with rage, but what triumphs above all is a resounding howl that anyone would be able to recognize—

Mourning.

Someone’s killed my best friend

-----------------------

Aziraphale feels his heart stop—well, if he still had one—at the sound of Crowley, there at the bar. He bites down the urge to yell at him, to tell him to grab his mate and run while they still have a chance—

I lost my best friend.

Aziraphale pauses, words caught in his throat. He'd been...selfish. So selfish. Of course, Crowley wants his pack intact. And Aziraphale was part of that.

Crowley is truly a phenomenal alpha while Aziraphale is the most terrible beta in existence.

----------------------

"Wherever you are, I'll come to you—where are you?"

Crowley almost lost his beta once. He won't let it happen a second time.

"Come up with something or—

I'll never talk to you again"

Because Aziraphale (finally, finally) stood with him.

"We're on our own side."

---------------------

It's the final piece of the prophecy that Crowley was able to salvage that inspires the idea from Aziraphale.

He knows his superiors. It will be hellfire— befitting a traitor who refuses to fall from god's grace. Crowley tells him that his will be holy water— that there will be a trial that Crowley is rigged to lose.

Aziraphale knows there will be no such thing for him

They have everything to lose and everything to gain with this final arrangement and on the dawn of that day where they make the switch,

Aziraphale wonders if he will finally get a glimpse of Crowley's mate at the trial.

------------------------

Crowley has enough sense to curb his anger, his fury, his outrage at the way they treat his beta. He doesn't roar at the injustice, in vengeance, as an alpha should. Instead, he smiles and breathe a flicker of hellfire at them, letting them know that Aziraphale has always been better than all of heaven could ever hope to be.

And Crowley vows to stop being a coward and make Aziraphale know it too.

-----------------------

Aziraphale scans the crowds for any sign of disbelief, of horror and indignance on the faces of the demons around him as he is charged guilty.

But no one steps forward and Aziraphale feels his heart fracture with pain and betrayal for Crowley.

He deserves someone who would be here, who would do anything to see him again, Aziraphale thinks as he lounges in the bath of holy water, exuding the confidence and control an alpha like Crowley would project. He deserves better, he thinks, a bitterness rising like bile at the back of his throat.

I could be—

He stops that train of thought immediately.

-------------------------

Their plan succeeds and Crowley tempts him to a spot of lunch. Their dawn of a new day begins at noon and upon seeing Crowley (in his corporation) safe and whole, Aziraphale rides that high all the way to the Ritz.

To the world.

----------------------------

Aziraphale regales him the scene all over again, careful to leave out the part where none, not even his own mate, rose to defend him during the trial. Instead, he talks about rubber ducks as he refuses to look in Crowley's direction.

He knows the way he's looking at him. He knows the soft, tender look the alpha gives him, and truly, what an injustice that someone like Crowley is mated with someone who holds such little faith in him

But as a beta, it isn't Aziraphale's place to.

He may be part of the pack, but he knows his place. Maybe...maybe Crowley's mate was told to stay hidden, just in case things went awry—

You wouldn't have listened, Aziraphale's traitorous mind whispers. You would have been there for him.

Precisely why I'm a beta, Aziraphale chuckles to himself. Could you imagine me, doing a thing Crowley's told?

Preposterous.

Just like the spikes of jealousy digging into the meat of his heart.

Aziraphale knows he’s a terrible beta—but even more than that, he’s Crowley’s best friend, and he knows Crowley deserved the truth.

"They weren't there, you know."

"Who?"

"Your mate." Aziraphale scoffs at the confused (panicked) reaction. "Oh, come off it— I know you've been courting someone for centuries."

"Yes...that's true..." Crowley cautiously, carefully admits and although Aziraphale knew this for a fact— knew this like he knew the back of his own hand, the admission tore a bleeding wound right open.

"Yes well...they weren't there. At the trial." Aziraphale bites his lip. "Where are...are they safe?"

Crowley is looking at him strangely. Aziraphale only wants straight answers. He's gone centuries without asking, always respecting this boundary between them—

—but they were pack, weren't they?

But then Crowley is smiling, a gleam of amusement sparking in his eyes. "The one I've been courting? I assure you, they were there at my trial."

Suspicion—even indignance— arose. Aziraphale was quick to smother it. "Oh! I...I didn't see them."

"Nope, they were there," Crowley said with such confidence that Aziraphale felt his very heart wither.

Stop it, he told himself. You knew this was true. You knew he has a mate. And you knew he'd love them and be loyal to them no matter what. Because Crowley is a phenomenal alpha...and Aziraphale is a wretched beta. "I...all right," he said faintly, hoping to distract himself with some cake, if only to counter the bitter bile rising at the back of his throat.

"Mhm...they're the sole reason I'm still here," he said pointedly and at that, Aziraphale couldn't help but choke. "I owe everything to them."

Of course.

Crowley's driven to protect his mate against anything. He saved the world for his mate.

And who was he to get in the way of that?

But if Aziraphale was ready to sink into the ground and possibly disappear for the next century or two to mend his own heartbreak, it was this statement that shoved those ideas straight into a pit of hellfire:

"Yep," Crowley says with a knowing, teasing grin. "Brilliant idea they had too— switching bodies. Who else would have thought of that?"

"YOU IDIOT, THAT WAS MY IDEA!"

At the back of his mind, Aziraphale knows he’s making a scene. And he’s possibly going to irreversibly damage his and Crowley’s relationship for this—

But damn it all he'd gone centuries making sure this absolute idiot of a demon didn't get himself killed and not ONCE had he seen hide nor hair of his so-called mate.

"AND FOR THE RECORD," he seethed. "YOU HAVE ABSOLUTE SHITE TASTES IN MATES!"

"I disagree," Crowley replied and Aziraphale wanted to rip his hair out. "They may be a bit of a bastard at times, but they've always been there for me."

"WHEN!?"

This was disconcerting in many different ways:

Mostly through the implication that Crowley got into even more trouble than Aziraphale was able to help him with.

"Salem witch trials— was about to be hanged. Saved me from discorporation."

Aziraphale frowns. He's done similar for Crowley— it figures that the demon would have gotten himself into that mess at least a second time.

"14th century— The Plague. But they were always so eager to do the best they could, given the situation. Made the shite times less…shite."

Aziraphale wouldn't have known, personally. It truly was a shite time indeed and Aziraphale had gotten discorporated as he spent his days healing the sick. He briefly recalled Crowley being there, shortly before his corporation ah...expired.

“Rome was better, but not by enough of a margin. We had something to eat and suddenly my whole day was better."

Hmm...maybe it happened sometime after their lunch? Perhaps dinner, no wait, he had dinner with Crowley too. But Crowley was in exceptionally good spirits the days following. It must have been sometime after then.

"The Ark," he said softly. "They smuggled some children with me aboard."

Aziraphale pauses. Wait...he’s sure only he and Crowley were aboard who knew about the stowaway children, then. After all, Aziraphale helped sneak them in.

"19th century— had a nasty fight." Crowley is staring intently at him now. "He made it up to me."

Aziraphale feels his breath catch.

"Took about a century, but we got there. The holy water came in real handy, by the way."

Wait—

"Golgotha...lost a good friend at the time. They were there with me the days afterwards."

Hang on—

"In the 1940s, when a bomb dropped on the church—"

That doesn't—

"11 years ago— when I roped them into this scheme to stop Armageddon—"

But—

"The airfield," Crowley says. He’s no longer across the table. Aziraphale hadn’t realized he’d moved so close. "When I'd given up everything. They threatened me to do something— and I did. It ended saving all of us."

No, that— that couldn't be right—

"Eden," he breathes out. "He sheltered me during the first rains."

Aziraphale isn’t quite sure when he stood up, but he sits down all the same. The pieces are in front of him but not slotting in the way he expects them to—

—in the way he thought it was possible to.

And then Crowley is holding his hand, at first laying his atop his own— and then lacing their fingers together.

Fitting perfectly.

He tears his gaze away only to meet those lovely, lovely amber eyes. Time around them stops like a bated breath. "You've always been there. Every time I needed you."

To which Aziraphale, for all his knowledge and expertise of the written word, can only eke out an, "Oh," in response.

And at that, Crowley can only laugh, relieved and so heartbreakingly happy as he closes the distance between them. "Yes, oh, my stupid mate."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #crowley x aziraphale #abo au #but more like alpha and beta #which we desperately need more content of #good omens fanfiction

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goodomensblog · 4 years

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Afterward - Part 17

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16

(#2 definitely won - but #4 was a pretty close second, so we’re doing the classic punch and run!)

Afterward - - - Part 17

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Entropy, rising up, tilts its head and smiles a wide, infinitely deep grin. Pale, ephemeral tendrils squirm where the creature’s head and neck are rapidly reconnecting.

Gabriel has picked up the sword and is twisting it up.

Beelzebub, however, beats him to the punch. Literally.

“Mine,” is all Beelzebub manages, a low, rasping shout. Pushing roughly in front of the archangel, Beelzebub winds a bloodied fist back and strikes.

Their knuckles smack between its eyes - and with a wet sounding squelch, the head which hadn’t yet fully re-attached, flies off Entropy’s shoulders.

This time, however, Entropy seems to retain consciousness, and the head screeches in outrage as it careens across the room.

“Shoo, bitch,” Beelzebub spits.

“My angels,” the head shrieks, rolling across the floor. “Your master commands you! Attack!”

From the top of the courtyard, where tiled roofs curve above stone carved archways, movement draws Beelzebub’s gaze up.

Angels line the tile rooftop, their formidable white wings spread wide. In the place where the angels’ eyes should be, dark, sunken pools hauntingly stare.

From behind Beelzebub, Gabriel makes a low noise of distress.

Beelzebub scans the faces. There are none they readily recognize - Michael and Uriel, at least, are absent. But surely most of the dark eyed angels are - or were - under Gabriel’s command.

“No…” the archangel breathes.

Forcibly ignoring the pain they feel radiating off Gabriel in cold, nauseating waves, Beelzebub shakes their head and, squeezing their hands into fists, cracks their knuckles one by one.

“What are they?” Aziraphale asks, horror lacing his words.

The first angel steps from the rooftop. Where it lands, stone splinters around its feet. From its eyes, black ichor drips, trailing like tears down its pure, celestial skin. It takes a second step, and the floor cracks anew.

“That,” Crowley says, speaking up from the back, “looks like an angel on steroids. Bloody evil steroids.”

Another angel drops. Then another. Gray dust from pulverized stone rises in an ominous cloud.

“I - I have to-” Gabriel is muttering, and Beelzebub can feel him moving behind them, probably making up his mind to do something stupid.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub says, surveying the hoard of freaky angels. “Fuck this noise.”

Turning right the hell around, Beelzebub grabs Gabriel roughly by the arm.

When he doesn’t move - like the absolute asshole he is - Beelzebub grits their teeth and yanks, violently hauling the lead-limbed archangel with them. When they look up and see that Aziraphale and Crowley are still standing there, waiting, they yell, “Oi! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum! Fucking move!”

Crowley and Aziraphale retreat through the doorway, but go no further.

Beelzebub is panting, blood from a cut they didn’t even realize they had dripping into their eyes, and the room is tilting as a frankly annoying whine picks up in their ears - but this is no time to pass out, so Beelzebub doesn’t.

At least Gabriel is finally moving; Beelzebub, all too happy to release him, shoves the archangel through the door.

Upon crossing the threshold, Beelzebub is hastily elbowed out of the way by Crowley; Aziraphale, bracing a hand on the wall, traces glowing symbols on the floor.

“What’s-”

“That’s why we were waiting,” Crowley snaps.

Beelzebub reflects that if the room were spinning any less, they would have happily smacked that smug look off his face.

Instead, they crouch, bracing their hands on their knees.

Aziraphale straightens up with a satisfied nod. “That’ll do the trick.”

Then Crowley is swinging the door closed. Hand on the handle, he melts the lock.

“If Aziraphale did what I think he did, we do not want to be here when they cross that threshold,” Crowley says.

“I did,” Aziraphale says with a grim smile.

Gabriel, who Beelzebub thinks is looking more like his usual insufferable self by the minute, claps his hands together. “Then let’s fucking go!”

“Right!” Crowley crows, pointing at Gabriel, “Your illicit sneaking out of Heaven door!”

Beelzebub and Aziraphale turn to look at Gabriel.

“Okay it’s really not as weird as he’s making it sound.”

“It doesn’t matter-” Aziraphale says with a wave, but Beelzebub isn’t listening.

Blinking rapidly, they frown at the black dots blossoming across their vision. They immediately blink harder because they are not going to pass out; It is a fucking bad time for losing consciousness - and besides, they’d honestly rather die than look weak in front of these morons.

Crowley is turning, leading the way, and Beelzebub starts to step after him - when everything takes a sharp and sudden dip.

And shit - Beelzebub thinks, consciousness slipping as a roaring white noise fills their ears. Blackness is spreading, sweeping across their vision.

They see outstretched, reaching hands - and then darkness swallows them whole.

Reality narrows to individual, isolated moments.

The press of fine, soft as silk fabric against their cheek.

A long hallway lit by a single flickering light.

Aziraphale, pale with purple bruises beneath his eyes, pulling a tapestry aside - pushing a doorway open.

Crowley’s hands cupped around that strange, blue flame.

Then white light - at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

Beelzebub stiffens, crying out in protest - because they know the saying about light and tunnels, and they straight up refuse to let that prick Death lay those frigid hands on them now.

This is followed by the soft, hesitant brush of fingers over their forehead and a whisper-soft murmur. “Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of tunnel.”

Again, darkness.

And then Crowley is exclaiming, shouting excitedly, and Beelzebub squints their eyes open to glaring sunlight - and a sleek black car, parked on what appears to be a random London street corner.

When someone swings one of the rear doors open, Beelzebub has a sense of deja vu as they are laid down on black leather seats.

Voices drone, someone shifts beside them, and the car awakens with a reassuring purr; Beelzebub’s tired eyes close.

- - -

Brushing his hands over the steering wheel, Crowley sits in the Bentley, taking a moment to enjoy the car’s energetic rumble. She doesn’t handle long periods of idleness very well. And though Crowley hasn’t been gone all that long, he imagines it must have been rather demoralizing to have been abandoned on a lonesome countryside road. He’ll have to make sure she’s still in working shape.

“Just cause I gave you a little vacation,” Crowley says, tapping the dashboard admonishingly, “is no excuse for any slacking off, you understand?”

The car rumbles, and Crowley sighs, rolling his eyes. “See? I leave you for half a day and now I’m getting back talk.”

“Can we please just fucking go?” Gabriel snaps.

A glance in the rear-view mirror reveals the altogether unpleasant sight of Gabriel’s frowning face.

The archangel is pressed up against the door, his large arms folded impractically in front of him.

Beelzebub, in the few minutes after they’d been set down, had somehow completely rotated, and now they stretch out, arms flung out in either direction. Their booted feet are kicked up - one jabbing Gabriel’s side and the other shoved up against his face.

The archangel glowers.

From the passenger seat, Aziraphale clears his throat.

Crowley’s attention is immediately diverted.

Aziraphale is battered. Deep scratches scatter over the entirety of his person, and a bone deep exhaustion shows in his overall pallor and the bags like dark bruises gathering beneath his light eyes.

Crowley has the impulse to stroke a thumb beneath that gentle gaze and burn a miracle to soothe some of the exhaustion marring his skin.

He doesn’t.

Because he filled Aziraphale’s veins with demon blood, and Crowley isn’t entirely sure Aziraphale won’t come to resent him for it.

The desperate transfusion had worked. Aziraphale is here. That is what matters. But the fact that the cost of this gamble - the cost of mixing that which was never meant to join - has yet to reveal itself, leaves Crowley deeply on edge.

“Dear,” Aziraphale says, mercifully interrupting Crowley’s rapidly spiraling thoughts. “We fled the bookshop earlier because we believed we were dealing with a threat who knew us, personally. Entropy does not know us. And I presume that it does not know where I live.”

“...you want to go home, don’t you?”

“Yes I want to go home!” Aziraphale says in a rush, hands folded, his fingers twisting together. “It’s been a really long day.”

Crowley considers, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “I suppose we could ward the hell out of it.”

Aziraphale is eagerly nodding, “I already have a good few around the foundation as it is.”

“Is it defensible?” Gabriel asks.

“Better,” Aziraphale replies. “It’s hidden.”

“Though adding a few defenses wouldn’t hurt,” Crowley adds.

“As long as we get off the damned street,” Gabriel says with a weary sigh.

“That, we can do,” Crowley says, shifting the car into drive.

“Wait!” Aziraphale says, grabbing Crowley’s arm. “First, we need food, Crowley.”

“....right this second?”

“As soon as possible. You do realize that we should avoid using powerful miracles at the moment, right?”

Crowley glances in the rear-view mirror, only somewhat mollified to see that Gabriel is also staring at Aziraphale with an expression of blatant confusion.

“Er - yes? I mean, we don’t want to go around putting beacons on our heads,” Crowley replies. “But what in the world does this have to do with food?”

Aziraphale is staring at him like he might be stupid - which he’s not. Right?

Crowley checks the rear-view mirror again.

Gabriel is squinting at Aziraphale. “Aziraphale. What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale looks between them, mouth agape.

From the backseat, Beelzebub groans.

“Angel,” Beelzebub says, cracking an eye reluctantly open, “They’re both idiots. Don’t… strain their brains.”

Aziraphale glances back, relief evident. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Of course I know what you’re talking about!” Beelzebub replies, and the other eye opens to a menacing slit. “Food strengthens your bloody corporation. You. Are. Living. In. It. So fucking feed it. The stronger your corporation is - the stronger you are.”

Aziraphale is nodding vigorously. “And we are all very injured. Beelzebub especially. A good meal will help kick start our angelic - and demonic - healing.”

“Ah,” is all Crowley manages.

“Honestly, dear. You really didn’t know that?”

Crowley, who will frankly never admit that he played hookie during the body orientation seminar to check out the strange angel he’d seen walking up on Eden’s wall, adjusts his glasses and shrugs. “I’m a demon. What’s the archangel’s excuse?”

“Corporeal bodies are not my department.”

Beelzebub blows a raspberry.

“Since you’re awake, your highness - mind moving your foot out of my face?”

Beelzebub’s only reply is a long, deep snore.

Crowley shuts both of them up by jerking the car into motion.

Food it is!” Crowley says, foot sinking satisfyingly down on the gas pedal. “And I know just where to take us.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The angels and demons have managed to escape Heaven and flee from Entropy. Before holing up at Aziraphale’s bookshop and deciding their next move - Aziraphale insists they get something to eat. Crowley decides the best place to get a couple of angels and demons lunch is….

The grocery store! Crowded around a single cart, they will shuffle round the aisles of the local grocery mart, exploring the strange wonders of fluorescent illuminated human cuisine.

The Ritz! Sitting elbow to elbow around a pristine white tablecloth, they will be sipping at champagne and making awkward small talk. Probably nothing will catch fire.

The drive thru! Packed in the Bentley, Crowley will drive them all to the greasiest of fast food establishments. With all three speaking at once, Crowley will attempt to order.

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

Part 18

#my writing #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable bureaucracy #aziraphale #crowley #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #good omens #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #multi-chapter fic #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fanfiction

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iprefertheterminsane · 3 years

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What I should be doing; Updating my current BFU/GoMens fanfic

What I am doing instead; drafting an entirely NEW BFU/GOMens fanfic

Here it is;

Story Idea:

BFU*Good Omens, but make it scary.

The Unsolved Crew are trying to return to the airport after a successful hunt in London. Shane suggests they follow a scenic route of no discernible town. They somehow find themselves in a town that is not on the GPS maps with weird vibes and, surprise surprise, their rental breaks down. They have all watched enough horror thrillers to know all the cliché-est plot points. What lives in Devil's Dyke? Are the Them serial killers? Is Warlock going to betray them? Shane and TJ are probably going to die. But most importantly; What does it all have to do with Ryan?

-This is Shyan centric. On their way back to the airport, Shane suggests the crew take a scenic route down South Downs on their way back from London with the promise of a beautiful lake. The London shoots had been rife with sexual tension, and Shane does not want the moment to end.

-They find themselves driving into a town instead, suburbania and quaint. The townsfolk frown at them as they pass by. RP Tyler straddles his barking poodle. They obviously don't like newcomers.

-The rental breaks down. The cliche Ness starts to dawn on them

-"Hahaha, next we'll find out this place doesn't have line!"

-There is no line. They all glare at Mark.

-In a fit of nervousness, Ryan starts offline vlogging. Shane suggests they go into town to ask for someone to call the two service and find someplace with line. Surely SOMEONE will recognize them.

-But strangers look away and walk faster away when they approach. Whoever they manage to start scowling or fidgeting, and none of them seems to recognize the duo. Some even claim to know only faintly of YouTube. It's getting unreal. They do not seem to be joking, and get only more upset whenever the Crew tries to convince or tell them otherwise. It is finally pushing dusk. The Crew stops by a beautiful park. There is no one around, but a young boy, who has a look in his eyes they find relief in: recognition.

-His name is Warlock Dowling, and he showed them a copy of his birth certificate to prove it, claiming that it happens often enough that he has to resort doing so. It's so fucking cliche it hurts. Ryan hates this movie already.

-But Warlock is the son of an American Ambassador who lives in the UK, and thus, likely the only child who seems to recognize them and their YouTube Channel. He is not a big fan, but it's a whole site better than literally everyone else. South Downs is a bedtime story, he claims. It's perfect in the way all the towns in children storybooks are perfect. Nobody plays the internet in a storybook town. It is not a prank. Devon is skeptical.

-Warlock invites them to go to the Ambassador's house a little ways down the airbase near the back of the town, (what kind of horror path will they take? Thought Ryan. Both feel like equally bad ideas.) but they decide to go tomorrow. He directs them to a bed and breakfast instead. All the rooms look the same. The lady barely looks up as she hands them their keys. There is electricity in the rooms, meaning they could charge their appliances. For naught of anything better to do, they are filming this entire experience. They somehow convince themselves that Shane is going to die because Ryan is evidently the Protagonist, and since Shane is his Best Friend, he is either going to betray them or die in a heroic act sacrificing himself for Ryan. In a fit of panic, Ryan tells Shane he has a crush on him. Which is great and sweet and all, but now REALLY seals the deal in because now Shane is a love interest instead. Hasnt Ryan heard of the bury your Gays trope?

-"I knew you guys were gonna end up gay" "what why." "they have to kill SOMEONE off and none of us are black and Ryan s the protagonist."

-They don't find Warlock in the park the next day, and are forced to look for him themselves. Walking of course. They find out about the satanic nunnery that caught on fire on a cafe because the waitress explains that they have to pass through that and the abandoned airbase in the back of the town to get to the villa on foot. They all sigh in exhausted manner, not much in the mood for dying.

-Trudge they do anyway. Nowhere out but through.

-The old satanic nunnery is....not abandoned

-They rush inside and find that it is a company teamwork support organization, and they give out paintball sessions. There is electricity. There is a line, even if the company wasnt currently in season. They try to find a worker.

-They find her. Sister Mary is haggard and busy running an entire company and booking sessions all by herself. She is in turns dismissive and annoyed to moderately tolerant....up until she learns of Ryan's name

-She suddenly wants nothing to do with any of them, practically shoving them out her door and face sheet white, mumbling about being busy and how it wasn't personal. The door slams in their faces. Ryan looks like he is about to cry. Shane snaps.

-He breaks the door down, to the shouts of surprise from the rest of the crew, and announces, with the loud, arrogant nonchalance of a white man, that he is not going to budge until she tells them everything they want to know about Lower Tadfield, the South Downs and yknow the fuck what? Neither will Ryan. The rest of the Crew follow his example and dig their heels in, pretending to film her for good measure. They are counting on the fact that she does not have security, and that even if she calls the cops on them, the building is far too suburbania to find very quickly. Mary looks absolutely terrified, and refuses to look Ryan in the eye. She eventually gives in, on the account that they will soon leave immediately.

-The find out that she was an ex convent of the Chattering Order of St. Berryl's, a satanic nunnery. She came back because she had been born here, and oddly enough, the convent meant something to her. A good dozen of the Satanists died due to a lightning storm catching the nunnery on fire the night two babies had been born, and three left through the gates. She's never been afraid of Lower Tadfield. Nothing ever happens here. They don't buy it, but it's apparent she believes what she is saying.

-They demand to use the present line to call for another rental, cancel their airport tickets, etcetera etcetera, emphasizing that they are excited about leaving just as much as she does. With this promise, she allows them to do so.

--They manage to get their raw footage to Cloud and cancel their tickets but just as they are about to call for a new car, the lights start flickering. The building rumbles. Mary looks straight at Ryan and tells them to run. They grab each other s hands and does so.

-There halfway down the road when TJ yelps, and Devon announces they are being chased by something. They decide to run into the woods down further down south to lose it.

-It is dusk. Nobody is happy. At least everyone is alive though, which is something. Ryan remarks that the chase scenes in the movies are exactly as tiring as they make it out to be.

-Mark hears running water, and the Crew finds an occupied cottage on the shoreline of the sea. Their sighs are loud; both relieved and annoyed. Mark starts chanting/praying that they are not serial killers. Shane announces that everyone must be ready to leave at a moments notice, and sleep in the woods of they must, to everyone's agreement.

-The man who opens the door wears glasses and low slung jeans, eyebrow raised rudely. His husband, blonde and plump, tells him to let them come in, and that it is nearly dinner. They are gracious hosts-old enough to be someone's grandparents. Cute and domestic as well. Shane goes strangely quiet when the couple dances in the living room, and Ryan chalks it up to their romantic relationship, for which they share talks. There are unoccupied rooms they could bunk in-five; each of them reserved for the couple's godkids. Despite getting their own rooms, Ryan cuddles with Shane. He is oddly tense, at least until they start making out.

-Ryan wakes at night to voices in his ear, and decides to get a glass of something to drink. Shane is out cold. He finds TJ in the kitchen, looking at his phone. It is a picture of his family-Kate and their daughter. This is hugely concerning, as it is a surefire telltale that TJ might not make it. Ryan promises him they'll get back home. TJ clasps him on the back and tells him not to make promises he can't keep.

-Shane wakes the crew at 4 am and tells them, quietly, to pack up and leave for town. He had found a map, and determined the way to navigate. They are confused but obliging. They do not wake their hosts-in fact, Shane seems to want to make sure they leave without their knowledge. They find their way back into Tadfield by 8.30 am, and it is only as they are having bfast that Shane tells them that there is no tech but the radio-which isn't plugged in. The water runs, but the pipes underneath the sink are not attached to anything. Crowley does not eat, and his eyes were....weird. Too many red flags. And as he searched the room for maps before Ryan came into his room the night before, he had found a crumpled poker card of the Antichrist, and Devon admits to finding one of War, a horseman of the Apocalypse, in hers. Mark taps his fork anxiously, and his eyes spell out what they all could tell. The climax is soon.

- It is not until Ryan walks and spots a bespectacled child of Warlocks age that he realizes he has barely seen any children in this town, and suggests that they follow him to ask whether he knew Warlock. The rest of the crew return to the BnB for some well deserved rest, but Shane and Ryan pursues the kid....into the forest.

-They lose him until HE found THEM. He immediately recognizes Ryan, who had to introduce his best friend Shane. Two other kids appear from between the trees. One of them, a girl, has a large wooden sword. They are surrounded. Shane grips Ryans hand, and asks, half jokingly, is they are serial killers, and if they are intending to kill him.

-The Them claims that it happened like, one time, and they do not plan to kill Shane, but their smile looks too wide to be genuine, like they are sharing a personal joke. The boys start walking away. The Them follows. Ryan asks if they know Warlock. They stop, sharing looks. Brian asks how they met Warlock. Ryan refuses to tell them . The kids get defensive, the way 13 year olds tend to get when they are about to justify doing a notable offense, like staying awake past bedtime The wind picks up, and the kids get visibly relieved. Brian tells them that Adam is coming, in a way that makes them feel like they definitely do not want to meet Adam. They scram it.

-They are being chased again. This time, when Ryan looks back, he sees what looks like a dog but isn't-like something is badly wearing the skin of a dog, like it has too many limbs to fit into four legs, a slobbering maw and hellfire eyes.

-They manage to leave the woods, and almost get hit by a three wheeled blue car. Shane bangs on the door and it opens for them, and Ryan shouts at them to step on it. It is only when they get to a quaint little cottage at the other end of the town do they acknowledge their saviours-a bespectacled, brown skinned woman and a jittery boyfriend.

-The woman is American. She recognizes them immediately, and says that she is a huge fan of True Crime. It is the most mundane , normal conversation they have for all of 2 days. They enter Jasmine Cottage. Shane slumps.

-there is a horseshoe above the door, and runes etched into the wood. The smell of incense burns strongly, and a redlined conspiracy board in a corner of the kitchen.

-The woman calls herself a professional occultist. A witch, basically. Which is...fine. She is at least honest and blasè about it, which made someone in this godforsaken town at least. Shane spots a picture of the Antichrist on her pinup board, the same one as seen in the poker card he's found in AziCrow's cottage. Anathema notices, and admits that it's complicated. They are confused, angry and terrified, and mentions their encounter with Adam, and everything else they'd had to suffer through as they are stuck in the village. Her facial emotions change from shock, to calculating, to confused, to skeptical, before finally ending In blank. She claims that it is very unlike Adam, as he usually does not go about scaring people from out of the village. He had welcomed her in just fine, and the town had followed short after. Shane asks about the Antichrist and Horsepeople symbolism. She waves that one away, claiming how it wasn't important and that 'They wouldn't believe her anyway.' She offers Meet to drive them back to their Inn, and they accept.

-They get back to the village; as they open the door to their rooms, knowing that the rest of the Crew is waiting for them, Warlock is also there. He takes a single look at them, and raises an eyebrow. They tell him what happened. Warlock frowns. Tells them the only reason they'd been hounded In such a way if Adam wants something from them, and TJ puts his face into their hands.

-They ask if they should lock the door. Warlock tells them not to bother-it won't stop him anyway. Devon asks the possibility of leaving this very night. Warlock shakes his head, but looks contemplating.

-That night, Shane gets kidnapped.

-Ryan doesn't see the culprit, but something tells him it's the Them, and the Hound, and Adam. He runs into the woods. The night is cold and still, but the trees shake like they could be alive. Ryan yells angrily into the void, asking Adam what is it that he wanted, that it's him they actually want, to let Ryan go. He faces the Hound, a slobbering, monstrous nightmare. Ryan thinks he is going to die. There is a boy sitting in a dilipidated throne above a chalk pit with blood red eyes.

-Two headlights pierce through the gloom. The trees still. The hound sits, and Crowley steps out if the Bentley.

-Aziraphale is in the car. Warlock peers over his shoulder. Crowley stomps over and tells Adam to come down-that his game is over, and it stopped being funny for quite some time. Shane stumbles out of the woods, dazed and terrified, and Ryan traps him into an embrace.

-After some chastising Adam admits that he's made a bet with Greasy Johnson in school that Demons and Ghosts are real, and that the Them had managed to convince him that it lives in the woods. He had not believed them, and made them bet that if it was really haunted, Paranormal Investigators would come and make a whole documentary about it. Warlock had showed him a few episodes of BFU, and Adam thought it perfect.

-Crowley scolds him, telling him against manipulating and keeping the Crew here against their will, and Adam looks appropriately chastened. Dawn breaks. The crew emerges from the Inn in a state of panic. Crowley pat's the van twice and it comes to life.

-Someone asked Crowley if the kids really HAD killed people. Crowley waves it away, claiming that it isn't important. In the light of morning, the kids and the dog almost looks normal.

- They decide not to prod any further. Aziraphale apologizes one last time, and tells the that they are welcome in Tadfield if they choose to come again. Ryan and Shane emphasizes that they absolutely will not, ever. Aziraphale nods like he understands. They pack the equipment and leaves the town, possibly England, forever.

-In a few days time, Adam gets an email- a video titled The Horrors of Hogsback Woods, and he grins cheekily to himself.

#BuzzFeed Unsolved #Shyan maybe?#Good Omens #but scary #Warlock Dowling #Anthony Crowley #Aziraphale #Shane Madej #Ryan Bergara #fanfic #fanfic draft #Adam is a little shit #the Them are technically murderers?#tw horror #suspense #ineffable husbands #Devon #TJ Marchbank #Mark

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 1/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: For @silver-colour

Written for the @tricketyboo2020 prompt "Creepypasta format story (like a found footage or witness statement kind of thing)" by silver-colour. It is a mild reworking of an older fanfic of mine, but that goes tongue in cheek with the ending of this story sort of. XD I would put this between Spooky Level 2 and 3, with 3 being "major and minor character death, disturbing images or concepts, major dark themes, major violence, etc." But there's only minor mentions of blood/body horror. But the whole undead thing is a trigger for some people and I lean into that imagery a bit. I wanted this to be a sort of leveled up Goosebumps tale. Tl;dr proceed with caution <3

Chapter 1

I am going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

I have to keep repeating it because I have to come to grips with it.

I am going to die.

Not in sixty years.

More like sixty minutes.

Oh, Amanda. I am sorry.

If you ever hear this … I never meant for this to happen.

My name is Warlock Dowling and I am 34 years-old. Devoted son and husband, I’ve spent over a decade working towards achieving my dream of following in my father’s footsteps and entering politics one day.

It’s a dream I don’t think I’ll be seeing through to the end.

I am telling you this because after reading what I’ve just read … and hearing what I’ve just heard … I am not certain I’m going to make it through the night.

I broke the rules.

There were four. Only four. And I broke them.

I didn’t break them by accident. I absolutely did it on purpose. I’m not suicidal or anything, but you only live once - am I right?

For the record, I don’t regret a single thing.

…

That’s not entirely true.

I’ll regret dying before morning if that’s the way things play out.

Today happens to be October 31st - Halloween night. I’d been tasked with clearing out the attic above a cottage in The South Downs which once belonged to a pair of old family friends. Technically, they were ex-employees of my parents from back when I was young, but I thought of them as surrogates. They practically raised me, educated me, taught me everything I know about coping in this cruel, pathetic world.

I held them in the highest regard.

They were the only people in my life who treated me as if I could become more than what I had been born into, that fate had something else in store for me. Because of them, I met the best friends a boy could ever have.

I will forever be grateful for that.

Cleaning out this attic was the least I could do to repay them, but to be honest, I don’t know who summoned me here. I assumed it was the executor of their estate, but now I’m not so sure. Looking over the letter in my hands, there is no legible signature. And the gold embossed emblem at the top that I took for granted as belonging to some upscale legal firm is, on closer inspection, gibberish - a mess of fleur-de-lis underscored by Latin words that roughly translate to “the cows shall rise”.

Ludicrous, right?

How did I miss that?

But more ludicrous - and confusing - are the rules.

I had been given rules about cleaning this attic.

The first rule on the list was to touch only what I could see. Under no circumstances was I to open any of the boxes or chests.

So, naturally, I opened every single one.

The second rule was not to put anything on. Fine by me. The only clothes up here are old lady outfits and a pair of white satin shoes.

But …

There was an awesome vintage leather jacket hanging on a dressmaker’s dummy in the corner and … well … it had my name written all over it! I had to try it on, see if it fit.

And it does.

Rule number three - keep to my torch. Don’t light any candles.

Nuh-uh! It’s Halloween! And torches are lame. So on the candles went. Jeez, there are a lot of them. Enough to burn down the whole place if I’m not careful. It actually seems like they’ve multiplied since I’ve been up here.

I won’t lie - it’s unsettling.

But according to the list, rule number four is the most important:

Don’t read any books I find. And definitely not out loud.

The first thing I saw when I entered the attic was a stack of leather-bound books. I scoffed at the sight of them, piled up to my chin, right inside the entryway. Isn’t that a bit like putting a huge bowl of candy front and center on your dining room table in the middle of dinner with a huge sign saying, “Do not eat?” If the most important rule about going into the attic is, “Don’t read anything!” why not put all the books on a high shelf?

Or the moon?

I’m not a book lover. I read hundreds of pages a day for work. I definitely don’t do it for fun. So this shouldn’t have been a hard one for me to follow.

But they looked like diaries.

And diaries hold secrets.

That made them a different matter all together.

I couldn’t resist.

But once I opened the top one, I knew I’d made a mistake.

These weren’t just any diaries.

They were the diaries of my two friends - Aziraphale and Crowley.

There had always been something odd about those two. I didn’t believe for a second that they were a proper nanny or gardener, not even when I was a young, impressionable child. But they were funny - a distraction from the dull as dishwater life of an attache’s son.

Yes, I was a spoiled little rich kid with everything I could ever ask for handed to me and, on top of that, diplomatic immunity.

Woe was me.

I realize how much of a douche whining about that makes me sound.

My life was still dull.

I was still lonely.

I never knew for sure what happened to them after they left us. I made assumptions - erroneous assumptions. I thought they lived happily ever after at least.

Now I know … that wasn’t the case.

I’m recording this in the hopes that someone will find it, so that you might know the true story of what happened to them …

… and why you might not be hearing from me again.

***

The Diary of Aziraphale Fell - Reluctant Widower

January 14th-

“Please, sir,” the decrepit woman hissed, but not unkindly. She came about her speech impediment by a mixture of symptoms - her thick accent coupled with her indeterminable old age caused her to talk that way. “Please, reconsider this decision.”

I glared at her regardless. I knew my eyes were bloodshot; my hair a mass of tangled, wayward strands; my lips quivered from constant, unrelenting crying.

“You said you had it!” I screamed, bypassing her arguments. “You said you would sell it to me! Wh---why else would I come here!?”

“You need to understand,” the woman implored, opening her hands in a pleading gesture. She fixed me with one clear blue eye, the other eye clouded – a useless, milky white lump of tissue bulging inside its socket, “what you ask for … it is unnatural.”

“But your granddaughter said it was a done deal!” I persisted, shooting a steely glare at the simpering young woman who ducked behind her grandmother to hide from my volatile stare. I wasn’t about to leave without the item I came for. At this point, I was willing to tear the place apart and everything inside - including the two of them - to get it.

They must have sensed that.

Even as the woman continued to defy me, she looked slightly more afraid than she had a minute ago.

“My granddaughter is foolish!” The woman directed the comment over her shoulder to the girl cowering there. “But she means well. We need the money. She was thinking with her head and not her heart.”

“I can pay you twice what you’re asking!” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Three times! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

The girl, intrigued by my proposal, peeked over her grandmother’s shoulder, but the woman turned and barked sharply at her in a language I could not understand.

That was when I began to think I might be in danger.

I’d spent my entire life studying languages, so hearing one I didn’t comprehend, not even an inch, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mr. Fell …” The old woman reached out, I presumed to comfort me, and took my shaking hand in hers “… your husband is dead. And I am more sorry than I can ever express at your loss. You carry your love for him like a beacon. I see it in your eyes. It shines from every part of you. With him gone, it is up to you to carry it. It will never fade as long as you remember him.”

Those were, without a doubt, the kindest words anyone had said to me since my husband passed. I crumbled, new tears falling hot down my cheeks. But regardless of her sympathy, sincere though it might be, I refused to relent.

I refused!

“I don’t want to remember him!” I whimpered, my anger renewed at the sound of my voice fracturing. “I want him here with me! I need you to help me bring him back!”

The woman sighed in pity but shook her head.

“The effects of life are varied, Mr. Fell. Our fate … it changes every day, with every choice that we make. But the effects of death should remain permanent.”

I flinched at that word as if she’d struck me across the face.

Permanent.

Crowley dead … my husband gone … and nothing for me to look forward to in life but emptiness. We’d had every moment of our lives planned together.

One arsehole drunk driver later and now I was alone.

I literally had no one.

I had lost contact with my mum early in life, never knew my father, didn’t have children of my own. My boss and mentor was an abusive prick who tormented me throughout the span of my career until I found a way out from under his thumb.

Until Crowley helped me discover a life where I didn’t need the man’s guidance or control.

But now I was going to lose him!? The only one who had stuck by me, who defended me, loved me through thick and thin!?

No! That was beyond cruel! And I wasn’t going to roll over and accept it!

I let the sorrow within me curdle, turn sour as I yanked my hand out of the old woman’s grasp.

“Your granddaughter said there are other methods of getting what I want!” I snarled. “Dangerous methods. Methods that might require payment in sacrifice … even blood. And not necessarily my blood. Innocent blood, if you catch my meaning.”

Both women gasped.

Despite the conversation at hand, I smiled.

Good, I thought. We were finally all on the same page.

Up until a few days ago, I never considered violence to be the answer to anything. But I had since come to a crossroads where an exception had made itself clear.

I was prepared to annihilate my humanity to get my husband back.

The old woman snapped her head over her shoulder, scolding her granddaughter in a harsh, guttural voice. The girl, who had started to brave coming out of hiding, shrank down once again.

“Be reasonable,” the woman begged, “please, and think about what you are saying. What you are willing to do.”

“No,” I said, my calm more potent than my anger … or so my husband used to say. “The time for me being reasonable is over. I will get what I want, no matter what the cost. The question is whether or not you will be the one to give it to me.”

The woman looked down at her gnarled hands and sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “Alright, Mr. Fell. I will sell the potion to you at the promised price.”

I stared at her for a moment in shock. I was relieved, of course. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. It frightened me how much I had begun looking forward to throttling her with my bare hands, imagined her neck snapping within my grasp, effortlessly like a twig.

That couldn’t be me though. I wasn’t that kind of person. It was this place - this shop and all of its trinkets, their age and professed magical abilities amplifying my grief, turning every rational thought I had into rage.

I had to get out of here and fast before I did something I might regret.

I opened my wallet with the onset of happier tears and thumbed through the bills, pulling out extra for the joy of getting what I wanted. I handed the money over, but the woman refused to touch it. She waved it away, her granddaughter popping up long enough to grab the money and then scurry off again. The woman reached into the folds of her skirts and retrieved a leather pouch that hung from a thin belt around her waist. From it she fished out a tiny blue bottle with a cork stopper sealing the mouth. She gave it a long, troubled look, then handed it to me.

For the first time, her hand trembled.

“Pour the contents of this bottle into your husband’s mouth, Mr. Fell,” she instructed, “and your husband will return.”

I held the bottle up to the dim candlelight of the musty Soho shop. The blue glass glimmered, a thick liquid inside swaying back and forth, shimmering like sun-tossed sparkles across a dark, foreboding sea.

“There are some rules that go along with that potion,” the woman said, her voice weeding into my head, summoning me back from my momentary trance, “and a few warnings you must heed as well.”

I sighed. I had hoped it would be a simple matter of giving my husband the liquid and living happily ever after, but I knew in my heart that nothing was ever that simple.

“Okay,” I said, slipping the bottle carefully into my pocket and patting over it twice to ensure its safety. “Tell me. What are the rules?”

“First of all, you will give that to your husband, but what will come back …” she paused, swallowed hard “… will not entirely be your husband.”

I nodded. I had expected her to say something along those lines, like a scene straight from an old time-y horror movie.

The woman locked both eyes, one clear and one clouded, on my face as I waited for her to finish her speech, eager to go back home and get on with my life. She realized, with regret, that I had every intention of going through with this, and took on the heavy burden of allowing this to continue.

“Be there to look into his eyes when he wakes,” she said.

I hadn’t dreamed of leaving his side, but since the woman made such a point of it, I asked, “Why?”

“He is being reborn, in a sense. And like other simple-minded creatures, he will imprint on the first person he sees.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “That person needs to be you!”

My gulp was audible, the weight of her words and of my plan suddenly settling within me. They pressed in on me, like that moment when the police came to my door. Their words – “Mr. Fell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but … it’s about your husband …” had turned me inside out, left my heart out in the cold.

I felt that cold now.

“Once the potion absorbs into his tissues, it will restart his heart,” she continued. “Then the potion will replicate. It will begin to take the place of his blood. It will make him calm, easier for you to control.”

I nodded again. I wanted to say something, assure the woman that I understood, but she didn’t pause long enough for me to speak. It wouldn’t have mattered. I saw the trepidation in her one, clear eye. I had no clue what to say to make this better.

“It will be a slow process, and you must learn to be a patient man!” She raised her voice, letting go of one hand to waggle an emphatic finger in front of my face. “You will be teaching him, raising him as you would a child. Remember, even if only a small portion of his soul returns, that soul belongs to your husband, and you must love him or this will not work!”

The woman stepped back, out of breath from her outburst, and her granddaughter (whom I had forgotten about) returned, pushing forward an ornate but dusty antique chair to catch her in. I held the woman’s arms gently and helped her into it, feeling strangely protective. The woman sat and waved us both off, not wanting us to make a fuss when she still had more to say.

“But most importantly,” she labored on, barely missing a beat in her speech, “do not let him taste blood.” I knelt down so that she didn’t feel the need to yell for her words to reach me. “He cannot eat meat, but most of all, don’t let him bite you or lick your wounds. Or anyone else’s – human or animal.”

“Will … will I become a zombie? If he does bite me?”

I’m not quite sure why the word ‘zombie’ leapt to my mind. In every interaction I had had with the woman’s granddaughter before tonight, she had been so careful not to use that term. She used other, more romantic euphemisms such as ‘bring back to the land of the living’, ‘re-associate with life’, and the most used - ‘rebirth’. But that’s what he would be, right? When we moved past the flowery vernacular and got right down to it? This potion I had pocketed would turn my husband into the walking dead, - a simple-minded creature that was once deposed from this Earth.

And that meant ‘zombie’.

As if I had nothing more pressing at hand, I suddenly recalled the Walking Dead marathon Crowley had convinced me to watch (against my better judgement). Crowley thought the show was hilarious, but I could barely make it to the middle of the first season. I had started watching with my hands over my eyes, then with my arm locked around Crowley’s, anxiously smacking his shoulder, and finally with most of my body lying over his lap and my face buried in his shirt.

It wasn’t just the gore in the show that skewered me, made me nauseous, unable to breathe. It was the fear and the pain those characters felt, being chased by a relentless enemy that needed no rest, constantly running into people they couldn’t trust, people who were so out for themselves they no longer believed in the sanctity of life, with nowhere to hide, nowhere safe at all, even behind thick, concrete and metal walls.

Watching your loved ones get turned into soulless monsters - still there, but everything about them that you had once loved out of reach.

And this ‘illness’ or whatever these people had - it spared no one. Even children had become zombies. And in the game that was survival for the remaining uninfected, children had become pawns.

Everything about it seemed so horrendous.

And while I suffered through my existential crisis, Crowley laughed at my antics.

I fought not to smile at the sound of his teasing voice.

“Uh … a little squeamish there, are you, angel?”

Angel.

From the first day we met, that’s what he called me.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear him call me that again!

The old woman chuckled, bringing me reluctantly back from my daydream. “No. Not in this case. That’s not the nature of this spell. No, blood will give him back his memories.”

I looked at the woman, bug-eyed, and shook my head. “I … I don’t …”

“It will ignite his brain. He will begin to feel. In many ways, he will become more the man you married than in any other.”

“Wha---?“ I stuttered, baffled as to how that could be a bad thing. If drinking blood could make Crowley more Crowley, I’d set up an IV drip the minute I got home! I would serve him cups of blood with every meal! I’d make donating blood a requirement for entrance into my bookshop! (That one would definitely kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I might consider doing that anyhow.) “And why wouldn’t I want that again?” I asked, trying not to sound like turning my husband into a blood-sipping fiend was the greatest idea in known history.

The old woman smiled, but it wasn’t fond. It was shrewd, as if she could read every one of my thoughts.

And she didn’t approve.

“Once he has his memories back, he will start to crave it. Soon, drinking blood won’t be enough for him. It won’t work as well. It won’t keep the memories as fresh. He will have to go further, do more. He will become a killer.”

My face must have gone as green as I felt because the woman laughed again, this time with a touch of wickedness. A killer? My Crowley? My sweet, kind, compassionate Crowley?

Okay, maybe I was going too far with the endearments. He’d been a bit of a bastard, after all. Which was why I could picture Crowley becoming a full-fledged bad boy. With that leather jacket he wore like a second skin and his gleaming classic car, he’d been well on his way.

But a killer? No.

Then again, I was willing to become one myself a second ago, so maybe I wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“You are playing with the laws of nature, Mr. Fell,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “You are responsible not only for your own life, but for the lives of those around you.” The woman leaned in close, those eyes – one alive, one dead - more menacing than when I had walked into the shop; her face no longer that of a frail old woman but of a powerful witch.

This time, it was my turn to feel afraid.

“So don’t fuck it up.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #tricketyboo2020 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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lineffability · 5 years

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May I ask for a drabble of Aziraphale being introduced to Crowley's plants, please?

“This is… where you live?”

Aziraphale stood in the doorway with absolute horror in his eyes, a kind of horror that not even the Reign of Terror had been able to produce, perhaps because back then the promise of crêpes had cancelled out most of his brain functions. Reluctantly, he took a small step into the flat. Or warehouse. Bunker. Whatever this was.

“Nope! Never seen this place before, actually. Just broke in for the fun of it; who needs permanent housing anyway? Where’s the fun in that?” When the expression of horror on the angel’s face only deepened, Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. “Yes, angel, I live here.”

“But… it’s dreadful!” Aziraphale cried, genuinely scandalized.

Crowley grinned. “Why, thank you.”

“That’s, that’s not–oh, Crowley.” He sighed.

Crowley snaked out of Aziraphale’s way as the angel cautiously foraged into the flat, as if treading on unholy ground. In a way he supposed he was, though the aesthetics of the place evoked not Hell, but another unearthly place, one he was all too familiar with. One he had tried very much to shut out of his own living space.

The style, he believed, was called ‘minimalistic’: minimal furniture, minimal decoration, minimal love. Lots of empty space.

As Aziraphale walked along the narrow, grey corridor, he peeked through a half-open door to his right and caught a glimpse of green: a little houseplant, sitting forlornly on a table. He furrowed his brows, but walked on.

His concentrated silence made Crowley nervous, who caught up to the angel’s side with a long stride to inspect the angelic face. Which, the demon realized, had fixed onto a sculpture. That sculpture.

Well.

Aziraphale turned his face to the demon, his expression–well, rather expressionless. If you looked close enough, you might have found a spark of heavenly glee hidden at the very back of his eyes.

“They’re wrestling,” Crowley clarified after a moment, brows rising pointedly.

“Ah.” Aziraphale said. He said nothing more. He didn’t need to.

When he turned his back on Crowley to walk on, the demon bared his teeth. For a moment he considered opening up a hole beneath himself and sinking into it. This desire only intensified when, suddenly, Aziraphale paused and then very decidedly walked towards… his plants.

“Crowley, whatever do you have in there that feels so, so…”

“Don’t say it!”

Loved. Aziraphale didn’t say it, but they both knew nonetheless.

Then the angel rounded the corner and laid eyes on the most lush, verdant and tall houseplants in all of England. Also, perhaps, the only ones that shivered.

Loved, but also terrified.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. “This is your work?”

The demon was not used to hear those words in this context. Usually they were uttered with indignation, disbelief, accusation–only to be diffused, regularly, by a variation of No! That wasn’t me! They thought it up themselves!

But now Aziraphale spoke them tenderly, with soft surprise, and Crowley clenched his hands at his sides. Then he shook off the angel’s loving gaze, and straightened his shoulders.

“If you see any flaws on them, angel,” he announced loudly. “Any at all–then tell me.” He swept the room with hellfire in his eyes.

“But they’re perfect!”

“Nothing is perfect!” Crowley shot back with a hiss, “Which is unfortunate, because I only accept perfection. So let’s see”–here he addressed the plants again, which were visibly trying to grow–“who will be the next to come last in this eternal race that you can only, sooner or later, lose. You know what awaits any and all plants that leave this room: the garbage disposal.”

The words settled with dull finality, though if Crowley had chosen to add an Evil Villain Laugh at any point during his speech, now surely would have been the time. He looked like he was considering it.

Except, as per usual, his plans were thwarted.

“But back there I just saw–” Aziraphale’s eyes widened almost comically as a hand suddenly clamped his mouth shut.

“You saw the plant shredder, yes,” Crowley continued for him, “big and scary and always…hungry.” He let that settle in the room, not taking his hand off the angel’s face. The plants stood stockstill. (The poor things were so easily deceived.)

Aziraphale, however, wiggled his way out from under Crowley’s grip.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s hand brushed across the same spot where the demon’s had just now lingered. “Very well. I will not– I will– Well let me just say, I for one think you are beautiful!” he declared to the room, and Crowley hissed behind him. “You too, dear.”

“That’s– that’s not what–” Crowley gave up. No point arguing with (self-)righteousness itself.

It was only later, when they were sitting on a couch–a soft and beige Rennaissance-style two-seater that had suddenly materialized in the living room, to Crowley’s horror–with a bottle of wine, that Aziraphale said, pointedly: “You threaten your plants?”

“Yeah, well, makes ‘em grow better.”

“Didn’t know you were one for empty threats, though…being a wily demon…”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You do. You love them.”

“Don’t use that clean word around me, angel!”

Aziraphale smiled, mercifully. “Well, they are lovely, either way. It had me wondering, though–this flat.” He motioned towards the room, holding, apart from the miracle couch, only a small grey desk, a wall-mounted tv, a throne Aziraphale wisely refrained from commenting on, and a sketch of the Mona Lisa*. “The plants seem to be an expection. Why is it… like this?“ You’re a demon. Aren’t you supposed to be–greedy? Why was this space… ascetic?

*(Oh, he had been a lovely young man, Salai. The sketch really did him justice, perhaps more so than the finished work.)

Crowley took a long sip from his glass. His voice was carefully casual, when he spoke again. “Ah, it‘s just cramped. Down there. ‘S all.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who was suddenly looking anywhere else. And realization fell like scales from his eyes. He understood. And softened. “I see,” he merely said, but he said it quietly, and his eyes, themselves now averted, said Oh. Oh, I should have understood sooner. I know exactly how you feel.

He thought of his bookshop, of the cramped but warm space that was comfy in all the ways that Heaven was so very Not. And suddenly the clean and empty space around him didn’t look so dreadfull to him at all. It looked like a very own brand of Demonic Design.

It looked like choices.

#fanfiction #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfiction #inefficable #my writing #my omens #edgy-fluffball #u ok this ask is apparently a month old im so sorry #just a silly little drabble #there are noe about 39572397 fics about this but every one is a good one #so

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degenerate-perturbation · 5 years

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Ultimate Good Omens Fic Recommendations

I read the entire AO3 archive. I started sometime in November 2018 and read all the way back to 1999. I did not read every story, but I tried. Here are my recommendations.

(Most Good Omens fic is very good, which is why I bothered to read the entire archive instead of just scrolling through the first few pages, despairing, and giving up, which is what I usually do when I read fanfiction. So if your fic is not here, congratulations! I probably still read it and liked it but this post is already very long.)

My Absolute Top Favorites

Deus Ex Machina by clockwork_spider - Angels really aren't the most sentimental bunch, so when Crowley was escorted back to Hell, Aziraphale's initial reaction was to do nothing. But let it be known that God moves in ineffable ways.

Tryst On a Hot Church Roof by Macdicilla - Crowley has some fantasies. Aziraphale encourages him to explore them and not to be embarrassed. Neither of them can really take roleplay seriously but they still have a good time.

Re-Recalled by Jennistar - Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

The love that dare not speak its name by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule - London, late nineteenth century. Aziraphale finds that time moves slowly while waiting for Crowley to wake up. Meeting Oscar Wilde should break the monotony. But perhaps it will bring more of a change than the angel anticipated…

Safe Haven by JAMoczo - A remix of Prodigal Son: January 1945; Aziraphale has a crisis of Faith.

(The rest below the cut, in convenient categories)

General

Five Things That Never Happened To Aziraphale by imperfectcircle - Five things.

Down to the Earth with Violence by Daegaer - Crowley and Aziraphale meet after the end of the world.

Coming to an Arrangement by Daegaer - The long, slow path to the Arrangement.

Act of Redemption by copperbadge - After the world failed to end, Crowley got depressed.

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot by xylodemon - In which Crowley starts over. Again, and again, and again.

A Few Conversations, Which are Mostly Related to Christmas by xylodemon - In which there is cocoa, conversation, and more Christmas cheer than Crowley think is strictly necessary.

The Ghost and A. J. Crowley by Argyle - A heartwarming tale of grisly ghost plants and fearsome floral apparitions. Has Crowley finally met his match? Will Aziraphale come to the rescue? And just how difficult is it to remove dirt stains from white carpet?

Five Meetings (Steps in the Fall and Rise to Grace) by icarus_chained - GO Noir AU. Bad things are brewing in the City of Angels, and one tired ex-cop is stuck in the middle of it.

How to Make Friends and Influence Flora aka Radio Four Never Mentioned This by WinterEyes - The Fear of Crowley isn't all it's cracked up to be

Suntne Angeli? by Macdicilla - Adam answers the question of whether angels need to eat and drink, and accidentally creates a major change in the (pants) fabric of reality.

Field Agents by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule - How did ‘Human’ Resources (both Demonic and Angelic) recruit Crawly and Aziraphale to be field agents? Is it a coincidence that they both found themselves back on Earth after leaving the Garden of Eden?

The Devil Went Down to Georgia by ImprobableDreams900 - Now Crowley went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal, cause he was in a bind and way behind and he was willing to make a deal.

Major Failings by irisbleufic - It was quick and messy, the sort of thing that took you off-guard no matter how many beheadings, torture stints, and vivisections you'd seen otherwise. Actually, Crowley wasn't certain how many of any of those he'd actually seen. He tended to lower his eyes or look away at the last second. This was also a major failing in a demon.

Pre-Relationship

Gavotte by bunnyfication - Crowley sleeps a decade or a few, and suddenly Aziraphale is dressing fashionably? And asking him to a dance at a club with a "select clientele"? Clearly something is amiss.

Something About Flamingos by Plumbeo - Aziraphale and Crowley have a petty, stupid, pointless fight. After four days of not talking to each other, the angel decides to break the silence - in an equally stupid way.

it giveth light unto all in the house (the let's have some wine remix) by pocky_slash - There's loving Crowley the way he loves their waiter at the café and the ducks in St. James Park and linzer tarts and there's—well.

growing season by ghostsoldier - In which Aziraphale kills plants, and Crowley is a generous sort of demon.

Afternoons and Espresso Spoons by Kirathaune

Home by LysanderandHermia - Crowley has a realization, and it's about the angel drooling on the couch while he sleeps.

Sweet Dreams, Angel! by sous_le_saule - Aziraphale’s never been able to sleep. Crowley takes up the challenge.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless - Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted.

Saunter by Aria - There is nothing to do but feel out of sorts, disjointed and slightly askew from the world, and watch as Aziraphale absently eats the apple, the world's hundred millionth apple, symbolic of nothing at all.

They Get Together In These Ones

And when he falls by torch - There are many ways to celebrate having avoided the apocalypse.

The Member of the Wedding by Aja - Crowley comes to a realization.

Survivors' Guilt / For All the World by irisbleufic - It was a dark and stormy night, and nobody was enjoying it.

Goodbody by copperbadge - Aziraphael's new body is causing some problems.

Sunday (Or the First Day Of the Rest of Their Lives) by pollitt - Sunday at the park

Under Cover by bliumchik - There's a new little problem in Tadfield...

An Excellent Long-Term Solution by Beth H (bethbethbeth) - In which Hell seems more forgiving than Heaven, Aziraphale seems to have got himself into a bit of a pickle, and Crowley seems to have come up with the perfect solution, almost all on his own.

Firebird: III. Finale by htebazytook - "In the background Crowley and Aziraphale met on the tops of buses, and in art galleries, and at concerts, compared notes, and smiled."

Old Fashioned by htebazytook - Hell has changed.

Very Complicated Solitaire by htebazytook

Ordinary People (The Anything But Ordinary Remix) by cimorene - Crowley has started to take a proprietary interest in Aziraphale's bookshop.

The Speck in the London Eye by Vulgarweed - A hot dame, a missing youth, a quirky consultant—and much much more than meets the eye at stake. Private Investigator A.J. Crowley just might be in over his head this time.

TwoFish by Grindylowe - A love story about angels and demons. Also, fish.

Snowy Evenings by htebazytook - Five times Crowley couldn't stand the snow, and one time he could.

A Peculiar Sensation by Elvendork - It happens at the Ritz: Aziraphale comes to a startling realistion, but takes it in his stride remarkably well.

As Above, So Below by JenTheSweetie - Crowley and Aziraphale talk, drink, complete paperwork, drink, fall asleep with abandon, drink, and do other stuff (maybe). And drink.

Modern Love by punkfaery - Crowley, Aziraphale, and a series of religious buildings.

A Backwards Proposal by HoloXam - An encounter with a bride-to-be puts an idea in Aziraphale's head. Crowley doesn't react very well.

Post-Relationship

Recall by busaikko - RECALL: 1. To ask or order to return; 2. To summon back to awareness; 3. To remember; recollect.

That Subtle Knot by apple_pi - I wonder. Does an angel get his wings when the bell is set off by a demon?

Never Mind the Gravitation by Argyle - Sure, there's life on Mars. But Crowley can hardly call it living.

Flamingos by Interrobam - "Las Vegas, Crowley had always maintained, was technically Aziraphale's fault." Crowley and Aziraphale go to Las Vegas, contemplate the history of civilization and the meaning of existence.

Snapshots by mirawonderfulstar - Five photographs on the wall of Aziraphale’s shop.

A Resort By Any Other Name by TheLifeOfEmm - Or in which Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday, but have a bit of trouble with the weather.

Hell's Bells (Wedding Bells) by Macdicilla - Hell finds out that Aziraphale and Crowley are together, and eventually Heaven does too. Hell sends its [unwelcome] congratulations.

Categorization by SleepsWithCoyotes - Crowley calls 'em like he sees 'em.

Black Dog by HoloXam - In which Crowley feels bad and Aziraphale makes tea.

The Flame No Dampness Dulls by mirawonderfulstar - Aziraphale doesn't understand why Crowley's spent the last two months trying to seduce him when the demon hasn't ever shown any interest in sex.

heaven is a place where nothing ever happens by Contra - After the end of the world, there comes a new morning.

These Ones Have Sex

Lethe For Two by SleepsWithCoyotes - A visit from the Angel of Oblivion sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?

Monday, Half Past Four by TruckThat - Crowley decides that almost any course of action is justified if it manages to distract him from the fact that it's been nearly two days and so far nothing else is going wrong.

The Reason for the Season by Vulgarweed - Adam and Pepper, now married with children of their own, worry that their kids might be losing some of the magic of the season. Adam calls in a little favour from some old friends - with a nice little bonus that's in it for them.

No Such Thing by irisbleufic - "You mean [Agnes] was trying to reassure us the whole time that the world wasn't, in fact, going to end?"

Historical

Casual as Birds by apple_pi - Aziraphale and Crowley in London, 1944.

New Day (The Dreaming of You Remix) by Daegaer - Ettore dreams of friendship and love.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by Argyle - The Devil has all the best tunes. (London, 1940)

Theatrical Sins: A Play in Three Acts by Aria - "What did you do?" Crowley asked in horror, the first time he saw Aziraphale after sleeping away most of the nineteenth century.

Natural Laws by Argyle - Every object in the Universe attracts every other object. (Lincolnshire, 1665)

Species, Origins by bliumchik - A prehistoric chat.

Lessons in Falling by Argyle - You never forget how. (London, 1866/1899)

The Visible Universe by Argyle - It was not a remarkable day. (England, 1928)

How Crowley Saved Christmas by such_heights - It was 1842, and Aziraphale really didn’t want to do it.

Letters by inabathrobe for miss_narla - Aziraphale and Crowley burn letters and bridges.

Myths Will Be Myths by palavreado - Aziraphale says goodbye to an old friend.

On Transmutation (and Tortoises) by Vermin_Disciple - c. 1859. In which Aziraphale reads the latest bestseller, and he and Crowley take a trip to the Galapagos.

i wanted to hurt you but the victory is that i could not stomach it by gyzym

Three Times Aziraphale Was Almost Too Much Of A Bastard To Be Worth Liking by feverbeats - They have to stop meeting like this.

Safe Haven by JAMoczo - A remix of Prodigal Son: January 1945; Aziraphale has a crisis of Faith.

In der H'lle by Copinggoggles - Snapshot in the trenches.

Hell Is Empty by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication) - Crowley goes to investigate this Inquisition he supposedly helped to start and finds Aziraphale instead.

And All The Devils Are Here by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication) - Aziraphale is taken in by the Inquisition for witchcraft and finds help from an unexpected source.

The Widening Gyre by Vulgarweed - In the spring of 1916, some in London and Dublin were fighting a war on two fronts. Three, if you include the heart. (Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of it.)

Bacchanalia by furchte_die_schildkrote - The first time Crowley was kissed by an angel, Aziraphale had wine on his breath, a nearly full moon hung in the sky, and Rome was burning.

Carmina Burana by Lunasong365 - Carmina Burana has been described as: Profane. Sensual. Irreverent. Satirical of religion.So why was its source text discovered in a monastery?

The Fourteenth Century by Elsinore_and_Inverness - An Angel, a Demon and the Crisis of the Late Middle Ages

“O Serpent heart… Fiend Angelical, Dove Feather Raven” -William Shakespeare (R&J, 3.2.74-76) by Elsinore_and_Inverness - 'There are no sonnets immortalizing a demon with eyes like the sun. This is probably just as well.'

Don't Mind You Under My Skin by 50artists - Five times that Crowley tempted Aziraphale (with mixed success), and one time Aziraphale tempted him.

Biblical

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear by Daegaer

Over the Face of all the Earth by Daegaer - The Tower of Babel seemed like a good idea at the time . . .

Father of Nations by Daegaer - Crowley and Aziraphale keep having dealings with the same family.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at an Apple by Argyle - In which one thing leads to another, and the Garden awakens.

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym - Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

for I am come to send fire on the earth by tomato_greens - The worst of it was that Crowley had already received a commendation, gleaming, from Below.

And Find for Herself a Place to Rest by tomato_greens - So long as you avoided the thorns, it was a nice tree.

Another One Bites the Dust by diefiend - Crowley and Aziraphale and the Crucifixion.

Other Characters

Revisited and Riding Out by Patrick Phelan

Of Woman Born by slythwolf - A brief biography of Adam's biological mother.

Pennies From Heaven (Pound Notes From Hell) by Ineffabilitea - Warlock just wants to feel special again.

Forgotten, As A Dream by Clodius Pulcher (Clodia) - "They'll be back. They're never far away..." Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, aged eleven and a half, dreams red. Or rather, Red.

Good Help is Hard to Find, or The Hazards of Reading Prophecy by Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard), somnolentblue - Wherein Aziraphale hires a shop assistant.

Love Me Tender by tomato_greens - Bright lights and ice cream: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Except when it doesn't.

Memory Yields by Interrobam - The thing about being destined to bring about the apocalypse when you're eleven was that no one quite made plans for how you were supposed to go about the rest of your life.

The Morning After the Morning After the End of the World by Aegialia - Anathema moves on and figures herself out.

In which Adam challenges Crowley to a drinking contest and it is a terrible idea by Macdicilla - It is a rather foolish thing to set a bet with the devil, or even with a devil, unless you have an ace—or better yet, all the aces in the deck—up your sleeve.

Anything by LoveChilde - About ten years after the world didn’t end, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild meets an angel. Or maybe just a harmless homosexual. They have tea.

Forgive Those Who Trespass by JAMoczo - Crowley and Shadwell share Madame Tracy and Aziraphale for a week. God help us all.

Crossovers

The Nice and Accurate Adventures of Aziraphale in Ankh-Morpork by Glinda - All truly good second-hand bookshops are really genteel black-holes that have learned how to read.

Bargain Breakfast by Daegaer - Crowley gets a suspicious sort of customer.

The Corsair of Carcosa by Vulgarweed - Aziraphale gets his hands on a rare copy of the play The King in Yellow. Reading and its consequences ensue.

#good omens #fic recs #i am very very picky about characterization and prose quality and also i hate fanfiction tropes #but most good omens fics are good and i think these ones are really great

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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The First Heist Of The Rest Of Their Lives

I wrote this story for two different people -- first it was for @tlou15, who asked for a story about Aziraphale and Crowley finding one of their skulls from a prior incarnation. And then I also worked it around to cover the heist story I promised @lovermrjokerr for their 8k writing challenge, which I signed up to participate in two months ago! I’ m two days late posting my story for that challenge -- but I had to get through the rest of my May story prompts first! Too many irons in the fire, as they say!

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley come across a relic of one of their former corporations in a museum, and immediately realize they have to liberate it. Hijinks ensue.

______________________________

There were times when being an ethereal entity capable of dying and recorporating came back to bite you in the ass.

Over the years, Crowley and Aziraphale had become increasingly good at limiting their discorporations. It took a couple millennia of practice, however, to learn to recognize and avoid the obvious dangers in this new world of theirs. At first, the fatal accidents were more frequently and somewhat unexpected. A fall from a high cliff (demon), simply because neither of them knew that a fall could kill them. A rather unnecessary drowning (angel), simply because the entity in question didn’t know that failing to hold one’s breath underwater would result in death. A kick in the head from a large land ungulate (demon) with a grudge. A rather deep spear injury (angel) that could have simply been side stepped. The list went on and on.

Luckily, Above and Below were also somewhat more accommodating and liberal with the issuing of new bodies than they came to be in later years.

As time passed, they got to better at the protocols of losing a body, too. Go back to home base, fill out the paperwork (in triplicate, for hell, using a scratchy pencil whose point always broke off), be polite (in Heaven) or surly (in Hell) to the body clerk, and get a new one issued as quickly as possible. Make your way back to Earth and then go back and clean up the scene of the crime, so to speak, so you didn’t leave the remnants of an ethereally-issued skeleton around. Tidy up the memories of anyone involved in the incident, and reassume your old life if possible, or, if a funeral had already been held and too many people were involved, simply move on to a new location or assignment. It all worked out.

For the most part.

Being, as they were, two of the more lackadaisical, non-detail oriented entities ever stationed in this sphere, though, it was natural that here and there a few of the details got missed.

Which is what led to the two of them, standing in front of an exhibit in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, filled with a deep sense of foreboding.

“Is that…” Crowley muttered.

“No, it couldn’t possibly be…” Aziraphale said under his breath.

“I’m fairly certain it is…”

“Oh, dear lord,” Aziraphale breathed. “Yes, that’s one of mine!”

In front of them, an exhibit on the Mayans did an admirable job showcasing their culture and achievements, dispelling the pervasive myths of human sacrifice, and above all showing a recreation of a temple display used to honor their dead. By punching holes in each side of a series of skulls and stringing them on a pole, like beads, to be displayed and revered.

And right smack in the center, oddly devoid of the same signs of aging and decay as the ones around it, was a brilliant white skull that bore more than a passing resemblance to the man staring at it in horror through the glass. To the human observers, it just appeared oddly pristine. But to Crowley and Aziraphale and any other ethereal entity who bothered to take a look, it was pulsing with remnants of celestial energy.

Crowley dissolved in laughter. This earned him a stern glare from the angel.

“What?” he said, snorting. “Your skull is hanging like a pendant on a stick in the Natural History Museum and I can’t laugh? How could you just leave one of your skulls laying around in – in what? Peru? Where did this come from?”

Aziraphale sniffed. “Mexico, I believe. I spent some time there, in San Lorenzo, the first Olmec capital.”

“You did?” Crowley asked. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“We weren’t speaking at the time,” Aziraphale said. “Remember that big fight we had in Persia?”

“Oh, that…” Even after several thousand years, Crowley still managed to sound vaguely resentful. “You mean when you clocked me unconscious with your fist?”

“You hit me first!”

“Not the same, and you know it,” Crowley sulked. Being hit by a snake demon who was not bred for fighting was nothing like being punched in the jaw by the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. It was like being hit by a locomotive – although the comparison wouldn’t come to him for a few thousand years.

Aziraphale glanced over at him, taking in the sulky look on the demon’s face. “Oh, come now, my dear,” he pouted. “We’ve long sense settled that particular kerfuffle. I apologized multiple times, didn’t I?”

Crowley mouthed the word ‘kerfuffle’ to himself with a grin. “I suppose we did, yes.” He stepped over a few feet and read the long and detailed card about the skulls in front of them. “Oh angel, listen to this.”

He read from the placard:

Called a tzompantli by the Mayans, these ritual displays were believed to be used to showcase were originally thought to be a grotesque display of slain enemies, placed to rally the Mayan’s support for their leaders and to serve as a warning sign to others to stay away from Mayan territory. Although rumors have abounded about human sacrifice in Mayan culture, recent evidence reveals that these displays may have been more funerary in usage, highlighting the revered ancestors and that many of these skulls shows signs of being dead long before the post-holes were cut in them.

“How, pray tell, did you become one of the honored dead for the Mayans?” Crowley said, grinning. “Or were you actually sacrificed at one of their temples? Drowned in a cenote?”

Aziraphale frowned. “That’s a story for another time, my dear.”

“Oh, but I haven’t even gotten to the good bit. The part where they talk about the gleaming white skull in the center and how it shows signs of having been treated with some unknown and lost technology that made it ‘impervious to decay’.” Crowley chortled.

“I really should find a way to remove it from the display,” Aziraphale fretted. “Before someone decides to take a closer look at it under one of those – scanning microscope thingies they have now and discovers it doesn’t appear to be fully human. Or before one of the archangels finds out about it…”

“Ha!” Crowley shouted. “Imagine the uproar. Evidence of ancient aliens discovered in Smithsonian Museum! The chaos around the world!”

Aziraphale turned fully towards Crowley and looked menacing in the way that only he could. “Whatever foolish idea you’re forming right now for mischief,” he said warningly, “I absolutely forbid it!”

“Aw, angel,” Crowley whined. “Come on, I never get to have any fun.”

“You can have some fun by helping me pilfer this exhibit once the museum is closed tonight,” Aziraphale said. “I do believe the security here is rather prodigious.”

“You intend to rob the museum on our vacation?” Crowley asked, astonished. “You could just… you know… miracle the skull out, replace it with a duplicate.”

Aziraphale studied the exhibit for a long slow moment, considering, then turned and settled a blinding grin on his demon spouse. “I could,” he drawled, “but where would the fun be in that?”

Crowley felt a warm rush of something run through him. Love? Joy? Slight anxiety? Who knew. All he knew was the angel was quite possibly the most perfect thing on the entire Earth. No, in the galaxy. Quite possibly the galactic cluster.

“So,” the angel continued. “Are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” Crowley managed to croak, through his haze of feelings. “I’m so in.”

Aziraphale rewarded him with a peck on the cheek, then offered his arm to the demon and shepherded him down to the café, murmuring something about having heard they had the loveliest cakes here. Time to do a little planning, and what better way then over a little dessert?

They hunkered down in the museum’s café, over a gaudy orange tray that held two lovely napoleons and two cups of a rather poor excuse for tea, and started making plans.

Aziraphale surveyed the room around them. “We could just – you know, hide somewhere until everything is closed tonight. Saves breaking in.”

Crowley took a sip of his tea, made a disgusted face, and nodded neutrally. “We could, of course. That’d be the sensible thing to do.” He took a smaller sip. “Or, we could really go for it. Assemble a crack team, get some tech, do that thing with carabiners and cables.” He mimes a Tom Cruise, Mission Impossible style, arms-out float down from the ceiling and manages to convey that he would also be holding a knife in his teeth at the same time.

Aziraphale smiles, noncomittally. “Well that does sound exciting, my dear. But I can’t quite imagine that we have time to set that all up by tonight. And I do think we ought to get my skull out of there as soon as possible. It could hardly be a coincidence, don’t you think, our running into it here today?”

Crowley frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, just that we have a way of stumbling onto things at exactly the right moment,” the angel said. “Who’s to say that if we put the recovery off for a week, we wouldn’t somehow have Gabriel leading a team of school children through here tomorrow for some reason and discovering it, or some stupid Earth magician about to steal it for his own magical purposes?”

Crowley blinked at him. “You’re saying it’s fate that we came here today and that we’re not meant to leave without the skull? It’s not Armageddon, angel.”

Aziraphale took a bite of his napoleon and then delicately tapped the edges of his mouth with the napkin. “Well,” he said, leaning forward. “Doesn’t it feel a bit urgent to you? I mean, underneath it all?”

Crowley had to admit, the angel had a point.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “No tech. Can we at least synch our watches or something?”

Aziraphale stared at him flatly for a moment and then pulled out his ancient pocket watch, complete with chain. “If we must.”

Crowley grinned.

It was funny, Crowley thought, that it was Aziraphale who insisted that they be appropriately attired for their heist. They’d hidden themselves away in a maintenance wing close to the Mayan exhibit, and Aziraphale had first used a miracle to suit them both up in black, skin tight cat-burglar type outfits, then another miracle to cover those up with maintenance worker uniforms and caps which made them fit right in so that no one would give them a second look.

“Stop fidgeting with your coveralls, Crowley!” the angel hissed, handing him a push broom. “You look very suspicious. Now get out there and let’s figure out where all of the cameras are.”

It was nearly closing time, and no one noticed anything awry when they wheeled their carts out into the Mayan area and began putting up bright yellow “Wet Floor” signs and started sweeping up the debris of the day. A quick, small miracle made them completely unnoticeable to the other maintenance staff – just two ordinary guys, no different than the guys they saw every day working this area, obviously well underway on their evening chores and with no need of any further supervision.

Soon enough, the building was closed and even the maintenance staff was putting away their equipment and getting ready to leave through the service entrance, leaving the building in the hands of the security staff. Crowley and Aziraphale made themselves scarce in a storage closet, until all the sounds in the building had ceased. Then they took off their coveralls and headed out to the exhibit in their dark-colored gear.

A quick miracle took care of the cameras, shifting them just slightly so that they showed everything except the skulls display. After that, they stood in front of the glass case, examining it closely.

Aziraphale rolled his shoulders. “Shall I just dissemble the case, then?” he asked quietly, reaching up to place his hands on either corner of the front panel.

“No!” Crowley all but shrieked. “Stop. Look, there’s a laser, right there.” He pointed at a small blue light that was shining on the edge of the glass door, just above the lock. “Clearly if the door is opened and the light beam gets interrupted, an alarm will go off. Don’t you watch movies, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale dropped his hands and stepped back. “Not unless you make me, no. So, what do we do about this laser?”

Crowley thought for a minute. What would James Bond do? Shoot someone and kiss a girl, probably. He failed to see how either was helpful at this point in the process. And if he was kissing anyone, it was going to be the angel, and he had that activity slated for quite a bit later in the evening. He sighed. What was the world coming to when even James Bond couldn’t provide insight?

Aziraphale looked at him, a little worried, and that spurred him into action. Crowley held out his pointer finger and concentrated until a demonic claw sprang into existence where his fingernail should be. He sharpened it, made it harder, and whittled it down to a fine, fine point.

“Stand back, angel,” he said. “If we can’t open the door without setting off the laser alarm, we’re just going to go in above that.”

And feeling just like every bad-ass heist hero he’d ever watched in a movie, he started carving a large circular hole in the glass case in front of him. This normally wouldn’t work on the specialized shatter-proof glass that the museum used, but the one thing the special chemistry of the glass wasn’t prepared to repel was demonic intention. It cut before him like butter, silently and gently, until a large, 12” circle of glass fell loose in his other hand.

Crowley turned and handed the removed glass circle to Aziraphale, who carefully put it on the floor and gave the demon a bright smile.

“Oh, that was very nice, dear,” he whispered. “Very slick.”

“Now,” Crowley said, aware he was showing off a little bit, “we just reach in there and remove your skull from the pole –”

He stuck his hand through and then froze as several things happened at once.

One, a large alarm started blaring.

Two, they both suddenly realized that the skull was affixed to the horizontal pole through both sides of the brainpan, and that they could neither straight-out remove it nor could they slide it off the pole because of the number of other skulls hanging from the same pole on either side of it.

Three, a huge puff of some kind of gas came shooting out of the display case, hitting Crowley directly in the eyes. He dropped to the floor like a stone.

Aziraphale, having a slight second more warning than Crowley did, immediately stopped breathing, picked up his demon, and bent time and space to manifest them both back to their hotel. He put the demon down on the bed, covered him up, ensured he was breathing, and then realized he’d forgotten the skull.

“Oh FUCK,” he exclaimed, using the word for what was only the third time in his life. He snapped again, miracling himself back to the scene of the crime, and used magic to remove the central skull (and a portion of the pole with it) from the display. He had just raised a hand to disappear himself home when three security guards with guns drawn came running into the room.

“Freeze!” the shouted, their flashlight beams playing over him. “Hands up and turn around!”

Aziraphale turned slowly. “I can’t put my hands up, as you can see --” he called out in his most soothing voice, blinking through the blinding beams of light to try to see who he was dealing with, “-- because I am holding a rather priceless artifact. Please stay calm.”

He heard the safety on a gun click off and did his best to raise both hands and the pole with it over his head. The skull – his skull, disturbingly – rattled ominously as he did so. This was most offputting, he thought.

“Kneel!” the frontmost officer shouted, and Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of all of this, but did so, carefully balancing the – his – skull overhead the whole time.

“Really, gentlemen,” he said quietly, using a tad of angelic influence. “We can talk this out. No need for those weapons.”

“You can talk it out with the police,” the front man said. “Lay down the artifact in front of you VERY SLOWLY.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m so sorry, but I’m rather afraid I can’t do that. You see this skull is nearly three thousand years old and if it touches the ground it might disintegrate.”

“Lay it down, NOW!” the man screamed, and Aziraphale suddenly noticed a couple of red laser sight dots playing about on his chest. This, he decided was getting much too serious.

Oh botheration. He usually left this kind of manipulation to Crowley to carry out – he was so much better at it. Nonetheless, Crowley was home and unconscious and possibly injured, and he wasn’t helping anyone by allowing himself to be shot or captured, and there was no way it was going to get back to heaven that he had been arrested – and for BURGLARY! – so with a deep, dejected sigh, he conjured up his powers and sent a wave of gentle but unavoidable exhortation and watched as all three men froze in place.

He slowly made his way to his feet, cradling the skull to his chest with one arm, and walked over to the exhibit, where he created and inserted an identical but non-ethereal copy of the skull and pole he’d removed, replaced and repaired the glass, and turned off the alarm. He checked the cameras to ensure that they were all still off. They were. And finally, he walked over to the armed men and gently touched each of them on the temple, one after the other.

“You will not remember the events of the last fifteen minutes,” he said, poking around the tiniest bit to ensure that this was true. “You will wake in a few minutes, after having a lovely dream about whatever you like best.”

And with that done, he returned to the hotel to tend to his demon.

Crowley woke up a few hours later, groggy and confused. “Angel?” he shouted, leaning up to look frantically around the room. “Angel?”

“Hush, dearest, I’m here,” Aziraphale said, sitting down on the bed beside him.

“What happened?”

“Oh, well,” the angel said. “We got interrupted. You set off a second alarm when you reached into the case and were sprayed with some gas that essentially knocked you out for a few hours. I brought you home and then went back for the skull.”

Crowley moaned and flopped his head back down on the pillow. “You mean – I missed everything? You went back without me? Angel, how could you?”

“You were unconscious, my dear,” the angel said reasonably. “And it wasn’t so hard. I removed the skull, put in a duplicate, wiped the memories of the three security guards who were thinking about shooting me, and popped back home, quick as a jiffy. No harm done.”

“Three men with guns?” Crowley said, looking suddenly very alert. “You went back alone to face three Americans with guns? You know how they are, angel.”

Aziraphale tutted. “Well in my defense, there were no men with guns when I left, so they were a bit of a surprise. However, I assure you that I was never in any danger. I turned their bullets to marshmallows as soon as they entered the room.”

“Marshmallows,” said Crowley flatly. “Really?”

“What’s wrong with that?” the angel asked, a tad indignantly. “I thought it was a rather nice solution to the problem.”

“Not very criminal of you,” Crowley muttered. He looked, the angel thought, jealous and pouty.

Aziraphale smiled softly. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish the heist with me, my dear. It would have gone so much more smoothly if you were there.”

“’m good at heists,” Crowley mumbled.

“The very best,” Aziraphale said, wondering if he was laying it on too thick. “Definitely as good as anyone in the Bond films.”

“Only as good?” the demon said, with the hint of a smile.

“Oh, definitely better than some,” Aziraphale replied. “I’d say you’re head and shoulders above Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, and Pierce Brosnan.”

The demon preened a little, although he was clearly trying to hide it. “And Sean Connery?” he asked.

“Hrm,” the angel said, consideringly. “I’d say you’d give him a good run for his money.”

Crowley sat up more fully, looking much more like himself. “And let’s not even start on Daniel Craig,” he said. “Hey, do you think the hotel television has movie channels? Maybe we can find a couple Bond films to watch before we eat dinner.”

“Might be wise of us to lay low tonight,” the angel said. “After all you were injured and we did just break into the Smithsonian. Perhaps we’ll order room service instead of going out.”

“Dinner and a movie?” Crowley said.

“That sounds just lovely.”

In the corner, in a duffel bag, a blindingly white skull with two large holes in it just above the ear canal sat quietly, a piece of ancient wood tucked carefully in beneath it. They’d take it back to London, Aziraphale had decided, and find some way to dispose of it there, or simply lock it up in one of Anathema’s spell-guarded chests if they couldn’t destroy it. It could take up a new life beneath the floorboards of the bookshop, somewhere where no one could find it or use it to cause them any trouble.

They were safe as houses, Aziraphale thought, problem averted. But just in case, he carefully warded the doors and windows as soon as dinner had been delivered so that no one could enter or leave for the rest of the night.

You could never be too careful.

#lovermrjokerr8kchallenge #good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale x Crowley #ineffable idiots #heist stories

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quwarichi · 4 years

Text

My reactions+summaries for SPN S5-15 PT.3:

Supernatural Episodes (that were memorable to me):

Currently: S15E20

[Disclaimer: these were written as I was watching each episode for the first time. It’s literally my brain vomit. Let it be known that I watched the series from season 1 but only around season 5 it occured to me that I might want to remember some episodes, so this was created. I am a pretty big destiel shipper, but it only shows here when I absolutely can’t contain myself. You can enjoy my reactions without shipping them. HAVE AT IT]

Seasons 14-15:

S14:

S14E01: Hey look Dean has a funny hat now. Haha. And that's the only thing different. Oh wait where did the plaid go? Guess he burned his clothes in an accident and changed into something nearby. Alright. OH WAIT WHERE DID DEAN GO. Sam is tired. Jack is learning how to fight from Bobby. Good on him. Castiel is suffering. A demon knows more about Destiel than Cas does *wink wink* Bless that demon. Give him a raise for the wonderful words he said. Praise. Scratch that he just started a demon gang fight against Cas fuck them up good Cas don't leave survivors. Stop beating Castiel up you know he's taking it easy on you otherwise all of you would be fried chickens. "Sister Jo" is back in business. [Side note: Jensen and Daneel shooting this scene together had me dying the writers did that on purpose]. Michael visits Anael. Jack is sad. Cas is hurt. Lucifer is alive. Oh wait it's Nick. Why is Nick. How is Nick. Nick is pretty understanding and nice. Nick. Hm. The demons got Cas how dare they you fuckers, you motherfuckers I WiLL rAiN hElL FiRE UPoN yOu. Sam is sad and missing Dean. Mary is too. Sam should have hidden the knife in his hair. Cas is embarrassed. Jack gets caught. The demon wants to replace Crowley. How dare he. Awesome action scene. Keep expecting Dean to show up and beat someone up. Cas and Sam miss Dean. Cas and Jack talk about losing their powers. Sam misses Dean. Michael helps monsters now?

S14E02: Hey look Michael's a dick who knew. Srsly fuck him. Cas can't help and is sad. He is also a babysitter to Satan's former vessel and Satan's child. Is Jack Nick's sort-of son or is that taking it too far? Questions for later. Lucifer is now the Supreme Agent of Evil. Cas is sassy. Jack is adorable and needs hugs. Cas is trying to be nice to Nick. Nick is suffering. Castiel feels different. He feels like he matured and grown a lot. Like he's more at peace with himself. He says that when he Fell he still had Sam and Dean which is so adorable. Cas gives Jack a beautiful talk. Michael is wearing a tux, which looks great on Dean but horrible on him. Dean yells at him to get out. Nick is sad and still has Lucifer instincts. Nick is sadder now. He wants his family back. Cas is amazing in this episode. Kudos, truly. He just admits he understands Nick's situation because he occupies Jimmy's vessel. Woah. Nick just said Castiel is a body-snatcher and he's no different than Lucifer. How dare he. How DARE YOU. CASTIEL HAS BEEN NOTHING BUT KIND TO YOU. HE TRIED TO BE CALM. HE TRIED EXPLAINING AND SYMPATHIZES WITH YOU AND YOU GO AND CALL HIM THAT. WHY. JUST... WHY??? CAS STILL FEELS AWFUL FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO JIMMY AND HIS FAMILY. HE NEVER WANTED THAT. FUCK YOU NICK. GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER. Jack went to visit his grandparents can he get any more adorable I mean OH MY CHUCK LOOK AT HIM. He tells them Kelly had a baby boy and they're so HAPPY HIJFKDHDUHEJDUDH. Jack dear I know you just met your family and you're emotional but saying Dean doesn't matter is like a death sentence in the fandom so tread lightly. Nick is channeling his inner Lucifer. Dean is BACK BABY.

S14E03: Dean doesn't NOT like Sam's beard. Jack, Cas, and Dean reunite. Jack likes Disney confirmed. A girl asked Jack if Cas is his dad and he says Cas is one of his dads OMG OMG OMG. Jack is heartbroken he couldn't help the girl and Cas feels awful for him. Honestly Cas has been through so much lately and he didn't even get the chance to hug Dean when he came back. Jack saved Lora. Cas apologies to Jack. Bless Cas. He's a freaking Angel. Cas is so freaking adorable and he's such a dad for Jack and they're like hey dad hey son and omg omg omg gaaaaaaaaah they're adorable. He's making Jack SOUP. FREAKING SOUP. Something's wrong with Jack why are you coughing blood no no no no no bad blood.

S14E04: Dean likes horror movies now. Sam's beard is gone. Dean's inner fanboy is coming out. It's one of these episodes. Sam is so excited. Dean is fangirling. DEAN IS IN GLASSES PART 3 OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. Fortnight has unfortunately bled into the Supernatural universe and we have to live with that fact now. Dean is, fortunately, a Zelda fan so we're good on that front. Sam is a nerd. Dean is concerned. Sam meets his female counterpart. Sam has trauma from Halloween. Dean wants to have Halloween with Sam so badly awwwww.

S14E05: Dean and Sam run into Bobby and Mary. Sam is nervous about talking to his mom about her dating life. Bobby and Mary are sort of a thing now and Dean is okay with that. He just wants his mom to be happy.

S14E06: Sam and Charlie are very awkward. Hooray. Jack is suffering because his coffee doesn't taste right. Sam looks so happy playing with a fidgetspiner. Jack and Dean are being Hunting Buddies ™. Jack just learned what courting before dating before sex is and Dean is not happy or comfortable about that conversation. Other Dimension Charlie had a love of her life but she died. Jack asks Dean about courting over pie and it's adorable. Dean says that when they get back to the bunker he'll give Jack the talk. Hooray! Jack and Dean play the "bad cop, hero saves the damsel" plan and it works fantastic. Jack calls Dean old and Dean looks so offended it actually hurt him OMG. Some girl has a crush on Jack now. Jack is very confused. Hunter!Jack is very awkward and adorable. Is Jack on a date? I think he's on a date. Is he even allowed to go on dates yet? Dean didn't give him the talk. Hm. What would Cas think? And Sam, Sam would be very confused about it too. Hm. Definitely sensing some romance in the air. Approving of that. Oh BOI SOMETHING IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN. Oh wait of course not Jack was raised by Cas who are we fooling of course he wanted to use the bathroom. Dean calls Jack and he's like "Hey so I'm pretty sure she's in love with me so tell me everything you know about sex. Go!" Dean is not having ANY OF THAT BS RN. Vans? Vans! Vans. Dear lord Jack should get an acting award *ba-dum-tss*. Dean be giving out relationship advice like he's some sort of expert when in reality his emotions are so constipated he needs to swallow Dulcolax to communicate with others. Jack has a crazy fan now. He follows in Sam's footsteps and got himself a Becky. Congrats? Jack is coughing again. And now he's bleeding from his nose. No. Nope. Not happening. Denial, ACTIVATE!

S14E07: So... Nick is slowly losing it. Or very quickly losing it. Depends on how you look at it. Cas is watching over Jack and tries healing him. Jack is really bad shape. They take him to a hospital. Cas does NOT have time for bureaucracy. Three worried fathers watch as their kid suffers and it HURTTS. Jack's body is shutting down and they're suffering. Cas just gave Jack his trenchcoat so now we have a trenchcoatless Cas and a trenchcoated Jack. Rowena is BACK BABY. Jack meets Rowena. Cas is so ready to give his grace for Jack. Dean is taking Jack on a fun day. He's teaching Jack how to drive awwwww. Dean and Jack are awesome. Cas feels helpless. Cas calls Jack Sam, Dean, and his' son OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG I'M HAVING A FUCKING SEIZURE. Jack and Dean are eating burgers on the impala and have fun. Meanwhile Nick is on hunt for his family's killer, being as adorable and questionable as ever. DEAN AND JACK ARE F***CKING FISHING. Jack wanted to go fishing because Dean said he went fishing with John and it was a happy memory for him and Jack considers Dean a father figure GAAAAAH IT HURTSSS. WHY IS JACK SO AT PEACE WITH DYING LIKE WHAT THE FRICK NOOOOO. AND WHY IS CAS DRIVING A TINY BLUE CAR WHO GAVE HIM PERMISSION TO BE ADORABLE. Do you ever wonder how many times a week Castiel thinks about the story Gabriel wrote on the walls of his bunker room about his time in Monte Carlo with the porn stars? He read the entire story, just summarised it for Sam. So he KNOWS everything. Things to wonder about. Nick is channeling his Lucifer or Lucifer is channeling his Nick they are one it's scary. Jack is being healed? Is he healed? He's HEALED. Jack is BACK BABY!!! Cas and Dean look so relieved. Wait why is he staggering. Why is he coughing. Cas is so pissed at the Shaman. CAS IS A PISSED OFF FATHER. CAS IS AMAZING. FREAKING DAD CAS FOR THE RESCUE. It feels like this is a setup for Lucifer to come back. Not sure how to feel about that. Um. Ummmm... Empty do your freaking job and keep him asleep. JACK IS DYING FREAKING KILL ME WHYYYY.

S14E08: Jack doesn't want them to be sad. Dean is not okay. None of them are okay. Cas is also worried about Dean. Jack is being optimistic about things and it hurts. WHAT. WHAT. HE CAN'T DIE. NO. NOOO. DEAN DIDN'T GET TO SAY GOODBYE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS NOOOO. CAS IS IN SO MUCH PAIN BUT HE'S STILL WORRYING ABOUT SAM AND DEAN OH MY GOD WHYYYYY. CAS WANTED JACK TO DIE A LONG TIME AFTER HIM. THEY'RE GETTING DRUNK TOGETHER TO DULL THE PAIN WOW THIS IS HURTING HAHAHA I'M NOT CRYING FUCK YOU MY EYES ARE LEAKING. THEY'RE EATING NOUGAT BARS THAT JACK LIKED. CAS DOESN'T EVEN EAT FOOD IT TASTE LIKE MOLECULES TO HIM. Jack is in Heaven but Empty is slowly taking over Heaven. Jack meets Kelly in Heaven. Kelly is so happy to see him until she realized he died. Anubis is an odd fellow. Cas is so happy seeing Cas again. And Kelly too. Empty has invaded Jack and Kelly's Heaven. Shit is about to go DOWN. Dean and Sam consider Jack their child. EMPTY IS HURTING CAS AND KELLY WHILE JACK IS WATCHING. CAS SAVE JACK. WAIT NO NOT LIKE THAT. DON'T YOU DARE. I WILL FUCKING END YOU EMPTY YOU SON OF A THING. CASTIEL HOW COULD YOU. Cas doesn't want Sam and Dean to worry. He says he's in peace with his decision. IN PEACE MY ASSBUTT! LISTEN HERE YOU EMOTIONALLY INCAPABLE ANGEL, YOU HAVE DONE MORE THAN ENOUGH FOR THE WHOLE EARTH. YOU SACRIFICED FROM YOURSELF THINGS OTHERS WOULDN'T EVEN BEGIN TO IMAGINE. YOU GAVE UP HEAVEN FOR SAM AND DEAN. YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY AND THEN YOU MAKE A DEAL THAT THE SECOND YOU'RE HAPPY YOU'LL DIE??? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE??? In other news Jack and Kelly hugged and it was beautiful. Jack promises not to tell Sam and Dean about what Cas did. Jack is BACK BABY. Dean hugged Jack. Get the fuck away from Cas you Naomi Bitch. Jack is happy to eat burgers again. Is Jack wearing Dean's robe?

S14E09: Is this a Christmas episode? Why, I think it is. Hey look Michael is a woman now. Wait Garth NoooOOooo you can't do it. Oh wow he has a little girl now. Jack is guiltily eating cereal in the middle of the night and Cas catches him. Sam is apparently acting like a mom. Wow. Cas is being a sassy angel. Castiel likes the toys that come in the cereal box. OMG why are Jack and Cas so cute. Cas is happy Dean is feeling better but he feels guilty about lying to him about the deal. Jack is happy he can pick a lock now. HELP THEY KIDNAPPED JACK. FUCK YOU MICHAEL. Awww they're going on a family hunting trip! Team Free Will 2.0 VS Kansas City. Awww. *The hellish version of a Christmas song plays in the background*. JACK IS FUCKING SMILING. Okay so Michael I'm gonna need you to get out of Dean you sick son of a Chuck. 'Freaking ruined the Christmas episode.

S14E10: Awww they brought Pamela back! Also Dean owns a bar and he likes to flirt. He looks so happy owning a bar. Michael is sassy, and it's almost likeable. Probably because it's Dean's face. Michael is trying to get underneath Cas' skin and Cas looks so done with it. One of Dean's happy memories is the stripper case with Sam. FUCK MICHAEL. FUCK HIM SO HARD. HOW DARE HE. HE JUST SAID DEAN ONLY TOLERATES CAS BECAUSE HE FEELS LIKE HE OWES HIM FOR HELL AND CAS HASN'T DONE ANYTHING FOR DEAN EVER SINCE. *Cue epic fight scene* Hey look Dean is a cage now. Cas is so worried about Jack's soul.

S14E11: Dean is acting suspiciously. Sam's aware he and Dean only hug if it's of the world I'm dyinggg. Sam likes gossiping apparently. Dean came to visit Mary awww. Dean is now a welding master. Well now Nick is being arrested by Donna and now Donna might be about to die and NOPE. Dean is being really sweet and it's freaking everyone out. Mary thinks Dean's adorable when he's sleeping. Nick is being creepy and kidnapping Mary. Nick without Lucifer is unlikeable at best. Mary keeps a severed head in a jar. Dean tells Sam he loves him. He shows Sam a box he plans on being buried alive in the ocean with Michael inside of it and yeah so that's not happening.

S14E12: Dean has a nightmare about being stuck in his coffin forever. Sam calls Cas. Dean says he knows he wasn't the greatest brother for Sam and Sam has this 'WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL' look on his face because that is some grade A+ bullshit right there. Cas gets a call from Dean and he's so excited because he thinks Dean is giving up his plan but Dean tells him he's not so Cas is sad. Cas is so pissed at Dean. Dean and Cas have an argument/goodbye. Dean and Sam argue. It hurts. It hurts so much. He punched Dean and then he hugged him. He tells Sam and Cas he believes in them. In all of them. Oh well I guess that if Dean gets trapped in a box at least Cas will never be taken by the Empty since he'll never be happy HAHAHAHA KILL ME NOW.

S14E13: This episode is about the city the bunker's in OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. Someone stole Baby. There's a kid who thinks they're serial killers, which they are, but not exactly. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. JOHN??? OF ALL THE PEOPLE, JOHN? WAS THAT EVEN AN OPTION??? WHAT THE FUCK???!!! MARY AND JOHN FINALLY SEE EACH OTHER AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. And Sam and Dean witness it. Sam is very awkward with John. Oh wow. So, they pulled John out of 2003 and it has changed history and now Sam likes raw food and standing desks and runs a law firm and Dean is a murderer and thief with a price on his head. Hm. Zach and Cas are reunited as bad angels no no no no THIS IS BAD. OH WELL AT LEAST CAS DOESN'T UNDERSTAND POP CULTURE REFERENCES ANYMORE. BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOO. Cas is a killer now NoooOOooo. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cas doesn't recognize Dean and Sam as his friends. Cas is beating up Dean and Sam. Noooo. This is weird. No. Nope. Not happening. Cue the awkwardness of a family dinner. When you remember that everyone at that table died at least once it's very very weird. A family who defied Death, God, the Darkness, Demons, Angels, Monsters, and a few nasty humans here and there. Wow. Dean actually has some self-love speech and it is amazing. The character development is just *chef's kiss*. Why is this so beautiful Sam stop crying you know it makes Dean cry and when Dean cries I cry stopp it.

S14E14: Family hunting trip time! Oh look Rowena is also there! Rowena has some sort of attraction to Cas and it's chilling. Cas and Dean are on some sort of a coffee date. Jack is coughing blood again. Someone stop it. Cas is worried about Dean. Dean is only honest with Cas awwwwwww. Cas asks Jack if he's fine. Cas worries about everyone but when will someone worry about Cas? Jack, Cas, and Dean look like two parents and a child. Jack asks what an AV club is and Cas explains and then Dean calls Cas a dork. They're adorable. Cas is a VERY serious FBI agent. Rowena and Sam need to act like a married couple and it's AMAZING. MORE. GIVE THE FANDOM MORE. Jack has suffered at the vet's office. The Gorgon is hitting on Cas. Wait till Dean hears about that. Cas has been paralyzed. Cas is worried about Dean. That's strike 2. Another moment of Cas being worried and someone is about to die. Cas explains to Jack about the fragility of humans and death and moving on which makes you believe he thought about a time when Dean and Sam die and he's left all alone and now I want to walk off a cliff. Michael is out. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. JACK CALLED HIMSELF A WINCHESTER OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. Jack got his wings back!

S14E15: Jack is playing with his snake. Cas is worried about Jack. Dean is eating. Cas and Sam go on a case together [Poor Misha. Jared must've tortured him]. Cas with his pop culture references. The only thing good about episode 13 aside from some closure for the boys is that Cas lost his knowledge of pop culture. Cas sometimes looks at the Saturday Evening Post when Sam and Dean are asleep. They're very soothing. Sam and Cas walked into a town that seems stuck in the late ‘70s. Even Cas thinks it's weird. Sam looks happy drinking a milkshake. Cas pretends to drink cuz he doesn't eat. Cas has no social skills. Jack is trying to feed the snake. Dean likes bacon. Some woman checked Cas out. Cas reads a series of love letters between the victim and a milkshake serving a young woman. Cas is so done with people hitting on him. How Cas describes Sam "I'm looking for my partner. Tall man. Hair? He has beautiful hair." FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. SAM BECAME A PART OF THE WEIRD TOWN FUCK FUCK FUCK. HE'S WEARING GLASSES THIS IS FUCKING WEIRD. CAS IS SO SCARED AND CONFUSED. SOMEONE SAVE HIM AND SAM. Dean is terrified of the snake. Cas is angry. Cas is worried and understanding about how Sam feels. CAS JUST FUCKING TOLD A MAN HE'S NOT GOD BECAUSE GOD HAS A BEARD.

S14E16: JACK IS ADORABLE STAB ME IN THE GUT AND TWIST IT WHY IS HE SO ADORABLE. Jack is so awkward around other people. OMG WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT YOU FREAKING LOVEABLE DORK. JACK IS LIKE "WELL I'M TWO-TWENTY! I'M TWENTY-TWO!!!" Jack is so freaking happy hanging out with kids his "age". Oh no he's sad.

S14E17: There was supposed to be a family game night. Cas is meeting up with Anael [The fact that this is Daneel and Misha on the same set is amazing]. Nick is back and off his rocket. Anael and Cas discuss God. Jack is going dark side. Woops. Jack sweetheart you're worrying me. Jack what did you do. Jack?

S14E18: Jack what did you do to Mary. What did you do. This is very scary. Oh wait he KILLED HER. WOW. OKAY. HOW THE HELL DO YOU FIX THAT SHIT. DEAN WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM. SAM TOO. DEAN MIGHT TRY TO KILL HIM BUT THEN SAM WILL STOP HIM AND TELL JACK TO NEVER COME BACK AND CAS WOULD BE SO TORN BECAUSE HE PROMISED TO PROTECT JACK BUT HE KILLED MARY AND WOW THE WRITERS REALLY DUG DEEP WITH THIS ONE. Cas is remembering one of his first hunts with Mary. Did Dean just... Did he tell Cas that if Jack did something to Mary he's dead to him? I think he did. Huh. Welp, time to dig a hole in the ground, huddle into a fetus position and cry. Cas is not even mad. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. Oh wow what is this? A guilt trip down memory lane? Why are you hurting us by showing us all the nice missing moments between Mary and the rest? Is this fun for you you sadistic fucks? Jack needs a snickers. Mary is dead. Wow. Sam just stopped Cas from walking over to Dean. Wow.

S14E19: Dean gives a beautiful speech. Bobby is back. Cas is still protective of Cas. There's a lot of awkward silences between Dean and Cas. Made-up Lucifer is a dick. What do you mean Cas doesn't love Jack um hello? He gave away his chance at happiness for Jack. Fuck you Made-up Lucifer. Oh no. Dean is crying alone. Naomi Bitch Replacement is messing with Jack's head. Fuck her. A pillar of salt? Really?. Okay so Soulless Jack is horrible. I love him so much but he was already like a toddler playing with a bazooka. Now he's like a SADISTIC toddler playing with a bazooka with no soul. It really feels like Cas is the only one left with a sense of rationality. Cas is pissed at Sam and Dean for locking Jack up.

S14E20: So, Jack's pissed. Dean calls Jack a monster and I think why it bothered Castiel so much is because that would mean Castiel is a monster too. Chuck is BACK BABY AND OHHH BOI IS THIS A RIDE. Cas is so done. Dean smashes a guitar. Chuck and Dean yell at each other. Chuck is such a dork. Castiel is so pissed. Jack and Castiel reunite. Sam has a talk with Chuck. Chuck breaks the fourth wall. Dean is here to kill Jack. Cas doesn't want that. Dean and Jack are about to die. Jack is okay with that. Welp CHUCK IS HORRIBLE AND NOPE. DID CHUCK JUST KILL JACK. NO NO. CHUCK'S GONE DARK SIDE. No why is Jack dead. This isn't fair.

S15:

S15E01: Cas does NOT like that a demon inside Jack's body. Chuck literally jump-started the apocalypse. Cas is not okay.

S15E02: You can't tell me that Cas telling Dean it wasn't all a lie isn't him telling Dean that what they have is real. WELCOME BACK KEVIN TRAN, ADVANCED PLACEMENT. Kevin is BACK BABY. God and Amara are being siblings. Rowena and Ketch together are very weird and Crowley will NOT approve.

S15E03: Rowena is awesome. Cas and the demon inside Jack are very... Iffy with each other. Belphegor is awesome. Cas literally just FUCKING PUSHED BELPHEGOR INTO HELL AND JUMPED AFTER HIM WITH A COMPLETE STRAIGHT FACE WOW HE IS SO DONE. Cas tells Belphegor that Jack is like a son to him. Cas is forced to sing a song to praise Lucifer. Shit is going down. Cas and Belphegor did NOT work out. Wait does that mean Cas will get stuck in hell. Oh fuck. Oh crap. This is bad. Why does Cas has to suffer so much? Whyyy. He never wanted anything special. Just to be with Jack, Sam, and Dean. He wanted to do good. Whyyyy. ROWENA NO. NOPE. NOPE. DON'T DO IT. SAM DOESN'T WANT TO. DON'T MAKE HIM. STOP IT. ROWENA NOOOO. ALSO CAS AND DEAN STOP FIGHTING IT'S BAD. UM, DEAN? IT'D BE GREATLY APPRECIATED IF YOU AND CAS WOULD STOP FIGHTING. IT'S SCARING THE CHILDREN AND MAKING THEM CRY. STOP IT. STOP IT. STOP IT! OH HEY I'M CRYING, WHAT A SURPRISE!

S15E04: Sam has a weird dream. Awesome fight scene though. Dean likes vegan bacon now. Or not. Wow Chuck might actually be afraid of Becky. Meeting Exes is awkward. CHUCK IS A DICK. BEING A WRITER DOESN'T MEAN YOU GET TO ABUSE OTHERS. FUCK YOU.

S15E05: Dean can't handle spicy jerky. Sam has bad dreams again. Um, Lilith's back? What? Is that a thing now? Wow.

S15E06: Cas is fishing now. He's also really sweet and cares about a guy who sells him fish bait. He also goes by Clearance like Meg used to call him, which is extra sweet. Cas is investigating stuff. Cas and Dean talk and Cas acts like a sassy toddler. Cas's powers are fading. Sam might have a small crush on the deaf hunter. Aww that's so nice. He saw she was naked so he turned away. Awww. What a gentleman. Dean raised you well. Dean doesn't know what's God and what's him.

S15E07: Sam and Eileen are definitely having fun, with margaritas and bacon. Dean refuses bacon, which leads us to believe he had truly given up on this world. Dean gets flirted with. Dean gets reunited with an old "friend". Sam and Eileen are AWKWARD AND DEAN IS TO BLAME BECAUSE HE'S THE ONE WHO TEASED SAM. OH MY GOD IT'S LIKE WATCHING TWO NERDS FALL IN LOVE WHAT THE HELL. IS THAT HOW SAM FEELS WHEN HE'S WATCHING DEAN AND CAS??? THAT'S TORTURE. WOW THEY ALMOST KISSED AND THEN CAS WALKED IN OMG IT IS LIKE SAM WITH DEAN AND CAS. Cas is so pissed with shamans. OMG OMG OMG DEAN IS ABOUT TO SING OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG WOW HE SINGS SO BEAUTIFULLY SOMEONE GET THAT MAN A CONTRACT HE'S SO HAPPY WHAT OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. Cas became grade A at threatening people. Kudos. Dean loves Texas now. Cas and Dean are awkward. Ever remember season 1 where they found out demons existed and felt like they were in over their heads? Well now they want to fight God.

S15E08: Sam is being an overprotective boyfriend. He's so cute. Oh my god... Are they getting Adam out of the cage??? Is this happening??? I know the last season is supposed to sort of give closure to unfinished plotlines but if this really happening it's amazing. Rowena is BACK BABY. Rowena is FUCKING awesome. A real queen, if you will. Crowley would be proud. She's also gives Cas and Dean a quick couple's counseling session. Adam is out of hell. It happened. Dean so ships Eileen and Sam. Dean and Cas are AWKWARD. Michael is back. Michael and Cas talk. Cas channels his inner Lucifer. Cas and Dean FINALLY talk. CHUCK YOU FUCKING DICK GET AWAY FROM EILEEN SAM WAS FINALLY STARTING TO BE HAPPY. OMG OMG DEAN AND CAS ARE GOING TO PURGATORY??? Dean and Adam talk.

S15E09: Wow Chuck is so manipulative. Wow. Chuck is really unlikeable anymore. Woah, did Cas just call Dean stupid? Cas has SNAPPED. So happy Sam has Eileen now. Any girl that can be tied to a chair, deaf, and still kick ass and sass God in front of him deserves a Sam Winchester. Wow Sassy Cas really ain't taking Dean's BS today. Chuck is a sadistic fuck. Chuck has lost it. God Complex much? Dean and Cas are in purgatory. Getting the band back together and it feels good. Benny died. That's sad. Dean and Cas discuss the guilt. OMG WHAT HAPPENS TO CAS IN THE FUTURE??? HE GOT THE MARK AND WENT CRAZY??? AND DEAN HAD TO BURY HIM IN THE BOX??? DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME THIS SHIT IS NOT CANON FANFICS CAN'T MAKE THIS STUFF UP. HE LOOKS SO HEARTBROKEN. Meanwhile in Purgatory: Dean is looking for Cas who has disappeared and they need to go back soon and things are BAD with a capital everything. DEAN IS PRAYING TO CASTIEL OMG OMG OMG HE BARELY DID IT EVER SINCE PURGATORY ROUND 1. He admits he should've stopped Cas from leaving. He calls Cas his best friend AWWWWWWW. HE'S CRYING OH MY GOD. HE FORGAVE CAS!!! THIS IS SO CANON HDJCJRIHEISHS. OMG CAS IS OKAY AND THEY HUGGED DEAN LOOKS SO HAPPY FUCK THIS I'M CRYINGGGG. SAM AND DEAN BECAME MONSTERS??? FUCK THAT SHIT. CAS TAKES THE MARK OH NO I DON'T WANT HIM TO GO INSANE. Cas and Dean arrive at the casino. Save Sam!!! SAM, SAM WHAT ARE YOU DOING MAN? NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. AWWWW SAM AND EILEEN KISSED AWWW. NOW WE NEED A CAS AND DEAN KISS AND WE'RE GOLDEN GUYS. LET'S MAKE IT HAPPEN. I BELIEVE. Jack and Billy are BACK BABY.

S15E10: It seems like Sam and Dean lose luck. Baby shut down. Garth named his twins Sam... and Castiel. Dean is definitely not insulted. Garth is a dentist now. Dean is afraid of dentists. Dean has a dream where he and Garth are tap dancing in black and white. OH MY GOD GARTH WHAT DID YOU DO TO DEAN'S MOUTH. GARTH TOLD DEAN HE NEEDS TO GET A COLONOSCOPY AND I FREAKING DROPPED MY PHONE. CHUCK DOWNGRADED SAM AND DEAN TO NOT MAIN CHARACTERS AND NOW THEY HAVE TO DEAL WITH NORMAL PEOPLE PROBLEMS HAHAHAHHAHA THIS IS AWESOME. DEAN IS HOLDING BABY CASTIEL AND HE'S LIKE "THIS CAS KEEPS LOOKING AT ME WEIRD" AND SAM ANSWERS "SO KINDA LIKE THE REAL CAS" AND THEY KNOW. Also Sam and Dean are holding babies and it's adorable.

S15E11: Cas comes back to find out Sam and Dean are going to Alaska. Cas gets a call about Jack related info. Ahem... Jack is BACK BABY! Cas is worried about Jack. Jack is tied up. Cas to the rescue! CAS AND JACK REUNITE. This is like the most interesting pool game ever. Dean and Sam's luck is BACK BABY. JACK AND SAM AND DEAN REUNITE.

S15E12: Cas is so happy Jack is back. Dean and Cas are best buddies. Cas and Jack play 4-in-a-row. Cas and Jody meet for the first time. Jack wants to help. Cas still cares a lot about Claire. Billy is PISSED.

S15E13: The recap starts with the pizza man montage, which is really the only way it could. Ruby and Anael are BACK BABY AND WELL IT IS AWESOME. [Just pointing out that the fact they brought both of Jensen and Jared's wives for this is amazing] also Cas has no chill with his sass. Cas wants to almost die and go to Empty to talk to Ruby. He gets into the Empty and runs into Empty-Meg and she called him Clearance awwww. Ruby is BACK BABY. Cas almost dies by the Empty. He comes back though. Otherworld Sam and Dean are terrifying. They seem... Okay, and it's horrible. Also they're spoiled. HELLHOUNDS BABY! Jack arrives at Eden. Jack is crying + he got his soul back!!!

S15E14: Supernatural is BACK BABY. JACK IS STILL DEPRESSED NOOOO. DEAN HAS SCOOBY-DOO UNDERTHINGS PASS IT ON. Dean and Sam meet Mrs. Butters. She's nice and she made Christmas and Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July and Halloween collide in the calendar. Jack is out of his room now. Oh hey Dean's actually trying to not be angry at Jack. They have a monster radar! Lunch bag, she pack them lunch bags I-. Jack is still being sad noo. She keeps giving him smoothies. It's weird. OMG SAM IS GOING ON A DATE WITH EILEEN THEY REALLY SAID SAILEEN RIGHTS. Oh wait. Oh fuck what the fuck why is she ripping his head off oh no Jack run. Oh fuck why is she an evil mastermind all of a sudden they were happy. DEAN GETS TRAPPED TOO. DEAN BEING A REAL BROTHER BEING LIKE "YEAH I CAN WAIT UNTIL MY BROTHER IS DONE GETTING LAID FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND RESCUE ME AND OUR CO-ANGEL-CHILD". Dean is really trying with Jack my heart wow. Ugh not again with Sam and the nails the waves of nausea are hitting me-. Oh no Mrs. Butters story is really sad I don't like the old MoL. Oh goodbye Mrs. B we'll miss you. Awww Jack honey of course you can kill Chuck here I'll do it for you you just eat your nougat bars. OH MY FUCKING GOD DEAN MADE JACK A BIRTHDAY CAKE I REPEAT HE MADE JACK A BIRTHDAY CAKE JACK IS FOUR NOW CELEBRATE WITH US ALL *HYPERVENTILATING HARD*. 10/10 episode would recommend with a side of angst.

S15E15: Cas is BACK BABY! Aww Jack wants to wear matching ties. Awwwww. Sam and Dean are going after Amara. Good luck with that. Oh a church case for Cas? A little on the nose there. Oh wow this is getting dark. Aww Jack doesn't want to say something so Cas talks about himself instead. God I love them. Cas is amazing. I love him so much. Jack too. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean are eating with Amara lunch. Crossroads demons are out of fashion, as per told by Rowena, the Queen of us all. Jack needs Cas' permission to create a social media account. Even the internet knows to give Cas cats. God bless the internet. Oh my god Dean and Amara talked and wow it was deep. Amara's intentions with Mary were... Wow. Poor Dean though. Wow Cas and Jack can't catch a break. Oh god Jack was stabbed he's okay but we're not okay what the hell. Once again, we are reminded that against regular humans Cas is a freaking supernatural creature with super strength and the wrath of heaven. Hey wait why does the crossroad demon look like he’s kidnapping this girl? Oh well guess we'll never find out. JACK IS GOING TO DIE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK BILLIE??? WHO AUTHORIZED THIS SHIT? HE NEEDS A PARENT OR A GUARDIAN'S PERMISSION!!! Cas not wanting to see Jack die again is hurting me. What do you mean it's not his choice Jack go to your room you're grounded until they kill Chuck. Cas um where are you going?? What do you mean in case you won't come back? Are you going where I think you're going? You better stay the FUCK away from the Empty or I swear to all that is sacred (the impala, Sam and Dean's flannel, Led Zeppelin) that I will cry. What do Sam and Dean need to know??? What is this shit????? I WILL SUE!!!!!

S15E16: Hey is he going to get killed? Called it! Hey Dean darling how about you let Sam know about Jack? Any minute now honey? No don't you fucking- Dean! Hey it's tiny Sam and Dean look at them awww. Hey Caitlin seems nice. Woah weird monster in the candy machine alert! Dean why are you so depressing this episode??? Sam being in the dark hurts me. Um Dean? What have you got there buddy? Is that a knife? Put the knife down, Dean put the knife down this isn't funny- oh thank god Sam Dean almost fillet-ed himself. Tiny Dean being scared but also macho aww. It's a Baba Yaga? A Baba FREAKIN Yaga? Wow. Omg Dean's face when he heard the woman having sex is priceless. He really grew up. Good on him. Caitlin you majestic being you managed to have Dean admit his fear wow Dean honey am I proud of you. Aww Sam is trying to call Cas. Um... Dean? OMG OMG ARE YOU TELLING HIM? YASSS SAMMY GO OFF. DEAN FUCK OFF JACK IS NOT DYING ON MY WATCH. OMG THE SILENCE. WOW.

S15E17: This starts with Amara. What a queen. I really like her now. She can cut me with her cheekbones. Look at her. Wow. She's so pretty. Cas is there! Sam is giving Dean the silent treatment. Yeah Dean is talking depressing. AHHH AMARA IS HERE. Jack meets Amara awww. Yes I want them to spend time together YESSS. Amara and Dean are like that couple that didn't work out because they figured they'd be better as friends and it's so nice to see them. Sam is amazing wowwww. Dean WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST- WHAT DO YOU MEANT JACK ISN'T FAMILY YOU- UMM WAIT IS JACK- NOOOOOOOO!!!!! OWW MY FEELINGS. Jack looks so sad nooo. Cas is there Cas make it better. Aww Amara with a flower. Chuck is back... Yay. Lol Chuck didn't write the Dean/Amara debacle and he thinks it's weird that's amazing. Amara is amazing. Amara trying to make Chuck not act like a spoiled brat wow this is hard. I hate him with passion. AMARA YASS QUEEN GO OFFFFF. HOLD HIM. Jack you shouldn't UNDERSTAND HIM you should be PISSED. HE DID THE HELLO AJAJAGDVSHA. OH.MY.GOD I LOVE ADAM AND SERAFINA SOMEONE HUG THEM. Jack has a skittles aura wow. The final ritual, the ROCKS. Adam looks so relieved that Jack got it. OH I DID NOT NEED TO SEE HER DIGGING INTO HIS RIBS. Dean whatcha doing there buddy? Aww he thanked him!!! I still don't forgive what he said though. IT'S TIME??? IT'S TIME BABY. SAM BEING FRUSTRATED AND CAS HELPING AWWW. They found the key, HOORAH! Cas awww thank you for helping Sam. Sam no don't go alone. Empty is Meg now waaaaaht. BILLIE WANTS WHAT NOW??? Sam lying Through His Teeth to the Empty the man is a LEGEND. No Cas it's not time we need to stop this. Dean, Dean you're scaring me. Cas being angry at Jack eating the ribs the angel is legendary. Chuck you sick sick bastard what did you do you FUCKER??? AMARA STOP IT. DEAN WHAT THE HELL YOU DO NOT PULL A GUN AT YOUR BROTHER WHO THE FUCK- WHAT THE FUCK- CAS DO SOMETHINGGGG NO STOP HURTING EACH OTHER. STOP IT. CHUCK YOU SHUT THE HELL UP. DEAN STOP IT STOP THE VIOLENCE. YESS SAM TELL HIM. FUCK YOU CHUCK. AMARA NOOO. DEAN OH MY GOD NO. SAM IT'S BREAKING MY HEART. NOOOO AMARA NOOO. CHUCK NEEDS TO DIE BUT NOT LIKE THIS. OMG SAM NOOO. DEAN YESSS PUT THE GUN DOWN. FUCK YOU CHUCK. OH YOU CAN GO SUCK A DICK DON'T YOU EVER, EVER CALL CAS THAT. OMG CAS IS LITERALLY THE EMBODIMENT OF FREE WILL DID NOT EXPECT THAT. FUCK YOU CHUCK. OMG JACK NOOOO.

S15E18: DEAR LORD SOMEONE SAVE JACK HE CAN'T DIE NO NO NOPE NOT HAPPENING. Jack this is very sweet but they will NOT leave you. Billie not now. Yeah Dean tell her. Yass dads go OFF. WHERE IS JACK WHAT DID YOU DO BILLIE??? THE EMPTY??? NO DON'T DON'T DO THIS. JACK? JACK NO? JACK???? FUCK YOU BILLIE BRING HIM BACK. Oh you can go fuck yourself for all I care this is SO NOT THE TIME FOR THE BOOK. Yes Sam go OFF. Cas you really shouldn't be talking about the Empty. Isn't this episode when the deal goes down? Fuck you Billie you lost my respect. OMG JACK YOU'RE OKAY THANK GOD. Um... Empty? You okay there? Damn Sam being sassy. AND THEN HE GOES TO SIT IN THE CORNER HAHAHAHA. Yes Dean tell her. Did she just shush him? Empty ma gurl you good? Um, Billie? What's interesting? Jack's back BABY! He is not yours. Yes Dean go OFFF. CAS BEING A DAD. Aww Dean and Sam having a talk yes I'm so proud of my expressive babies. They be talking. Um, what new plan? What changed? Oh who this? Charlie is BACK BABY! YASSS MY QUEEN. Aww is that her gf? It's her gf. Oh okay where's her fucking gf??? Jack are you okay? Cas is worrying aww. Nothing's over Jack you're just three you have tons ahead of you. Dear lord Cas are you listening to yourself this is what you need to tell yourself OH MY GOD I'M BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL UGHHHH. Billie you're being a dick stop it. Crap everyone's disappearing. WAIT EILEEN? NO NO NO NO YOU WILL NOT DO THIS TO ME. EILLEN IS GOING TO BE FINE. WHERE ARE THE THREE DOTS? WHY AREN'T THEY THERE??? DRIVE FASTER DEAN!!! Why is the car empty? Where is she? Sam? Aww the screensaver. FUCK. SHE'S GONE. SAM? YOU OKAY? OH GOD BILLIE FUCK YOU LOOK WHAT YOU DID. NOOO. So Dean is going to kill Death again? Neat. Um Cas? I'm all for spending time with Dean but I'm worried. Aww Dean and Sam hugged. Oh hey Donna! (Is it me or is her accent off?) Jack is silent. Jack is driving. I'm so proud of him aww. Damn the badass music is awesome. Dean with the scythe is awesome. Look at that power couple. Aww Sam and Donna hugged that's cute. Let's go. Oh hey Charlie how are you? Bobby is BACK BABY. Bobby is awesome. Um Jack? How come that plant just died??? Sneaking into Death Library because those two are idiots. Oh hey splitting up is a great idea. Hi Billie, how are you? KILL 'EM DEAN. CAS ATTACK! BILLIE YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE RIGHT NOW. FUCK YOU BILLIE. DO IT DEAN KILL THEM. WAIT WHAT? Billie didn't kill them? Who did? CHUCK? THAT MOTHER FUCKER I WILL MURDER HIM. OH GOD PEOPLE ARE DISAPPEARING. WHERE ARE THEY? WAIT, NO, NOT CHARLIE NOOO. BOBBY? NO NOT BOBBY!!! DONNA? DONNA WHAT'S HAPPENING??? DONNA? NOOO!!! Oh Billie's dead now great. You can't kill Dean though. Run you two RUN. Run like hell run. Dean? Fuck. Billie leave him ALONE. FUCK FUCK RUN AWAY. BILLIE SHUT UP THIS IS A CRISIS. CAS PROTECT DEAN. PROTECT HIM LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. YES YOU GOT HIM. FUCK YOU BILLIE FUCK YOU SO HARD. INTO THE DUNGEON. CAS REACHING INTO DEAN'S BACK POCKET AND CUTTING HIMSELF WHY??? OKAY SIGIL. SIGILS ARE NICE. OKAY GOOD DEAN IS OKAY. Dean you're being depressed this isn't helping. Billie enough of the banging. Dean you're not angry enough with this you're good. Yeah fuck Chuck but that's not the point. Dean noo. Cas do somethingggg. Dean it's okay. It's not your fault. Um Cas? What's that? Wait, the deal? Now, you're doing this now? UM, WHAT? WHAT'S HAPPENING? YEAH WHY NOW? YOU'RE LOOKING AT YOUR TRUE HAPPINESS DUMMY. IS, IS HE- WHAT'S HE DOING??? KNOW WHAT? AWWW LOOK AT HIS REVELATIONS. YEAH WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? CAS? UM. UM???!!! YES CAS TELL HIM TELL HIM HOW YOU SEE HIM THIS IS AMAZING THIS IS EVERYTHING I'VE EVER WANTED. MY HEART IS BEATING SO FAST. I CAN'T BREATHE I CAN'T BREATHE I CAN'T BREATHE. WHY ARE YOU CRYING NOOOO. CHANGED??? WHAT'S HAPPENING? WHAT'S HAPPENING SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT'S HAPPENING??? IT'S NOT A GOODBYE SHUT UP. D- DID HE JUST. DID HE JUST SAY- DID HE JUST SAY I- HE TOLD DEAN I LOVE YOU???!!! IS THIS A DREAM??? IS THIS REAL LIFE? WHAT'S HAPPENING? WHY ARE YOU CRYING??! I'M SCARED WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW???? "don't do this"??? DON'T DO THIS??? WHAT DO YOU MEEEAANN??? WAIT EMPTY BACK OFF NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO THE HAND ON THE SHOULDER THE HANDPRINT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. FUCK THIS NO I'M NOT OKAY THIS ISN'T HAPPENING NOOO. CAAAAAAAAS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! DEAN? DEAN DO SOMETHING?? DEAN WHAT'S HAPPENING??? WAIT WHERE IS EVERYONE? IS IT THE WHOLE WORLD? DEAN? DEAN? SAM IS CALLING YOU? DEAN? ARE YOU CRYING? YOU CAN'T CRY OTHERWISE I'LL CRY NO NO NO NO NO THIS IS FUCKING BAD.

S15E19: alright, the world is empty. Oh no Dean is coming to meet up with Sam and Jack no no this is bad the jacket. "Where's Cas?" I- DEAN OH MY GOD NOOO. OH NO JODY AND THE GIRLS NOO EVERYBODY'S GONE. Jack calling out for his dad my heart hurts no. Dean this is not the time for a beer. UH SAM NO YOU'RE NOT GIVING UP NUH-UH NOPE NOT TODAY. UM SAM, DEAN? YOU'RE NOT SACRIFICING YOURSELVES WHAT THE HELL NO. GOD I HATE CHUCK SOMEONE DESTROY HIM. SHOOT HIM IN THE GODDAMN CHEST, PLEASE. Side note: how cute is Jack in his jammies? Okay back to angst. Dean stop falling asleep on bottles. Jack? What's up honey? Aww cuteness overload from the jammies. Aww Dean found a dog look how happy he is OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG LOOK AT HIS FACE AWWW AHHHH HE'S SO EXCITED. OH MY FUCKING GOD KILL CHUCK KILL HIM I WANT HIM TO BURN ALIVE OH MY GOD PUNCH HIM. Oh hey Michael long time no see? What's up? Tis a shame about Adam, truly. Oh the book? Hey I love how Jack is just off to the side, eating a nougat bar. Hey are they gonna talk now? Oh wow. Um, Cas? How are you calling? I HAVE A REALLY BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS. OH MY GOD WATCH DEAN RUN. FUCK IT'S LUCIFER. WHAT DOES HE WANT. LEAVE. LEAVE. THE EMPTY LET YOU OUT AND NOT CAS? BITCH. LUCIFER YOU ARE NOT PART OF THE TEAM. Oh who that lady? Betty. Oh hi Betty. I like Betty. She makes me laugh. Lucifer building a house of cards. Jack you okay buddy? Oh hey Michael. Nobody trust Lucifer. Ohhhh how does God end? Um Lucifer? What are you doing? Why does this entire episode feel off? Wait, Chuck pulled him out? Gross. Kill him. LUCIFER LEAVE JACK ALONE. He will NEVER BE WITH YOU LUCIFER. YEAH STAB HIM GOOD MICHAEL. Jack you seem... Off? Michael you seem off. No question mark. Michael why you lying. Oh yay Sam cracked it. Hey you know the lake reminds me of where Jack was born. Oh yeah, doing spell stuff. Very badass. Um. What happened? Oh fuck. Oh fuck. CHUCK. KILL HIM. BREAK HIM. SAM, DEAN, NOOOO. MICHAEL YOU SON OF A BITCH. OH HE DED. RIP. CHUCK YOU STUPID BASTARD. What now Chuck? Gonna go kick puppies? Oh wait, you already DID. DAMN SAM I'M PROUD OF YOU. OH CHUCK DON'T YOU DARE. NO. NO. OW. NO. NO THIS IS HORRIBLE. THIS IS AWFUL. STOP IT. STOP HURTING THEM. NO. NO. HEY DOES ANYBODY FEEL A WEIRD DÉJÀ VU? LIKE, DIDN'T BECKY MENTION IT? "No classic rock, no Cas"? OH MY GOD THIS IS CHUCK'S ENDING. THE ENDING HE WROTE. FUCK. THE META. IT'S DEEP. NO STOP IT. STOP HURTING HIM. OH MY GOD OWWWW. OH PLEASE CHUCK THEY'LL NEVER STAY DOWN. SHUT THE FUCK UP CHUCK. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU SO HARD. IT IS NOT ENOUGH. FUCK YOU. YEAH SAM HELP DEAN UP. YEAH YOU WON. LOOK AT JACK ALL CUTE IN HIS WHITE SHIRT. Jack you look nice. Is that a new haircut? HAHA Chuck you can't do anything. YESSS!!!!! FUCK YEAH JACK YESS YOU DO THAT YESS I'M SO PROUD. I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU. OF ALL OF YOU. FUCK YES. Wait the book is blank? Wah- oh my god it's monologue time, bitch. I love this plan. It's awesome. Oh so that's what happened to Jack. They tricked you Chuck. Punched you right in your stupid face. METAPHORICALLY. They're not going to kill you. They're better than that. You fucker. Dean's no killer you fucker. Neither is Sam. Oh. Oh yes. OH YESS. THEY'RE WALKING AWAY. THIS IS BETTER THAN I'VE EVER HOPED. I'M SO SO PROUD OF THEM. DEAN SAYS THAT'S NOT WHO HE IS HE LISTENED TO CAS OH MY GOD. I'M SO PROUD OF THEM ALL. MY HEART CAN'T HANDLE IT. OH MY GOD. OH YESS LEAVE HIM TO ROT IN THE DIRT. YESSS. YESSS. YESSSSS!!!!! I'M SO SO SO FUCKING PROUD OF THEM ALL HOLY SHIT THEY DID THE GROWTH THING OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT. YEAH CHUCK THEY LEFT YOU, DEAL WITH IT. YES. I'M SO HAPPY. Aww is Jack going to bring everyone back? *Gasp* is he going to bring Cas back? Are we getting a reunion? OH MY GOD THE MUSIC IS SO NICE. JACK LOOKS SO AMAZING. THE PEOPLE ARE BACK!!! LOOK AT JACK SMILING ALL IN PEACE I'M SO PROUD OF HIM. I'M SO, SO PROUD OF HIM. HE GETS IT. HE GETS THE BEAUTY IN HUMANITY AND IN EARTH. IS JACK THE NEW GOD NOW? DEAN AND SAM ARE SO PROUD OF HIM. OH MY GOD IS JACK NOT COMING BACK? WHAT? WHY? Jack I just want you to know I love you so much. You're so smart and understanding and caring. You're better than God. You're Jack. Dean I know it's hard but Jack knows what he's doing. Jack understands faith. He understands family. He understands love. He understands. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM NOOO DON'T LEAVE ME I MEAN I'M SO PROUD OF YOU BUT NOOO MY BABY YOU'RE A BABY AND YOU'LL ALWAYS BE ONE YES. Sam and Dean, alone at the bunker. I'm so proud of them. They've come such a long way ever since the start. They get to be free now. But they're alone. Not for long. Next episode, everyone is coming back. OH NO THE TABLE. THE FUCKING TABLE. NO NO NO THEY WROTE JACK AND CASTIEL I CAN'T HANDLE IT SOMEONE HOLD ME. LOOK AT THEM DRIVING MY BABIES A MONTAGE OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING THE TEARS NO THEY LOOK SO HAPPY THIS ISN'T GOOD FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH. OH THE FAMILY DINNER. THE COWBOY HATS. THIS ID NOT OKAY. THE DINNER WITH TEAM FREE WILL 2.0 THIS HAS BEEN AMAZING I LOVE EVERYTHING.

S15E20 will be posted a few days after the episode!

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ineffablegoodhusbandsomens · 4 years

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Rewrite the Stars

So, this was inspired by an animation by @tomeart. It’s really good, and I love it to death, and really wanted to make a fic of it. Here’s the link, if any of you guys want to check it out. I highly recommend it. They’re a fantastic animator, and their videos are really good! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cL_FtQE2GA Thanks a ton for letting me write this, Tomeart, it was super fun to work on, and I love the animation a bunch!

It was a calm peaceful day in London. Aziraphale’s shop was open, where the angel was moving books around, but he hadn’t seen a customer in so long, he was inclined to believe someone was miracling them away. But he certainly hadn’t, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Crowley in almost a week, outside of the Dowling Estate. Hopefully the demon wasn’t getting into too much trouble. The apocalypse wasn’t due for another year, as Warlock had just turned 10 a few months ago. Perhaps Crowley was doing everything he could to enjoy Earth for one more year.

“Don’t think too hard, Angel. You might hurt yourself” came a familiar voice, knocking Aziraphale out of his thoughts. The angel smiled and turned to see Crowley leaning against a nearby bookshelf. Aziraphale couldn’t hide his blush, seeing the demon back in his shop after a week. Sure they saw each other when they were playing the parts of Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, but it just wasn’t quite the same.

“I would say the same to you, my dear, if I was under the assumption that you were capable of thinking” Aziraphale shot back, smirking at the demon. Crowley lifted a hand to cover his chest in mock hurt. Even with his glasses on, Aziraphale could tell the demon’s eyes were bright with happiness.

“Ouch, Angel. I don’t see you outside of work for a week, and this is how I get treated upon my return?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale playfully rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps next time, you won’t leave for so long” Now it was Crowley’s turn to smirk.

“Did somebody miss me?” the demon asked playfully, and Aziraphale felt another blush creeping up his face.

“Hardly, darling. I merely worry about the poor innocents being tormented by the forces of evil, with nobody to thwart it” the angel said, and Crowley smirked even wider.

“You absolutely missed me” he said, leaving no room for argument, as he gently pushed away from the bookshelf, and approached the angel. Aziraphale rolled his eyes once again.

“If I say yes, will you drop the subject?” he asked, no real annoyance behind his voice. Crowley shrugged his shoulders, grinning at Aziraphale.

“Maybe. What do I get for my troubles?” he asked, and Aziraphale thought for a moment.

“What do you want?” he asked in return, and Aziraphale thought for a moment, that the demon's face reddened as he lifted his sunglasses, and placed them on the top of his head.

“What about dinner and dancing?” he said, voice soft, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Crowley knew why they couldn’t do that.

“But you don’t eat” the angel said in exasperation. Crowley smiled softly.

“But you do” he said, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. The angel could definitely see blush on Crowley’s cheeks now.

“But neither of us can dance” he tried again, and Crowley huffed a small laugh.

“I do. I can teach you” he said, and Aziraphale knew he was running out of arguments.

“Bless is all, Angel. I’m trying to ask you out on a proper date. Not a secret meeting between adversaries to the opera, or the museum cafe to compare notes. A proper date between friends at the Ritz, or somewhere nice with a dance floor, where we can just enjoy the night” Crowley continued, sounding slightly desperate. Aziraphale looked at him sympathetically. He knew what Crowley was getting at. They both knew. Ever since their moment in the Bentley in ‘67, Crowley has done his best to go as slow as he could for his angel. But, with only a year left before the world was prophesied to end, he just wanted a year with Aziraphale, no hiding from head offices, no being scared of their feelings for each other. Just one year to have with each other, before they were supposed to fight against each other in the coming war.

“Crowley...we can’t” Azirapahle said softly, turning away from the demon. Crowley’s face fell, and Aziraphale felt a pang in his heart. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But in his mind's eye, he could see Gabriel, Uriel and Michael, all looking at him in disgust. He could see what would happen if they were caught. Worst of all, he could see what would happen if they weren’t caught. The life that he’s always wanted with Crowley, love, warmth, the feeling of home, and having all that snathed from him, as they are forced to square off on the battlefield. He wouldn’t be able to handle that, and he knew Crowley wouldn’t either. He was trying to protect both of them.

“Angel…” Crowley said softly, reaching out a hand towards the angel, and Aziraphale steeled himself. He couldn’t.

“No, Crowley. We can’t!” he said, firmer this time. Crowley’s hand fell, and he glared slightly. Not at anyone, but just in general. One can only get rejected so many times, before they become bitter to everything.

“Why? Because of Heaven and Hell? Because I go too fast for you? Are you scared you’re going to Fall? What is it, Angel, because I can only go so slow” Crowley said, his voice growing angry, as Aziraphale’s own face fell in sadness.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale said, and Crowley stepped closer to the Angel, reaching out his arm again.

“You know I want you. It’s not a secret I try to hide” the demon said softly, taking another step closer to Aziraphale. The angel could feel his resolve breaking.

“Crowley…” he tried again, trying to make his voice sound more stern, and failing.

“I know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied” Crowley continued, and Aziraphale took a step away from the demon, not even willing to look him in the eyes.

“Crowley, stop. We can’t. This situation is out of our control, there is nothing we can do about it. If Hell finds out, they could destroy you. If Heaven finds out, I could Fall. I can not allow either of those things to happen” the angel said, attempting to put his foot down about this entire argument, when he felt arms on his shoulders, spinning his around to face Crowley, and he was pushed up against a pillar. Crowley’s hands went from his shoulders to his wrists, and held him there.

“I don’t give a damn about Heaven and Hell! I don’t give a flying fuck what they would do or say! All I care about is you, dammit! Why can’t you see that I love you?!” Crowley said, bowing his head against Aziraphale’s chest, and closing his eyes, trying to calm himself down. But, as he turned the last thing he said around in his head, he realized what he said. He looked up at Aziraphale in horror, and quickly let go of the angel's wrists, his hands shaking. He took a step back, and looked down at his feet, prepared for Aziraphale to throw him out of the book shop.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale said softly, as he gently grabbed the demon's hands with his own. Crowley’s heart ached at the touch. He knew the angel wanted this, wanted him. But, they both knew it was impossible. If they acted on their feelings, they could run the risk of being caught, and losing each other. A final year together, freely, without hiding their love for each other would not be worth it if, in the end, they ended up dead, no chance to save the world. He just wished there was some way to change the circumstances. A song he had heard on the radio not too long ago popped in his head, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the situation.

“What if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine? Nothing could keep us apart, and you’d be the one I was meant to find” he sang quietly, just loud enough for the angel to hear him.

“What is that? It sounds familiar” Aziraphale asked, looking up at the demon in front of him.

“It’s a song I heard on the radio about a week ago. I think it’s called Rewrite the Stars” he said, and Aziraphale smiled.

“Ah, I remember now. A regular had come in once and played it for me. I quite liked it” he said, and Crowley smiled softly. Of course his angel would listen to a song like that. Then, Aziraphale brightened, and Crowley looked at him curiously.

“Angel wh-” he started, before Aziraphale interrupted him.

“All I want is to fly with you, all I want is to fall with you” he softly sang, pulling his wings into existence, and gently lifting himself and Crowley into the air together. Crowley looked up at him curiously for a second, before he smiled. He brought out his own wings, and used them to lift him up to be level with Aziraphale, still hand in hand with his angel. His sunglasses flew off the top of his head, but he didn’t care.

“So just give me all of you” Crowley sang, as he moved his hands up Aziraphale’s arms, and they flew up, spinning gently, together. Aziraphale laughed softly.

“Let it be said that you are a terrible sap, my dear” Aziraphale said, smiling. Crowley laughed, and pulled Aziraphale closer to him, one arm wrapping around the angel's shoulders, the other around his back. Azirapale responded in kind, wrapping both arms around his demon's shoulders.

“Only for you, Angel” the demon responded, and he snapped his fingers. Aziraphale’s gramophone began playing the aforementioned song, and Aziraphale laughed again. He caught Crowley’s eyes, and together, they both pushed away from each other, smiles bright on their faces.

How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine

Aziraphale flew around the bookshop, making his way back to Crowley, who reached out his hand, and spun Aziraphale under their arms as the angel took it. Their smiles had not left their faces. In fact, they had brightened.

Nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find. It’s up to you, and it’s up to me. No one can say what we get to be

Together, they flew back at each other, and embraced the other tightly, hugging each other close, as they gently floated back down to the ground.

So why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours?

Their wings disappeared, as their feet touched the floor together, their arms still wrapped around each other. Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, trying his hardest to convey the love he felt for the angel with just his eyes.

“You know I want you. It’s not a secret I try to hide” Crowley sang softly. Aziraphale looked away, and his heart fell.

“But I can’t have you. We’re bound to break, and my hands are ties” Aziraphale sang back, pressing his forehead against Crowley’s. They stood together for some time, neither wanting to let the other go. Maybe one day, the stars would get rewritten, and they could be together. But for now, they were bound to break, and their hands were tied.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction

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wayward-verse-blog · 3 years

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The Road So Far

(This is your recap for stories to come... Sugarloaf - Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You https://youtu.be/i4njPe2_rho)

You, the audience, with your bird’s eye view, are here for this story. You witness Death granting Sam Winchester a wall, and Crowley breaking that wall to put the boys off of the field while he makes a play for monster souls in Purgatory. Crowley is absolutely on the boys’hit list.

You witness the absolute horror and sorrow on Dean Winchester’s face as Castiel sacrifices himself to end Raphael and Heaven’s civil war. His best friend is gone in early January of 2014.

Sam Winchester deteriorates during full moon after full moon, a spell not enough to prevent the memories of the Cage from tearing him apart.

Zeus approaches Dean Winchester, offering to allow him the chance to earn The Nectar of the Gods in order to save Sam. Dean says yes with no hesitation. Zeus sends him into extraplanar areas found where certain ley lines conjoin. The first sent him to a stadium with a Hydra, where Dean was grievously wounded, his arm still looking like it was burned by acid. The second had him stealing golden apples while being tormented by Eris. The third required him to enter Hell to get a hellhound from the royal lineage of Cerberus for Hades.

Entering and exiting Hell is not a simple task, nor is putting a leash on a hellhound. Dean goes to the Fae for assistance and, recognizing the hunter’s desperation, they immediately use their leverage to request that he assists them with something in the future if he wants to get in and out of Hell.

At Bobby’s house, with Bobby, Jody Mills, and Dean in the room, the nectar of the gods is successfully administered to Sam, just in the nick of time. His body glows with a golden light as damage is repaired as the Soulless and Defeated sides of him merge with Sam himself.

You see a montage of successful hunts Sam and Dean have been able to do since then. Ghosts, a cockatrice, a dryad. Quite a long time after Sam’s recovery there is a scene where the boys realize that since the nectar was given, Sam craves meat, especially red meat, something that has gotten worse over time. And if he doesn’t get it, doesn’t take care not to push himself… his body begins to weaken. Did Zeus know this would happen? Is this because only Greek gods are meant to receive the nectar? Were they always getting played?

You witness Zeus and the Greek pantheon beginning to move into the power vacuum left by the deaths of Raphael and Castiel. Greek healers are earning reputations for the whole pantheon. You hear a voiceover of the boys discussing that if they rock the boat too hard with the Greeks, they might forfeit the nectar. (Are we hearing that voiceover because someone is listening in on the boys...?)

During the years when Dean was losing Sam in slow-motion, Dean was barely coping. He was on the non-functional end of functional alcoholism for a decent chunk of the time. Having a deal, even with Zeus, meant he could act. Now, every time Sam ends up worse for wear, it wears on Dean. He’s wondering if the fix they put so much into is going to fall apart. And the closer he gets to being stuck at Sam’s bedside again, the closer he is to losing it. Sam has finally agreed to at least looking for an alternate fix, but his demand is that Dean and Bobby aren’t making deals again. They can’t handle the idea of losing him, he can’t handle them risking their asses for a potential fix that always seems to bite them in the ass.

The Fae finally re-approach the boys to redeem that favor. A redcap, who looks like a sly old man with a white beard and a red hat, references a civil war between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, the Unseelie Court wishing to disrupt the balance of the year and remove Oberon and Titania from their thrones. The Winchester brothers take on a spriggan, an abbey lubber, and… a witch bonded to the abbey lubber.

It appears that is not the only witch the Unseelie Court is working with. And in order to get Dean Winchester to continue to assassinate their enemies... the Seelie Court is willing to use the piece of leverage that can always get Dean to act -- endangering Sam. They plan to slip information to the Unseelies that it was Sam who assassinated the witch - and let their opponents take it from there. As much as this will leave them with clean hands while Dean potentially attacks their foes, the Seelie spymaster still plans for contingencies.... mentioning he wants someone who knows how to get through back doors.

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WaywardVerse Character List:

https://twitter.com/i/lists/1342247715103768576

#WaywardVerse Supernatural SPN SupernaturalRP roleplay SPNRP TwitterRP

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new-endings · 4 years

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fic idea # 735 - Parasite AU

or But it was all just a metaphor

((in the good omens universe, some demons including beelzebub, hastur, and ligur have animals on their heads, and it's popularly postulated that these are their true forms. but what if these creatures are the "demon"— sinister, insidious things—that have taken over the empty vessel of a fallen angel?

the "demon" itself is a parasite. it latches onto these fallen angels, no longer protected and shielded by Her and it feeds off the remains of their divinity, their souls, until what's left is an empty husk.

when the first angels fell, their transformation to demons didn't happen simultaneously. the fall, yes, the pain, the loss of Her Grace, Her love—ripped open and left to fall at different speeds, that was within an instant—

but not the transformation.

not quite.

but crowley...crowley’s a bit different. he has a mark of a snake. he can transform into a snake. this can mean that sometimes— sometimes, the parasite can fully take over. but not always.))

the being known as crowley has been staving off a complete transformation for millennia. he doesn't quite know how he's managed for so long—maybe because he'd always been different from the other fallen. maybe different enough to see the creature and instead offer it a deal.

after all, who would want to fully animate a celestial vessel full-time?

or maybe it's because of the strange little angel by his side, the brightest, warmest Light he'd known since the vaguest memories of Heaven—that when the parasite first saw him, there upon the garden's wall—even it was drawn instantaneously and slithered up by pure instinct.

crawley, as he was called at the time, didn't know why. all he knew was that he had to make painfully, awkward conversation with the strange angel up there as the parasite suddenly receded back into the crevices of his soul, leaving the fallen to quietly basked in the strange angel's Grace.

it happened again and again as time marched forward and the humans populated the earth. always, always, the parasite would find the angel but always retreated leaving—now crowley— to deal with him and now…

crowley grew accustomed. crowley grew comfortable. and crowley grew to look forward to these meetings.

yet the more he saw him, the bolder the parasite would be. what was stretches of epochs between meetings became once every few centuries—and then Rome happened.

crowley had been miserable. and then this angel— his angel, something purred at the back of his mind— invited him for lunch, a little "temptation" of his own making.

there was a thunderstrike of realization and crowley understood then what this parasite wanted.

it wanted this angel to fall.

crowley thinks for thousands of years that the parasite wants aziraphle to fall so it can take over the principality as its host instead of crowley. after all, to crowley, aziraphale is pure light, unlike anything crowley's ever seen. of course he’d attract it like a beacon, finding him far more appetizing than the charred remains of crowely’s own dwindling light he has to offer.

and it's no secret that aziraphale...doesn't...always excel at his job. the poor dear tries but… he’s the living example of “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” he tried to rent out the entire inn for mary and joseph— he ends up forgetting to tell the innkeeper who the rooms are for, forcing the son of God to be born in a manger. he tried to avert the whole "Nero disaster” by turning the boy's aspirations to music for God's sake. that’s not to say that aziraphale was incompetent—but every flaw cataloged by heaven made crowley more and more nervous.

so the arrangement was born. crowley could take over his jobs for him—and so aziraphale can bungle up his jobs in turn. that way aziraphale can get a double commendation for doing his work properly— and for inadvertently messing things up with the other side.

((doesn't work. aziraphale absolutely excels at being a demon. he carries out temptations flawlessly. this is a great source of stress on crowley for centuries))

in the 1800s, crowley and aziraphale have a massive fight. crowley asked aziraphale to get him some holy water. a single drop is enough to kill a demon. crowley asked this for protection, in case the agents of hell found out about their arrangement.

and aziraphale denied him because it would be too dangerous, but what's interesting-- what's really interesting--

is that aziraphale's immediate reaction was to call the holy water "a suicide pill!" in this iteration, the context can have a very, very different meaning in that aziaphale is right: crowley would intend to use it on himself. aziraphale knows crowley by now. has known him for millennia. and he's right. it's a last resort if crowley ever feels that his control slips, that the parasite takes over, he has to have a way to take care of the problem before aziraphale becomes targeted by the creature lurking inside him.

and crowley does slip.

when crowley runs into the burning bookshop, reaches out and pleads to the parasite's senses to comb through the fire and ash in the air, and screams out that he can't feel aziraphale anywhere—that's when his control crumbles.

he's given up.

he's lost his angel.

there was nothing left in this world now. nothing left to do but to let the wars rage.

so he gives in. this vessel is his.

((from there, it’s a canon divergence from when aziraphale comes to the bar, seconds too late as the creature takes over. notice how hastur was scared of crowley during his drive through the wall of flames? he could likely smell exactly what crowley had become now.

canon events still occur with crowley acting...acting just a smidge off. a little less dramatic. a little ...darker.

but he's there at the airbase, willing to stand by his angel's side. this demon's been waiting for millennia to have that angel for himself. so he stands his ground. he won't waste the golden opportunity.

the meddling fallen...

maybe a fragment of him still exists in there.

maybe he's there when he sees their angel, their sweet, clever, wicked thing propose the switch

maybe he's there at the crevices of his mind when he spits hellfire at the archangels and rejoices with him as they burn.

maybe he's there when he takes their angel—his angel, has always been his angel— to bed, marking him, branding him, inside and out.

maybe he's there when aziraphale sighs in the quiet dark and says "I love you, Crowley..."

and maybe he's there when the demon smiles, sharper than before, and with a glow in his eyes more triumphant than the angel had ever seen.

"I've always loved you, Aziraphale."

in the events following the botched armageddon, its mask is slipping. for a while, it tries to uphold its persona as "crowley" but of course, it's not crowley. not completely. both crowley AND the parasite coexist to form the entity that aziraphale knows and loves.

he's…crueler. more dangerous. protective. possessive. he always knows where aziraphale is and of course a part of it is because he obviously is concerned for the angel's safety. the ruse won't be kept hidden forever, after all.

but it's more than that.

the fallen known as crowley thought that maybe being around aziraphale has kept the parasite at bay—but no, no he was wrong.

the only thing that kept the creature at bay had been crowley himself. when the parasite saw the angel for the first time, it slithered its way to the wall and crowley's immediate instinct was to take back the reins.

and the creature let it.

the deal they made was that crowley gets free reign to do as he pleases, but the demon can take control to have its fun in its own time. a bit like clocking in and out of work: many of the horrors humankind had made were indeed makings of their own.

but some were not without a bit of demonic influence when crowley wasn't around.

((there's a reason why crowley's so fond of sleep))

so when he tells aziraphale that he's been "asleep" it may or may not mean mean that the parasite has been taking his skin out for a spin.

so why didn't the parasite simply take aziraphale during these times?

well for one, crowley would most likely take control again. the creature may sense the angel's whereabouts, but crowley has his own special sense to know when aziraphale is in danger.

the other reason...is that he needs this fallen to court him.

win the angel over with his company, effortless banter, and teasing words all while the creature watched and learned, mimicked and mocked. it's a parasite— it doesn't know much about romancing and sweet-worded affections

but it knows quite a bit about getting what it wants.

((or maybe this was all just a metaphor of crowley's more demonic nature. he doesn't embrace "evil" and "sin" the way other demons do. and a large part of that is because he retains who he was before the fall. he didn't "fall" as much as he "vaguely sauntered downwards.” he was afraid of hell. he wanted to be here, on earth, with his angel and the humans he'd found equal parts amusing and equal parts frustrating. he didn't want to embrace what he'd become.

but the moment aziraphale turned him away for the last time, the moment he'd lost his angel-- something in him might have broken. it's no longer a sense of keeping propriety, it's now a matter of survival

yes, he's scared of hell. but now, he's more scared of losing aziraphale.

maybe the parasite was all in his head.

maybe he created it as a way to dissociate himself from the reality of his fall. maybe he and the parasite are one in the same.

and it's only now— now, after the very frightening reality of having lost aziraphale once— that he's willing to use whatever means he has to make sure aziraphale stays with him—

by his side.

like he's meant to be. like he was always supposed to be.

or maybe that's just what the parasite wanted him to believe))

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #fic idea #dark crowley #but not really #or is it #secondary title is from rironominds colourless saitama and his years of training #i just really love that title

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

Text

What Might Have Been - 21

It’s June but still here to hurt you with May prompts from @goodomenscelebration - Themes

We have now: the backstory of AU Aziraphale and how he became the Guardian of New Eden and the heartless kidnapper we all know and don’t love.

CW For torture and violence in the parts where we check in on Crowley, and perceived character death. Also for Gabriel and his stupid, stupid face.

I hope this clarifies a few things.

As always, the full story can be found on AO3.

Garden

Ten years ago

Aziraphale stood just outside Gabriel’s glass-walled office. The Archangel had seen him, of course, he saw everything. That was the point. He could certainly see Aziraphale, standing out here with his final report.

It was enormous. Typewritten. That was a special case, very special; he had always written his reports by hand. But he needed to be sure that every word was clear, that there were no misunderstandings. Also, it would have been rather a lot of ink.

Gabriel finally met his eyes and waved him in.

It was time.

Trying to control the trembling in his heart, Aziraphale stepped through the door, into the brightly-lit office. He should probably smile, but that seemed to be asking too much.

“Ah, Aziraphale. How go the preparations? Only a few more years!” He smiled, angelic and benign, and it hurt. This was where Aziraphale was supposed to be, surely, every moment of his time on earth had been a mistake! He should burn this report to ashes and beg to be allowed…

He let the emotion pass. He’d thought about this very hard. He’d made his decision.

He placed the report on Gabriel’s desk. It was over eight hundred pages, clothbound, with a tan cover.

Then Aziraphale stepped back, letting out his breath. No going back now.

“What is this?” Gabriel spun the book, frowning at it distastefully. “I’ve asked you before not to use such…unusual materials for your reports.”

“This seemed fitting.”

“Are these the battle plans I asked for?” He lifted the cover with one finger, peering at the pages inside. “I’m no expert, Aziraphale, but I thought maps would involve pictures, not words.”

“It is not. This is my…confession.” Aziraphale clasped and twisted his hands behind his back.

Gabriel let the cover fall, standing up. He towered over Aziraphale. The light in his eyes had turned to something dark and terrifying. “Confessions are for humans raised with too much guilt. Not angels.”

“I…have a very guilty conscience. I cannot go forward in our plans for the end times without coming clean.” He let his eyes fall to the book, trying to find the courage to go on. “I have written out my sins in great detail. This should help you to decide my punishment without needless delay.”

“And you’re just going to stand there while I…read…all of this?”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “I…suppose I didn’t think that part through.”

“Just give me the highlights,” Gabriel snapped, sitting back down in his chair, pushing the book away.

“Highlights. Yes.” Aziraphale’s mind raced, trying to find the right words. “For the last…two thousand years, give or take…I have been in a…a relationship with the demon Crowley.”

A long silence. “And what precisely was the nature of this relationship?”

“It’s all in…” he met the forbidding look in Gabriel’s eyes, then turned away. “Yes. Ah. It was many things. We had a…professional Arrangement. Er. An emotional one. A…a physical one.”

“Physical.” Gabriel stood again, slamming his hands on the table. “You are an angel, Aziraphale. Are you telling me you let a demon violate you?”

Clenching his fists, Aziraphale tried again to meet those eyes, but he could see the weight of his depravity in them. “It was mutual. Everything we did was mutual.”

“How many times?”

“I…” Aziraphale blinked considering. “Well, I rather lost count, but I put as many into the report as I could recall.”

Gabriel’s mouth dropped in horror. He pulled the book towards him and flipped to a page at random. “It was on this occasion that I discovered Crowley has the most delightfully sensitive area at the base of his throat, and when I…ugh…” He turned to a different page. “As we sat on the cliffs overlooking the ships gathered in the Bay of Biscay, Crowley asked me if I thought the English would defeat them. Feeling great pride for the island where I have made my home, I told Crowley that the English could triumph over any number of ships. He asked if I wanted to put a wager on it. I told him that if the Spanish won he could…ugh…but if the English won, I would…I…” Gabriel turned the page, and then the next one. “And Crowley asked me to prove I could actually…why would you think I would want to read any of this?”

“I have always suspected that in between our bouts of lovemaking that night, Crowley slipped out and miracled up the storms that delayed the Armada. Which was not very sporting of him, he should have simply admitted defeat.”

“Aziraphale, I don’t want to know – wait, wasn’t the Spanish Armada one of ours?”

“It was. I rather got caught up in the heat of the moment. Though I do recall I told you that my efforts had been thwarted by Hell’s agent on Earth, and that I had already begun making him pay. That’s all detailed in the next bit.”

“This…” Gabriel’s face took on an expression that made Aziraphale’s spine tingle with fear and shame. “This disgusting display…I’ve never seen anything like this…”

Here it came. Would Gabriel make him Fall immediately, or would it require some sort of council? Did it hurt, apart from the pool of sulfur? Would he feel his angelic nature ripped away?

He should have asked Crowley these questions centuries ago. Aziraphale braced himself and waited.

“Get out of my sight. I need to decide what to do with you.”

Aziraphale looked at the door behind him. “But…surely I…”

“Get out!”

Nine years, six months ago

Customers wandered through Aziraphale’s shop. He didn’t even have the energy to follow them. He’d sold four books in the last month, too distressed to even think of preventing it.

There had been no word from Gabriel.

Could they make him Fall at any time? Or did he need to be present in Heaven for it to happen? Would God be there personally? That would surely be enough to break his resolve.

He knew he would wind up in Hell. That much he was certain of. Would the demons be told he was coming? Who would be waiting to receive him?

Aziraphale sold another copy of Persuasion. Not that it mattered.

Nine years, three months ago

Aziraphale stood in Gabriel’s office again. The Archangel gave him his full attention this time, arms crossed, face hard, the book sitting on the desk beside him. The waiting, the endless waiting, had worn Aziraphale down, but he rallied himself as best he could. He would face this, on his feet, ready for whatever came.

“Have you…decided?”

“Don’t speak, Aziraphale. I’m still very unhappy with you. The amount of detail that went into this report was…entirely unnecessary. In fact, that’s what tipped me off as to your deception.”

“My…”

“I said don’t speak. Ugh. You know, I could hear your voice the whole time I was reading this and it did not help in any way. I just…” He shuddered. “But. It was around the fifth time you described that…that noise the demon made when you did that…thing to his ear…”

“It’s called kissing, Gabriel.”

“What did I say?” He glared until Aziraphale clasped his hands behind his back and nodded quietly. “Right. Anyway, I realized this wasn’t just some attempt to clear your conscience. Your exceedingly filthy conscience. You were trying to get a reaction out of me.”

Aziraphale shook his head, trying to object, but he couldn’t have spoken even if Gabriel had allowed it.

“Yes! And what reaction could you be trying to get? What would be the result if I actually lost my temper? Then I realized.” He picked up the thick book in both hands. “This isn’t just a four hundred-thousand-word smut fest. In between all that…that, you kept going on and on about how clever and kind this demon is, how he actually cares for humanity, how he puts up a show of nihilism because he can’t stand to see them suffer – and, somehow, all that was worse.” He slammed the book down on his desk. “So. Aziraphale. Does the demon Crowley know you’re in love with him?”

He went very still.

“Yes. I expect you to answer that.”

“I. No, I’m not…everything we did was just to, to, to pass the time in as indulgent a way as possible, and, and yes, I partook in, I’m fairly certain, all the major sins. I was merely trying to document – but love, no, that, that was never—”

“Aziraphale.” Gabriel cringed. “Don’t make me read all this and then lie to me about it.”

Aziraphale trembled. He brought his hands forward, tugging at the wrists of his jacket, twisting his cufflinks. He’d been prepared to answer any question, but not this.

“I…thought he suspected. I thought we both hinted at it. But. In Paris, I tried to make him aware of my feelings and…he left.” He could still hear Crowley’s whisper, I’ll see you in London. In our bookshop. Aziraphale had waited, and waited, with growing despair, until he realized Crowley was simply never going to come. “So, either he has no idea, or he does and…doesn’t care.”

“And doesn’t know that you’re attempting to Fall for him right now.” Aziraphale deflated. “Yes, it was absolutely that obvious. Ugh.” Gabriel walked closer, hands folded in front of him, almost pleading. “Why? That’s the thing I can’t figure out. This has to be the most elaborate attempted defection in history.”

“I’m not defecting,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I don’t – I’m not going to reveal any of Heaven’s plans, even if they, they lock me up and torture me for the length of the war, which I rather suspect they will. But. Afterwards…”

“Afterwards, they lose. And all those who survive will be locked in the dark for eternity.” He said it with perfect confidence, as if it had already happened. Had Aziraphale ever been so certain? “Why would you want to be on the losing side?”

“Because, win or lose…I don’t want to spend eternity without him. And if the only place that will take us both is the darkest pits of perdition…that’s where I shall go.”

“And your duties?”

“I know.” He bowed his head. “Choosing between humanity and Crowley is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I know the war will be difficult, and they deserve their Guardian, but…Crowley will be alone. And…if I can’t have both…if I must choose….”

“And if you didn’t have to choose?”

“That’s impossible,” Aziraphale started. “Heaven would have to agree to…” He glanced up to find Gabriel watching him, lips pursed, eyebrows raised.

Was the Archangel saying what Aziraphale thought he was saying? For the first time in nearly a year, the fear faded, being replaced with something rather like hope. “You…you mean you’d actually…”

“Aziraphale, you’re one of our best agents, dalliances notwithstanding.” He waved a hand back towards the book. “We’re not going to let you go. Not when you have so much to do for us.”

“Would…would Crowley…Ascend?” It was more than he could have hoped for.

Gabriel tipped his head, uncertain. “Hmmm, it’s never been done. It would take more than just my recommendation, and he would need to be an exemplary prisoner during the war.”

“P – prisoner?”

“Well, on paper. Not sure how else we could arrange it. Plus there’s security to think of – our secrets and his safety. A cell with a warden would probably be best. I don’t know how comfortable it would be, but you were willing to spend the war at the mercies of Hell’s torturers. I can’t imagine this would be worse.”

“I…” It was suddenly difficult to think rationally. “I could…I don’t know how to contact him. He might not even be in London anymore…I doubt he would trust me enough to…”

“Look I’m not going to…thank you for my pornography, but it has given me some insight into his mind. I think he’ll try to get in touch with you again. Let me know as soon as it happens, and we’ll make a plan.”

“Could I visit him?” He had so much to say, and for a moment the hope wiped out every other possibility from his mind. He was ready to agree to anything, just to have Crowley in his arms again.

But Gabriel huffed out a breath. “I don’t want to promise anything, Aziraphale. You’re going to be very busy during the war. But I think we can arrange something. Video calls? I don’t know. But this is the best offer you’re going to get. Keep working with us during the war – do your duty – and afterwards, eternity with your…” He waved his hand vaguely over the book. “…your demon. Preferably very far from me.”

There was a lot to consider. Aziraphale pulled on the fabric of his waistcoat, straightened his lapels, and finally adjusted his bow tie. “I…yes, I will keep you informed. And you promise he will not be harmed while I lead my platoon?”

“Platoon?” Gabriel grinned. “I would not be going out of my way like this for a mere platoon leader. Aziraphale, your reports over the last six thousand years have inspired a whole new project. Let me tell you about New Eden.”

Seven years, three months ago

Aziraphale stood at the drafting table, surrounded by architects and blueprints. “No, this is all wrong. The scale of it! The original Garden only held one Man and one Woman. We can’t simply reuse the same design. New Eden will hold billions. It would have to be the size of…Australia, at least! Where are Milkiel’s plans?”

Another set of drawings moved across the table. “Yes, this is what we’ll need.” He nodded to Milkiel, who beamed proudly. “It’s a start at least, but more rivers – here, and here, and we can’t just ignore the deserts, or the swamps. I believe if we…”

“Another change of plans,” Hizkiel appeared suddenly behind Aziraphale, holding a sealed message tube. “The number of Elect has been reduced. Gabriel has suggested a few alterations.” Aziraphale unrolled the slip of paper inside and took it in with a glance, eyes going wide.

The Archangels had gathered in Gabriel’s office, a serious council of blazing wings and stern faces. Ordinarily, Aziraphale would be too terrified to enter. Never mind the power the Archangels had over him and over the world – interrupting was just rude.

But this was not something that could wait.

“Gabriel, you can’t—” He took a deep breath as hundreds of eyes turned on him, burning out from the flaming wings of the Archangels. “I’m – I’m so sorry to intrude, most…most Holy Archangel Gabriel, on your matters of great import but…a quarter of a million people?”

“Aziraphale.” His wings snapped back into place, leaving only the human-shaped body to tower over the Principality of Earth. “Are you questioning our wisdom?”

“I – I – I think there must be some mistake, surely, I was told the Elect would be all of the humans found worthy, and – and that the children…”

He saw the way Gabriel glanced at the other Archangels, rolling his eyes. “Let me handle this.” His hand fell heavily on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he steered them both out of the office and back into the main halls of Heaven.

“Aziraphale. Stop. How many humans did you think we were going to save? According to the prophecies – your prophecies which you bring up in every planning session – barely a third of the humans will even make it to the final year. That includes the ones we take. We only ever planned for those who are worthy.”

“But…there are two billion children in the world right now…I thought, if we started early…”

“No. Obviously not. That just isn’t feasible. Look. It’s like the Ark.” Gabriel spread his hands. “You remember the Ark? We had to send a message. We tested, and how many did we find worthy? Hm? One family. Same with Sodom and Gomorrah. One family, and the mother didn’t even make it.”

“But…this is the end of the world. You can’t be suggesting…”

“A quarter of a million people is extremely generous. That’s at least ten families per city! And, yes, we can prioritize children, they’re easier to keep in line, anyway.”

Aziraphale lowered his head, struggling to handle the shift, to think clearly. “So…this means…I suppose this means something of a redesign is in order.”

“Yes! Good thinking. Now. I have business to attend to. You take care of that, and I’ll follow up at the end of the day. Keep up the good work!” With another shoulder clap – hard enough to hurt – Gabriel headed back into his office.

Aziraphale’s feet led him to the planning table, to the team of engineers and architects he had been assigned, and stared at the plans for New Eden, glowing, shining cities that would provide everything for the humans, with rolling stretches of countryside in between. Slowly, he crumpled them up.

He stared at the blank piece of paper before him, then reached for a pencil. “Alright. New plan. I’ll make alterations as we go, but we’ll start with a shape like this…”

Seven years, six weeks ago

Aziraphale paced outside the heavy door that he’d never seen in Heaven’s halls before. It didn’t match the aesthetic.

It would be fine. Once he could get in and explain to Crowley, he would understand. This was really best for everyone. Even better, with Crowley’s information, surely, they could halve the death count, at least, maybe more. He just needed five minutes.

It had been six hours.

Suddenly, the door opened. He rushed forward, as Shoftiel stepped out, pulling it shut behind him. “How is he? Is he comfortable? Did he ask for me?” Aziraphale took a breath, smoothing his lapels. “I mean, I assume our guest is awake?”

“He was,” Shoftiel said with a smile, partly hidden behind his thick beard. “But he’s rather tired, so I think he’ll sleep a bit longer.” His eyes sparkled, just a little. “He isn’t being very cooperative yet, or polite, but I think we can reach an understanding.”

“Oh, oh, thank you. Listen, I know he can be a – a little prickly, but just let me speak to him alone, and I can have all this sorted out.”

“I don’t think he wants to see you.” He tested the door and started walking away.

“I – I do understand that. But, please, this is – I know how to handle him, I can make him talk.” He reached out a hand and rested it on Shoftiel’s arm. “Just give me a few minutes and…”

There was a spot of blood on Shoftiel’s sleeve. Demonic blood.

“What did you…what did you do?”

“I told you, he wasn’t being very cooperative.”

A surge of rage rose in Aziraphale’s chest, boiling up through his mind. Power rolled off him in waves. “What did you do?”

“I gave him a little encouragement is all.” Shoftiel might not have even noticed the storm of celestial energy brewing around them. “Please, Principality, this is my job. Let me work.”

“I need to see Crowley!” Aziraphale grabbed the other angel by the collar and threw him against the wall. “This instant!”

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel appeared at the end of the hall. All the power Aziraphale had gathered dissipated in a breath. “There’s no need for you to lose your temper like this. What happened?”

“This – this—” he made himself calm down. “This bad angel has done…something…to Crowley. I demand to see him right now.”

“Demand?” Gabriel glanced at Shoftiel. “I assume this was necessary?”

“He’s very unwilling to speak at the moment. I have not caused him any permanent harm, of course, but you do need to earn a demon’s respect, and their methods can be quite brutal. One he’s ready to cooperate, I can lighten up.” He waved a hand towards the Principality. “He also declined my offer to have Aziraphale visit.”

“Well. That all seems reasonable.” Gabriel clapped his hands and smiled. “Back to work, then. World isn’t going to end itself!”

“What? No!” Aziraphale clenched his fists. “This isn’t what I agreed to. You…you said he would be safe…”

“If he cooperates. Which he isn’t. Yet.” He patted Aziraphale on the shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. And I’ll check in and make sure there’s nothing excessive going on.”

“Excessive?” Aziraphale felt very ill, in a way he never had in his life. “I don’t…Surely you must see that any amount of violence is excessive, he’s our prisoner. We’re the good guys.”

“Well, yes, he’s a prisoner. We do what we must to ensure he behaves. Rules of War.” One last smile from Gabriel. “Now let’s get you back to work. Only a few weeks left! Have you chosen a location for your Garden yet?”

Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder towards the door one last time. Crowley was clever. He wasn’t very loyal to Hell. Surely, he would understand that a little information was all he needed to keep himself safe. He would have to trust that Crowley knew how to protect himself.

Meanwhile, there was a job that only Aziraphale could do. It’ll be fine. This is for the best…

Seven years ago

Somewhere over Megiddo, the war had started. Abaddon, general of Hell, led the Demonic Legions against Michael’s Hosts of Heaven. Human bombs flew, and fell.

But it was just another war in a distant land. In the English countryside, it hadn’t even registered yet.

Aziraphale walked the fields with his survey crew.

“Then the wall will come around this way, curving like this and go straight for a bit. Hmmm. That tree is in the way.”

“Is it?” One of the surveyors asked. “We can just cut it down. We’re already passing through dozens—”

“No-no-no!” Aziraphale waved his hands. “This tree, really it’s a very good one. For climbing and whatnot. The children will appreciate it. We want to go around. Starting here we want to curve out like this, and then back in again over there.”

The surveyors looked at the altered map. “That seems…” one started “…unnecessary. Why so much space around it?”

“It’s a climbing tree. The children need room to – run or play conkers or whatever it is children do these days.”

“We could just move the tree,” the other surveyor pointed out. “Or plant a new one.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Am I being a bit distracted? I’m terribly sorry.” He started rolling the plans up. “There have been so many changes in the past few years, I’m just tying to preserve some of my original…well, never mind. I’ve noted down everything else we discussed. Just need to get Gabriel to sign off on—”

A buzz in his pocket; Aziraphale pulled out the flat device Heaven used for communication. He did miss the days when he was less…tethered, but his heart leapt when he saw it was Gabriel.

“Yes? Hello? Is it Crowley? Has he asked to see me? Shoftiel said he’d tell him, days ago—”

“No, Aziraphale, this isn’t about setting up your…tryst. Get to London. Immediately.”

The city of London was surrounded by a brilliant glow, hotter than a sun, colder than the vacuum of space. Walls of sunlight-colored glow encircled the city in an uneven loop, 15 or 20 miles out.

The energy that came off it wasn’t holy. It wasn’t demonic. It was something else entirely.

Aziraphale placed a hand against it. A wall of power forming a physical barrier. Nothing could cross that.

“Thizz izz not what we were told!” Beelzebub shouted angrily. “The field reportzz zzaid it would be the dread szigil Odegra.” Ze slammed a fist into the light. “Hell izz getting no power off thisz! It doesz nothing!”

“Nor is Heaven,” Gabriel assured zir. “I don’t know how this could – ah, Aziraphale. What is going on here?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said, as evenly as he could.

“Yes, but you—” Gabriel shot a look at Beelzebub and pulled Aziraphale further aside. “You lived in this city for two centuries. You had an – an understanding with Hell’s top field agent. Are you telling me you never noticed? Never heard a word about this project?”

“You know perfectly well I hadn’t spoken to Crowley in two hundred twenty-six years!”

“Look at this,” Gabriel blustered on, pointing at the wall of force. “Just look! This is supposed to be the sigil Odegra. We planned for that, we had ways to counter it, and the strength it would give the Opposition. We had a schedule! How are we supposed to keep to it if we can’t get near this, huh? All of the major cities are scheduled to be destroyed within a month. I need a solution, now.”

“What – no, no one told me about that!”

“Change of plans,” The Archangel waved off his objections. “We’ll get you the paperwork soon. This is more urgent. What is it, and why can’t we get in?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. But New Eden isn’t ready yet, and you promised me, ten families—”

“That was an estimate! Move with the times, Aziraphale. We’ll find another way to get your hundred and twenty-five thousand souls.”

“Hundred and – that’s half—”

“Aziraphale! Focus.” He slapped a hand against the wall of force. It made no more difference than a child hitting a stone wall. “I was pulled away from Megiddo for this. Get me answers.”

Aziraphale stared at the wall running outside the M25. A few cars had collided with the solid barrier, which cut infinitely up into the sky and down below the earth, slicing through the flyovers and underpasses. The humans had learned quickly. All exits out of London were closed, small crowds milling around, hands pressed to the barrier. Behind them, green fields stretched to the suburbs, and beyond that rose the city itself.

Nearly ten million people lived inside the M25. Ten million people Heaven couldn’t reach, couldn’t save.

“Gabriel. I have no idea what this could be.” He took a deep breath. “But I am certain Crowley is behind it. He as much as told me, the one time we spoke. And he would have designed it with a way to get himself out. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask him.”

Sandalphon slammed Crowley against the wall hard enough to crack his spine, but for the moment all he could do was laugh.

“None of you checked. Not one of you ever checked. Those diacritics will get you every time.”

“Fine. You’ve had your laugh.” Gabriel smiled as if to show he knew what a joke looked like. “Tell me how to get in.”

“You don’t. No one does. No angels, no demons, no humans. The people of London are safe from you bastards. Have your war elsewhere.”

Gabriel rubbed at his eye. “We had plans. This – this delay is not what I want today. That city needs to be nuked, those souls need to be sent to their rewards and punishments, and Michael is supposed to be running the European warfront out of the ruins. She is not going to be happy.”

“Ooh, I’ve never had an angel be mad at me before.” Sandalphon’s fist drove into his stomach again, but he didn’t care. It had worked. His plan had bloody worked.

“You realize,” Gabriel said, bearing down on him, “that you’ve left ten million people to die in there?”

“You were going to kill them!”

“No, the war was going to kill them. But at least it would have been quick. Now they’re going to starve to death, slowly, as their supplies run out. Probably get diseases, contaminated water, and they’ll tear each other apart over what supplies they have. You’ve accomplished nothing.”

“I ruined your day. Seems good enough for me.”

Gabriel grabbed a bottle of holy water off the table and charged Crowley. The demon barely had time to brace himself before Gabriel’s hand slammed his face back into the wall. “Give me one reason not to, because I have had enough of your attitude!”

“Go ahead!” Crowley closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and waited.

And kept waiting.

Gabriel and Sandalphon stepped back, letting him drop to the floor.

“No,” Gabriel said. “Aziraphale was certain you knew a way through. We’ll find it.”

When they left, hours later, Crowley was battered and bleeding on the floor.

But London was still safe.

Six years, two months ago

Aziraphale led Gabriel proudly through the Garden of New Eden. The inner Garden, that is, which was just a temporary arrangement.

“The outer wall will be rather more extensive. We need to accommodate the territories of various animals, make sure all the biomes are represented, and of course there will be unforeseen needs as we build the villages.”

“Didn’t think we needed villages. The original Eden didn’t have them.”

“Well, yes, but the original humans didn’t know any other life.” He saw Gabriel’s expression, and quickly changed tactics. ”Ah, I’m sure it’s just temporary, until they fully settle, but I want to make them as comfortable as possible in the meantime. Of course, sedentary humans will take up less space, so if you really want no dwellings, that probably means more extensions…”

“Aziraphale, don’t bore me with the architectural details, I have a war to worry about.” He glanced at his communication device, then held up a map of the world. “Our nuclear exchange did not go off as planned, so there are too many surviving cities. Humans are already making they way through our battlefields to try and reach them, and how are we supposed to handle that? Hm? Can’t let the demons have them.”

“No, of course not! So – you’ll be happy to hear that building the Inner Garden has allowed me to begin collecting the Elect already. Here – just up ahead.”

He gestured to a small collection of white cottages. Several families stood outside, parents clutching children, looking terrified. “They, ah, they are still acclimating, of course—”

“Aziraphale.” Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him away. “Who are these people?”

“I – I – I’m sorry, I used your list…”

“This list?” Gabriel pulled it up on his communication device. “I see three names checked off. Three of these people should be here. There’s at least twenty.”

“W – well, yes, but, I realized the names were children. They need caretakers.”

Gabriel looked at him, confused. “They have you.”

“I, yes, and thank you for entrusting me…but I thought…well wouldn’t it be better to keep the families together? It will add up a little, but I’ve been running some numbers…”

“Hey, hey…” Gabriel held up his hands. “What is all this? You got this position because you trust the system. That’s all I need you to do. Just…receive you orders and do as you’re told. Don’t complicate things.”

Aziraphale reached for his bow tie, but there wasn’t one on his military uniform. He tugged at the jacket instead. “I really…I do trust the system, Gabriel. But. You must understand that humans are more…more complicated than they appear on paper. I have six thousand years of observing them, and, well, I had to make a judgement call. This is…I wish to at least try. As an experiment. Perhaps you will prove right in the end, but I want to see for myself.” He nodded. Gabriel hadn’t said anything. This wasn’t so bad, after all, except for the knot in his stomach, the way his lungs seemed to be filled with glass. “I will, of course, keep you updated on their progress.”

Gabriel looked at Aziraphale for a long moment. “I’ll tell you what. Let me think this over, ask the other Archangels, and I’ll get back to you tonight, alright?”

The tension Aziraphale had been feeling since his first retrieval started to dissolve. “Oh, oh thank you. Yes. That is – yes, please. Take your time and think it over.”

“I will. Look for a message tonight.”

Aziraphale took the message in what he was coming to think of as his office. It wasn’t an office, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was private – no one knew the spot but him – and it had a lovely view of a field with a tree in the middle of it.

With a little difficulty – modern technology still made him uncomfortable – Aziraphale managed to get the video to start playing.

Gabriel sat at his desk, smiling at an unseen camera. “Hello, Aziraphale. I’ve talked your proposal over with a few of the others. This is what we think.”

The camera cut to Crowley, chained to a wall, screaming.

There was already one knife buried in his ribs, and an angel was cutting into him again and again with another. Crowley screamed, over and over, on and on, jerking his arms against the chains that held him, kicking his feet against the wall.

It went on for two minutes.

Then the camera cut back to Gabriel, still smiling in his office. “Get rid of the extra humans. And next time your orders come in…don’t question them. At all.”

The device tumbled from Aziraphale’s fingers.

In six thousand years, he’d never vomited before.

Aziraphale made it most of the way to a nearby bush before his corporation took over, and he violently heaved out what felt like every meal he’d ever eaten.

When he was done – when he was empty – he collapsed on the grass, sobbing.

“Crowley!” He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaming again, but the tears poured from his eyes.

It was so much worse than he could have imagined.

His clothes had been torn, decayed, clearly ripped apart and never replaced, his shirt little more than a collection of rags hanging from his shoulders. His hair that he always took such pride in, was long and matted and filthy, portions of it torn out. The blood, the feathers, the scars…

And the twisted, horrible look on his face…

“Crowley…I’m…I’m sorry…” Even to himself, the words sounded weak, pointless. He clutched at his stomach, choking on tears. “I thought…I really thought…I’m a fool. I’m so sorry…”

The entire plan had been a gamble, right from the beginning. To save Crowley, to save everyone, Aziraphale had been willing to risk anything.

But the stakes were too high, the rules kept changing, and he no longer thought he could win. He was starting to think there was no winning.

From the sky above, thick with clouds that never parted, came the sound of Trumpets, bringing him orders. Where to send the unwanted humans. Where to go to retrieve the next batch, who to take, who to leave.

He didn’t need to let them take over his mind to know what the orders were. He could hold back, keep his mind intact, make decisions for himself.

But making decisions was what had gotten him into this mess. And just at the moment, he couldn’t stand to be around himself.

The orders washed over him, and his mind drifted away.

Five years, eight months ago

“They’re loud,” Gabriel complained, looking over the crowd of humans.

“Yes, many of them are unhappy with the method of their arrival.” Aziraphale reached a hand towards one of the children, but she immediately scrambled away, screaming. “But in a little time, they will settle down. Already they have begun forming new families.”

Across the field, under a few trees carefully selected for the width of their branches and the cool shadows they cast, several teenagers sat with younger children in their laps, talking soothingly to them, making sure they ate.

Gabriel scowled. “What is that?”

“That? Er, dinner time?”

“No, that.” Gabriel stormed across the field, and the children scattered before him, vanishing into the sorts of hiding places only the very young can find. One of the teenagers didn’t move fast enough, and Gabriel caught her arm, spinning her back. “Right here. On her face. She’s one of them.”

Aziraphale looked at the Mark. It wasn’t hidden – they couldn’t really be hidden, not to angels, certainly not when located on the chin like that.

“But, she’s also one of ours. Mariana was on the list you gave me. She’s one of the best residents of New Eden, one of the few that…that trust me, that help with the others.”

“Let go of me!” The girl twisted in his arm, kicking at the Archangel’s shin. “Let go, you horrible, pestilent wanker, you miserable—”

“I admit she has a bit of a temper, but…she was chosen for a reason. She belongs here.”

Gabriel grabbed her jaw to quiet her and glared at Aziraphale. “When they take the Mark, they give up our protection. It’s in the oath they take. We can’t have damned souls in our new paradise, can we?”

“But…like many people, Mariana didn’t have a choice. She lived an exemplary life before, did so much to help others, and surely we can forgive—”

“Aziraphale.” Gabriel shoved her into his arms. “Get rid of her. Do not take any of the Marked, ever again. It really isn’t that difficult.”

“But…”

“And expect another message tonight.”

Aziraphale went cold, trembling. “No. No, you don’t have to…don’t do this…”

“I don’t want to have to be the bad guy here, Aziraphale. Just. Do your job as ordered.”

In a flash of light, Gabriel was gone.

“You…you won’t send me away, will you?” Mariana grabbed his arm. “Please. You said I could be safe here, you said you’d give me another chance! I did everything you asked!”

“You did. But a Judgement has been made. And now you must go.”

She shoved him away. “You can’t just throw me out! Where the Hell am I supposed to go? The Marked won’t take me back, not after I’ve been here. If you put me out there I will die.”

“You’re…you’re very resourceful, my dear. I’m sure…you’ll find a way…”

“You lying sack of shit!” All around them, faces turned, people emerged from where they hid every time the angels came close. There were hundreds of witnesses. “You call yourself our Guardian, you say you’ll protect us, but the world is ending, people are dying and all you do is sit here and redesign your fucking garden walls. Nothing you do is going to matter! Because this place is corrupt, and you are corrupt, and everything is—”

She vanished.

That night, Aziraphale curled up on the seat in his office, watching his communication device as Crowley screamed and twisted, chained to a table, boiling sulfur poured over him again and again. There was nothing Aziraphale could do, but watch, and suffer along with him, and cry.

“I don’t know what to do, my love,” he whispered. “I can’t help them. I can’t help you. I’m useless.”

On the screen, Crowley managed to catch his breath. “Fuck you, Gabriel!” He shouted. “Fuck all of you, fuck the angels, fuck every last one of—AAAAAAH!” Another wave of liquid over him.

Four days ago

“I don’t know how we managed to get so many troublemakers in New Eden,” Gabriel complained, walking away from the holding pen. “All of them were on the lists?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said cheerfully. “Exactly according to the Plan.” This was much easier if he didn’t think of anything but the Plan.

“Well. Once we send this bunch out into the world, make an example of them, the rest will fall into line.”

“Of course. You are wise, as always, Gabriel.” He nodded to one of his squads to begin delivering the humans to the pre-selected locations. “They will need to be replaced, of course.”

“Fine, yes, I’ll send an updated list tonight, along with your other message. Price of failure, you understand. Nothing personal.”

Hardly a flicker crossed Aziraphale’s face. “I understand. How else will I learn?”

“Excellent. See? Consistent discipline always brings obedience. The same will work for the humans.” He glanced at the rapidly emptying holding pen, then scowled at the wall beyond. “Is that an extension? Did I approve that?”

“Just a small one. There was an issue with the drainage in that corner, and we needed to take care of it while there was still land outside to co-opt. Do you need to see the overall plans? I have a report prepared—”

“No, it’s fine. Whatever. Just a few more days, right?”

“I expect we will be quite busy. I’ve already added several new angels to the retrieval squads.” He nodded to Ishliah, who was marching with her new unit.

“Perfect. Yes.” Gabriel took one last look around, distracted. “Oh, one more thing. We’ve had reports of a gang of hundreds of humans moving south…”

Two hours ago

Aziraphale sat in his office, head leaning against the window, watching the video play again and again.

“What do you want? Just ask me a question, I’ll – AAAAH! Stop! Please, don’t – AAAAH!” Then, in the pause, “…Aziraphale…”

It looked like Crowley. It sounded like Crowley, his voice at least.

But Crowley never asked why they were hurting him.

And Crowley had never once, not in seven years, called Aziraphale’s name.

The other Aziraphale had confirmed it. Somehow, this wasn’t his Crowley.

Which could only mean one thing.

You didn’t need a replacement if the original was still there.

Aziraphale opened the door and stepped out of his office, onto the narrow road. He’d let the road itself become overgrown, the grass in the field grow long, but the Bentley he used as a private room was still in perfect condition, paint shining, waiting for the demon who would never return.

Aziraphale shut the door and leaned on it, feeling the hot metal against his head. The sun was still bright, here in paradise, while the rest of the world fell apart, while Crowley’s stars fell from the sky.

What did it even matter anymore?

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, leaning against the car as if it was Crowley’s chest, one last time. “I thought…I really believed…” But it was too late now. Crowley was gone, forever. “I hope you were defiant to the end.”

He stepped away from the car, wiping his eyes, and spread his wings wide, humming a perfect, clear note.

Fifteen angels appeared around him. His most trusted squad. His best agents.

“There’s been a change in plans,” he informed them. “Our final course has been moved up.” A soft murmur ran through the gathered angels. “I know. But time is short. Hit hard. Take everyone. And then…we breach London itself.”

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