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katelides · 3 years

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Walking on sunshine - Bechloe Mini Fic pt 9

The next morning arrives sooner than anyone would want. Chloe is sleeping on a bench at the airport where she had arrived the night before so she could leave Italy and let her sister finally have the wedding she deserves.

The PA system blasts a new announcement through the speakers; Last call for departure flight 2901 to Atlanta, immediately boarding at Gate 3.; startles Chloe to instantly wake up. The redhead looks over at the screen, still slightly disoriented from her sleep, feeling horrible, knowing she would not be able to make it in time.

Chloe hears a familiar voice and sits up straight to see where it’s coming from. “This plane… Onward… Whoa!” The young woman looks down in defeat when she sees Fat Amy being pushed in her direction by the 3 pilots that were at Maddie’s bachelorette party last night.

“Stop, stop. Doors to manual, emergency.” The blonde shouts and the three men instantly oblige. When Amy gets up one of the pilots tries to stop her. Amy shrugs her shoulders and says: “Ciao, bello.” (Bye, beautiful.) And leaves the three disappointed pilots behind to go check on her friend.

Chloe barely dares to look up, knowing that Fat Amy, as chaotic as she might be, is very loyal to other friends, and will not go down without a fight. The two look at each other for a solid minute, waiting for the other to start the conversation.

Amy is the first one to break the silence. “You are in love with her.” She says with a heavy sigh, knowing that Chloe would push everything she knows and feels aside to make sure her sister is happy.

When Chloe breaks down in heavy sobs, the blonde let out a sigh. “Oh, C,…” She walks up to her and sits down, the redhead scotching over to give the blonde some more space.

“I've made a… small fortune writing books about love. I feel like I should have some wisdom to impart. All I can think is 50 different ways to say orgasm.”

Chloe snorts at the funny moment of honesty coming from her friend. Knowing that the blade does not do serious conversations or real emotions.

With a heavy sigh, Amy turns to face her best friend and collects her thoughts, something she has never done before. “Everything I know about real love I’ve learned from you and Maddie. You know, you’ve got me through some really tough times, and I know you two have had it tougher than most. But we’ve always got through it together. We’ve always had each other, haven’t we?”

Chloe nods, looking Fat Aly straight in the eyes. The blonde was right, they had been through a lot together.

“When your mum dies… Maddie told me that what really broke her heart was that your mum would never be on your wedding day.” Amy continues. “You’ve done the hard part now. Don’t you wanna be there for her?”

Chloe thinks about it, sits ups straight, and wipes away her tears. She grabs her bag and puts it around her shoulder. “Well, how long have we got?” She asks with straight determination in her voice.

Fat Amy’s face breaks into a huge smile and looks down at her watch. The face of pure excitement turns to one of horror when she sees what time it is. “Shit!” She gets up and starts running towards the exit, with Chloe right behind her.

The two are running through the airport like two madwomen. Trying to get to a taxi as soon as possible. “Hey, little sister, what have you done?” Amy asks while they keep running, pointing any blame at the young girl.

Meanwhile, Maddie wakes up with a terrible hangover, clutching a picture of Beca in her hands. “Hey, little sister, who’s the only one?” She questions Beca’s picture. When she realises what time it is she jumps up in a panic, knowing she’s late… very late… to her own wedding.

Somewhere up in the dunes, a stripper in police uniform sits up. “Hey, little sister, who’s your superman?” He asks.

Revealing a second stripper sitting up next to him, covered in kisses who says: “Hey, little sister, who’s the one you want?”

In between the two men, Titziana sits up with a smile almost as big as her face saying: “Hey, little sister, shotgun!” As she says that she pulls the two men into her boozems.

At the same time, Chloe and Amy are in a taxi on their way to the church. “It’s a nice day to start again,” Amy says while trying to zip up Chloe’s bridesmaid's dress. Chloe stares out of the back window, guilt still eating her alive.

At the church, people are slowly walking in, excitedly chatting about. “It’s a nice day for a white wedding.” You hear many whispers, as none know any of the drama that had ensued the previous night and morning.

“It’s a nice day to start again!” Maddie shouts as she burst into Chloe’s room, expecting to find her sister still sleeping, wanting to clear the air between them before the wedding. With a groan the brunette closes the door, not having the time to worry about her sister and needed to get dressed for the wedding. Her wedding.

So she runs to her best friend's room, only to find Fat Amy missing as well. “Hey, little sister… Who is it you’re with?” She asks herself, finding it very strange that both are missing at the same time.

Meanwhile, Beca is taped to a tree, naked for the world to see. “Hey, little sister!” She screams at two passing nuns who see her.

“What’s your vice or wish?” They ask concertedly. Beca just looks around and asks them to untie her so she can make it to her wedding.

Mike, Benji, and Jesse are running around the town, retracing all of their steps from last night as they have forgotten where they had left Beca and the wedding is about to start.

“Hey, little sister, shotgun…” Jesse groans, knowing he should have payed better attention to his little sister.

Mikey’s eyes light up as she remembers where they had left the brunette and pulls his friends towards the location.

At the church Doug walks in with his designer sunglasses, smiling at the priest. “It’s a nice day for a…” The priest starts.

“…white wedding.” Doug finishes smugly.

Emily is standing in front of the church, passing nervously as no one had shown up yet. All of her friends are missing. She’s on the phone with someone, trying to figure out what is happening.

Unbeknownst to her, Jesse, Mike, and Benji are still looking for Beca. Beca is running around the town naked, trying to go unnoticed so she can get home and get dressed. Chloe and Fat Amy are still in the taxi on their way to the church. While Maddie is stranded at the side of the road, in her wedding dress, while here taxi driver is changing the spare tire.

“There you guys are!” Emily shouts when she sees her boyfriend, Mike and Jesse arrive at the church. “Where’s Beca? She asks when the brunette is not with them. The boys all shrug, not knowing the answer and all being out of breath.

Meanwhile, Beca had managed to get home and grab her suit and had started to run towards the church, to her wedding. Trying to find a way to explain to her fiancee why she’s late.

As if on queue, both Maddie’s and Chloe’s taxi arrive at the church. The second the car stops, Maddie is rushing out. Fat Amy instantly does the same, knowing that if Chloe gets to her sister first it could end in disaster.

“Where have you been?” Maddie asks, trying not to be angry at the pair.

“It’s all my fault.” Amy starts. “She had to stop me from performing an ill-advised aviation stunt, which is never a good idea after 12 sambas and a minestrone.”

Maddie rolls her eyes with a sigh, knowing that this ridiculous story has to be true… because who else would get into a situation like that? “You look beautiful. Just one sec.” The blonde says and walks away towards their friends, leaving Maddie and Chloe eye to eye.

The two sisters slowly walk up to each other with cautious smiles. Maddie sighing gently.

“You look beautiful,” Chloe says sincerely, feeling happy that she had decided to come back with Fat Amy for her sister’s wedding.

Maddie smiles for a brief second to then turn serious almost instantly. “Chloe, am I making a fool of myself again?” She asks, needing to know what her sister thought.

Chloe lets out an amused sigh, knowing she needs to convince her sister that everything will be just fine. “Beca’s not like anyone you’ve ever dated. She’s a keeper. You done good.”

“Yeah?” The brunette asks just to double-check one last time. When she sees her little sister nod she continues. “And what about you? Are you… really okay with this?” She asks, still unsure after what had happened last night.

Chloe takes a deep breath, knowing that whatever she says next would set everything between them in stone for the rest of their lives. So the redhead decides to make a gesture instead. She takes off her mom’s necklace and puts it around her sister’s neck.

Maddie smiles gently and hands Chloe a small bridesmaids bouquet. “Come one.” She says, motioning towards the church.

The redhead hesitates for a moment, feeling nervous all of a sudden. “Maddie,” Chloe says loudly but not shouting.

Maddie stops in her tracks and turns to face her sister again.

“No matter what, you’ve never given up on love.” Chloe starts with tears in her eyes. “You followed your heart wherever it leads. That’s how I want be.”

Maddie playfully shoves her sister. “Christ, don’t make me cry now!” She says, trying to contain her tears with a sniff. “I know it’s out there for you. You just have to grab it when you see it, okay?”

Chloe cannot contain her tears and a single big one rolls down her cheek.

Maddie grunts when she sees Fat Amy walk towards her. “Oh, where’s your dress?” She asks, not wanting to start crying either and rather wants to distract herself with something else.

“Sorry..” The blonde apologises. “Er… it’s not the only thing that’s missing.” She says, trying to find a way to tell the bride that her bride is missing.

Maddie and Chloe look at each other in confusion, and then back at the blonde. “Er…” Fat Amy continues.

In that moment both Fat Amy and Chloe see Beca running towards the church and slipping in chaotically yet still unnoticed to Maddie. With wide eyes Amy looks at Chloe and continues, trying to find a plausible lie. “ Er.. my thong has gone!” She shouts.

“What?” Maddie questions with a confused smile. “This is news?” She asks with a roll of her eyes.

“Right. Are we ready?” Amy asks Emily who is still standing infant of the church in pure shock and confusion about the entire ordeal.

Emily puts her thumbs up, to say let's do this before anything else happens.

Inside the church, Mike and Benji try to make Beca look slightly more presentable. “You alright, ragazza (girl). You look a bit perduta (lost).” Mikey asks in concern.

“No, I’m fine.” She says with determination, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself it’s the truth. “I was just running naked down the street missing my own wedding because some idiot left me duct-taped to a tree with a donkey.” She adds angrily.

“Ah, the donkey!” Mikey says to Benji, in a voice that suggests that they had completely forgotten they had done that to poor Beca, who is not amused.

Emily walks in and signals to the boys that the bride is ready to go.

#fanfiction #fanfic #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #beca and chloe #Pitch Perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3 #walking on sunshine bechloe mini fic

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wrathfulspark · 4 years

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@jjwxlf

Jaylah stared the witch in the eye as the distance between them closed in. Elidi’s first question, she did have an answer to, but stayed silent almost knowing more was to come. Tamryn hadn’t developed a partnership with anyone so this situation was most definitely unique, but of course she wasn’t going to give Elidi that satisfaction in knowing that she was Tamryns first most serious fling. “I did the same with Dallas, yes. A werewolf that she once dated. They were a really good pair and he liked me, but I’m sure she’s told you about him.” Her thoughts spoke back to Elidi with a unphased stare. By staying silent, more answers came out from the dark haired female which was what Jaylah wanted. Instead of doing the predictable, the redhead lifted her eyebrows like a surprised brat to display interest and to show she was listening.

The younger sibling stayed stone cold towards the witch as Elidi seemed to fire back questions. Her eye contact not leaving for a second to waste, they only moved as her lids narrowed when Elidi spoke about how Jaylah wasn’t Tamryn keeper but not understanding the weight of what it meant to be blood to back up her accusation. Still, her words pursed in between her sculpted lips that sealed shut to the womans surprise, and her emerald orbs stayed locked on the target, observing every word and every action behind it. Shifting for a slit second once Lupe’s name was mentioned, she snarled at the remark about her understanding anything about the incident, but realizing it was a test to see how Jaylah would predator-idly react. However, when Elidi said that she didn’t agree with Tamryns ways on how it was handled caused Jaylah to stand up a bit from her hunched posture. She looked down to fix her clothes as Elidi followed up the false empathy only to insult her in the following sentence while she debated the conversation in her head. The impulses of her nature were screaming at her to leave the pointless conversation, but Jaylah stayed before the witch while she continued.

In that moment the redhead brat was glad she stayed for she was pleased to know she had successfully gotten inside Elidi’s mind and twisted all reality and things questionable. Raising her folded arms from across her chest to over her head to lean back like a headrest, she continued to listen to the rant. Head games were common within the pack to test each other and others, but perhaps there were reasons to her madness that she had been trying to convey that was blinded by Elidis infatuation with Tamryn. The debate on whether to be helpful and form allies or to sworn enemies to keep the rotation going was beginning to stir in the same melting pot. Though the wisdom witch claimed to see right through Jaylah, she allowed those to see what they wanted to.

After stretching out in all her confident glory, the two stood in silence until the other broke the silence, that being Elidi declaring her love for Tamryn. The tension was clear though there was an ounce of communication in the air, Jaylah allowed her arms to fall to her sides.

Scratching at her hairline, she gathered to find the words to say back. The one thing she could sense from the other was honesty, and she debated whether it was wise to do the same. Her eyes shifted from the blue sets of hues back on the green grass a couple of times until it was time for something to be said.

“I know you care about Tamryn...” Jaylah deflated as she dropped her fidgeting hand down to her side where she then connected her fidgeting digits through her belt loop.

“And I know she cares about you....” Her eyes distanced themselves from the others stare to concentrate on what needed to be said.

“Maybe it’s the familiar long black hair, or the way you two look at each other and protect one another, but you remind me a lot of Lupe.” She swallowed the large lump in her throat before making eye contact and continuing, “She was half human too... and Tamryn got rid of her like... an old book.” Her eyes wandered to the romance book in hand before looking back up. “I don’t agree what she did either, but I will more than likely forgive her in unnatural ways only to leave myself broken once again like before. Listen, if you choose her, you let go a piece of yourself because it’s the most sacrificing thing you can do for the person you set as the most important thing on earth... and that’s based on both love and fear. I’m not saying I care about you because I don’t know enough to know you, but like I said, there’s a part a Lupe I see in you, so take it as a compliment because she the best thing that’s ever happened to me, she’s my saving grace and I��m lucky to have her, she’s..mi rosa especial enviada del cielo para guiarme en la tierra.”

A smile faded to taking a deep breath, Jaylah continued, “Lupe didn’t have a choice to become part of the pack, you do. If this is what you want, then you have to see not only Tamryn but fit yourself into the pack as well. Lupe is still strugging with that, but she’s trying. You have to put yourself behind which means, you have to protect me too, which means... I have to trust you.”

“I may be young and have done stupid things in my lifetime, but I know what it’s like to feel and be in true love. I know all the signs. I bet you two have had late night talks, sharing each others biggest secrets. Bet you two have made promises to one another that you’ve never promised another. Maybe done some things out of your comfort zone to prove your love, bend the rules for loyalty?... You are the closest thing to Lupe and I when it comes to you and Tamryn. I mean...how do you honestly expect me to react? The only difference between you two is that I am imprinted with Lupe, and Tamryn doesn’t even know what a soulmate is if it slapped her in the face. I barely knew what love was until I turned an innocent person, that happened to be my soulmate... and I nearly lost myself because I lost them... all because my sister didn’t approve of them. But... but I’m suppose to be okay with whatever happens b-because I’m just a beta... right? Well, you’re not in any rank so what say do you have? Oh oh, wait a minute, you’re the girlfriend... I’ve known Tamryn since the 18th century a-and you’ve known her since Tabula Rasa opened so... fuck me right?”

Jaylah began to pace as she thought out loud with all of her concerns.

“Three years ago you would have been dust based on how Tamryns mind works, Elidi. You’re only lucky enough to roam around and see the light of day because Tamryn chooses to.” Her words were beginning to build the more she correlated Lupe and Elidi together.

“You are a powerful witch, so it makes sense as to why you would be an addition to our pack. But what if it doesn’t work, huh? What if in a year or two one of you decide running with the wolves is not for you, hmm? What if.... what if I let you in and it doesn’t work out?” Contemplating emerald hues swept the ground like a mop before making their way back to Elidi, Eyes flickered with emotion as they fought the urge to show it. She took a deep breath and sucked in her tears that formed. She dismissed the thoughts of losing her mother, father, and lover all because of being naive and trusting the unseen unfortunate outcomes. “Then you’re just another person I get close to, and lose.”

Her eyes searched the other for a chance to read the thoughts that were going through the womans mind. She feared of rejection and humiliation and almost preferred to be enemies than a temporary high, something she had been chasing over the last couple of decades since her father passed. A thumb massaged the inside of her palm, almost to distract herself momentarily while she debated what to say next or listen to what was to be said.

“If you want to call me a liar, or say that I’m playing games with you,or or... or say that I’m weak.... that I’m nothing like my sister then fine! So be it! I don’t care! At least you’ve heard my side of things.” Taking a few steps closer to insure that Elidi would take in her next words, she allowed the space between them to get uncomfortably close, “...But if you love her, you better be damn sure you’re right about it, because there’s no taking it back. Don’t make permanent decisions based on temporary emotions, and that’s coming from me, Elidi.”

Arms resumed back to their original fold as she awaited the response, almost anticipating a defensive response and the woman to walk away.

Jaylah talked so much. There was so much to unpack and process what the beta was telling her. Not that her opinion was regarded highly but to give her the same attention she had given Elidi, even if it was clearly forced. The witches expression remained stoic, her brow quirking every now and again as the wolf spoke her piece. Her hand rubbed at her temple, her eyes shutting as it seemed Jaylah was finally done speaking. Overhead grey clouds rolled in, a heavy scent of rain lingered about the air, the wind gently tossling their locks.

"I suppose I'll start at the beginning. I am nothing like your Lupe, however if that makes this entire process easier for you than so be it." She exhaled a sigh, lucent hues examining her nails, her brow quirking as she spoke plainly, "I'm not... dust as you put it, because I am a worthy opponent. However your earlier statement is correct, I am a good witch." She paused to let her eyes meet Jaylah's own, hues similar to Tamryn's yet foreign one in the same. "Then you brought the conversation back to you. This is about Tamryn. You don't care about me, I don't care about you." A heavy sigh is pushed past her lips, her irritation getting the better of her. She's silent for a moment, wondering if that was too harsh to say while Jaylah was being passive. Even if it were true.

Elidi averts her gaze, confused even more so by Jaylah's emotions, the words she spoke now conflicting with the personality she had grown to know, the image she's seen of the beta. "We haven't discussed the pack much, so I wouldn't stress over that litltle detail. However, something you said earlier, has drawn my attention completely." The witch paused, optics intently set on Jaylah as she tucked a dark strand of hair back behind her ear.

"You said, you're young, yet you've been around since the 18th century. You're not young Jaylah, you're ignorant." Dark brows furrowed together as the words left her, her tone even, not malignant in nature but firm, "You've been around for hundreds of years and have yet to grasp the concept of change? With the things you've seen, the way the world and the people evolved. 18th century..." Her words trail off as do her thoughts, digits moving to press to the back of her nape, while her gaze lifts to the sun, a quiet huff leaving her. "People change everyday whether you have your eyes open to see it or not."

"I'll admit you're puzzling, which I don't really enjoy. I'm beginning to wonder if you're bipolar. In the nicest way possible." The book in her hands feels heavy, her grip tiring the longer she held onto the novel. This entire exchange left her feeling exhausted. "I believe you are all of those things, it's true. I don't believe you really intend on being close to me either, unfortunately I don't see myself trusting you all that much. The car crash may not be important to you, something you can easily forget about. No one died, right? Not seriously injured sure..." Bright eyes narrowed, her lips settling into a frown, "but I know you did something. You can not fool me and I don't let go of those types of things so easily. You have to right your wrongs."

"You're important to your sister and she loves you dearly, that much I know for certain, and for her I would.. do anything." Elidi let her gaze fall to the ground, her lips quirking upwards slightly, "Ella es mi única excepción, that being said, I'm willing to try to form a better relationship between the two of us, because I don't plan on going anywhere princesa."

"If that's not something you're interested in, then I'm happy to play pretend. I've grown tired of our game, Peter Pan."

#trch:jaylah #elidi like: bitch i thought I was older than u #shut yo ass up.

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archariio · 4 years

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Five Years in Hell Chapter 2 and 3

Chapter 2

Arra couldn’t tell how long she’d been out. Judging by the light night had fallen. She shook her head to clear it, which quickly proved to be a terrible idea as pain rang through her skull. She brought a hand to the back of her head. It came away wet with blood.

Somewhere buried in her mind her training made itself heard. And it sounded like her master. Gods she missed him already. “Speak. Out loud.” He had ordered this, despite the pain the first time she took a hit to the head. “It will force you to remain lucid if you have to form your thoughts into words.”

“Not fully dry.” She spoke choked out despite the pain and ringing. “So I couldn’t have been out for too long, right?”

She forced herself to stand. And in doing so spilled something that had been resting on her chest. She picked up the strange bag. “What the hell?” She brought the blue sand looking mixture to her nose. “Smelling salts?”

She thought the idea of being hunted by some of the best adventures on the continent was horrifying. Somehow the idea that one of them saw her unconscious and decided to wake her instead of tie her up seemed worse.

She slung her bag and sword. “Why not take my stuff?” She decided it wouldn’t do her any good to dwell. She still had a fairly stressful walk to The Manor ahead of her.

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Kyla continued to watch the girl from a distance. Cloaked in the shadows of the forest she’d been training in for years. After she tried to get off the starting pad early, Kyla knew she had a keeper on her hands. Making sure the new girl got into the first year program seemed like an excellent investment. And if the third year assassin was being honest, she couldn’t shake a fear of something happening to this stranger before she got a chance to even talk to her.

From her spot in the trees she surveyed the area. Not so much for the first years she was supposed to be stopping from getting into the school, she figured her class could handle that.

Her classmates were who she was on the lookout for. With any luck, she could make sure Arra never knew she was being protected and the sword weilder could have a fairly simple walk to the manor.

“Shit!” She cursed under her breath. Kyla saw one of the battle mages in her class walking casually up to Arra down below.

Kyla looked at the scene unfolding, quietly begging Arramiir to do something, anything… “Come on Arr, move.” She pleaded. But to no avail. With her heart sinking, assuming her new first year project was about to be done for, Kyla watched in silence.

She knew interfering would mean expulsion if anyone found out. She can’t be seen helping Arra, and kicking that casters ass so he could tell the headmaster on her would be the end of her training for good.

With a tired sigh, and not really a way to justify it, Kyla made her choice. Arra wasn’t going to escape this encounter. The assassin slowly, carefully, rested an arrow on her bow.

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“It’s a pleasure to see even the commoners are trying to join our ranks this year.” Arra gritted her teeth listening to this new arrival. How the hell? There are a thousand of us and thirty of them at most. How did one find me already? Arra tried to draw her sword, but she couldn’t move her arm more than an inch or so. “I can’t believe that’s all it took.” The pompous, armor-clad caster was only a foot away now. She could see now he had a short sword, not a wand in his hand. And that worried her more. She could smell his breath from this distance. And see his eyes in the dim light. They seemed empty.

“A simple holding spell.” He chuckled. “That wouldn’t have been enough to stop a real adventurer.” The teasing rolled off Arra’s back. She needed a way out. He was toying with her and she was certain it would only get worse.

He leaned in to whisper to her and it made Arra’s blood boil. “Whoever let you come here must have truly wanted you dead.”

She could feel what the magic was doing. Her body was fine, it was her mind that was being effected. “No, he didn’t.” She knew she shouldn’t be giving into the taunts, and truly, she wasn’t. She just needed to keep him talking.

“So she does speak.” He mused. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you are the least equipped of any potential guild member this year, and that’s saying something.” He pulled her sword out of it’s scabbard and dangled it like a dead rat in front of her. “I mean, what the hell is this? Was the blacksmith drunk?”

That particular comment stung. Arra remembered forging that sword with her master and the local smith. It had taken months. No, it wasn’t normal. A two foot long double edged blade with a foot long handle. Her master had designed it for her fighting style. The dexterity and maneuverability of a shortsword and the incredible control offered by the equally long handle. “Actually I made it myself.” Arra kept her voice level to keep him distracted.

The caster turned around and swung the sword in the air. Good. Arra had a plan. Arra flexed her fingers. I can at least shift a little. That was a good sign. While the young man was turned around she was able to push her dagger ever so slightly out of it’s scabbard on her thigh. Another half a second and she had it clutched by the blade in her hand. As her capture was beginning to turn around she drew in a deep breath. And squeezed the edge of the blade as hard as she could. It hurt like all hell and she knew it would scar badly, but the jolt of pain coupled with her focusing everything she could on moving her leg did it. She was free.

Her scream echoed slightly in the forest, and it seemed to catch her opponent off guard for a split second. By the time he looked down to see the knife in her hand and the blood spilling from the wound, it was too late. She kicked his wrist and her sword fell to the ground.

Regaining his senses the now very pissed of third year lunged at her. But the plate mail made him slow. Arra had already dived into a forward roll as she grabbed her sword from where he dropped it. And before the very capable, incredibly strong and self-assured asshole could turn around Arra had gripped the handle with both her hands, wincing at the pain in her left and swung at the back of his legs with all she had.

When his legs gave out and he growled in pain Arra quickly hooked his sword with her own and disarmed him, sending his weapon out of reach. He attempted to start a spell, but before he could an extremely relived Arra had already put her blade to his throat and a foot on the back of one of his injured legs, making him cry out.

She had won.

With that she leaned in so she could be sure he could feel her breath by his ear as she spoke, just as he had done to her. “I might be the worst equipped,” She whispered with venom in her voice. “But I’m sure as hell not the worst trained.” She grabbed his weapons and spell book off of him while she still had a blade to his throat.

He dared not speak. After she was sure he had no more weapons on him and they were all safely tucked in her bag to be returned later she placed the foot not on his leg on his back. This caused more weight on the wound, making him yelp before she kicked him so his face hit the dirt. She kept a foot on his wound a moment longer. Her voice was no longer a whisper, but a confident command. “If you say another word about my master again, this won’t be our last fight.”

Satisfied with her work Arra grabbed her healing potion for her hand as she walked away. It would close the wounds, but she wished she didn’t have to use it already. At least it helped with the wound on the back of her head and the ache that accompanied it as well.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She knew magic when she felt it. Arra whipped around to face the caster again, but realized she was to late. He was a good ten yards away, and he was almost done casting whatever he was about to cast at her. And he looked crazed. She felt like time slowed to a crawl. She knew she couldn’t get to him in time, and she wasn’t skilled enough at throwing her knife to hit him from where she was. With no other options she got ready to lunge out of the way as soon as he finished.

It was a long shot. But maybe she could survive this.

However before she could do that, he fell onto his face. The spell lost, sparks that were dancing on his fingers flared out and faded into the low light of dusk. The young woman assumed it was his injuries catching up to him. Until she saw the arrow in his back.

She could wonder about this later. Right now, she needed to run. And run she did, not breaking her sprint for the full two miles to the manor. Keeping up a zig zag pattern to avoid getting hit by whatever archer took out the caster. Fueled by adrenaline and fear. Her lungs screamed and her legs had gone numb, her heart was thudding like it never had. But she burst though the front door of the manor house.

Her panic had yet to subside. She scanned the room. Only one other person was there.

A man in a fine button-down shirt drinking a glass of what she assumed was scotch sat in a plush chair in the entrance hall. It took her a moment to understand she was looking at the headmaster. He smiled at her. Strangely enough, his presence felt calming, in a sort of unnatural way. “Welcome.” He gestured to a chair next to him. “Would you like to keep me company?”

Her lungs still burned far too much to be able to speak. But not wanting to insult the man on day one, she nodded and stumbled over to the chair. She tried to maintain some decorum in front of the headmaster, but her legs wouldn’t have it. She collapsed into the chair in a heap. The headmaster handed her a cup similar to his own. It smelled like berries, and she didn’t recognize it. She took a long sip. She could feel the bit of alcohol as it went down her throat, but the burn was almost instantly replaced with a pleasantly warm sensation. Another few seconds and her lungs and legs felt the same way. She stared at the cup and then at the man who gave it to her. He was smiling a warm smile.

“Nice, isn’t it.?” He finished off his own and refilled it from a jug on the small table between them. “My brother makes it.” He seemed to be lost in thought a moment. “I once told him he needed to stop drinking after every quest, that it was going to be the death of him.” Archariio took another sip. “His response was to invent a strong brew with the same properties as a high grade healing potion.” The man shrugged. “Can’t destroy your liver with it, but it does nothing to filter the alcohol away. All the being drunk and none of the damage. Guess I couldn’t argue.” He seemed to enjoy the memory as his face softened while he spoke of his brother.

“Thank you.” She felt her breath and voice returning. She didn’t see any other students. I must have been out longer than I thought. “Sir?”

“Yes Arramiir?”

She tried to hide her unease that he already knew her name. “I know it’s not normal.” She was grasping at straws at this point. “But please, give me another chance to prove I belong here. I ‘ll take any test. I got knocked out at the start for a while. But I beat a third year on my own to get here.” Her voice was coming out more urgent with each word. “Please headmaster…” She looked down into her cup. “I can’t go back to my master having failed him so completely.” She forced her self to level her voice and look him in the eye. “He sacrificed more than I knew he even had to give to get me this chance. It can’t be a waste! All I’m asking is-“

“Calm yourself Arramiir.” He put up a hand to silence her. She wanted so badly to finish explaining, but arguing didn’t seem like a great idea.

He reached into one of the small pouched on his belt and pulled out a signet ring with the schools seal on it. “This is a ring given to all my first year inductees.” He handed to her. She was confused but no part of her was willing to not take it. She looked over it briefly. The draconic script read first year and was forged into the seal on it’s golden face. “You did well. And I look forward to watching you grow here.”

Feeling slightly emboldened by the alcohol she definitely should not have had such a large gulp of, Arra spoke. “I won’t let you down sir.” She didn’t want to say more for fear he would take away this kindness. Getting in because of pity isn’t something she would have ever accepted if her master didn’t have so much on the line. But she could swallow her pride for the man who trained her for years to get her this ring.

“I expect you won’t.” The man closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Arra didn’t know if she was supposed to wait to be dismissed or if she should leave. Where would she go? Deciding the safest bet was to just sit and slowly sip her drink was the best option, Arra settled in. She silently wondered if the other twenty nine were already asleep in their rooms.

A few hours later Arra snapped awake in her chair where she had dozed off. The sound of the door opening startled her. Quickly taking in her surroundings she noticed that the Headmaster was still here.

He stood up to meet the new arrival. It was a young boy in black leather armor. He looked to be covered in blood and dirt. His hair and clothes were a mess. The headmaster swung his arms wide in greeting. “Glad you made it young Mr. Forthrow.” The boy had snow white hair and purple eyes. Archariio gave a bow. “An honor to finally meet you.”

Arra knew that name. The Forthrows were prodigies. For generation none of them have failed to be top of their class at the academy for Wyvern Riders. The Forthrow boy straightened his back and stood tall. Looking the way someone of his linage should. His voice was sharp and professional. “The honor is mine.”

Archariio pulled another ring out of his pocket identical to hers and handed it to the boy. The headmaster put a friendly hand on the boys shoulder. “Your family must be slipping Ace.” The boy made a face when his first name was used. “This is the first year I can remember that a Forthrow made it here second.” He smiled back at Arra still in her chair, looking as shocked as Ace was. “The newcomer seems to have beaten you by a good three hours.”

Arra was frozen in her seat. What did he just say?

Ace looked around frantically. “What do you mean?” All professionalism was gone from his demeneor. “The starting pads only opened thirty-two minutes ago! I beat the old record by ten minutes!”

Archariio laughed. “Well it looks like the new record time is negative two and a half hours.”

“How!” Ace looked mortified and angry in equal measure.

The Headmaster seemed to be enjoying the angry and confused glare Ace did not know where to aim. He seemed angry at everyone and everything in the room. Himself included. “You could have broken the pad early like my new star pupil did.” The headmaster gestured to Arra.

I… I came in first?

“Arramiir,” the headmaster got her attention. “thank you for keeping me company.” He knocked twice on the wood of the table next to him. And not a second later a finely dressed man with a white linin cloth draped over one arm rounded the corner.

“Yes Master?” The butler announced himself.

“Sabastian, please show Ace and Arra to their rooms for the night.” Archariio looked at the pair of them. “The next test begins tomorrow at daybreak. The reward for getting here quickly is being here long enough to get some sleep.”

The butler nodded to Ace first then to the young lady who was still obviously a bit tipsy, using the arm of her chair to keep herself steady. “Master Ace, I will show you to the head student’s quarters after I show Mistress Arramiir to her room.”

Arra noticed that Ace seemed to know how all this worked already, she felt hopelessly in the dark. “Actually,” Archariio, far too cheerfully interrupted. “Mr. Ace will be staying with everyone else. This year we have the young swordswoman to head the class.”

Ace looked like he’d been slapped. His eyes flashed in anger before he seemed to compose himself. Sabastian nodded, giving Ace a wry smile. “Right this way Master Ace.” The purple eyed boy’s shoulders slumped as he followed the butler into the hallway.

After a few minutes he returned to lead Arra up the stairs to the second floor. Then the third. The walls were decorated with beautiful art and strange but intriguing items and magical weapons on shelves. There was beauty in the chaos of how the place was decorated. The items, flooring, polish on the walls were clearly not chosen because of value or the fact that they went together, because they absolutely did not. They seemed to be chosen for their individual and likely sentimental value. Gemstones the size of an adult’s fist rested next to a rusty dagger with a faded inscription. Red tapestries with gold interwoven were hung next to frames of awkwardly etched drawings and amateur paintings. It felt strangely comforting.

When they got to the third floor they began down a hallway, Arra noticed the doors were all only inches apart, and made of all different woods and materials. All beautiful in their own way, but clearly not designed to be together. The rooms must be like broom closets if the doors are almost touching. It answered her question of how this place housed so many students.

Sabastian interrupted her thoughts. “The third floor is reserved exclusively for each year’s head student. Decided by how they do in the entry exam.” He stopped in front of a plain but solid looking wooden door. “This is where you will stay for the remainder of your time here.” He opened the door and gestured her in before gently closing it behind her.

Chapter 3

“Wow.” Arramiir would have dropped her things if they hadn’t been in her shoulder bag. The room was huge. Far bigger than her and her mentors entire house. She was standing in a beautiful sitting room with a large stone fireplace that already had a roaring flame in it, lending a warmth to the room. Small torches hung on the walls, she wondered who had lit them for her. She walked over to touch one only to find the flame wasn’t hot. It didn’t burn her. Out of fascination she grabbed a piece of paper from an expensive looking end table and held it in the flame. The fire liked it and surrounded it but it never burned. She pulled it away unharmed. She then placed it in the fireplace with the same confidence and almost burned her hand. “Okay, that ones real!” She yanked her hand back as the paper burned up.

Further exploration revealed a master bedroom with a bed larger than her old room. A personal bathing area. The pipe above it let out hot water to fill the large stone tub when she turned the lever next to it. She’d never seen anything like it or even heard about it outside of super high end bath houses. A beautiful kitchen, she opened a large cabinet that let out a chilly wind. A small note said it was a cabinet of preserving. Anything placed inside would be the same condition once removed. She found a study with an ornate desk and bookshelves already partly filled by old volumes of history, magic and even fictional stories.

“This can’t be all mine.” She stared at the desk and the plush chair in amazement as she had everything else in the room.

“Sure is.” A voice was suddenly coming from behind her.

“Ah!” Arra whipped around, attempting to draw her sword before stumbling, still a bit intoxicated. She fell to her knee and looked up to see the girl she’d met when she arrived. But her leather and daggers had been replaced by a pair of shorts that showed off her legs in an upsettingly distracting manner, a light shirt, no shoes and a ponytail. Arra stared at her, unable to speak. She wanted to yell about the intrusion. Or about sneaking up on her. Or embarrassing her. But all her tipsy brain could muster in this girls presence was a stupid smile. “Hello fellow student.” What did I just say? Arra got to her feet.

“Hi,” the assassin with the ponytail smiled at the bumbling new girl. “Just checking in to see how the newest class head is settling in.” She left her place leaning on the study’s door frame and walked out to plop down on the couch. Making her shirt ride up just enough that Arra could see a little of her toned stomach when she walked into the room herself.

Focus. She just appeared behind you. Her training tried to break through the fog. But that wasn’t happening with the older girl, was she older?, lounging on the couch. Arra looked over at her closed door and recalled that Sabastian said something about the locks being magical. That the only people that could get in would be if she verbally told the door while touching it that that it was okay to admit them. “How’d you get in here, Kyla?” Kyla! That’s her name! Arra mentally patted herself on the back.

The other girl sat up on the couch. She shrugged, “You left your window unlocked.” She casually walked over to the door and unlocked it from the inside, but turned to Arra before she opened it. “I’m glad you made it in. I’m across the hall if…” She trailed off, making a show of looking Arra over from her head to her toas and back again. “ …if you need anything.” She winked and left the room.

Arra didn’t remember what happened after that. Only that at some point she had made it to her bed. And it was one of the best night sleep she’d had in weeks. She was in. And she was currently the top student. She fell asleep to the thought of excitedly writing a letter home to her master.

That night she dreamed of adventure, the future, and unsurprisingly, Kyla.

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

Arramiir woke to loud crashing and shouting outside in the hallway. She took in her surroundings quickly. She’d fallen asleep in her clothes. She looked over at the bedside table, her sword and bag were untouched. She grabbed her weapon out of its scabbard and checked the other rooms. The loud noises were getting worse, and some of the shouts had turned to screams and cries. No one had gotten into her room it seemed.

She moved slowly in case her head rang from the hangover she was sure would catch up any second. But it never did. That healing alcohol did the trick. She felt better than ever. She gripped the door handle in one hand and her sword in the other. The girl quickly moved back when she swung the door open. She was not ready for what she saw.

A first year student she assumed, was currently being torn apart by two… flaming dogs? Hell Hounds! She realized in horror. She didn’t think they were real until now. Her eyes moved over the monsters to the open door directly across from her. Kyla lay on the ground in a pool of far too much blood.

“Oh gods…” she whispered to herself. It was enough to get the attention of the beasts in the hall. One of them stopped feeding on the mangled body and looked up at her. It looked like a dog with cracks in the skin where fire seeped through, black fur and red eyes, but it moved like a cat. Slowly creeping forward, low to the ground, ready to strike.

She brought her sword up and readied herself to slash and dodge when the beast lunged.

But she wasn’t ready for how fast it was. It was on her before she could even flinch. They went tumbling back as it pinned her to the floor. The beast snapped at her face while she tried to hold it back by the neck. She felt like a five year old for how strong the creature was in comparison. And smart. It turned in one motion and sank it’s teeth deep into her arm instead. The monster bit down. Hard.

Arra heard a loud crack, and pain exploded down her arm. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she watched helplessly. The teeth of the beast had begun to burn red with heat scorching her flesh. Somewhere off in the distance she could smell something burning.

She stared at the creature that had her pinned. Understanding hit her that she was the source of both the loud crack and the burning smell. But it didn’t hurt anymore. She was so thankful for the relief she almost closed her eyes. But a distant voice from her past demanded to be heard. “It’s okay if things hurt. The pain will fade eventually. It’s only when it stops suddenly you need to worry.” Arra forced her eyes open and clenched her jaw. I’m going into shock. The realization kept her lucid another moment. And that was all she needed. Reaching out with the left arm she still had to work with, she grabbed her sword that had thankfully been kept close on the way to the floor. She begged her body to give her just another minute. She prayed to any gods that would listen for just that much time, then she could die. But not for one more minute.

As she finished her prayer her fingers finally curled around the handle of her weapon. And with all she could muster she drove the blade into the monster’s throat. It released her and lept backwards in shock and pain. Surprisingly even with a sword stuck in it’s neck the beast didn’t go down. But she didn’t have time to think about that. She bargained for a minute, five seconds gone. She scrambled to her feet, the shock she was holding off thankfully keeping her from feeling the pain in her arm, or what was left of it. She narrowed her eyes at the dog in the hall, now glancing her way after hearing it’s companion yelp.

She didn’t wait for it to turn fully though. She ran at it full speed, and jumped. It snapped at her as she dove just above it but missed. She attempted to roll when she hit the floor in Kyla’s room. She forgot however that she wouldn’t be able to slow her desent with her right arm like she practiced so many times. Instead her already broken shoulder crashed into the ground with all her leaping weight. She felt the pain even through the shock.

Now laying prone instead of rolling to her feat she rolled onto her injured side to see behind her. Both dogs, one still holding her sword captive started her way. Her legs thankfully still worked despite the dogs back claws having ripped at them. She kicked Kyla’s door shut. She glared at the beasts as it was closing. No fear remaining in her. She welcomed death at this point. But not yet. “I’ve still got thirty seconds.” She growled when the door clicked shut. She heard the scratching and howling. But it was distant in her ears. She hoped the door would hold. But she didn’t pray. She had already made her request to the gods.

Arramiir dragged her body over to Kyla’s. The other girl had her full armor on and her bag. Arra couldn’t imagine a third year like her not having a powerful healing potion on her for emergencies. She looked in Kyla’s bag, enchanted like her own to hold more than it should. And found the vile she was looking for. Potion’s like the one she was holding were incredible. She knew the one dose alone could be worth fifty thousand gold pieces.

She struggled to her knees and rolled Kyla’s body over. She didn’t have time to check for a pulse or breath. If Kyla was already dead, the potion wouldn’t do her any good. But Arra tried not to think about that. She ripped the cork out with her teeth and pored the glowing red liquid into the other girl’s mouth.

Arramiir smiled. Her time was up. The warmth and darkness of blood loss overtook her. But still she smiled. If her last act was giving Kyla even a ghost of a chance, at least her life hadn’t been wasted.

The scratching sounds faded away. The burnt smell was gone. And she could her a voice in the distance telling her to let go. Whoever was here to take her had granted her the one minute she asked for. And she was ready to uphold her end of the deal.

The world went dark. And then silent.

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not-a-space-alien · 7 years

Text

Falling Hazard, Part 16: As Below, So Above

This is the finale! Thanks so much for reading! Please enjoy!!

Series masterpost

On AO3

Uriel slammed the doors of the inner chamber of the Book of Life open. She had no reason to be here, none except it was where she felt most comfortable, and she needed comfort.

She stomped around the pedestal upon which the holy relic sat, cursing and muttering angrily. Metatron came in after her. “Uriel.”

“Who does he think he is?” Uriel snapped, as though Metatron would answer her. “That little snake. That filthy little demon. Trying to lie to me about something like that. Save my life? Save my life?”

“They weren’t lying,” said Metatron. “I saw him laying hands on you while Mykas attacked me.”

“You saw him?”

“…In between being mauled, yes.”

“Who does he think he is!” she repeated. “To lay hands on me? Me? The Keeper of the Divine Aura?”

“Uriel,” said Metatron.

Uriel kicked one of the support pillars in the room. “I’ll kill him. I’ll skin him alive. I’ll rip off his wings and drop him into the Lake of Fire.”

“Uriel.”

“I was ready to die!” Uriel wailed, tears brimming over and rolling down her cheeks. “What am I supposed to do without Him? What good am I? What is my purpose?”

Uriel pointed her hand at the center of the room, and a pit of fire opened up, crackling.

“Doesn’t matter who is an angel and who is a demon!” Uriel roared, stepping up to the pedestal. “Fine!”

She seized the Book of Life and took it off the pedestal.

Metatron felt the fabric of Heaven shudder with the movement, and they immediately leapt in between Uriel and the holy fire she had summoned. Just in time; Uriel stepped forward, holding the Book aloft, as if to toss it in.

“Put it down,” Metatron shouted, grabbing her arms and trying to wrestle it off her.

“Let go of me!” Uriel said, struggling to move the Book to its intended destination. “I’m going to destroy it! You can’t stop me!”

“Uriel, compose yourself!”

Uriel went slack, dropping the book. It hit the floor with a ground-shaking thump. Metatron caught her as she collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

“He made me cast them out,” she cried. “He made me do that and then He just left. I could feel their every emotion as their pages burned, that same fear and pain over and over, one after the other, and God said He would do something worse to me if I didn’t cast them out! And then they were just gone, and the only way to live with myself was to make myself believe they deserved it, because they were all horrible anyway, and then that snake—”

“Uriel,” said Metatron, wiping her tears.

“That snake—” she screamed. “Does that. And proves himself more merciful than half the garrison.” She finally looked up into Metatron’s eyes. “And I’m supposed to just pretend everything is fine?”

She waved her hand, and the abused Book of Life, lying on the floor, went rigidly upright, pages whirring past like cards in a deck being shuffled, and then fell open to the page belonging to Uriel herself.

Metatron caught her hand and wrenched it away before she could rip the page out. She broke free and tried again, but they pinned both her hands to the floor.

“Uriel.”

She let out an anguished cry, and her head thunked onto the floor.

The Metatron let her cry onto the tile, closing the Book of Life and hefting it back onto its podium. The relic safe from her tantrum, they came back over and knelt beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“Uriel,” said Metatron. “He’s gone. There’s nothing to be done about it now.”

“He was the only one who loved me,” she said. “Because everyone in the universe hates me. Everyone. Even everyone in Heaven would rather risk being killed than stand me any longer, and I don’t know how to make them un-hate me, and—”

“Uriel, maybe you could start by not being such a prick,” Metatron snapped.

She scrunched her face angrily, crossing her arms and looking away.

“Look,” said Metatron more gently. “I get it. You think this hasn’t been hard on me? The Voice of God? To try and figure out what my purpose is now without Him?”

She sniffled.

“The past doesn’t have to matter, if we don’t want it to. You asked what you’re supposed to do now without Him. Decide for yourself.”

“For myself?” she repeated, astonished.

“Have you ever asked yourself…What do you want to do, Uriel? What kind of person do you want to be? Because He’s gone. There’s nobody to tell us not to.”

She hugged her arms more tightly about herself, casting a forlorn glance at the Book of Life.

Before going their separate ways, Aziraphale and Crowley asked Maltha what they should do. Maltha told them they were free to do whatever they liked, because the natural order of the world had finally fallen apart, and they had no Gods or masters anymore. Aziraphale and Crowley had just been asking about her will if they should tell anyone what they had heard at the meeting, but they accepted the answer and went home to Soho while Maltha went back down to Hell.

They tried to watch telly, but neither absorbed any of it. Eventually Aziraphale suggested they go for a drive to Mayfair, but Crowley reminded him he didn’t have the Bentley anymore. Aziraphale suggested they hop on the train and go somewhere to distract themselves for a few hours, but Crowley said he would rather die than be caught on public transportation.

They were saved from their idleness by a letter from Maltha, arriving a mere two hours after they had parted.

Aziraphale and Crowley,

Do you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Angelo? In the chaos of the raid, I lost track of him. I have heard a suggestion that he went up to Earth. I am asking the other field agents, but I suspect they are still mad at me, so I expect minimal cooperation from them.

-Maltha

“Oh, dear,” said Aziraphale. “I hope he’s all right.”

They wrote back in the negative. When Maltha’s response came, it read:

Then would you be willing to come down to Hell for a few hours? I am trying everything within my power to reduce Mykas’s distress, but nothing is working. He is under control, but he is not happy.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale repeated. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“We should go,” said Crowley.

“You’re sure?” said Aziraphale. “Nobody will force you if you would rather stay away.”

Crowley shook his head. “Aziraphale, I remember what it was like to fall…He’s going to need all the support he can get.”

They packed their bags for a day trip and opened the circle back to Hell. Maltha met them in limbo with open arms.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, starting to lead them down. “I think Mykas needs some sort of comfort I cannot provide.”

“What’s the matter with him? Is he still ill from what was troubling him before the fall?” said Aziraphale.

Maltha shook her head. “His bloodlust is gone, but it’s been an awful lot to take in. The adrenaline rush from the raid on Heaven is finally wearing off, and he’s struggling to come to terms with what’s happened. And I keep telling him that his confinement in the infirmary is temporary, but he doesn’t seem to believe it no matter who tells him.”

“He was kept confined in Heaven,” said Aziraphale. “He’s scared you’ll do the same thing.”

“I know. But I can’t let him go free until I’m sure he’s stable.”

Aziraphale nodded glumly. “We’ll see what we can do.”

The trip down to Hell was quieter this time. Everything seemed much calmer, the tension that had been building all vented at once. Maltha took them to the third layer and waited outside the infirmary.

“I’ll stay out here,” she said. “I don’t think he’ll want to see me again so soon. Thank you, Aziraphale, Crowley.”

They went in. A smattering of warrior angels lounged in various places in the lobby.

“Hello,” said Aziraphale tentatively. “We’re here to talk to Mykas.”

“Go ahead,” said the one nearest the door. “But if I hear you’re distressing him, I’ll remove you myself.”

“…Thank you.”

They went in. Mykas was within, resting in a hospital bed with a blanket pulled up around him. He still hadn’t managed to change his shape, and his eerie canine eyes snapped up to them as they entered. He had a selection of parchment spread out on his lap and several broken pens scattered about.

And they could not help but notice the heavy, sigil-laden iron chain around his ankle.

“Aziraphale!” he said, tail wagging faintly. “Crowley!”

“Hey,” said Crowley, seating himself beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Mykas held his paws in front of him, picking at his claws nervously. “Better.”

“That’s great,” said Aziraphale.

“Um…” said Mykas, lifting the leg that was bound in iron. “Do you know when they might take this off?”

“I can’t imagine it’ll be too long,” Crowley tried. “You did what they wanted you to in Heaven, and it’s not like you’ve done anything else, right?”

Mykas tapped his claws against each other.

“Ah…have you?”

Mykas flattened his ears and lowered his head. “I bit Maltha.”

“Uh-oh,” said Aziraphale. “Why’d you do that?”

Mykas wrung his hands. “I-I was just caught up in everything that was happening, and I didn’t realise what I was doing, and I got scared when we were in Hell again…. She’s really mad at me, isn’t she?”

“Don’t worry about her,” said Crowley. “What’s this you’re working on?”

Mykas picked up one of the pieces of parchment, which had some attempt at writing scrawled on it. “I was trying to write letters. Apologies to everyone that I hurt.”

Crowley leaned over and saw most of the attempts had been addressed to various members of Aziraphale’s legion of demons.

“That’s great,” said Crowley. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“I can’t write any to anyone who didn’t come back to life, though…”

“You could write one to Uriel and Metatron,” said Crowley. “They’re still alive.”

“Hmmm… No, I don’t think I will,” said Mykas. “You shouldn’t apologise unless you’re actually sorry, you know?”

Aziraphale put a hand over his mouth to try and stop the laughter before it happened.

“That’s fair,” said Crowley, struggling to maintain a straight face. “So who are you writing to first?”

“Oryss.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

“But…”

“But?”

“My hands are too big for the pen. Angelo usually does this…”

“I’ll write them, if you want to dictate to me,” Crowley offered.

“Really?” said Mykas, perking up. “That would be great!”

Crowley picked up a parchment and one of the unbroken pens.

“Okay,” said Mykas. “Write this down. Dear Oryss, stop. I wanted to apologise to you, stop.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Crowley. “Why are you saying ‘stop’ like that?”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do to end the sentence?”

“No, that’s just for telegrams. Nobody’s used those for a while. This is just a regular letter.”

“Oh. It’s…been a while since I’ve done this. Angelo usually handles the mail for me.”

“Have you…sent telegrams?”

“Yeah,” said Mykas with an enormous, toothy grin. “Once. It was super fun. Okay, so write this down. ‘Dear Oryss, I wanted to apologise to you. You and Beth helped me at the store, and you cooked a nice meal, and I stabbed you. That was not an appropriate way to thank you. If you accept my apology, I would like to be friends with you, but if not, I understand, and I won’t bother you again. Signed, Michael. Mykas.’”

Crowley gave Mykas the letter back to sign his name, but his signature turned out illegible, so Crowley wrote (Mykas, former archangel Michael) underneath of it so there would be no ambiguity.

Crowley took the letter out into the lobby and found the outbox on the empty receptionist’s desk, then sent the letter out. “Okay,” he said, coming back in and picking up another parchment. “Another?”

“Yeah!” said Mykas. “Write this: Dear Botis. I am sorry I cut off your head.” He paused. “That seems like enough, doesn’t it? Botis strikes me as a straightforward sort of guy.”

“All right,” said Crowley. “I think he’ll like that.”

Mykas tried his very best to make his signature legible this time. “I wish I had my seal,” said Mykas. “But I think it’s still on my desk back in Heaven.”

“Your signature should be enough,” said Aziraphale. “I think they’ll know it’s you.”

Crowley wrote under his signature in plain writing again, just to be sure. He went to send the letter out, only to see they had already gotten a response to their correspondence from Oryss. He brought it in and showed it to Mykas.

Mykas:

Oryss is waiting for a bit to respond, but I think she understands. I know in my heart she’ll come around right away if you come over for dinner and compliment her jollof rice. And I’ll take us out to get our nails done.

-Olivia

Mykas held the letter to his chest like it was a treasure. “Did you hear that? We’re going to get our nails done. …done how?”

“It’s when you paint them,” said Aziraphale. “It’s very luxurious.”

“Oh, like yours!” said Mykas, obviously excited.

“Yes, exactly.”

“That’s great!” He folded the letter up and handed Crowley another piece of parchment. “Crowley, will you write one more?”

“All right,” he said, readying the pen. “Go ahead.”

“Start this one, ‘Dear Crowley.’”

The pen froze on the page. “You want me to transcribe my own letter? You could just…say it to me.”

“No!” said Mykas, looking like he wanted to throw a fit. “A letter is the proper way to do it! I want to do it right!”

“All right,” said Crowley. “Go ahead, then.”

“‘Dear Crowley, I wanted to apologise to you. I am very sorry that I stabbed you, and I am very glad that Noah brought you back to life. The world is better with you in it. If you accept my apology, I would like to be friends with you. I would like for you to be my demon mentor.’”

“Mentor?” said Crowley.

“You’re not supposed to talk while someone is transcribing!” said Mykas. “Finish it, ‘You are a cool guy. You can show this letter to Aziraphale too, because I should apologise to him as well. Love, Mykas.’ Or maybe ‘Sincerely.’ Do you think ‘love’ would be all right?”

Mykas peered at him with genuine worry.

“I think either would be fine,” said Crowley with a smile.

“Okay.”

Crowley handed him the letter. Mykas licked the enveloped, sealed it, and handed it back.

Crowley opened it and made a show of reading it. “Wow, thanks, Mykas. But what do you mean you want me to be your demon mentor?”

“Well,” said Mykas. “I can’t lounge around in Heaven anymore, and I don’t think I’ll be able to go up to Earth, so I’m going to be spending a lot of time in Hell now. So I need someone to show me where the best lounging spots are…And things like that.”

This was said with barely-contained tears. Aziraphale said, “Maltha isn’t going to force you to stay in Hell.”

“Yes she is!” Mykas wailed. “I already know that’s what’s going to happen! Something like that always happens! So don’t try and talk to me like I’m stupid!”

Aziraphale drew back.

“Ah…” said Crowley, “Okay then. Well, once you’re well enough, I can show you where the best spot to go swimming is.”

“Swimming?”

“Yes. There’s only one spot in all of Hell with liquid water the right temperature to swim in. It’s in the fourth circle. We can have a day at the beach there. The three of us and Angelo.”

Mykas burst into tears.

“Oh no, we don’t have to,” said Crowley. “It was only a suggestion…”

“Angelo,” said Mykas, hiding his face. “I can’t let him see me like this. He ran away because he d-didn’t want to see me…Aziraphale, Crowley, do you think he’ll still love me? Surely he won’t. I’m awful like this. How am I going to survive like this? I’m horrible.”

“Hey,” said Crowley, daring to lay a hand on his arm. “Mykas, every demon has had to go through this.”

Mykas sobbed anew on the word demon, but Crowley continued on, “And you’re already off to a better start than most. You have some of your angel friends here with you; they stepped out of line to save you. And you don’t have to be around the other archangels anymore.”

Mykas still looked sullen. “But Hell is horrible,” he said. “And everyone down here already hates me. I mean, everyone is afraid of me. No one will want to be my friend down here… Even Angelo is too afraid to get near me…I’m going to just be alone here…in this horrid place.”

Aziraphale thought of Michael repeatedly asking to be transferred to Earth, and understood why he would hate Hell. It was the same reason why Maltha would be dissatisfied with Hell after falling in love with the Earth and then being sent packing back down here. Michael had been deprived of the kind of stimulation he craved so much for millennia.

“I’m sure Angelo isn’t staying away because he hates you now,” said Aziraphale. “He probably just got scared and hid somewhere.”

“That does sound like something he would do,” said Mykas with a sniffle.

“Come on,” Aziraphale said. “It’s going to be all right. Maltha is in charge of Hell now, not Satan. Things are better now than they were when you came down to get Crowley out. It’s not so bad.”

“But Maltha hates me too,” cried Mykas. “Everyone hates me, and it’s my fault.”

“Oh come on,” said Aziraphale. “Now you’re just being melodramatic.”

Crowley made a “cut it out” motion with his hand. Aziraphale eased back. “Ah…I mean, you’ll see, Mykas. Angels and demons don’t have to fight the same way they used to. The lines are blurring. I’m sure Angelo will still stay with you.”

“Thank you for coming down to visit me,” said Mykas. “Now, please just leave me alone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. But we can come back later if you want.”

Mykas pulled the blanket up over his head as they left.

“That could have gone better,” said Aziraphale out in the lobby.

“Could have gone a lot worse, too,” said Crowley. “I think he just needs time to adjust. He…oh my somebody, is there going to be a fight right here in the lobby?”

This last exclamation was prompted by the sudden realization that Maltha, still loitering by the main entrance, was standing facing the archangel Victoria. Raphael was hovering by her side, as though afraid to get between them.

Maltha stuck her hand out, and Victoria shook it.

“Oh,” said Crowley with a breath of relief. “Oh, good.”

Maltha went back outside. Victoria and Raphael came over. And when they both looked at Crowley, they began to look shame-faced.

Suddenly remembering their behaviour in the ventures leading up to this whole debacle, Crowley crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

“Er,” said Victoria, grimacing. “Hi, Crowley, I think the last time I saw you was…”

“When you came over to my flat to call me a vile creature,” said Crowley, and then to Raphael, “And you, lying about me to Gabriel right in front of me. You nearly got me killed or worse.”

Raphael rubbed the back of his head. “Ah…sorry about that, Crowley. It was the best plan I could come up with. I really thought we could get this all sorted out before you came back from vacation…”

“I’m really sorry, too,” said Victoria. “I…” She held her hand out. “I want to make it up to you, Crowley. And I’m an archangel now, so there’s more things I can do. If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“All right, I guess,” said Crowley, shaking her hand. “The proverbial friends in high places, I suppose.”

“I wasn’t lying about wanting to make it up to you after this was all over,” said Raphael. “I meant that. Can you and I talk up on Earth later? We just came down here to see Mykas.”

“Sure,” said Crowley. “That’s why we’re here, too.”

“How is he?” said Victoria.

“He seems a little better,” said Crowley. “He just needs some time to adjust. I think he’ll be glad to see you.”

“Then we’d better go in,” said Raphael. “I mean it, Crowley. Later. I’ll send you a letter.”

Aziraphale and Crowley stepped back to allow them entry.

“What do you think Raphael has for you?” said Aziraphale. “To make it up to you?”

“I don’t know,” said Crowley. “But it’d better be good.”

Raphael and Mykas must have made up without Raphael getting mauled, as evidenced by the fact that Raphael was still alive enough to send a letter to Crowley asking him to meet him under the M25.

“Wonder who told him the name of the highway,” said Crowley. “Can’t imagine he gets down to Earth often enough to know the roads. Oh, he said you can come too, Aziraphale.”

Luckily it was good weather for once. Aziraphale and Crowley ended up flying over, simply because Aziraphale could take the bickering about the bus no longer and gave up trying to convince Crowley public transportation didn’t have it out for him.

They loitered around the spot Raphael had specified at the time specified. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen…

Finally: a black car looped off the road and came around towards them.

“Hey!” said Crowley, hands on his head, a big smile breaking over his face. “It’s the Bentley! I don’t believe it!”

The Bentley was still a little beat up where it crashed into the gates, but it was moving.

“Who’s driving it?” said Aziraphale. “I’m positive Raphael has never used a car before.”

“Are they…ah…going to stop?” said Crowley when the car showed no signs of slowing down even as it entered the proximity of one of the cement support pillars.

The Bentley hit it going about twenty, not enough to cause more damage to the frame, but just enough to make Crowley wince.

“Goodness,” said Aziraphale, jogging over. “Come on.”

Two figures emerged from the vehicle: Raphael from the passenger’s side, and in the driver’s...

Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. Ramial got out and ran to the front, fussing and wringing her hands.

“Oh no,” she said. “I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined everything!”

She looked over and saw Crowley staring at her.

“Ramial?” he said.

She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry!”

Dumbfounded, Crowley’s gaze roved over his car, then back to her face. “Who…Who taught you how to drive?” was what he managed.

Ramial looked at him with watery eyes. “Nobody. I’ve never driven before.”

Tears were brimming in Crowley’s eyes now. “It shows,” he choked out.

“I’m sorry I wrecked it even more,” said Ramial, sniffling. “I wanted to…I thought if I brought it back down…If I drove it right to you…”

“First time I drove it I flipped it over,” said Crowley, wet tracks spilling down his cheeks now. “So you did a decent enough job.”

“Good,” said Ramial, lip quavering. “Cralael.”

“It’s…It’s Crowley now.”

“Hi.”

Ramial ran over and body-slammed him with a hug. Crowley just barely managed to stay on his feet. Ramial squeezed him.

“I’m so sorry,” Ramial sobbed. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you. But I kept my promise. I never once forgot. I thought about you every day.”

Crowley looked over Ramial’s shoulder to see Raphael leaning on the roof of the Bentley, a self-satisfied look on his face. As Ramial cried on his shoulder, Crowley flashed the archangel a quick thumbs-up behind her back.

“Sorry,” said Ramial, drawing back, wiping her face. “Sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t lose it, and here I am.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” said Crowley. “Under better circumstances.”

“I’m so sorry for what I did,” said Ramial. “They told me afterwards why that happened when I touched you. If I had known, I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t ever touch you again if it meant hurting you like that.”

“Well, don’t worry,” said Crowley, holding out his hand. “You can touch me.”

She took his hand.

“Crowley,” said Raphael. “There’s something Ramial and I would like to offer you.”

“All right. What’s that?”

Raphael came over and stood by Ramial. Before he could speak, Ramial broke in, “We can make you an angel again.”

Crowley blinked at her.

“We can try,” Raphael said gently. “I’d gladly accept you back into my ranks. I know a lot of angels would be happy to see you as a real healer again.”

Crowley stared at the two of them. “But... But I’m a demon. I mean, I have a commendation, but it was never official, because…well, I mean, you can’t really do that. My page is gone from the Book of Life. You can’t un-burn it.”

“You don’t have to give us an answer right now,” said Raphael. “You can take some time to think about it. But it’s a real possibility. I’ve already talked to Uriel, and she’s willing to try and write you back into the Book of Life. We don’t know for sure if it’ll work, but…”

Crowley gaped at him. Raphael smiled hopefully.

“Uriel said that?” said Crowley.

“Shocking, I know.”

“Uriel?”

“Yes.”

“We are thinking of the same Uriel, right? Brown hair, about yea high, constantly looks low-level pissed…”

Ramial squeezed his hand. “What can we say, Crowley? You make quite an impression.”

Sylvia was not looking forward to this.

For the first time in weeks, she stood on the front doorstep of the house she and Adramelech rented together, nervous to see him in a way she hadn’t been in millennia. She somehow managed a knock.

She immediately heard things slamming around inside, frustrated sounds making their way steadily towards the door. When it cracked open, a small dog bolted out, yipping and jumping on Sylvia excitedly.

“Hey, girl!” said Sylvia, trying to pet the dog, but it was full of too much energy and motion to sit still for long enough.

She looked up when she sensed the presence in the doorway. Adramelech stood there with his phone against his face, looking astonished. He was wearing a shade of eyeshadow Sylvia had never seen before, an electric blue that stood out vividly on his brown skin.

That wasn’t good. Going out and buying new makeup was usually what Adramelech did when he was feeling really awful.

“Botis, I’ll call you back,” Adramelech said, then hung up his phone.

“Hi,” said Sylvia tentatively.

“Wh-where have you been?” said Adramelech, sounding like he was on the verge of blubbering.

Sylvia stuck her hands in her pockets, kicking a rock with her foot. “I…Ah…had something I needed to do…with Maltha.”

“That,” said Adramelech. “When I heard what had happened, I had my suspicions, but I didn’t think you’d actually…”

“So you…ah…heard about it, then?” said Sylvia sheepishly.

“It was very brave,” said Adramelech woodenly.

Sylvia sighed. “Come on, Adra, I know that’s not what you want to say about it.”

Adramelech’s lip quivered, then he howled, “I was so worried about you! Why didn’t you tell me where you had gone?”

“Maltha insisted we keep it under wraps,” said Sylvia. “It was of the utmost importance all our activities be kept secret. It would have been a disaster if word had gotten out beforehand.”

Adramelech wiped his face.

“You’re smudging your makeup,” said Sylvia.

“Oh, so I am,” said Adramelech with a sniffle.

“I see you finally managed to find a shade that matches your wings.”

He crossed his arms. “So what happened, Sylvia? Everyone in creation knows about the attack on Heaven by now, but nobody can seem to figure out what went wrong.”

“Maltha pulled out,” said Sylvia. “Nobody can figure out why. She was really spooked. Some of the other angels are angry at her for pulling the plug early. Personally I’m more scared of whatever could scare her so bad, and I’m glad she pulled us out.”

Their dog, who had been circling around in the yard, came back and jumped on Sylvia again.

“Can I come in instead of standing on the stoop?” said Sylvia hesitantly.

Adramelech sighed and drew the door open fully. Sylvia hung her coat on the hook and kicked her shoes off.

“Adra, this place is a mess,” she tutted as she came in. “Now I have to clean this all up.”

She turned back to see that Adramelech was still hugging his arms to himself by the door. His mascara had smudged.

Sylvia sighed and went over to him. “Come on, you big baby. I was only gone for a little bit. Were you really that worried about me?”

“Of course I was,” he snapped. “Don’t act like it’s my fault somehow.”

“Okay,” said Sylvia. She reached down and took both of his hands in hers. “Adramelech, I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t fair to up and disappear on you like that, even for a good reason, and you must have been upset by it. I’m sorry. I’m back now, and I’ll keep you in the loop from now on. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Now, how about we have a nice cuppa, hm? I’ll even use that wretched coffee machine that you’re so wild about.”

“Actually, now that you’re back, I was hoping you could help me with something.” He produced a piece of infernal parchment.

“What’s that?”

“Maltha’s looking for Angelo. Apparently he’s missing. I’m sure Michael—or whatever his name is now—really misses him. And I think I know where he might be. Will you help me go look for him?”

Sylvia smiled at him. “I’m glad to back. I’ll do anything with you.”

It took some searching, but they did find Angelo eventually. He was sulking under an apple tree in a certain spot with his head buried in his knees.

Adramelech, who had been perching in the tree above him, flapped down but bungled the landing, falling face-first into the dirt. Sylvia descended a bit more gracefully. Angelo looked up at the two of them with apprehension.

After Adramelech had righted himself and dusted himself off, he squatted next to the angel. “Been quite a while since we’ve been here, hasn’t it? Millennia.”

“Go away, you accursed bird,” said Angelo miserably.

“Hah,” said Adramelech, giving him a little punch on the arm. “Sorry, that won’t work this time. At least you remembered I’m not a chicken this time though, right?”

“Angelo, everyone’s looking for you,” said Sylvia.

Angelo hugged more tightly to himself. “I’m a coward. I ran as soon as Michael left.”

“You’re not a coward. No one should have expected you to stay in Hell by yourself.”

“I ran and even when Michael came back I was still too afraid to go to him.”

“You can go now,” said Adramelech, touching his shoulder gently. “We can escort you down. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’ll make sure you get there safely.”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Angelo.

Adramelech sighed and plopped down. “He’s not going to be that different, Angelo. You might actually like him better now.”

“I’m so afraid,” said Angelo. “I’m so afraid that I’ve lost him. I can’t even think about the possibility. I don’t even want to go find out. What if…what if I don’t love him anymore? What if he doesn’t love me anymore? Can an angel and a demon really do that? Can a little clerical angel like me really be with an archdemon?”

“Angelo,” said Adramelech. “What do you think we’ve all been doing? Me and Sylvia care for each other. Aziraphale and Crowley care for each other. Why do you think you and Michael won’t be able to do it?”

“I’m just so scared it won’t work out like that,” said Angelo. “And then what happens?”

“Come on, get up,” said Sylvia grabbing his arm. “What kind of talk is that? Michael is alone in Hell right now and he needs your help. He’s always been there for you, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to do the same! You can’t just mope around being afraid of what might happen.”

“Some things you can’t hide from,” said Adramelech. “You need to just give it a try.”

Angelo sighed, looking worried. But he looked up and made eye contact for the first time. “You said you would escort me down?”

They handed Angelo off to Maltha in limbo. Maltha offered to give Adramelech a promotion for his good work. He politely declined, saying he thought promotions in Hell were just for show. Maltha was a bit surprised at this, because she also thought they were just for show, but she had thought everything Adramelech did was for show and therefore he would love it. Maltha offered to make Sylvia an honourary demon solely for the sake of also offering her a promotion, but she also politely declined.

The pair went back up to Earth, and Maltha took Angelo down further into Hell.

“How are you doing, Angelo?” Maltha asked him.

“I’m fine,” he answered shame-facedly. “I just hid while everyone else risked their lives.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Maltha circled around to stand in front of him. “Angelo. Come on.”

“All right,” he said. “I’m not fine. I’m scared as Hell. I’m scared this won’t go anything at all like I imagine it, and my best friend of six-thousand years is gone.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “It doesn’t change you as much you think, Angelo. Falling. You’ll get him back. There will be differences you’ll have to work out over time, but he’s still in there. Which is more than we can say for his original fate.”

Angelo looked away. “I know. I suppose I should thank you. You didn’t have to risk yourself to save him, but you did anyway.”

“Angelo, do you remember when I diagnosed Michael, you demanded to know why I’d want to help him?”

“Yeah. You were enemies. It didn’t make sense.”

“I am a doctor, Angelo,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’ve always been a doctor. It’s what I love to do most.”

A demonic figure hobbled towards them as they spoke. Maltha sighed and turned away from Angelo to face the newcomer.

Duke Jezebel stood in front of them, looking haggard and beaten. “You.”

She had definitely seen better days. Her injuries inflicted by Mammon had begun to fester, and the fresh ones overtop of them from Botis looked infected. Not even Angelo found Jezebel frightening in this state.

“Jezebel,” said Maltha pitifully.

Angry, indignant, Jezebel slowly lowered herself down to one knee in front of Maltha, bowing her head.

Maltha smiled, putting a hand on her head. “There. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“I beg of your mercy,” said Jezebel. “Otherwise I will be dead within a week.”

“Of course,” said Maltha. “Just one thing first. I want you to apologise to Angelo here.”

Her eyes shifted over to Angelo. “Him?”

“You threatened him on the way down.”

“For which I have already been punished.”

“Just two little words, Jezebel. That’s all.”

“But he is an angel!” Jezebel said. “And not even a powerful one! He’s not important! He’s nothing!”

“He is my friend,” said Maltha. “And a very brave angel, and if you think you can get out of this with your lordly dignity intact, you’re wrong. Either apologise to him, or go die of your wounds. It’s that simple.”

Grudgingly, Jezebel bowed her head to Angelo. “I’m sorry.”

“There,” said Maltha. “Thank you. Go wait for me in the infirmary. I’ll meet you down there after I see Angelo off.”

Jezebel rose and limped away.

When she was out of sight, Angelo said tentatively, “Maltha, do you…really consider me your friend?”

“Perhaps that was a bit presumptuous of me,” said Maltha. “But I’d love to have your friendship, if you’ll give it to me.”

Angelo refused to meet her eyes. “I’m not brave.”

“Look at me.”

He did.

“You came into Hell without Michael, to face demons you knew could crush you, to supplicate to the ruler of Hell, just for a chance to get near Michael to help him. That is incredibly brave.”

Angelo flushed.

“Bravery isn’t not having fear, Angelo. It’s facing your fears. Which you’re doing right now. Now, I need you to do something for me. I have an important job for you.”

“Okay…what’s that?”

“Mykas is going to want to go up to Earth as soon as he can. And I want to let him roam free to his heart’s content. I need someone to keep an eye on him. Just watch him, make sure he behaves himself, doesn’t hurt anyone, and report back to me if he starts showing symptoms again. Can I count on you?”

Angelo nodded unsurely. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”

“Then let’s go,” said Maltha. “I’m sure he’s eager to see you.”

A few layers down, Mykas was having a worse time than Angelo.

“Come on,” said Beth. “I’m positive you can do it. Just keep trying.”

“Show him again,” said Kyleth.

Botis took his boots off. “Okay. Are you watching?”

Mykas nodded vigorously.

Botis’s shape wavered, and after a second, there was a huge, fat walrus standing where he had been.

“See, nothing to it!” said Kyleth, gesturing to Botis grandly. “Easy as pie!”

“There you have it!” said Beth, joining Kyleth. “At this point even I could do it!”

“Try it again, sir, I’m sure you’ll get it eventually,” said the walrus with Botis’s voice.

Mammon, lurking in the background like a babysitter, gave a low of encouragement.

Mykas strained and growled, but could not force his shape to change in the slightest. Botis shifted back and forth between his human and bestial forms to try and encourage him, to no success.

“It’s no use,” said Mykas, plopping down on his rump. “I’m going to be stuck like this forever. Not that it makes much difference.”

“Aw, don’t say that, sir,” said Botis. “You can’t go up to Earth looking like that! You just need to master one form that won’t alarm the humans. It doesn’t have to be both!”

“It is not uncommon for demons to struggle controlling their form,” said Mammon.

“Is that why you stay like that instead of human form?” said Beth.

Mammon flared her nostrils. “…No. I was merely giving Mykas some encouragement that he is in good company.”

“You’re a dog of some sort, I’m positive,” said Beth. “Try that. It might be easier than trying to shift all the way to human. You’re…mostly there already.”

Mykas looked at them with watery eyes. Then, his ears perked up as he saw someone walking towards them behind Botis and Kyleth.

“Angelo?” said Mykas, getting to his feet and trotting over. “Angelo? Angelo?”

“Hi,” said Angelo.

Mykas started forwards with arms open, then stopped, wringing his hands. “Angelo, I… Well, I don’t want us to be together if you’re afraid of me. I know I’m—Well, I know with everything that’s happened—”

“I’m not afraid of you, you big dope,” said Angelo tearfully. “I’m afraid of losing you. That’s exactly something you would say. God, does that sound just like you.”

Mykas dashed forwards, nearly knocking Angelo over in his haste to embrace him. But the archdemon tempered his enthusiasm, enough that his arms came around the small angel with enough gentleness that he was merely squeezed.

“I’m so glad you came down to see me,” said Mykas.

“I’m glad I did, too,” said Angelo.

“Hey, look, you did it!” said Kyleth.

Mykas withdrew and looked down at his body, which was now almost entirely human.

“Hey!” he said, with a smile that still had just too many sharp teeth. “Hey!”

He scooped Angelo up and twirled him. Angelo laughed, trying not to cry.

“This is great,” said Mykas. “Great…”

“You know,” said Angelo. “I’ve been thinking, and I know I didn’t like it at first, but the Earth has been growing on me. I don’t think it’d be so bad if I was there with…with someone that I loved.”

Mykas no longer had a tail, but if he did, it would have been wagging. In the background, Beth snuck in a few more of all the kisses she had lost from Maltha.

It took five days of searching, two of which were spent tracking down a demon named Ritze, to find the demon Yulera. She was very well hidden. She was also very well fortified. Her hideout had been protected with a smattering of anti-demon sigils, so Aziraphale eventually had to be the one to go in while Crowley waited outside. Aziraphale was the less skilled of the two at negotiation, so it was difficult to convince her to come out with just him and Crowley yelling an occasional addition down the mouth of the entryway. This was doubly true after Aziraphale recognised the book on her shelf, and demanded to know how she had gotten his copy of the Key of Solomon.

“Just let her keep it!” Crowley shouted. “I’m sure you can find another one! She’s making better use of it than you are!”

“But this one is signed by the author!”

Eventually they coaxed her out, but their progress was all erased when Yulera saw that Crowley was the same demon she had confronted in the first layer and ran back in, convinced he was going to retaliate.

“I didn’t mean it!” she yelled out. “I could never kill anyone! I’m too much of a coward! Now leave me alone!”

A few more hours of pushing and pulling, and they convinced her to come out again. Their progress was all erased a third time when she found out Kabata was dead and ran back inside, crying.

They left her alone and came back the next day, spending several more hours to successfully coax her out again.

She stood in the entryway of her tunnel, arms crossed. “What exactly is it you two want?”

“We want you to come up to Earth with us,” said Crowley.

“Why would I do that!”

“Kabata said you would like it,” said Crowley.

“And you killed him!” said Yulera.

Aziraphale laughed. “We didn’t kill him! Oh my Heavens.”

Yulera glared at him.

“He was a terrible person, you know. Kabata.”

“He was the only one who ever gave me courage!” Yulera yelled. “Why did you come all the way down here just to speak ill of him to my face?”

“We came down here to fulfill his last request,” said Crowley. “Which you’re…you know, not being very helpful with.”

“You could be tricking me!” said Yulera. “How do I know you ever even talked to him?”

“His favourite was the cockatrice,” said Crowley.

Yulera blinked at him.

“Out of the bestiary. His favourite was the cockatrice.”

Yulera burst into tears. “It would be the cockatrice. Of course it was the cockatrice.”

“Oh my word,” said Crowley.

Yulera collapsed to her knees, crying. “He’s gone! I’ll never see him again! What did I do to deserve this?”

Aziraphale snuck past her and slipped into her hideout. She turned around, tears drying instantly. “Hey! What are you doing in there?”

She ran in to follow him. Crowley heard the sounds of a scuffle. And then a second later, Aziraphale’s footsteps pounded back up the exit, and he heard the angel shout, “Crowley, catch!”

He held his hands out just in time to catch the Key of Solomon as Aziraphale chucked it at him.

“That’s mine!” Yulera yelled. “Kabata gave it to me! Give it back!”

Aziraphale charged out full speed, Yulera right behind him. Remembering what Yulera had done to him earlier, Crowley saw the fire in her eye and said, “Oh shit.”

“Run!” said Aziraphale, pushing him. “Let’s go!”

All three of them pulled their wings out, and the chase was on.

Crowley tossed the book back to Aziraphale when Yulera threatened to reach him, and she darted towards the angel to try and pluck it from his hands, but he tossed it back to Crowley over her head.

“Give it back!”

Yulera chased them all the way up to limbo, where Crowley handed the book off to Aziraphale, and Aziraphale pumped his wings to get up to the exit of Hell.

Yulera folded her wings in and looked up at the cavern ceiling forlornly. Crowley, still hovering by the exit, shouted down to her, “Come on, don’t you want to catch up?”

“Give it back!” she said. “It’s all I have left of him!”

“Come up here and take it back!”

“I can’t go up there,” said Yulera, crying again. “It’s too scary.”

“Oh, bollox,” said Crowley. “Nothing up here is half as scary as the first circle of Hell, and you braved that perfectly fine.”

He flew up into the ceiling, disappearing. Yulera watched him go unsurely.

Crowley popped his head out from the ground, dragging himself up out of the exit to Hell. Aziraphale was still waiting nearby, the book in his hands.

Crowley looked at the scene. They were on a grassy hill, filled to the brim with beautiful flowers of every kind, rolling under a gentle breeze as far as the eye could see. They stretched all the way up to a mountain in the distance that rose to pierce the sky, majestic clouds drifting around the top.

“Oh, yeah,” said Crowley. “This’ll do it.”

Yulera’s upper body appeared from the hole in the ground, blinking in the bright light, peeking out like a groundhog.

“Well?” said Crowley.

Yulera pulled herself up and out of the hole, crawling forward in the grass. She looked around at the flowers, the mountain, the blue sky, absolutely dumbfounded.

“How do you like it?” said Crowley.

She just stared at the grass, turning over a flower in her hand. A tear dripped down from her eye. “This is…beautiful.” She looked up at them. “This was here the whole time?”

Crowley nodded.

Someone shouted in the distance. Aziraphale and Crowley turned to see a faint brown shape moving through the tall grass, tail stuck up like a shark fin. When it was close enough, it resolved into the shape of an enormous dog, bounding through the undergrowth with a mouthful of flowers, holding them like a bouquet.

The dog barreled into Aziraphale full speed, knocking him over. Yulera seemed startled and backed away, but did not retreat back down to Hell.

“Aziraphale,” said a muffled voice from the dog’s mouth, and it dropped the flowers. “I picked these for you.”

“M-Mykas?” said Aziraphale.

The dog’s tail wagged furiously, its mouth panting open and its tongue lolling. “Yeah!”

“Er…” Aziraphale gave him a scratch behind the ear. “Nice to see you. Can you let me up, please?”

“Sorry.”

The dog removed its bulk from him, circling around. Angelo appeared a ways off, slogging through the weeds, waving to them, looking tired.

“He’s coming,” said Mykas, laying down and flattening a patch of grass. “He just has a hard time keeping up.”

Angelo paused his advance, his hands on his knees.

“You okay?” Mykas shouted to him.

Angelo gave a distant thumbs-up. “Just takes a bit of getting used to!” he yelled back.

Mykas rolled around in the grass, getting petals and clumps of green stuck all in his fur, letting out satisfied sounds.

Yulera had not moved. She was still sitting on her knees. Perhaps feeling soft grass on her skin for the first time was too much for her.

Crowley got down and sat cross-legged, watching Mykas indulge himself, stretching and running about in the vegetation. “You know, Aziraphale, I’ve been thinking about Raphael’s offer. And I think I’m going to turn it down.”

Aziraphale sat next to him, ripping grass up idly. “Why’s that?”

Crowley looked up at the sky. “There’s no reason I can’t rekindle my friendship with Ramial as a demon. Cralael was who I was before the fall, but…he’s gone now. There’s no sense in trying to get him back, to try and be who I used to be. This is who I am now. And I wouldn’t trade any of this for all of Heaven.”

Aziraphale leaned his head onto Crowley’s shoulder. “Likewise, my dear.”

Mykas, covered in grass and tail wagging, sat at Aziraphale’s feet, looking at Yulera. “Who’s this?”

“She’s just experiencing Earth for the first time,” said Aziraphale, not really answering him.

Mykas trotted over and tucked a flower into her hair. “Welcome to Earth,” he said.

Yulera finally stood, facing away from them, looking towards the distance, the mountain and the sky and the soaring space, how it was somehow both empty but so full at the same time, the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her heart was filled with a love that she had never felt before. And she went forwards, almost falling over the unfamiliar terrain, off into this brand new world filled with so many amazing things waiting for anyone who wanted to come see them.

If you want to imagine a future, imagine a wrathful queen, finally pacified in the arms of her lover. Imagine an abused little boy...no, a prince…no, imagine a king, a ruler who governs with such grace and wisdom that even the beasts locked away in the pits of Hell grow to love and respect him. Imagine two leaders finally learning to think for themselves after 6,000 years, discovering gentleness that had not previously been allowed. Imagine a warrior finally resting in the peace he had secretly desired since the beginning of time. Imagine a world where free will is the rule of law, one created to be someone’s toy now left to its own devices to heal. Imagine two beings, lovers and best friends, hand in hand in a park with a duck pond, fear fading with the realisation that they are safe, truly safe and free, in a universe of their own. And imagine that planet, spinning on and on of its own accord, forever.

『 THE END 』

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic

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