This is my first Good Omens fic, so please be nice. It *is* a slash story,
and yes, it's Crowley/Aziraphale, but there is no smut, for the simple
reason that I'm no good at writing it. It includes a heavy dose of Crowley-
introspection and a fair bit of angst, but has an unashamedly fluffy
ending. ( It was not, originally, going to be *this* sappy, but the
story started writing itself after a certain point. If I get enough good
feedback, I may write a sister story, the idea for which has just occurred
to me because a new song's started, from Aziraphale's viewpoint and based
on "Heaven Can Wait", also by Meatloaf. If I get details wrong, feel free
to correct me. I don't have my own copy of the book with me and I'm
working from a French translation, that being the only version that comes
to hand (don't even ask).
Crowley, Aziraphale and anything else you may recognize belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I bow down at your feet in worship, gentlemen, and I'll give the entities back all clean and undamaged when I've finished with them. Neil, this is Kat from SFMedia. Please don't kill me for what I've done to them. I'll see you on the Coraline tour. The concept of Crowley calling Aziraphale "Zira" doesn't belong to me either. It was borrowed from someone on here, but I don't know who. Hope you don't mind me stealing it.
This is dedicated to Meatloaf, whose beautiful song inspired my twisted brain to create a story about demons and angels, which is not the subject of the song. It's also for Laurie, SJ and all the others at the SFMedia Forum, and especially the Neil Gaiman section thereof. Not forgetting those Snipes who have never set foot out of the Tavern, of course eg.
To my reviewers: DdraigCoch, I'm glad you liked it. There may not be any more for a little while, I'm a bit blocked at the moment.
Demon-of-my-word, thanks for your kind words. Don't worry, I won't stop writing, I was only threatening to take down this one. I still think your story's better, too.
Bumble-bee and minna megami-sama, thank you for the compliments and for correcting my brainfreeze. Much appreciated, thanks!
Bat out of Hell
Crowley looked down at the sleeping angel beside him,and sighed. He still couldn't quite believe what had happened to them over the last week. Witnessing the aversion of the Apocalypse (twice in less than an hour, technically) for one*, and then… And then, they had found each other, in a way that he would never have believed possible at any time in the last six thousand years. It had happened just after the non-end of the world, when they'd been getting drunk together in a restaurant in London, on their return from the airbase. In the restaurant, one of London's best, which naturally had a free table for two, they'd continued the process of "becoming intoxicated", as Aziraphale would say, that had begun on that airfield, pouring more and more fine wine from a bottle that never ran dry, because they both instinctively knew it wouldn't.
And then…and then… Crowley would never know what had possessed him at that moment. He always tried to put it down simply to the alcohol reducing his inhibitions (not that he had many to start with. He was a demon, after all), but he was perfectly well aware that that alone did not explain why, in the middle of a conversation about nothing in particular, he had impulsively leaned over and kissed the angel, square on the lips. What troubled him even more was that Aziraphale had not protested or even looked surprised, but had simply kissed him back. The events that followed were a blur, no doubt alcohol-induced, but he did remember returning to his flat (he had flatly refused to go anywhere near Aziraphale's home. His own was a lot cooler), and, er, carrying on with what they were doing. Which led him to where he was now, staring down at a naked angel in his bed, and wondering how the hell he was going to do what he had to now.
*Why* had he kissed Aziraphale, and why had the angel reciprocated? Had their association always been leading up to this? They had known each other for a very, very long time, but he had never been aware of any such impulses on either of their parts before now. Was it just the euphoria of surviving an apocalypse with their lives and worlds intact, coupled with the alcohol? He'd heard of such things happening among humans after they survived disasters and so on. But if that was all it was, why was he now so reluctant to wake Aziraphale up and kick him out? Why, of all things, did he now find himself gazing at his sleeping partner with *warmth* and *affection*? He'd never felt that kind of emotion for *anyone*, least of all an angel. An angel… Oh G… Sa… somebody, he was in trouble. In very, very deep trouble. He'd done the one thing no self-respecting demon could ever do, hadn't he? He'd gone and fallen in love. And not just fallen in love, but fallen in love with an angel. All Hell would be after him for this. Hastur would have a field day. Which brought him neatly back to the thought of what he had to do, the worst thing about the whole situation. Now that he'd had his epiphany, he had to get out. Right away.
On that realisation, he acted quickly. He'd be able to travel light, he didn't own anything he was attached enough to to take with him. The only one of his possessions that meant anything to him was the Bentley, and that would have to go. The thought of losing his precious car grieved him, but it was too recognisable. Any agent of Hell worth his salt would be on the lookout for a vintage Bentley in perfect condition as soon as Below got wind of what had happened – that he'd slept with an angel who then hadn't fallen? – if they didn't torture him for an eternity, he'd be a laughing stock, and then, of course, they'd realize *why* the angel in question hadn't fallen. They'd know he hadn't been trying to tempt Aziraphale when they'd slept together, and then they'd figure out the reason for that. And then the fun would *really* start.
The only thing he had to do before leaving was write a note for Aziraphale. The one thing he could not do was leave without a word. Not now, not when he'd just realised how deep the feelings really ran between them. Or at least, on his side. He hoped, for Aziraphale's sake, that the love was only on his side, and that for the angel it had just been a matter of drunkenness and relief at their survival. Above could be just as ruthless as Below, and if they found out, the best that could be hoped for was an enforced Falling. But he would leave a note anyway. He owed the angel that.
*Aziraphale,
Had to go, for both our sakes. You most likely won't see me again, even if Below don't get their hands on me. I'll have to keep moving constantly, to avoid being caught for as long as possible. Look after the Bentley for me.
And there's one more thing I want you to know: I love you. I'm sorry.
Goodbye,
Crowley.
P.S. Miracle this note away or burn it as soon as you've read it. It's safer that way. C.*
He left the note on his pillow, where Aziraphale would see it, and then he was finished. Everything was done, and he could go. He walked sadly out of the building, turning on the pavement outside for one last look up at his window, although he couldn't see the occupant of the room from where he stood, and raised his hand in farewell. Then he headed straight for the nearest motorcycle dealership. He chose the most impressive bike available, a Vincent Black Shadow, and paid for it in the cash he magicked up from his pocket. Then he hit the road, as fast as the bike would allow.
He didn't make it a hundred miles before his conscience started niggling at him. *How could you do that? How could you leave him alone like that, without even a proper explanation?* Shut up, he'll be fine. He can't possibly feel that way about me, I'm evil, I'm supposed to be his enemy. He'd never allow himself that. *Don't be so stupid, he's an angel. Do you really believe he would have acted out of simple lust? That's a deadly sin, remember? How can you be so blind as to think he would have done what he did last night if he didn't love you?* But if he loves me, then he's sinning anyway. And he'll Fall. I can't see that happen to him. Anyone but him. *I can't believe you. Do you think this is what he wants? Do you think he won't try to track you down, even if it means going against Heaven's orders?* Of course he won't, he's not a fool. He knows what would happen to him if he did that. *My point exactly. Can you not see that he would risk that for you? He's already risked so much just to be with you, in all senses, for the last six thousand years. And he did it in spite of the risks. Isn't that love?*
Crowley groaned and banged his head against the handle bars in an attempt to drown out the intrusive little voice in his head. It didn't work, it just gave him a headache. Despite all his best efforts, the little voice was winning. And the worst thing was, if the voice was really his conscience, he could have ignored it easily. That was, after all, exactly what he'd been doing since he joined Below. It wasn't. It was the Voice of Reason. And it was right. He had been blind. He had been stupid. And now, even more stupidly, he had to go back.
When he walked back into the flat, he knew immediately that all was not as he had left it. Stricken with sudden fear, he rushed into the bedroom, and found…Aziraphale. Awake. Sitting on the bed. Holding the note. Ah. That would explain that then.
Aziraphale looked up at him, eyes red with tears shed and unshed.
"Crowley? What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving".
Out of all he had been through over the last few days, Crowley was most frightened by the tone he heard in the angel's voice then. It held no emotion at all, just an alarming…coldness. *Was I wrong, after all?*
"I couldn't. My Voice of Reason talked me into coming back. I'll have to get that removed one of these days".
The joke fell flat. The blankness in Aziraphale's eyes was giving way to an anger he had never seen there before. He was getting even more frightened, now. An angel's anger was not to be taken lightly.
"You left me here. You walked out of this flat and left me here alone, and you said goodbye in a *note*? And not just goodbye, but that you *love* me? You didn't think, at all, that I might want to hear that from you personally?!"
"Of course I did, but 'Zira – "
"No! Do *not* make excuses! I don't want to hear them. All I know is that you were going to leave, forever, and that I would never have known what had become of you. Do you know what that would have done to me? I would probably have come after you just to make sure you were all right, and suffered whatever punishment Heaven had in store, all for you. What does that tell you, Crowley?"
Crowley's mouth worked for a few seconds without any sound coming out. For the first time in several millennia, he was, quite literally, rendered speechless. Eventually, he managed to stutter:
"Th-that you feel the same way?"
"That I feel the same way. Precisely. Tell me, when did this great revelation come to you? Before or after you *walked out on me*? Tell me, Crowley, when did you finally realise that I *love* you?"
"On the road. Please listen to me, 'Zira, there's things I have to explain".
"Well, then, I'm listening. Explain away. I have to say, I'm eager to hear whatever you have to say that could *possibly* explain what you did".
"I did it for you! I did it to protect you, at least in part. Look, Below probably already know that we…that we made love, and they're also going to know that you haven't fallen. They'll be coming for me, sooner or later, and do you honestly think their operatives wouldn't take the opportunity to "discorporate" an angel, as painfully as possible, at the same time? Take it from me, they would. I thought that if I left, then by the time they got here, you'd be gone too, and they'd never find you then. That was the plan. But I couldn't go through with it. Why do you think I came back? I could have been halfway across Britain by now. But I'm not, I'm here, because I'm stupid, and selfish, and I couldn't leave you forever. Not once I worked out that you did feel the same way".
That took the wind out of Aziraphale's sails. Crowley watched the anger drain out of his eyes and for a long moment, all he could say was: "Oh". Then he recovered a little, and stood up. "Well, then, there's only one thing to do, isn't there? If you have to go, and you can't bring yourself to leave me behind, then I'll have to go with you, won't I?"
"What? But…but the bookshop! Your life! You can't just leave all that for me…can you?"
"I don't care about the bookshop, Crowley. It hasn't been the same since Adam 'improved' things, anyway. I can easily arrange for someone to come and take the books away, and there's really nothing else holding me to London. Maybe we can come back someday, when things have calmed down a little".
"I suppose, in a few centuries, if we can last that long, Hell might get bored of looking for me and move on to something else. Or…maybe we could stop by Tadfield and see what Adam can do? I'm pretty sure he did keep his powers, you know, I've been detecting some very odd vibes coming from there. Not demonic as such, but much more than human. Maybe he can make us into something similar – human, but with powers. That might hide us from our respective bosses. Because you know, yours aren't going to be too happy with you either, once they realise what you've done. Eloping with a demon? Frightfully bad form, old boy".
"Eloping? Is that what we're doing?"
"Well, isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it is. Well, imagine that".
"You do realise that you're going to have to ride pillion on the motorbike? It is mine, after all".
"Motorbike? What motorbike? Why aren't we taking the Bentley?"
"Why do you think? It's too recognisable. We'd be caught within a month. I'll give it to a museum or something. They'll keep it safe".
"You're right. Well, a motorcycle actually sounds quite fun. And I'm quite happy to ride pillion. Better that than trying to steer the thing".
"Fun? I think I'm a bad influence on you, 'Zira. And, much as I hate to admit it, I think you're a good influence on me. Right then, let's go. There's nothing you want to pick up from the bookshop, is there?"
"No. But thank you for asking. Very considerate of you".
"Oh, that's right, rub it in! … I do love you, you know, angel".
"I love you too, *demon*".
"Not angel *or* demon for too much longer, if we're lucky".
And so Crowley and Aziraphale rode off into the sunset on their classic (and classy) motorbike. They did find Adam in Tadfield, and he was able to make them into hybrids, neither fully human, nor demon, nor angel, but something in between. This meant that they still had all those nifty powers, but that they no longer showed up on the radar of either Heaven or Hell. They ended up living on a beach in the Bahamas, which was Crowley's choice. Aziraphale wanted to go to one of the major European cities. As a compromise, they spent their holidays touring Europe. And they both lived happily ever after. Together.
* He couldn't really claim to have had any part in the actual averting. He'd been more inclined to run. It was Adam, ironically the Antichrist, who could claim all the credit for that.
Crowley, Aziraphale and anything else you may recognize belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I bow down at your feet in worship, gentlemen, and I'll give the entities back all clean and undamaged when I've finished with them. Neil, this is Kat from SFMedia. Please don't kill me for what I've done to them. I'll see you on the Coraline tour. The concept of Crowley calling Aziraphale "Zira" doesn't belong to me either. It was borrowed from someone on here, but I don't know who. Hope you don't mind me stealing it.
This is dedicated to Meatloaf, whose beautiful song inspired my twisted brain to create a story about demons and angels, which is not the subject of the song. It's also for Laurie, SJ and all the others at the SFMedia Forum, and especially the Neil Gaiman section thereof. Not forgetting those Snipes who have never set foot out of the Tavern, of course eg.
To my reviewers: DdraigCoch, I'm glad you liked it. There may not be any more for a little while, I'm a bit blocked at the moment.
Demon-of-my-word, thanks for your kind words. Don't worry, I won't stop writing, I was only threatening to take down this one. I still think your story's better, too.
Bumble-bee and minna megami-sama, thank you for the compliments and for correcting my brainfreeze. Much appreciated, thanks!
Bat out of Hell
Crowley looked down at the sleeping angel beside him,and sighed. He still couldn't quite believe what had happened to them over the last week. Witnessing the aversion of the Apocalypse (twice in less than an hour, technically) for one*, and then… And then, they had found each other, in a way that he would never have believed possible at any time in the last six thousand years. It had happened just after the non-end of the world, when they'd been getting drunk together in a restaurant in London, on their return from the airbase. In the restaurant, one of London's best, which naturally had a free table for two, they'd continued the process of "becoming intoxicated", as Aziraphale would say, that had begun on that airfield, pouring more and more fine wine from a bottle that never ran dry, because they both instinctively knew it wouldn't.
And then…and then… Crowley would never know what had possessed him at that moment. He always tried to put it down simply to the alcohol reducing his inhibitions (not that he had many to start with. He was a demon, after all), but he was perfectly well aware that that alone did not explain why, in the middle of a conversation about nothing in particular, he had impulsively leaned over and kissed the angel, square on the lips. What troubled him even more was that Aziraphale had not protested or even looked surprised, but had simply kissed him back. The events that followed were a blur, no doubt alcohol-induced, but he did remember returning to his flat (he had flatly refused to go anywhere near Aziraphale's home. His own was a lot cooler), and, er, carrying on with what they were doing. Which led him to where he was now, staring down at a naked angel in his bed, and wondering how the hell he was going to do what he had to now.
*Why* had he kissed Aziraphale, and why had the angel reciprocated? Had their association always been leading up to this? They had known each other for a very, very long time, but he had never been aware of any such impulses on either of their parts before now. Was it just the euphoria of surviving an apocalypse with their lives and worlds intact, coupled with the alcohol? He'd heard of such things happening among humans after they survived disasters and so on. But if that was all it was, why was he now so reluctant to wake Aziraphale up and kick him out? Why, of all things, did he now find himself gazing at his sleeping partner with *warmth* and *affection*? He'd never felt that kind of emotion for *anyone*, least of all an angel. An angel… Oh G… Sa… somebody, he was in trouble. In very, very deep trouble. He'd done the one thing no self-respecting demon could ever do, hadn't he? He'd gone and fallen in love. And not just fallen in love, but fallen in love with an angel. All Hell would be after him for this. Hastur would have a field day. Which brought him neatly back to the thought of what he had to do, the worst thing about the whole situation. Now that he'd had his epiphany, he had to get out. Right away.
On that realisation, he acted quickly. He'd be able to travel light, he didn't own anything he was attached enough to to take with him. The only one of his possessions that meant anything to him was the Bentley, and that would have to go. The thought of losing his precious car grieved him, but it was too recognisable. Any agent of Hell worth his salt would be on the lookout for a vintage Bentley in perfect condition as soon as Below got wind of what had happened – that he'd slept with an angel who then hadn't fallen? – if they didn't torture him for an eternity, he'd be a laughing stock, and then, of course, they'd realize *why* the angel in question hadn't fallen. They'd know he hadn't been trying to tempt Aziraphale when they'd slept together, and then they'd figure out the reason for that. And then the fun would *really* start.
The only thing he had to do before leaving was write a note for Aziraphale. The one thing he could not do was leave without a word. Not now, not when he'd just realised how deep the feelings really ran between them. Or at least, on his side. He hoped, for Aziraphale's sake, that the love was only on his side, and that for the angel it had just been a matter of drunkenness and relief at their survival. Above could be just as ruthless as Below, and if they found out, the best that could be hoped for was an enforced Falling. But he would leave a note anyway. He owed the angel that.
*Aziraphale,
Had to go, for both our sakes. You most likely won't see me again, even if Below don't get their hands on me. I'll have to keep moving constantly, to avoid being caught for as long as possible. Look after the Bentley for me.
And there's one more thing I want you to know: I love you. I'm sorry.
Goodbye,
Crowley.
P.S. Miracle this note away or burn it as soon as you've read it. It's safer that way. C.*
He left the note on his pillow, where Aziraphale would see it, and then he was finished. Everything was done, and he could go. He walked sadly out of the building, turning on the pavement outside for one last look up at his window, although he couldn't see the occupant of the room from where he stood, and raised his hand in farewell. Then he headed straight for the nearest motorcycle dealership. He chose the most impressive bike available, a Vincent Black Shadow, and paid for it in the cash he magicked up from his pocket. Then he hit the road, as fast as the bike would allow.
He didn't make it a hundred miles before his conscience started niggling at him. *How could you do that? How could you leave him alone like that, without even a proper explanation?* Shut up, he'll be fine. He can't possibly feel that way about me, I'm evil, I'm supposed to be his enemy. He'd never allow himself that. *Don't be so stupid, he's an angel. Do you really believe he would have acted out of simple lust? That's a deadly sin, remember? How can you be so blind as to think he would have done what he did last night if he didn't love you?* But if he loves me, then he's sinning anyway. And he'll Fall. I can't see that happen to him. Anyone but him. *I can't believe you. Do you think this is what he wants? Do you think he won't try to track you down, even if it means going against Heaven's orders?* Of course he won't, he's not a fool. He knows what would happen to him if he did that. *My point exactly. Can you not see that he would risk that for you? He's already risked so much just to be with you, in all senses, for the last six thousand years. And he did it in spite of the risks. Isn't that love?*
Crowley groaned and banged his head against the handle bars in an attempt to drown out the intrusive little voice in his head. It didn't work, it just gave him a headache. Despite all his best efforts, the little voice was winning. And the worst thing was, if the voice was really his conscience, he could have ignored it easily. That was, after all, exactly what he'd been doing since he joined Below. It wasn't. It was the Voice of Reason. And it was right. He had been blind. He had been stupid. And now, even more stupidly, he had to go back.
When he walked back into the flat, he knew immediately that all was not as he had left it. Stricken with sudden fear, he rushed into the bedroom, and found…Aziraphale. Awake. Sitting on the bed. Holding the note. Ah. That would explain that then.
Aziraphale looked up at him, eyes red with tears shed and unshed.
"Crowley? What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving".
Out of all he had been through over the last few days, Crowley was most frightened by the tone he heard in the angel's voice then. It held no emotion at all, just an alarming…coldness. *Was I wrong, after all?*
"I couldn't. My Voice of Reason talked me into coming back. I'll have to get that removed one of these days".
The joke fell flat. The blankness in Aziraphale's eyes was giving way to an anger he had never seen there before. He was getting even more frightened, now. An angel's anger was not to be taken lightly.
"You left me here. You walked out of this flat and left me here alone, and you said goodbye in a *note*? And not just goodbye, but that you *love* me? You didn't think, at all, that I might want to hear that from you personally?!"
"Of course I did, but 'Zira – "
"No! Do *not* make excuses! I don't want to hear them. All I know is that you were going to leave, forever, and that I would never have known what had become of you. Do you know what that would have done to me? I would probably have come after you just to make sure you were all right, and suffered whatever punishment Heaven had in store, all for you. What does that tell you, Crowley?"
Crowley's mouth worked for a few seconds without any sound coming out. For the first time in several millennia, he was, quite literally, rendered speechless. Eventually, he managed to stutter:
"Th-that you feel the same way?"
"That I feel the same way. Precisely. Tell me, when did this great revelation come to you? Before or after you *walked out on me*? Tell me, Crowley, when did you finally realise that I *love* you?"
"On the road. Please listen to me, 'Zira, there's things I have to explain".
"Well, then, I'm listening. Explain away. I have to say, I'm eager to hear whatever you have to say that could *possibly* explain what you did".
"I did it for you! I did it to protect you, at least in part. Look, Below probably already know that we…that we made love, and they're also going to know that you haven't fallen. They'll be coming for me, sooner or later, and do you honestly think their operatives wouldn't take the opportunity to "discorporate" an angel, as painfully as possible, at the same time? Take it from me, they would. I thought that if I left, then by the time they got here, you'd be gone too, and they'd never find you then. That was the plan. But I couldn't go through with it. Why do you think I came back? I could have been halfway across Britain by now. But I'm not, I'm here, because I'm stupid, and selfish, and I couldn't leave you forever. Not once I worked out that you did feel the same way".
That took the wind out of Aziraphale's sails. Crowley watched the anger drain out of his eyes and for a long moment, all he could say was: "Oh". Then he recovered a little, and stood up. "Well, then, there's only one thing to do, isn't there? If you have to go, and you can't bring yourself to leave me behind, then I'll have to go with you, won't I?"
"What? But…but the bookshop! Your life! You can't just leave all that for me…can you?"
"I don't care about the bookshop, Crowley. It hasn't been the same since Adam 'improved' things, anyway. I can easily arrange for someone to come and take the books away, and there's really nothing else holding me to London. Maybe we can come back someday, when things have calmed down a little".
"I suppose, in a few centuries, if we can last that long, Hell might get bored of looking for me and move on to something else. Or…maybe we could stop by Tadfield and see what Adam can do? I'm pretty sure he did keep his powers, you know, I've been detecting some very odd vibes coming from there. Not demonic as such, but much more than human. Maybe he can make us into something similar – human, but with powers. That might hide us from our respective bosses. Because you know, yours aren't going to be too happy with you either, once they realise what you've done. Eloping with a demon? Frightfully bad form, old boy".
"Eloping? Is that what we're doing?"
"Well, isn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it is. Well, imagine that".
"You do realise that you're going to have to ride pillion on the motorbike? It is mine, after all".
"Motorbike? What motorbike? Why aren't we taking the Bentley?"
"Why do you think? It's too recognisable. We'd be caught within a month. I'll give it to a museum or something. They'll keep it safe".
"You're right. Well, a motorcycle actually sounds quite fun. And I'm quite happy to ride pillion. Better that than trying to steer the thing".
"Fun? I think I'm a bad influence on you, 'Zira. And, much as I hate to admit it, I think you're a good influence on me. Right then, let's go. There's nothing you want to pick up from the bookshop, is there?"
"No. But thank you for asking. Very considerate of you".
"Oh, that's right, rub it in! … I do love you, you know, angel".
"I love you too, *demon*".
"Not angel *or* demon for too much longer, if we're lucky".
And so Crowley and Aziraphale rode off into the sunset on their classic (and classy) motorbike. They did find Adam in Tadfield, and he was able to make them into hybrids, neither fully human, nor demon, nor angel, but something in between. This meant that they still had all those nifty powers, but that they no longer showed up on the radar of either Heaven or Hell. They ended up living on a beach in the Bahamas, which was Crowley's choice. Aziraphale wanted to go to one of the major European cities. As a compromise, they spent their holidays touring Europe. And they both lived happily ever after. Together.
* He couldn't really claim to have had any part in the actual averting. He'd been more inclined to run. It was Adam, ironically the Antichrist, who could claim all the credit for that.