Hello, everyone. I'm back.

The story you're about to read is a sequel to 'Fade to Black', a symphony of sorrow written by Clear Dawnlight, who is made of win and awesome. You must read this story first for mine to make any sense. My story was written with permission, and out of love for those two. You'll understand what I mean by that once you start reading. Let me stress that this is a sequel, not the sequel. The other one, 'Resurgemus', was written by Clear Dawnlight herself, and she posted the first chapter yesterday. If you haven't read it yet, then what in Creation are you doing here? Go read it. Go read it right now.

Before we begin, I'd like to give an enormous thank-you to Clear Dawnlight. She wrote 'Fade to Black', managed to drive me crazy with grief, and thus inspired me to write this. She stuck by me throughout my writing, proofread the whole story, and was a huge support to my confidence. Without her, this story would never have seen daylight, or dawnlight, if you will.

Oh, yes. Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. No copyright infringement or personal profit is intended. John Barclay's is an actual company, and is not mentioned here for publicitary purposes.

Warnings: slash, language, mild violence, mild sexual themes.

Without further ado, here's the story. Enjoy.

Dedicated to Clear Dawnlight, in admiration and affection.

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Broken Treasure

Prologue

Naught Truly Dies

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All alone in His throne room, God was crying.

Two thousand years. For two thousand years, this had been kept from Him. His Voice, highest-ranked of all His angels, had hidden it from Him. It was through the grief of another that the truth had been revealed.

"Father?"

"Yes, Gabriel? What is it, My daughter?"

"I... Forgive my impudence, but... Why have You done this thing? I mean no disrespect, my Father, but I've been trying for so long to understand, and I find that I simply cannot. Why have You punished them so? They never wronged You, they only... loved. Is not this the greatest virtue of all?"

"Child, what are you saying? Of whom do you speak?"

"Of... Of the angel Aziraphale and the demon Craw... Crowley, Father. They who shared a love so strong that even the difference in their natures was nothing in the face of it. I... I always believed they were blessed. Why was one destroyed, the other forgotten? I do not doubt Your wisdom, my Father, but I cannot... see..."

She burst into tears.

The Lord was silent for a long time; the Archangel's convulsive sobs were the only sounds that could be heard.

Finally, God said, "Child, tell Me. How long ago did this happen?"

"Two thousand... years, my Father," she said in between gasps.

God's face darkened. "I did not know of this."

Gabriel stopped crying at once. Her dark brown eyes went wide in her pale face. "But, Father, did the Metatron not tell You? He always told us that You knew."

For the space of a heartbeat, the look on God's face was so terrible that Gabriel could not look upon Him. She cast down her eyes and trembled in fear.

He rose, however, and tipped up His eldest daughter's chin. He smiled at her and said, "Worry yourself no more about this, My dear child. I will see to it that things are set right again. A single act is all it will take. Hush now, and wipe your eyes."

She did so, and smiled back at Him. "Thank you, my Father. Thank you."

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Always His favourites, and His favourites still.

He reached into the Void, and searched for the shreds of soul of the being once known as Anthony J. Crowley.

Restitution would be made.