Chapter Nine


The Lords and Ladies Tavern was, in fact, the first real English tavern that Jen went to. It was dingy and badly lit and smelly, and everything that Jen had hoped a tavern would be. Also, it appeared to be karaoke night.

"I always though that karaoke was a States thing," she said, glancing at the half-asleep drunk man with a microphone. "You know, Americans like to make fools of themselves onstage. It's kind of our thing."

Aziraphale chuckled, snaking his hand into Crowley's. The demon coughed awkwardly and sidled away, but he didn't let go.

"I'd never do karaoke," said John. "God. Too embarrassing."

"Lord's name in vain," said Aziraphale.

"Sorry. What, am I not allowed to break the commandments now?"

"You were before?" Jen asked.

"No," said Aziraphale. "Johnael, angels don't break the Name's rules."

"Says the one dating a demon?" Jen asked. "This is why I'm an atheist. You religious blokes are too bloody confusing."

"Jen," said John, "You're walking around with two angels and a demon. How can you still be—"

"There's Adam," said Crowley, pointing.


They got a table not-too-far away from Adam's and Brian's and Wendsleydale's, and Jen ordered the promised round of drinks. They leaned back and waited.

"Why don't we just go up and talk to them?" Jen asked, sipping her beer without much enthusiasm.

"Oh, yes, that would work wonderfully. Hello, Brian, Wensely, remember us from the last Apocolypse? It's happening again and we were wondering…" Crowley rolled his eyes behind the eternal sunglasses. "Kid, I doubt they'd believe a word we said."

"Sounds fine to me," she said, shrugging. "But I'm a writer."

"You always use that excuse," said John.

"What excuse?"

"That you're a writer. You do everything because you're a writer. That's, like, your justification for life."

"And it works, too." Jen took another gulp of beer. "Because I am. And. And. And writers, you know, rock."

"You haven't even had a full drink yet," said John. "No way are you drunk."

Jen shrugged and tipped her chair back, watching Adam's table. She did a double take. Brian and Adam kept looking in her general direction, laughing, and jeering at Wensley. Ah, no. They wouldn't…

Brian stood, dragging his friend with him. Wensley appeared to be protesting, and strongly.

"You dudes owe me," Jen said softly, giving the three man-shaped beings at her table a very pointed look. Crowley was the only one who got the memo, and stood. When the angels had made it clear that they were oblivious, he dragged them away from the table.

Jen smiled warmly as Wensley approached. "Can I help you dudes?"

Brian shoved Wensley forward. "Come on, man."

"I—er. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure. You boys wanna take a seat?" Jen batted her eyelashes in a disgusting manner. She hated acting feminine.

"Both of us?" Brian asked, trying to escape.

"Why not?"


"We just left Jennifer with those two young men—" Aziraphale protested, glancing back. "If they take advantage—"

"Jen can handle herself," said Crowley. "And we need to speak to Adam privately."

"It's not like they want to f—er, have sexual intercourse," said John. He was learning. "She's Jen."

"Believe it or not, Johnael," said Crowley, "She's mildly attractive."

"Dude. Don't tell me these things."

"Jennifer is—Ah, Adam Young? May we have a moment?" Aziraphale smiled graciously, wringing his hands together.

Adam smiled. He ran his index finger along the rim of his glass, craning his neck a bit to see how his friends were faring. They seemed to be a bit out of their depth—Jen was flirting heavily with both, batting her eyes and flipping her hair and speaking in low tones. "That your girl?" he asked.

"She's not my girl," said John, a little too quickly. Adam raised an eyebrow.

"Alright," he said. "Wot can I 'elp you with, then?"

"You remember us, right?" Crowley asked. "Er."

"Yeah. Messin' people about."

Aziraphale coughed. "Yes. Er. That was us."

"And you didn' listen to me. I said. No more messin' about."

"Er, no. We had our orders, from respective bosses." Aziraphale looked uncomfortable. "Adam, we need your help."

"Why?" he asked, leaning back to look at his friends. Brian was definitely out of his depth, although Wensley, surprisingly, seemed to be growing comfortable around her.

"Adam? Pay attention, please, this is important. Adam, the world is going to end again. There's another Antichrist."

"Ah, really?" He seemed unfazed. "Hadn't noticed."

"So you don't know who he is, then?" Aziraphale asked, a little put out.

"What? Of course I know," said Adam. "Your Antichrist's at that table over there."

There was a pause. Then, in eerie unison…

"What?" all three immortals asked.

"At the table. An' a hint—it innint Brian or Wensley. 'Scuse me, I think Pep's gonna 'ave a mental breakdown if I don't get 'ome soon." Adam stood. "Oh, and you're welcome."

"Thanks," said Crowley, vaguely stunned. Something in him was aware of the irony.


"Well, that's a relief, right?" Jen said, shrugging. "Because I have no intention of ending the world."

"I went to high school with the Antichrist," said John. "Or one of them."

"Snap out of it," said Jen. "Okay, listen, if I'm really… dude, that's kind of fucking awesome."

"Language," said Aziraphale.

"Fuck it," said Jen, shrugging. "I'm the Antichrist, remember? I think, Zira, I should be allowed to swear."

"Jennifer, please don't let this go to your head…"

"I won't. I'm just saying." Jen sighed. "Well, that's a load off our backs, huh? No more worrying about the end of the world. Back to the Bentley."

"You just found out that you've got more power than we do, and that's all you've got to say?" Crowley asked. "You could change the world!"

"And end it. But I won't be doing either. I like being human, thanks very much. Shall we go?"

"Jen!"

She sighed. "Okay, look, do we really have to talk about this, like, right now? I'm the one who got the news dumped on me. I really don't want to think about it." Jen paused. "You know what? I need another drink."


Which meant that everyone got terrifically drunk.

Which meant that there were issues the next morning.

Jen opened her eyes and regretted it. She was outdoors for no good reason, and it was a sunny day.

"Zira?" she asked, rolling into the scratchy bed below her. "Zira, turn the sun off."

Scratchy?

Jen sat up. She was in a haystack.

Buck naked.

With John next to her. Thank someone he was clothed.

Hello, issues.

"John?" she asked. "John, wake up."

"Hmnah?" He groaned. "My head is in pain. Can't angels, like, just poof it all away?"

"John, I need clothes."

"What the hell?"

"Language, angel. Can you miracle up some clothes for me?"

"What? Why?"

"Because I seem to have misplaced my clothes."

John waved his hand, and suddenly Jen was sporting a frilly pink dress. She slapped him on the arm. "Johnael."

"Jennifer."

"The antichrist," she said, a tad too loftily for John's taste, "Should not be sporting a frilly pink dress. I look like a cupcake."

"Cupcake of doom," said John. He sighed and sat up, shaking hay from his hair. Jen half-melted. There was something annoyingly beautiful about John when he was just waking up—something soft in his features.

Ah, well. The dress would have to do. "John, where are we?"

"Why the hell would I know?"

"Because I don't," she said. "John, how are we supposed to get back to the bookshop if we don't know where we are?"

"Ask Aziraphale or his little boyfriend." He sighed and sat up. "By the way, why is he dating a demon?"

"John, Zira and Crowley are nowhere to be found."

John looked. They weren't there. He sighed. "That's… that's a problem."


an: More OOC-ness of Zira and Crowley... Ah, well, I'll try not to do that in the future. And yes, I know, more Mary-Sue-ness on Jen's part... Where you're just gonna have to trust me, okay? I hate Mary-Sues, so I'm trying my hardest not to write one... but this is part of the plot. So... trust me. That's all I can say without giving anything away.