Crowley crumpled at the sight before him, dust still in the air as human rescue services trawled the wreckage for any casualties.

"Nothing sir, not a single body amongst the rubble. It's a miracle sir, a tower fall like this should have killed everyone inside, but not a single person was reported to be in the building. Only The penthouse had a sign in for the building, but there's no sign of Miss Sophia, no surname given, in the debris"

He heard the words echo around his mind. No sign of Sophia, no answer from her phone whenever he tried to call. She was gone, discorporated again. But something the human had said stuck in his mind. No other sign of casualty, no death, a miracle… but Sophia had been in the building. Something had caused the angel to discorporate herself, something that even Sophia had struggled to escape. He felt his teeth grind together and a snarl rip from his throat, dark and filled with menace as a thought filled his mind.

"Gabriel"

The name passed his lips with venom and hatred. That bastard had chased Sophia for as long as he could remember, had tried to coerce her multiple times but this time it seemed he had gone too far. Far enough for her to destroy herself. And, in Crowley's mind, it had been far enough that he'd ever spoken to her if she didn't consent to it.

Crowley raised himself to his feet, anger blazing within his eyes as he began to walk towards the Bentley. Fuck heaven and hell. He was going to put a stop to the apocalypse, he'd grab hold of Aziraphale and shake some damned sense into him, he'd scream that heaven had stolen their girl, that hell had started what would steal their precious earth from them. They were on their own side now. He was racing through the streets of London as the thoughts filled his mind, rage fuelling his foot on the acceleration, Queen blaring through the radio as he seethed.

Aziraphale had seemed strange when he had dropped him back off at his bookshop, flustered by something on the backseat, a book if he remembered correctly. Typical Aziraphale, a book meant more than the loss of their girl and the end of the world it seemed. Had Aziraphale felt the loss of Sophia and kept the knowledge from him? Even after their break through on intimacy, Aziraphale still chose a book. Crowley's hands tightened around the steering wheel at the thought.

"She's gone… our world is falling around us, I thought we'd finally had a break through and could work towards a future together, just the three of us like it always has been… She's gone and all he cared about was a fucking book."

But he wasn't going to hide away and wait for the end. He'd told Aziraphale that he'd contact his human operative to gather more information, and that was what he was going to do. He jabbed the number into his phone, balancing it between his shoulder and ear as he swerved to miss a pedestrian, by the skin of their teeth, serves them right for being in the middle of the road at the same time as he was driving through. Check green next time moron, oh wait, it had been red. The phone rang in his ear, his mind more on how he could punish the bookish angel than on the voice that answered on the other end.

"This is witchfinder sergeant Shadwell"

*Aziraphale's bookshop, 3 hours earlier*

His eyes couldn't steal away from the text before him, cocoa long since forgotten despite Agnes' warning that it was growing cold. He had coveted this book, dreamt of owning the only copy left in existence, despite multiple copies having been made, and he had never even considered that he would actually own a copy. He'd had more than a few rude calls requesting the book, his cheeks flushed at what the callers had insinuated when he had firmly stated he did not own even a single copy of Agnes Nutters 'The nice and accurate prophecies'. But now it lay before him, correct in all it's descriptions, as a delicate hand covered in a white cotton glove leafed through each page. Incredible even to his eternal mind, that a human could have seen so far into the future with such pinpoint accuracy.

He stopped for a single moment. The words his eyes conveyed seeming more fabulous and fabricated than even he could believe.

'Angels and demons, thine besotted dance of six millennia, shalt end with hellish fyre and blessed water. Thine angel, caught betwixt heaven and hell, shalt rise from ashes, born anew. Thine eye shalt see truth in beloved deception'

He scoffed at the words. The only demon and angels he knew personally were himself, Crowley and Sophia. Crowley was, despite ability to have an imagination and a touch of compassion at the insistence of Aziraphale, still a demon. And he and Sophia were most certainly angels. He had never, before now, tried to go against heaven beyond his little arrangement to get things done quicker with Crowley. And Sophia, well she was Sophia, the angel of love who screamed to the heavens at the injustice of the world. Sure, she'd gone a little wild in the last thousand years, but she was still the beacon of light she'd always been. Sophia was the light he clung too, she could never fall in his eyes, and Crowley was the reality of how humanity had become. Aziraphale loved them both beyond what words could describe.

He'd seen it for himself. When Sophia walked the streets of Soho, love followed behind, new couples forming behind her, fuelled by the gentle sound of her laughter on the breeze as she gazed upon Crowley and himself. No, he refused to believe that she was hiding anything, she was too bloody blunt for that. He flipped the page, not wanting to pay more attention to the scandalous prophesy, how dare Agnes cast such aspersions upon any of them.

He settled two pages later, landing on a prophesy even less easy to his stomach. His fingers began to dial the number on his out-dated phone, holding the receiver to his ear as dreaded words filled his ear.

"This is the Young residence 'Look Dad, he's standing on his hind legs!'"

Aziraphale felt his metaphorical heart stop as he blustered the words 'Sorry, right number' before slamming down the receiver and began to scramble together his mind. He needed to contact Crowley. He needed to contact heaven.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and, in London, the clouds hung grey and looming.

*The village of Tadfield*

Sophia hummed beneath the glorious August sunshine, feeling every part of her existence vibrate with the feel of the village around her. She'd never felt such love, never felt so strong as she watched people around her greet with easiness and acceptance, except for Mr Tyler who seemed to view everyone with suspicion, regardless of colour or belief. She smiled as two young women held hands and smiled with affection, no fear in their heart that they'd be attacked for their love of each other. Beautiful. Sophia had never felt so capable of spreading love as she sent a small miracle their way, promising a life together filled with all the good things that true love could bring. It was almost like this village was barriered from hate. She smiled to herself at the thought. Could it be that Adam felt no hate in his heart, could love any and all that welcomed the emotion within their own heart?

"Why are you crying?"

Sophia stopped at the familiar voice, filled with the same concern that had greeted her own ears when she had fallen in the forest. She edged closer towards the voice, warmth filling her at the sheer amount of love presented in the moment, noticing she was hiding behind a bush of Jasmine cottage as she listened and feeling a little ashamed that she was hiding.

"I lost something, a family treasure that we've followed for centuries… Agnes would laugh that I've lost it"

Sophia listened, her eyes glimpsing a woman held over a garden bench in full distress. She wanted to reach out and send soothing waves to the woman, but Adam beat her too it.

"I wrote a book once, full of pirates, aliens and dinosaurs. Bet it would make you feel better than the book you'd lost"

Sophia had doubted his attempt at first, but then the young woman had laugh. Granted it was doubtful and more to make the boy feel confident in his words, but she had laughed and turned tearful eyes upon him. Sophia couldn't believe that Adam was evil, not after that, not after all the effort he'd made to make even her feel welcome in his home village. She pulled herself from hiding, making it seem that she was simply walking by as Adam turned happy eyes upon her.

"Adam, are you bothering this woman?"

Her tone was intentionally soft and caring as she took a place beside him and smiled at the young woman. Too many people in this village treated Adam and his friends with suspicion. Sophia knew his true nature… And yet she could only feel it in her being to love him like her own child. Adam looked at her with child eyes as he spoke.

"No, I heard her crying and thought I'd try and make her feel better… I don't like to see people cry"

Anathema watched the pair for a moment. There was something about the red haired woman that reminded her of the strange pair she'd met the evening before. She took a moment to try and focus on the woman's aura, feelings swamped as a collection of auras hit her. Almost like humanity was hitting her all at once. She felt love, pink. Anger, red. Envy, green. Hope, yellow. Sorrow, blue. Emptiness, black. And white. Pure and endless. Anathema felt like she couldn't breath as she tried, and failed, to pin down a single aura in the woman whose eyes bore into her, a look in those beautiful green orbs that told her to not try and delve deeper.

Sophia simply chose to smile, making her way towards the woman crying on the bench, crouching down to whisper in her ear, more out of instinct than anything more.

"You cannot sense me, witch… Look after this child in the next few days, or I shall reign brimstone upon you and all that you love. The end of all things will be nothing compared to my wrath"

She stood then, leaving Anathema feeling that she had no choice but to offer lemonade. Sophia turned kind eyes upon Adam as she spoke. She was herself again, she had the strength behind her to summon her bike. Adam had a new fixation, he had the witch girl, she concluded. She'd return if she could. But right now, she'd finally found the sense of mind to return to the task at hand.

"Adam, I have to go and see my friends, let them know I'm safe. I promise to come back"

There wasn't a doubt in Adam's mind that Sophia would come back. He could feel the love rolling from her for the little village of Tadfield as she straddled the motorbike. Had she always been wearing white bike leathers? He didn't think more on it as Anathema invited him in for lemonade.

Sophia roared down the empty roads of Tadfield. Her first stop, home.

Deep in her heart, she could feel it. The roar of another engine, scarlet hair much bloodier in shade compared to her own flickering in the wind. They both felt each other and whilst once grimaced and the other smiled, they both felt the end drawing closer.