I think it's about time to wrap this sucker up. At one point, I was thinking of adding x number of plot twists and action sequences, just for the sake of it, but then I realized what happened when Lost did that, and so I'm just going to stick with the story I originally had in mind, sans superfluities.

I do believe this is the PENULTIMATE CHAPTER! Much excitement! Adventure! Romance! Betrayal! Oh, the fun to be had!(1)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the delicious characters contained herein, except for Fotas and Baskur, but really, they're hardly characters and they are far from delicious. I also do not own a book shop of any kind, graceful haste(2), or a nice leather jacket. However, I do, oddly enough, own a wooden cross.

The Bentley arrived with a screeching halt at the doorstep of Aziraphale's shop, leaving tire marks on the sidewalk. The two suave gentlemen inside stepped out with a kind of graceful haste, and approached the door. Crowley opened the door without bothering to see if it was locked, and stepped inside.

"Angel? You here?"

A stuffy wall of silence was his answer.

"What do you reckon?" Chalmers asked quietly.

Crowley didn't know. He also didn't want to admit that he didn't know. Thus, he stood in a quandary just long enough for Aziraphale and Giles to enter, conveniently dispelling all of Crowley's internal turmoil.

The angel and the occultist had been laughing and joking about something that normal people wouldn't have understood before Aziraphale saw the familiar car mounting the curb outside his shop. His elation turned to sadness then to bitterness and finally to rage(3), which he was able to transfer from Crowley's previous rendezvous to his current parking arrangement. And so, when the pair entered the shop, Aziraphale was all set for lecturing the demon on safe driving habits, but when he laid eyes on Chalmers, his lecture was deflated and he simply stood in silence.

The demon was able to collect himself first. "Where've you been?" he demanded. "I've been phoning for hours."

Aziraphale became miffed at his tone and simply answered "Out," with his angelic nose in the air. As he walked past, he made some cursory introductions and then went into the back to make some tea. Giles followed awkwardly.(4)

Not so easily put off, Crowley strode after them, calling Aziraphale by name(5).

"I've got a problem," he called.

"Have you, dear?" Aziraphale turned up the burner.

"Yeah, it's my computer, it's…. Are you cross with me?" Something in Aziraphale's demeanor was throwing Crowley off-balance.

"Of course not!" the angel snapped, effectively belying the sentiment.

"What's the matter? What've I done now?"

Aziraphale turned toward Crowley to assure him that he most certainly was not cross, but before he could manage to beat out the words, the oddity of two humans and two demons materialising between the Bentley and his front door distracted him.

"What the—" and the door exploded.

"CROWLEY, YOU SCUM! Where is ya?!" screamed the demon dragging Murphy by the hair. Boskur and Fotas, two Hellish underlings, had been sent to check on Crowley personally after the incident with the computer(6), and had come instead upon the two private detectives. Lighting upon a good idea(7), they decided to take the humans with them and give Crowley an opportunity to redeem himself by proving his continued evilness.

But not without a fight did they carry out this plan.

Murphy earned himself a broken nose and a cracked rib for his heroics, and before he could reach the small handgun strapped to his ankle, he and Laura had both been subdued and were being dragged roughly as their captors transported them to the address held in Laura's hand(8).

And now here they stood, outside the benign Soho book shop, searching for the demon called Crowley(9).

"CROWLEY!" Boskur yelled again. Crowley himself had slammed the door to the back room shut and had frozen where he stood, eyes wide with fear, and he pleaded with the Universe(10).

"Crowley, what—"

"Shh!" Crowley silenced Chalmers. "Maybe they'll go away."

"I'M COMIN' IN!"

"Or not…." said Giles.

Boskur grabbed Murphy by the shirt and chucked him in through the exploded doorway. The demon himself, however, was barely able to set foot past the threshold before vaporising with an eldritch shriek(11). By the same token, Murphy suddenly awoke and was about to make for his gun when Fotas, shocked at his partner's demise but not too upset, grasped Laura by the throat and said to Murphy, "Oh, no no no. You go in there an' find Crowley. Awright?"

Murphy, bloody, sore, and confused, decided that he was most definitely too old for this and grudgingly obeyed, wincing to his feet and staggering to the back of the shop. Coming upon the back room door, he summoned all his strength and the better part of his rage and busted the door open with a mighty kick, only to meet Giles on the other side holding up a large wooden cross as if it were a shield. Murphy ignored him and looked around.

When his eyes caught Chalmers, they became dangerous once more. "You," he growled.

"Murphy??" Chalmers' eyebrows suddenly went skew. "What the blazes are you doing here?"

"I'll ask you the same question later. Right now, there's some sort of psycho outside looking for Crowley, and he's got Laura. So," he turned to the other three in the room, "which one of you is Crowley?"

The demon in question reluctantly stepped forward, but before he could meet his fate outside, Chalmers pushed past him and strode toward the front door, hoping that either this fellow had never met Crowley or that the night would be enough to cloak his identity. Crowley himself followed, unsure of what to do.

"Alright, here I am," he said once outside, in his best A.J. Crowley impersonation.

"Here who is? Who's 'at?" Fotas furrowed his brow at this unexpected development(12).

"It's me—ahem—it's Crowley." Chalmers cleared his throat, distracted by the sight of Laura unconscious.

"No you ain't. You ain't Crowley. Where is he?"

At the same time, Murphy had crept up behind Chalmers and was peering stealthily through the front window. He aimed his gun and fired through the glass.

Somewhere in the tumult of the gunshot's blast and the shattering windowpane, the bullet struck its mark—Fotas' shoulder—causing the demon to growl in pain and drop his captive, whom Murphy swept into his arms after lunging through the broken window(13).

However, there were one or two flaws in Murphy's plan: one, he didn't realize he was about to shoot a demon (well, it's not really something you assume, is it?), and two, Fotas had been on the brink of being really pissed off, and now he had the perfect excuse to skip over the edge.

He growled again, "Know how I know you ain't Crowley??"

Chalmers hesitantly lowered the protective arm he'd thrust over his face. "…How?"

"'Cos I can do this." Fotas evaporated into streams of smoke and rushed at Chalmers, shooting through his ears and nose and mouth.

Chalmers lurched backwards and hit the blasted-apart wall, cracking the back of his head on it. Then he snapped his head forward, shaking loose his black hair from its suavely gelled state, his crystal blue eyes suddenly yellowed with evil, malice contorting his face. He glared at Murphy, still holding Laura and looking angry and afraid. Then he slowly turned toward the shop.

"LET ME IN!" screamed Fotas' voice out of Chalmers' throat.

"You bastard!!" Crowley shouted back. He grabbed Chalmers by the lapels and stared into the yellow eyes, trying to see the bastard demon behind them.

Chalmers laughed. "I knew you was in there, Crowley! The Master is none too please wiv you, seems to think you've gone soft or summink. So I broughts these two," he jerked his head at Laura and Murphy, "to give you somethin' to do."

Crowley shoved him away. "Well, you may as well bugger off, because I'm not 'doing' anything with them. I've got my own projects, my own style, you go back and tell them that. Everything's cool here, they don't need to worry about me going soft. I've got big plans, big plans that you can't even imagine. So go on, stop possessing him and scuttle off now."

"I don' think that's good enough mate." Chalmers' face twisted into a smirk.

Just then, Giles burst on to the scene. Once he'd figured out what was happening, he'd pulled his cross out again, and now he ran forward, wielding it like a broadsword and yelling "The name of Christ compels you!" But Aziraphale cut him off, not wanting anyone else to get hurt.

"Oh please," he sighed as he pushed past Giles, "let me see." His tone of voice suggested that everyone was overreacting to a child with a splinter.

"You and you," Aziraphale pointed to Crowley and Murphy, "hold him down."

Crowley grabbed Chalmers before he could flee, and Murphy gently laid Laura on the sidewalk, roughly grasped the other arm, and the two dragged him to the ground.

Aziraphale knelt in front of the afflicted detective and said, "Look at me."

Chalmers shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. The angel sighed and took him by the chin.

"I said, 'look at me.'" His voice was suddenly quiet and dangerous, and Chalmers couldn't help but open his eyes. All of the old twinkle was gone from them.

Aziraphale's eyes, still blue enough to make up the difference, gazed steadily and fast into the yellow.

"Now," he began. "Whoever's in there, you had best be out by the time I say 'three,' or I promise you—with the best authority—that you will have Hell to pay. Understand?" The slitty pupils contracted. "One… two…" Chalmers began to convulse. "And don't hurt him, or it'll be worse." The convulsions ceased. "Good. Three."

Chalmers gasped and coughed and blinked heavily. His eyes were blue again.

"Well that was unpleasant," he stated, breathing raggedly.

Murphy shoved him to the ground and went back to Laura. Giles relaxed and put his cross away. Crowley went after Aziraphale, who had begun to go inside.

"Az—" he called.

"Yes, yes, your computer." The angel waved his hand distractedly. "Consider it taken care of."

"Well, thanks, but that's not—"

"Not to be rude, dear, but I'm rather tired after all the excitement, and I do have a storefront to fix now, so if you don't mind?"

Crowley withered. He turned and walked away. Dropping the keys to the Bentley next to Chalmers, he sauntered down the street, his hands in his nice leather jacket.

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion…soon! (No, really, soon!)

(1) And suddenly, this has turned into Dinosaur Comics.

(2) My haste is rather clumsy.

(3) But very mild rage...

(4) Heh, that rhymes.

(5) A rare occurrence that caught the angel's attention.

(6) Which, through some demonic trickery, Laura and Murphy had (conveniently) overlooked.

(7) Another rare occurrence.

(8) "Well, that's convenient," you say. And yes. It is. Don't judge me.

(9) That'd be a really good band name. Demon Called Crowley.

(10) The only higher power he felt he could trust.

(11) Aziraphale had his own security system. Crowley didn't know it, but he was the only demon allowed to set foot in the bookshop. Rather sweet, really….

(12) He could, of course, see in the dark, and he did, in fact, know was Crowley looked like. Granted, he was fairly stupid, but failing all else, he knew that Crowley wasn't that well-dressed.

(13) Murphy is such a badass.