Author's Disclaimer: This chapter is shorter than the others, but it also packs more of an emotional wallop if you happen to be a fan favorite of a certain series. Uriel writes himself, I swear it.
Much love to my beta Quantum Witch, and love to all of you for reading along and for your wooonderfuuuul reviews *muah*
Chapter Nine
Crowley and Gabriel – the latter no longer a mongoose at least – found themselves standing in the courtyard of a glorious white castle, overlooking the picturesque town below. "This looks familiar," Crowley muttered before noticing he was clad in chainmail.
Gabriel was similarly dressed and frowning heavily. "I don't think I want to know."
"Good morrow, travelers!" exclaimed a plate-mail-clad nearly-seven-foot-tall warrior. He magnanimously approached the two, and Crowley noted he was also carrying at least six swords*.
Gabriel, however, noticed something much different. "Uriel? Is that you?" he asked, sounding mildly horrified. Crowley made a confused noise and also focused on this warrior's face – yep, the same curly black hair, and the same large violet eyes.
"That is not my name," said this new arrival. "My name is Zuriel, and I am a ranger. It also turns out that I am really the legendary King of Zgondor. Also, I am the White Wizard, defender of truth and justice here in Slightly to the Right Earth! What are your names, my new friends?"
"Ngk," said Crowley, now really recognizing where they were.
"Uriel, this is absurd," Gabriel said sternly. "Stop this at once. You are not some hero of an overexposed novel ser – no, excuse me, you haven't read the novels." He sounded quite derisive of this point. "Regardless, you are not the hero of an overexposed movie series."
"My name is not Uriel," the knight replied emphatically, "It is Zuriel! Regardless, you two appear to be very noble individuals-"
Crowley snorted.
"-would you be willing to aid in the defense of Zminas Ztirith? The forces of the evil Dark Lord Zchamuel are coming to attack the city within twenty-four hours. Zgondor has called for aid, but it may be awhile before it arrives." Zuriel shook his head solemnly. "I merely hope my two good zhobbit friends Zaziraphael and Zkireawel are doing all right in their quest to take and destroy the One True Chocolate Bar."
"It's worse than I thought," Gabriel murmured to Crowley, who was having a very hard time imagining himself as a hobbit.
Zuriel gave them both pleading expressions. "Please help?" he asked with a little wibble.
Despite Zuriel being taller than the real Uriel, he was just as cute, and so Crowley and Gabriel had little choice but to give in.
"Squee!" Zuriel exclaimed, "Allow me to introduce you to my Zfellowship!"
"You didn't need to put a z in front of the real words too…" Crowley protested a little helplessly.
"I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about! Anyway, those are my friends Zmichael and Zgabriel!" He gestured to two squabbling figures in the distance. "Zmichael is a noble dwarf, and Zgabriel is a graceful elf! Both of them have been my friends throughout our incredible journey!"
"Ha ha, he cast Michael as the shortest one," Gabriel said passionlessly, deciding to ignore his own casting. "Perhaps I ought to get Uriel a pair of high heels to make him feel better…"
"That would be a good idea," said Zuriel sagely.
"Hey, ah, Zuriel, is there any way you can rush this?" Crowley asked, "Twenty-four hours is way too much time. We're kind of on a schedule, and I figure the artifact we're looking for is that ring – er, chocolate bar you're talking about."
"But the chocolate bar is evil, tempting though it is," Zuriel said with a frown, "You really oughtn't use it at all, even in the name of Good, as it will foully corrupt you in the end. I mean, look at my hips! Simply dreadful."
"This is just sad," said Gabriel. "Uriel isn't sure who is who any more, is he? Your hips are flawless I'm certain, judging from how easily you're wearing that armor. Uriel is concerned about his figure. Which, it needs to be said, is completely fine as well, the odd dear."
"Sure," said Zuriel, completely baffled and not afraid to show it.
"Do I want to know what you did to Raphael?" Crowley asked.
"To who?"
Crowley sighed and felt a little bit dirty as he said, "Zraphael."
"My noble lady and future wife?"
Gabriel winced visibly. "There is so much wrong with this entire scenario, there really is."
Crowley, who used to work for Belial and thus knew of his boss' seductions, also winced on his behalf. From all appearances, there was no Zbelial.
"Oh, there is," said Zuriel, "Or, there will be; I just can't decide who he should be yet. He's very confusing."
"Um…"
"Oh, yeah, I can read minds too."
Crowley had no good response to that.
"Again, might we flash forward a bit? To the climactic battle at the end, so we might find this elusive artifact?" Gabriel asked.
"Oh, that'd be for the best," Zuriel admitted. "We're coming up to a gigantic section of INSERT CLIMACTIC BATTLE SCENE HERE, and I wasn't entirely sure what to write for this part, so yeah, flash forward!"
* Three for each hand. And yes, he can use all six at the same time.
Hazel continued writing down the words that dribbled from Johnny's intoxicated form. It was such an annoyance that the limits of her foresight hadn't been rectified yet, but there was only so much she could do about that. Instead she had to fill in the holes in her visions, the things she couldn't see, from another source. At least they had led her to the source itself.
It was intriguing, really, that, despite Heaven's anti-Humanity stance at the moment, Revelations was still being rewritten by a human. More proof of how the theocracy was flawed.
Johnny was dripping sweat and she dabbed his forehead. Another pity was that she was going to kill him once he was done talking. There was no sense in leaving him around on the off-chance one of her enemies discovered the prophet, was there? One death wouldn't hurt anyone, except for him. One death to save the billions of people that Hazel needed to protect.
"The first angel," Johnny gasped out, "drew his sword and challenged the shining deceiver, though their great conflict of ages did not end, for the Adversary deceived His Father and united the four corners against Him… The second angel drew his sword and cast out the Betrayer from the Silver City and the Sight; praise be to the glory of the Most High and blessed are His People…"
Hazel sighed even as she continued scrawling. Honestly, couldn't they have chosen a sober individual to make their prophet? She, very familiar with odd phrases and imagery, had some semblance of an idea as to what was being told to her, but how much of it was literal and how much of it was figurative?
But from what she had gathered, she had been right in her assumption that this Heaven and Hell alliance was a fractured, weak thing that would easily be outlived. All she needed to do was guide Humanity into surviving long enough so that Heaven and Hell destroyed each other.
Johnny convulsed a little bit before murmuring, "And the third angel drew his sword and defended the angels and…"
"Oh, ma'am," another of the woman's advisors asked, having come out with tea, " Here's your tea, and… well, we've been hearing reports of the activities of a self-proclaimed Antichrist, and he-"
"Any attempts at communication will fail," she replied sweetly, looking up even as her hand kept writing. "There isn't a point trying to work with him. He won't hurt our cause, at the very least. Now, I am sorry, but please refrain from interrupting us again; this is very important business."
"May I ask, Ms. Alsip…?"
Her smile brightened. "Why, my friend, we are rewriting fate."
He had unleashed the Horde upon a small rural American town, which had been completely annihilated. As a result, the Horde had grown in size considerably and was hungry for more.
Pestilence smiled broadly at this latest turn of events.
"From here we shall grow in number and power," Pestilence proclaimed to his army, "We shall rise above the limitations that we thought we had! We shall destroy Humanity, and from there we shall launch an attack on Heaven and Hell itself! My warriors, my Horde, nothing shall hold us back! Pestilence is Riding Anew and shall claim his place at the head of the Horsepersons!" He laughed and spread his arms wide. "ALL SHALL DIE IN GLORIOUS DECAY!"
"Brains," agreed one of his zombies.
Pestilence abruptly sighed, mourning the mood. "After we figure out how to stop that."
"Brains," it said mournfully, feeling chastised.
"No, no, it's not your fault," Pestilence said sweetly, patting the undead on the head, "it's a flaw in your design. Once I fix it you'll be better, I promise."
"Brains," it said lovingly.
"Brains," agreed the Horde.
"Who was the demon who assigned us to do this?" Gabriel asked with a dark look on his face.
"That would be Samael," Crowley replied with a sigh.
"He is also so very dead."
"You're starting to sound like Michael, you know, with the list of murders you want to commit."
"For that, your death shall be the most painful."
The two of them were standing at the front of a gigantic army but behind Zuriel, who was riding atop a –
"How cute, a pegacorn," Gabriel sneered.
"Well, he does want one," Crowley admitted.
- that was shimmering and white, flapping its large angelic wings in preparation of carrying its benevolent master into battle against the forces of the evil Dark Lord Zchamuel.
"You may feel that this battle is hopeless, my mighty warriors, but it is not so!" Zuriel cried out, raising one of his many finely-crafted swords dramatically. "Why, at this very moment, two young zhobbits are taking the Bar to the fiery depths of Mount Zdoom, and once they do so, the evil Zeye of Zchamuel will be no more!"
Crowley was actually thankful that "he" was cast as a hobbit, considering it meant he spent all of his time off-screen apparently. It was easy to see which parts of the story Uriel had little to no interest in.
"But wait!" called out Zmichael the dwarf, "How can two little zhobbits accomplish such a task by themselves? Yarrr I be a good dwarf."
"You are stupid, Zmichael," said Zgabriel the elf. "Not at all graceful and intelligent like me, the elf."
Gabriel was clenching his fists so hard he was drawing his own blood. "I do not talk like that," he growled.
Crowley snickered to show his opinion on that matter, and Gabriel smacked him on the back of the head.
"That is a very good question, Zmichael!" Zuriel called out loud enough so that everyone could hear him, "Why, I have the power of projection, and I have projected an avatar of myself to aid Zaziraphael and Zcrowley!"
Crowley felt mildly offended that Uriel didn't care enough about him to make sure his name stayed the same.
"And they needed it, because I slew the gigantic spider and the trolls and the lots of other stuff. And that one evil zhobbit with the speaking problem? Totally smote. Not to mention that cave troll in the first book, which I took out by myself. Oh, did I mention I have the power to see the future? Because I do. I foresaw the betrayal of Zzerachiel as he attempted to take the Chocolate Bar, but I thwarted him and then redeemed him so he died nobly, because I also have the ability to see into a person's soul and bring out their true inner beauty. He also has a younger brother, Zraguel, who hasn't done anything yet because I keep forgetting to put him in! But really who can be expected to remember every character in this series, especially considering they all look alike with their scruffy beards?"
"Wait a minute," said Gabriel.
"Are you saying," continued Crowley.
"that you could"
"have given us the stupid chocolate bar before?" they demanded in unison.
Zuriel had the grace to look ashamed. "You didn't ask," he said awkwardly, "Besides, it's evil, and, ah, um."
Gabriel held out a hand and put on his sternest look.
Zuriel handed over a chocolate bar. It was well over 2000 calories.
Gabriel and Crowley stared at the chocolate bar before Crowley admitted, "Considering anyone who eats it would die of a heart attack, I say it's the bloody weapon and that we get out of here."
"Agreed," Gabriel said tersely.
"But what about my army?" Zuriel asked with a wibble.
"I think you're forgetting your incredible power to make everyone who sees you want to join your cause," Crowley said pointedly. "You know, your extreme powers of charisma?"
"… … … Yes," said Zuriel slowly, a smile appearing on his face as he liked what he was thinking of, "my new people powers. Of course, how could I have forgotten about them! Why, the forces of Zchamuel will be convinced to aid me once they are aware of my-"
"Good luck and all that," Gabriel snapped, grabbing Crowley and Ascending.
Samael was back in his office when the two chainmail-clad angels walked in with weapons drawn.
"You are going to accept this chocolate bar as a sign of our having accomplished this mission," Gabriel said tersely, "and you are going to send someone up to heal Aziraphael, or else I am going to drag you to Earth and destroy you, treaty or no treaty!"
Crowley coughed something that suspiciously sounded like "Michael."
"This needs to end before I have a rage-induced coronary."
"Whatever," said Samael with a sigh, not at all surprised that what should have been a wild-goose chase ended up actually netting some sort of artifact, even if it was just a chocolate bar. After all, he knew what it was like to have no luck in anything ever.
Even as Samael was lamenting his poor lot in life, Gabriel and Crowley finally Ascended back to the cottage in the South Downs.
It is very telling that Samael managed to feel forlorn that he wasn't even allowed to order anyone to do the healing, considering Azazel had already defied orders and done it himself. Pouting, Samael went to go enjoy this chocolate bar and take a really long nap.