Disclaimer: Good Omens and all the wonderful beings within do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or vice versa... depends on which version of the cover you're looking at. No profit is being made, alas, I'm just having fun.

A/N: This is my first Good Omens fic (unless you count the drabbles). There are several switches in POV, as in the book, and I've broken the whole thing up into chapters for your convenience. I've used miles and other American-isms, so bear with me please? This has also only been proofread by me, so I apologize for any daft spelling errors, etc.

Rated T for language, but it's really more of a K .

Any and all feedback will be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Crowley pulled his ridiculously sleek phone out of his pocket. Or maybe he simply manifested it in his hand, from wherever it'd been stashed in the meantime. Crowley would never let a piece of human machinery ruin the line of his suit. He handed it over to Adam.

"Ooh," Brian said. "Nice phone." Wensleydale made a noise of agreement. Crowley nodded, not feeling well enough to acknowledge the compliment further. Pepper raised an eyebrow.

"Must've been expensive," she remarked. Crowley didn't say anything.

"Thanks," Adam said, taking the object from the demon's cold hands.

"Anytime," Crowley muttered. He hoped (again, something demons don't do so well) that Adam could figure out things with his father. Lucifer. Because Crowley didn't want to even face that creature. It would be very, very bad.

Adam dialed a number with no digits and put the phone to his ear.

And waited. It was deathly quiet.

"Hullo?" he said finally. "Yep, it's me. Hi. Um. Been a long time?" A pause. "I was wond'ring if I could have my powers back." Another pause, this time longer. "I need them."

Aziraphale gaped at the boy. "Is he really talking to Satan?" he whispered to Crowley.

"I don't think he'd fake this," Crowley replied. Though he was unsure. No one ever talked to Lucifer with such nonchalance.

"You can give 'em back, right?" Adam looked a little frustrated. "I thought it wasn't for keeps."

None of the beings in the room could hear what was being said on the other end of the line, save Adam. But they could very well guess. And they were worried.

"I know." Two men-shaped creatures held their breath. "You may be my father, but you're not my dad. You can't call me that."

Adam was talking back to Satan. Talking. Back. To Satan. Crowley wanted to scream. Aziraphale didn't know how to miracle it all better.

"Look," Adam was saying. "Have you got another Armageddon planned?" Silence. Five human hearts beat double time. Two immortal ones started pumping blood into bodies that hadn't needed it since they were created. One infinite heart thudded with human nervousness. "Well, if I get 'em back then you won't have to spawn another Antichrist."

That should get him, Crowley thought with some relief. Down There loved to save time, and money. But not lives.

"What? I hafta call Him too?" Adam looked slightly flustered. "Okay. Okay. Thanks. Right. I'll stay in touch."

Stay in touch? What has this boy been dealing with? Aziraphale gave up trying to understand and chalked it all up to ineffability. And Him? Was Aziraphale just imagining that capital letter? He hoped (again, something angels do very well) so.

Adam hung up, looking overwhelmed.

"Can I make just one more phone call?" he asked Crowley.

"Go ahead," Crowley replied. I can't stop you, he thought morosely.

"Thanks again," Adam said. He dialed the same number in reverse, and put the phone to his ear again. The phone had begun smoke. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley noticed.

"Hi," Adam said. The wait was much shorter this time. "It's Adam Young. Yeah. The Antichrist." Aziraphale imagined some desk angel falling off his seat in shock. The image wasn't as funny as it should've been.

"Can I talk to Him?" A pause. "He's in a meeting? Can I talk to Him anyway?"

Aziraphale didn't know what kind of theatrics were going on Up There, but meetings were rare. Did He know that Adam had… changed?

"Thanks," Adam said, looking very satisfied. Aziraphale sent a silent prayer Up There. He prayed that He would understand.

"Hullo," Adam said. "Um. I need to ask a favor." Pause. Aziraphale wondered what the voice of God sounded like now. He'd heard it once, a long time ago. A very long time ago. Did the voice of God change with the seasons?

Adam told Him what was going on, the changes, the problems. "I know there's gonna be another Armageddon, and, well…" He trailed off. "I know you don't like me, but I need your permission."

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other. What had Satan said? What was God saying?

"I was okay last time, right?" Adam sounded worried. "I can't tell you I'll use it for good, because I can't." He really wanted to be only human, Aziraphale thought. If the world was fair, this boy would have been born human.

"I'll do my best," Adam said. "Yes." Crowley wondered if this was enough to start a divine battle. Mortal wars had been fought over less.

"Thank you," Adam said quietly. "Take care," he added.

Aziraphale wondered what God had said to cause that.