Adam looks up at a clap of thunder from where he sits in his bedroom, peering out his window. Dog lays at his side, snoring softly, and there are magazines scattered across the bed around the dog.
There's something different in the air, Adam thinks. It's not something he can quite put his finger on, but something feels distinctly different. He denounced Satan as his biological father so that should have been the end of his abilities and reality warping powers, but sometimes, if he feels things strongly enough… well, he can still make some things happen. The powers, and memories, are still there.
And it is because of these memories that he knows that edge of wrong reeks of Heaven.
Hard to explain why, but something has changed. He can feel it deep inside himself—a whisper against his thoughts, some demonic part of him itching to get out there and cause some trouble because no one is keeping score.
He doesn't do this, of course. He might have been a troublemaker in the past, when the world always seemed to listen to him, but he's tried to curb that part of him since that Sunday the world didn't end. An angel and a demon helped him, along with Anathema and her boyfriend, Newt.
Adam still sees Anathema quite frequently, of course; she lives down the road at Jasmine Cottage, so he passes by there when he takes Dog for a walk sometimes, and he needs someone to talk about this whole apocalypse mess with, doesn't he? He's a kid and he doesn't quite understand exactly what happened, even if the memories are there and his powers are muted, and Anathema seemed willing to speak with him about such things.
He would prefer, he thinks, to speak with the angel and the demon, though. They would certainly know more about the events of that day and would understand his frustration with his abilities and the fact they are still present. Perhaps they could even explain to him what all this means—the fact he still has powers despite declaring himself the biological kid of two perfectly normal humans.
Soho is a bit far from Tadfield, though; his parents won't take him there on a whim and it's too far to bike it, and the angel and the demon never did give him their phone numbers or anything like that. He doesn't exactly know how to reach them other than to steal some money from his mom's purse and hop a bus to Soho.
As the days go on and that sense of wrong continues, though, this idea is becoming more and more likely.
Then comes the dream.
It starts with fire, blazing and bright, and somewhere a disembodied voice is screaming. When he wakes covered in a cold sweat, most of the dream is lost to him, but that scream remains, always. Something is wrong, and he needs answers.
He needs to speak with an angel and a demon.
xXx
There is something very strange in the air tonight, Anathema can't help but ponder as she sits at the kitchen table in her cottage, watching Newton fix dinner for her. He isn't the best cook, she thinks, but it's very sweet how he wants to dote on her, and she certainly isn't going to say no to such a thing.
She looks back down at the tablet in her hands, scrolling downward. She's made plenty of notes the past couple of weeks, detailing every odd little thing she's sensed or felt or experienced, such as strange auras or vibrations around her, or just this foreboding sense of wrongness which seems to suffocate her sometimes.
She isn't sure entirely what's wrong, doesn't even have the faintest inkling which direction to look, but something is definitely amiss. She's not certain if it's just in this area of Tadfield or if it's all over, but her senses are all screaming at her that there is certainly something very wrong in the air tonight.
What that something is, of course, she simply doesn't know.
It's not something she can look at and say, Yes, that's the issue right there! Or anything like that. It's not something physical she can see, just a change in some auras around people in this area, a different background hum to the energy of this place, and she is tired of feeling on edge all the time because of it.
She needs answers.
There is an angel and a demon in Soho, she thinks, so perhaps she will head there and see if they can tell her anything.
It's still hard to believe, sometimes, that there's an angel and a demon literally walking among humans, and they apparently have been for quite some time—since the literal Beginning. This simple fact threatens to overwhelm her sometimes; here she thought the world was 4.5 billion years old, according to science, but apparently God is actually quite real, if a bit prone to violence.
The day the world didn't end feels like a dream most days; fuzzy, unreal, but it sticks with her anyway. Of course it sticks with her; they were all this close to having the world end. Nuclear Armageddon. If Newt hadn't been with her that day… if Agnes had been wrong… If Anathema hadn't listened to her prophecies so intently, studying them her whole life…
Well. The day could have gone very differently.
Guilt twists in her stomach at the thought of Agnes's prophecies. She still has the original book, but that second manuscript Agnes sent her? She burned it, unable and unwilling to be led around by nearly 400 year old prophecies when she had just started to embrace the idea of carving her own path forward. It all made perfect sense at the time, burning the papers like that.
Looking back, of course, she wonders if she made some sort of grave mistake.
Agnes surely would have known she would burn the manuscript, she tells herself. She seemed to know absolutely everything, even the fact they would ultimately win and save the world considering she scripted her new manuscript as 'for the world that comes after'. Surely she knew Anathema would glance at the manuscript, but ultimately destroy it.
Or maybe she thought her descendant would do the right thing and keep the pages.
Hard to tell what the right thing is, really—if she even has free will or if Agnes always knew which option she would choose.
It gnaws at her.
It is much too late to worry about such things now, of course; those pages burned to ash in that fire and there is no getting them back. She just hopes there wasn't something vitally important in there, rapidly approaching.
She can't help but wonder if those pages would tell her what is happening in the world right now—this strange energy, these fluctuations.
She needs answers.
The angel and the demon are her best shot at getting them.
xXx
As She reworks Her Archangels, She can't help but notice a void around Her.
Something is missing. Some sort of power, perhaps, or a title. Something.
She has been working nonstop on Her angels, safe in the knowledge Earth should be in good hands for at least the time being, though this position can by no means become permanent; Aziraphale, as he is, isn't meant to withstand all that grace and power. In short bursts, it should be fine, of course; but it will eventually burn him out if this lasts too long, in the form he's in now.
She will have to rewrite him as well, though that, of course, will have to come last. She has entirely too much work to do here, and breaking away even for a moment feels like betraying Her angels, Her children. No, they need guidance and restructuring, and She will not stop now.
The main issue, She thinks, is the hierarchy of Heaven. And this brings her back to that void.
There will need to be a new role, She thinks. There is currently a vacuum of power, and She is unwilling to relinquish control back to Her Archangels after the mess they made last time. No, there needs to be something above Archangel but below Herself. A new sort of authority.
A Higher Authority.
Hell is getting uppity, She's heard. They seem to have sensed Aziraphale's fluctuation in power and have noticed Heaven's absence. She should have known they would sense such a thing, of course; they are bitter about Heaven and the angels, and would certainly notice a lack of angels on Earth, save for the one who has been there since the Beginning.
Aziraphale can handle himself, of course, but She does worry, in the back of Her mind when She isn't focusing on another angel. She is not unkind, and She knew thrusting him into a such a position would eventually raise a few… what do the humans call them? Yes, would eventually raise a few red flags, which is why She sent him the sword, in case he had need of it.
She will feed him a little more power, She decides. Enough to keep him safe, but he will need to use it sparingly, or it will burn him away bit by bit, like fuel in a car. She will fix this once She is finished with the angels in Heaven, as Aziraphale will need to be recalled before She can break him down into his basic parts and rearrange him as needed, and She simply needs him on Earth for the time being.
She will just have to have faith her principality can look after himself and stay ahead of Hell's nefarious plans.
Even if he does keep company with a demon. Even if said demon seems to be rather fond of her principality. Well, perhaps that will work in their favour, then.
Only time will tell if the demon can prove to be the bodyguard Aziraphale might need.
Having Aziraphale get destroyed before She recalls him to Heaven could prove rather problematic, after all—it would certainly complicate things. It is best if the angel and demon can work together toward a common goal, while She finishes up in Heaven.
And then She will set Her sights on Aziraphale.
xXx
Deep in the bowels of Hell, the demon Abaddon's slumber has ended.
There's an angel which needs dealt with—a seemingly powerful, wily one, enough to defeat a Duke of Hell in one-on-one combat.
A rookie mistake.
You don't send a Duke to do a Prince's job.