#02 LIONHEART
Angst (like, a lot of it), major character death, established relationship (sort of), post-armaggedon't AU, inspired by "King & Lionheart" by Of Monsters And Men
They sense it both at roughly the same time. A ripple in reality. A breach. They are coming.
The demon jumps into his Bentley. About the destination there is no question at all on his mind. He pulls up at the bookshop where clever blue eyes in a round face are watching already from behind a window.
He storms inside.
"Something is terribly wrong," Aziraphale says, wringing his hands. "I thought it was over."
"They found a way. Somehow they found a way."
Their eyes meet.
"They will come for us," the angel whispers. "They will come for the boy, too."
Crowley shrugs half-heartedly. "We could leave before they do. Alpha Centauri?"
Suddenly the angel's face hardens. "No. Earth is our home now. We shall fight for it."
-/-
Death does not seem surprised when they find him - but then again, the fourth rider is hardly ever surprised by anything.
WHY HAVE YOU SOUGHT ME OUT, LITTLE ONE?
"You must know what is happening." Aziraphale's voice does not break but it trembles. "It is all going to ruin. What should we do?"
THE END IS COMING. SOON THERE WILL BE WAR ON EARTH. THERE IS NOTHING TO DO, LITTLE ONE, EXCEPT FIGHT AND FALL. YOUR KIND WILL BE SLAIN AND HUMANITY WIPED OUT.
"So Hell will win?"
Death makes a rough sound that might have been laughter. NOBODY WILL WIN THE LAST WAR.
Crowley decides he's had enough. "Ever thought about what happens to you when life is no more? What's the universe going to need death for then, huh?"
THERE IS MORE LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE THAN YOU KNOW. BUT YOU AMUSE ME. HERE, LITTLE ONE. I BELIEVE THIS IS YOURS.
Out of nowhere the sword materialises in front of them. There is no heavenly hum, or harp strumming, not even a meaningful poof. It just shows up, looking rather more ordinary than it ought to.
Aziraphale grasps the hilt and seems surprised when it yields to him. A spark dances along the blade as if to greet its old master. "Thank you," he says quietly.
I APPRECIATE A FAIR FIGHT. GO NOW. I SHALL SEE YOU SOON ENOUGH.
"Wait," Aziraphale calls. The hooded figure turns its head. "What is there going to be afterwards? When we die?"
HOW WOULD I KNOW? Death replies. Then he's gone.
And the ground trembles and the clouds are torn apart as the forces of Heaven and Hell descend upon one another. The last war has begun.
-/-
Somehow one angel and one demon slip past the raging battle, speeding towards Tadfield in an ancient Bentley Lagunda. They put on We Are The Champions to drown out the noise from outside and it does wonders for morale.
They also pretend they are not holding hands (and it is more a desperate clutching of hands really, with knuckles white and fingernails pressing into soft flesh, and it's their way of admitting that they are terrified).
When they arrive it is already too late for the town. Auriel, Archangel of Hope, looms overhead on wings of pure light and sings to her children as they burn it all down. Her voice is terrible and beautiful all at once, ethereal as it sends icy shivers down Crowley's spine. He tears his eyes away.
They find the children eventually, by the apple orchard past Jasmine Cottage, huddled together behind Adam and he wears his determination like armor - not that it would be any use against celestial blades.
"How is this happening?" Adam demands. "I ended this over a year ago. I stopped it all."
Aziraphale smiles sadly at the boy. "It seems the end was merely delayed. None of this is your fault."
"Of course not." Adam bristles but the fury in his eyes cannot fully conceal his fear. "I just hung around here, minding my own business. Did you have anything to do with it?"
"Watch your mouth, boy," Crowley snarls before the angel can say anything. "We came here to protect you and your little friends."
"A noble goal to be sure."
Auriel is serenity incarnate as she floats above them and the sound of her voice washes over Crowley like half-frozen water. Her blinding halo alone forces him down, paralyzed, to watch helplessly as the Archangel turns her gaze to Aziraphale.
"We see you found your flaming sword at last," she says in a tone that might have been approval. "The time has come to rejoin our ranks, Aziraphale. Prove yourself in this war and your past crimes may be forgiven."
Her words reach deep into Crowley's soul and twist with icy fingers. "It's alright, angel," he mumbles. "I'll be fine."
Aziraphale ignores him.
"I'm afraid I shall have to decline," he says shakily, summoning all his courage to meet Auriel's gaze. "This planet and the creatures inhabiting it deserve better than to be consumed by a war they have nothing to do with. I will not have a part in this." The angel tightens his grip on the sword and swallows hard. "A-and you will have to get past me if you want to harm the boy. He is innocent."
Auriel just laughs at that and it rings like glass shattering against stone. "What is the boy to us? He refused to play his part. Not that it matters now. But do as you wish, Aziraphale of the Cherubim. There is courage in dying for what you believe in."
And with a flurry of white feathers, she vanishes into the sky.
Aziraphale stares at the demon, stunned. "It cannot be that simple."
"Simple?" Crowley echoes hoarsely. "This is not over. She knows who is coming for us. After all, punishment has always been Hell's responsibility."
-/-
For a while they consider to flee but there is no place on Earth where they wouldn't be found and they cannot take the children away from the planet. So they wait, and waiting is torture.
They hear them coming from a long way off, scattered howls in the distance. Crowley winces and presses himself closer to a tree.
"They have caught our scent. It won't be long now."
Aziraphale nods as if it meant anything.
"Don't you get it, angel? They are coming to kill us. They'll take it slow."
"I imagine they will," Aziraphale agrees and leans back slightly. Fabric tears as his wings burst free, still pure and white, and the sword in his hand comes to life. Crowley watches in awe. Even tartan cannot hide the wrath of heaven and Aziraphale burns with it to the tips of his wings.
"Come," the angel says and reaches out a hand to Crowley. It is cold when he takes it. "You were an angel once, remember that. These children of Lillith are nothing to you."
"There will be others of the Fallen," the demon whispers, shaking his head. "We cannot hope to… we cannot hope."
Aziraphale regards him in silence for a moment. "I know," he replies finally.
-/-
So they fight.
They fight in the absence of hope.
They fight in the absence of justice or reason.
They fight as demons dance around them like rabid cats, hissing, and frenzied, and dripping with the pleasures of the hunt.
They fight when all the children are slaughtered and it is all they can do to keep each other alive.
From the distance, the Fallen are watching the game dispassionately. They have all the time in the world and they wait until their prey is exhausted before they come to finish what their lesser siblings have begun.
In the end, the demon and the angel cling to one another in the shelter of their wings, when they have no strength left. There is madness and agony beyond their feathers, and they hold onto each other until it is all over.
When Death finally approaches, the demons scatter before him like frightened insects.
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