Back again with a new chapter! Hope you all enjoy this one as much (if not more) than I did!

Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens

Chapter Two:

An Angel, a Demon, and a Bookshop

Aziraphale checked his watch again and glanced out the window. Where was he? Crowley was almost never late when it came to drinking. Speaking of which, why had he said to meet for a drink at the Ritz of all places? He usually liked to get drunk in private in case he said something he didn't want others listening in on.

The angel took a sip of his champagne and waited for a while longer. A waiter came over, asking if he needed anything else, and he answered no, that he was just waiting for a friend. The waiter nodded at this and walked off again.

Aziraphale was almost finished with his second glass of champagne when Crowley finally walked in through the door. A waiter came up to him, saying something, but Crowley just walked past with an annoyed grunt. He sat across the table from Aziraphale. The angel's nose wrinkled up a bit. The demon smelled like he had already drank every bottle of scotch and liquor he had.

"What took you so long?" Aziraphale asked with a raised brow as he took another sip of his drink.

"Let's talk at the bookshop shall we?", Crowley said after a few moments of silence.

"You just got here!", Aziraphale said, a bit shocked. Why hadn't the demon just told him he would come there?!

Without answering, Crowley stood back up and walked swiftly back out to his car. The angel quickly paid for his drinks and followed after him, getting in the passenger seat.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?", he asked, looking quizzically at the demon who started the Bentley and sped through the city to the shop.

"A little bird decided to drop by for a visit", he finally growled.

Griffith sat in her tree, happily thinking over the events of the afternoon. She was back in her human form, sitting comfortably in the branches of her oak in the public park. She could only imagine Crowley's reaction when he found out about the shampoo bottles. Griffith chuckled to herself and lazily climbed down from the tree, thinking up a plan of what to do next. Hell wanted her to find information on Crowley, right? She smiled to herself.

The bird-like demon didn't get enough chances to spy on anyone. This would be fun.

Crowley sat across from Aziraphale in the back of the bookshop, bottle of whiskey in hand. It was already half-way gone by now. He had explained the whole incident at the flat to Aziraphale, who was trying not to laugh.

"What?", Crowley hissed at him, glaring with slitted yellow eyes. He had taken off his glasses and set them on the armrest.

"I mean", Aziraphale said, trying to calm down the giggles before they flowed out of his mouth, "it is a bit funny, don't you think?"

"No! Absolutely not!", Crowley nearly yelled. "She poured my alcohol all over my plants! A few of them died! Who does that?!" He growled, resisting the urge to throw his drink across the room. Aziraphale shook his head with a mix of pity and amusement, taking a small sip of wine.

"So", Aziraphale said, changing the topic. "You said this, Griffith, can turn into a giant bird?"

"The technical term is Firebird. They're birds from Hell that can light themselves on fire and are apparently very good at tracking from what I've experienced." Crowley growled, taking another drink before setting the bottle down. "It's extraordinarily annoying."

"Hmm. Perhaps those books about phoenixes were based on them", Aziraphale said thoughtfully.

Crowley let out a huff. "Humans. They never get animals right." He took another drink. "Anyway, the point is, she'll find me again soon and I need a place to hide out." He raised a brow at Aziraphale.

"What, here?!", the angel said incredulously, "In the bookshop?! What if she does find you here? What then? She could burn my books!" Crowley rolled his eyes. "Didn't you miracle this place to where no divine being could find it unless it was of utmost importance?", he asked knowingly.

Aziraphale stuttered for a second. "Well...yes, but-"

"Then there you have it!", Crowley cut in. "She can't find us in this place." He downed the rest of the alcohol and set the glass down on the table.

Griffith watched their conversation silently from behind a large shelf of books. Her now elongated, feathered ears twitched towards the angel and demon as they spoke. She had her ears in Firebird form so she could hear them better from farther away. She smirked at Crowley's last comment. It hadn't been all that hard to find him again from the smell of alcohol on his clothes and follow him to the bookshop. She had slipped in right behind him, not wanting the bell to ring if she tried to get in later on, and hid behind the stacks of books.

"I guess you're right", said the angel, seeming a bit on end even after the reassuring words. Griffith leaned forward slightly. She was a bit confused about the angel. Maybe that's why Hastur wanted her to keep an eye on Crowley. Because he suspected he'd been fraternizing with an angel. The more she looked at the bookworm and heard his voice, the more she thought she recognized him from somewhere…

That's it! He was the one she had tried to kill! "Ahhhh", she muttered with a small nod. Her slight smile faded as she remembered he was also the reason Crowley and her had stopped meeting up. The reason she had no one to talk to who even slightly understood her.

She had been sent by Hell to kill an angel that was sent to Earth, and so she had tracked down this particular angel to a small bakery. He was apparently meeting with Crowley, but she had assumed Crowley had accidentally been hired to kill the angel as well. She thought he was undercover or something. And so, she had left them alone to have their little chat and waited outside.

Once they had finished and came out, she waited just inside an alleyway between the bakery and the shoe-makers shop next door until the angel passed. She had grabbed his arm and pulled him into the dark, covering his mouth with one hand and pulling a dagger from her pocket with the other. The angel had kept trying to bite her hand, so she threw him into a wall, thankfully getting him to both stop trying to yell and keep him from fighting back too much.

She had her dagger ready for the kill (She'd had that specific set of daggers since she could remember, which was quite a long time. They were enchanted to go wherever she went, so she would have them even if she discorporated and were miricaled to where they could fully kill anything, meaning if she had achieved her goal, the angel would have ceased to exist.) and was about to get rid of the angel, but that was when Crowley rushed up and body-slammed her to the ground. The demon started choking her and Griffith gave him an utterly surprised, confused look.

He had grabbed a brick on his way to her, and raised it above his head, eyes flashing with absolute ferocity, and he brought it down. The last thing she remembered was absolute darkness, then a large room in Hell and over a week's worth of paperwork.

That was the last time she and Crowley had spoken on good terms. The last time they were even close to being demons who didn't hate each other for once.

She continued watching the conversation as they spoke, now a shine of anger in her eyes. Anger at the angel who had destroyed her only connection to Crowley. Anger at Crowley for killing her to protect and angel of all beings. Anger at herself for not realizing what was really going on at that bakery. She growled softly under her breath.

"Anyway. It's getting pretty late. Hell will want a full report for the week about any 'bad deeds' I've done." Crowley stood up from his chair and grabbed his dark glasses, slipping them back on. "I'll be back in a few hours", he added, heading through the bookshop.

Griffith shifted her ears back to human form and ducked behind a smaller stack of books in front of her as the other demon walked past.

"See you then, Crowley", Aziraphale called after him. The bell to the shop door rang as Crowley left and a small smile spread over Griffith's face. Now was her chance to get back at that angel. To finally finish the job she was given all those years ago. Surely Hell wouldn't mind her breaking her cover if it was to kill an angel.

She waited for the sound of the Bentley's engine to roar up and drive off before silently standing up, looking at the still-seated angel from the cracks in the bookshelf, and slowly, silently, came out from behind the shelf, stealthily closing the distance between them as she came up behind him. She quietly pulled her curved blades out from her pockets and flicked them both open.

Aziraphale's head moved slightly as he heard the sound of the blades cutting through the air and he turned with a confused expression to look behind him. His eyes widened in fear as Griffith raised her daggers, leaping at him with fury burning in her gaze.