I do not own Good Omens.
I love it. So much.
The Man Who Fell
"Oh. Hello there. May I help you with something?"
He's panting for air in this human fleshbag, heart beating so hard his thin chest cavity hurts.
W-wot?
He'd gotten the call, less than a half hour ago.
"Hello? Mr. Crowley?"
"Yes?"
"This is The Demon Crowley, then?"
"Yes, Muriel, you know it's me, I put the number in the phone myself. With my picture. Wot is it?"
"Well, um, sir, I know you asked me to report on any suspicious behavior, sir, and, uh, well, I don't mean to bother you but-"
"Muriel, I think this whole thing would go a lot faster if you'd just come right out and say it. I haven't got all Eternity."
Except he did, of course, he did, he really did have of all of Eternity and beyond.
But he'd been unbearably irritable, tetchy, of late, to use Azraphale's vernacular-
Shut it, now. None of that.
- and he just wasn't in the mood to-
"Well, sir . . . he's back."
He's what?
"Pardon me?"
"Well, you asked me to report on any suspicious behavior in the SoHo area and, well, sir, . . . it's Azraphale, sir. He's back. But-"
The last two words were spoken to thin air from a cell phone dismissively being dropped to the floorboard of a jet black 1933 Bentley that blared Queen from any CD that had been in it more than a fortnight, contained a window crank that had helped shape a very specific cosmic nebula, and was never, never, ever, never, ever yellow in color and hated lemon hard candy drops.
Except when driven by a very specific angelic Principality.
Who wasn't-
Angel-
-driving it now.
If Crowley the Demon ever drove like a bat out of, well, hell, it was now.
Pedestrians didn't have time to scatter, motor vehicles had no chance a'tall.
Even the traffic cops were no match against the muted desperation of his . . .
". . . there at your side . . ."
. . . supersonic advance.
All rendered perfectly safe and sound, of course, not a single near miss or dropped ice cream cone left in his wake.
. . . to remind you how I still love you . . ."
Smoke plumed from the entire car as he stood on the brakes in front of A.Z. Fell and Co.'s bookshop at the end of his abrupt and love-galvanized journey.
Anyone not of supernaturally crafted composition would have most unpleasantly experienced the abject disintegration of their entire skeletal structure with the g-force of his stoppage there on the street.
Some baffled street cleaner would have a time explaining the complete and utter absence of any and all paving stones on the carefully maintained SoHo street corner to a disbelieving supervisor in a stuffy office in a local maintenance building somewhere in the near future.
The driver exiting the vehicle so swiftly a farsighted observer might have mistaken his sprint for outright levitation.
And throwing open-
"Angel?"
-the front door to the bookshop.
"Angel! Azra-"
"Oh. Hello there. May I help you . . ."
. . .
". . . with something?"
And then, he just couldn't speak.
With all of his unearthly powers and gifts and talents . . .
"My goodness. Are you alright?"
. . . he just couldn't speak.
Or move.
Or do . . .
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
. . . anything.
Ghost.
Ghost.
Incorporeal-y . . . things.
Yes.
Crowley had seen a ghost once.
In a bar as he sat drinking enormous amounts of alcohol and crying over the assumed loss of his best friend.
The ghost had been named Azraphale.
And he had been a less bewildering sight . . .
"Honestly, you look like you're about to fall over. Can I get you a cup of tea?"
. . . than this.
"Uhhh, . . .yes?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Crowley, I tried to tell you on the phone. He's . . . not himself."
Yeah. I can see that.
The timid little Constable-Inspector-Bookshop-Keeper-Level 37 Angel was positively wringing herself to death in front of him.
Moony, earnest face screwed into such a state, she looked as though she could poof to stardust on the spot if she agitated any further.
"I know he looks the same. Sounds the same. He just came wandering back in, said hello to me and . . . well . . ."
Shaking her head helplessly, gesturing in the direction of the disappeared reappeared Archangel.
"I didn't know what to do."
Who had gone to fetch a cup of tea for his slack-jawed guest.
"And you said-"
Crowley nodded, attempting to circumvent the entire conversation, at the same time, craning his neck for a glimpse . . .
"Yeah, I know what I said. Please don't go through it again."
. . . of the man gone to 'Put The Kettle On, Shall I?'
"I'm sorry, sir. I just . . ."
Instead succeeding in only M-25ing the whole thing . . .
"It's alright-"
. . . completely back to the beginning.
"No, sir, I know-"
Well, not The Beginning.
"-I just-"
And he ground his teeth together in stubborn determination, . . .
"For God's . . . for Satan's . . ."
. . . summoning every last bit of strength he had within his six thousand year old frame . . .
"For my sake, stop talking and listen to me."
. . . to not stop her talking by turning her into a pillar of salt.
I'm not one of them anymore anyway, am I?
Never really was, I suppose.
And it worked.
She blinked.
Stopped fidgeting.
"Sir?"
Stopped talking.
And let him get . . .
"You've done a good job, Muriel."
. . . word in edgewise.
"Sir?"
He even managed to summon a reassuring smile.
"You've done a good job."
Of sorts.
"And I thank you."
And she beamed, the poor little dolt.
"Now, why don't you pop on over for a cuppa over at the tea shop to celebrate."
Beamed.
"I'm sure Nina'll be right . . . civil to you over there."
And this got her going at last.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Crowley, thank you . . ."
Just only a lengthy eon's bit . . .
"Of course, I suppose I should be horrified rather than complimented by your remark, what with you being a demon and all-"
"Muriel-"
"Yes. Well. Jolly good then. Cheers."
. . . of a hesitation to her departure.
Bloody hell.
And he locked the door and pulled down the shades . . .
Hope she doesn't get an espresso while she's at it.
. . . behind her.
Hello, more Good Omens, anyone?
I just can't get it out of my head. ;)
The song lyrics are, of course, Queen. "Love of My Life."
And well, if you want to know more, keep reading in the next chapter.
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