"We'll take it from there when I get back," Crowley murmured before unfurling his magnificent black wings and flying away.
Chapter 13. Don't Stop Me Now
As Crowley sped toward the Royal Veterinary College in the sleek Bentley, the world outside descended into chaos. The meteor shower continued to paint the sky with fiery streaks, casting an eerie orange and red glow over the once-peaceful countryside. The sound of their impact echoed through the air, reminiscent of the horrors of the Blitz that had once shaken London to its core.
Inside the Bentley, Aziraphale's grip on the armrest tightened, his knuckles turning white with each passing meteor. His eyes widened with a mix of fear and trepidation. "Good Lord, this is positively otherworldly!" he couldn't help but mutter a litany of prayers under his breath, invoking protection from the falling celestial debris. His anxiety was palpable, and every so often, he shot nervous glances at Crowley.
Crowley's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he expertly maneuvered avoiding crashed vehicles and meteor debris. "Hang on, angel. We're almost there."
To anyone but Aziraphale Crowley would appear surprisingly calm. One hand firmly on the steering wheel and the other nonchalantly resting on the angel's thigh, he maneuvered the Bentley with his characteristic swagger, weaving through occasional meteor fragments that pelted the road. His sunglasses concealed any hint of concern, but the tense grip on the wheel and the light sheen of sweat on his brow told a different story. Aziraphale had thoughtfully placed the Book of Life between his legs, to prevent it from flying out and injuring Crowley.
The car's engine roared as they sped down the country roads. The meteors created a hellish spectacle, bathing the landscape in intermittent bursts of light. Inside the car, the radio blared amidst the thuds of meteor fragments hitting the roof and the distant sound of sirens:
I'm gonna go, go, go, there's no stopping me
I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah
200 degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit
I'm travelling at the speed of light
As they arrived to the college, the tension in the car was palpable. Night had descended abruptly, and the sky was now illuminated solely by the fiery glow of the celestial fire. They entered the campus, knocking over a wooden barrier, and in a heart-pounding moment, Crowley slammed on the brakes. The Bentley skidded to a stop just inches from a massive burning meteor lodged in the ground, the screeching of tires and the acrid scent of burning rubber filling the air.
The celestial object crackled and hissed, its fiery remnants casting an eerie glow over the surroundings. Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged wide-eyed glances, their heartbeats echoing in the silence that followed. The world had truly gone mad, and they were at the center of it all.
"Wait for us here." Crowley patted the steering wheel affectionately, then swung open his door and jumped out of the car.
Aziraphale opened his door, "We must proceed with cau…"
The angel was interrupted by Crowley yanking him of the seat and kissing him, soft and loving, his nose brushing with Aziraphale's as he closed his eyes. It could be the last one, "I love you angel," Crowley said against his lips. The kiss turned hungry, desperate, demanding, Aziraphale didn't knew who was kissing who anymore as he looped this arms around his demon. Crowley's teeth coming into play with desperation, a hand reaching for the angel's hair as the other held their waists flush against each other's.
Aziraphale growled, low and deep, animalistic as his pent up feelings surged out, he tried to keep up, nibbling and suckling, pressing his lips into Crowley's wherever he could, tasting the demon's tears as they assaulted each other.
Then it ended, as abruptly as it began, Crowley stepped back, leaving Aziraphale dazzled and dizzy. "We've been through so much together angel, and we're in this together Aziraphale, no matter what."
"Crowley," Aziraphale finally said, his voice tinged with both need and apprehension.
Opening his eyes, Aziraphale was greeted by a surreal sight: the sun behind Crowley was obscured by a crimson moon, creating the illusion of a bloody eclipse. The moon was fractured, the fiery edges and jagged contours seemed to weep crimson tears. The meteors that rained down upon the Earth were fragments of this celestial tragedy, burning with an otherworldly intensity as they streaked through the atmosphere. Aziraphale felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he covered his mouth, pointing a trembling finger at the disintegrating moon.
Crowley looked back, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look. "Holy fuck!" His face contorted, his usual swagger replaced by a sense of gravity. "Grab the Book. Let's find Adam before things get even more out of hand."
With determination, they left the Bentley behind and ventured into the Royal Veterinary College. Crowley's steps were long and erratic, and Aziraphale struggled to keep up.
"Here, humans and their contingency plans," Crowley remarked, pointing to a small evacuation map.
They ran through the hot, trembling air, a faint scent of brimstone lingering around them. Aziraphale could feel the earth beneath his feet quivering slightly. Crowley pushed open the doors of a grand building, holding them open for Aziraphale. Together, they entered a grandiose hall filled to the brim with young faces, the students speaking in a loud jumble of sounds.
"Hey, Adam boy!" Crowley shouted as he strode into the crowded auditorium. "We need a word!" His voice resonated through the hall, silencing the young students.
Aziraphale followed closely behind, clutching the Book of Life to his chest. He marveled at the commanding presence of his demon. "We are sorry," he said, offering a polite salute to the bewildered young humans.
A group of professors, clearly in the middle of some kind of discussion, regarded them with astonishment. One of them spoke, "Pardon me?"
Adam got up from the crowd. "Here he is," Crowley said.
The young lad approached them, as the crowd of students parted. "I suppose that Phanuel wasn't able to resolve the issue," the young lad mused.
Aziraphale smiled apologetically. "We deeply regret having to trouble you again, but…"
Before Aziraphale could finish, Crowley interjected with a higher-pitched urgency. "The war has already begun. We need you to fix the Book of Life, or else we stand no chance!"
Adam scrutinized them, calm and collected. "Or, I could simply wish for everything to return to normal, as I did the last time."
Aziraphale smiled, the option sounding like a Franz Schubert's piece to his ears. "Go ahead my dear Adam."
The boy closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration.
One of the professors approached them. "You should all sit down, this is a dire situation."
Aziraphale responded, still polite but edged with irritation. "Indeed, good sir! So shut up."
A rumble shook the surroundings, and the acrid scent of brimstone filled the air. Adam steeled himself, his expression hardening, his fists clenched in determination.
The building itself trembled, and cracks snaked along the walls as some sections began to crumble.
"I can't undo this!" Adam shouted over the sound of some building collapsing, there was fear in the boy's eyes.
"Then fix the Book!" Aziraphale shoved it into the boy's arms.
"Once I do it," Adam said, his young eyes locked on the two supernatural beings before him, "there will be no turning back."
"The war is upon us," Aziraphale assured, his voice filled with conviction. He added with a hint of urgency, "Don't erase the new names! Just the lines, I mean the crosses."
Adam nodded resolutely. "Don't worry. I understand."
Crowley added, "The more time they have to prepare, the... worse."
Adam placed a hand over the book. "You see, they will know we are here."
"I'm afraid they already know," Aziraphale said with a sour smile.
Adam placed a determined hand on the Book, and a brilliant orange light radiated from his touch. The boy's eyes turned blood red as the Book returned to its intended state, black ink evaporating in a surge of energy that rippled through creation, catching the attention of Heaven, Earth, and Hell.
Those previously erased brought back into existence in a wisp of golden smoke, angels reappeared in Heaven, and hundreds of demons emerged in Hell.
One of the walls of the auditorium tumbled down, no one was surprised when the humans fled the crumbling building, in fear as the world disintegrated around them. Aziraphale and Crowley stood on either side of Adam, who cradled the Book of Life under his arm. The trio found themselves in the vast, empty auditorium, its seats deserted, leaving only the three of them in its cavernous embrace.
Saraqael and Phanuel materialized before them, their expressions determined but tinged with concern as they gathered their surroundings. "Michael and the rest are on their way." Saraqael stated.
Aziraphale, his voice gentle yet resolute, extended a warm welcome, "The more the merrier. Adam here has just restored the Book."
"I'll do everything in my power to make things right." Said the young boy, handling over to Phanuel the Book of Life. "This is yours."
Crowley, took Aziraphale's hand, his touch comforting the angel. The demon eyes blazing with a fiery golden hue, added to his fierce determination, "The Metatron will pay."
From the depths of the earth, Dagon emerged, flanked by a cadre of demons, their forms shrouded in tongues of malevolent fire. They approached ready to stand against the forces aligned with the Metatron, armed and ready. A nod of appreciation passed between Crowley and Dagon, a silent acknowledgment of their shared purpose. "We're here, till the end."
Michael descended from Heaven, materializing with extended wings, surrounded by the archangels and angels who had chosen their side in this celestial conflict. Armed with gleaming spears and swords. Michael addressed the assembled group with resolve. "Together, we will thwart the Metatron's ambitions and preserve the balance."
Uriel, her eyes aflame with righteous fury, added her voice to the chorus, "Our unity is our strength, and we shall not falter."
As the murmurs spread among the assembled group, a deafening rumble shook the surroundings. The pungent scent of brimstone now saturated the air, a sure sign that Satan himself was approaching. "Our Master is here, we are fuck!" Dagon exclaimed in fear.
"Oh, you haven't seen this boy!" Aziraphale glanced at Adam was no longer a frightened child but a grown man, and stood tall and unafraid, determination etched into his features.
The building they were in quaked as Satan tore the roof off. The colossal figure wreathed in hellfire leaned down, exhaling destructive flames that twisted reality itself, turning not just flesh and bone, but the walls, floor air into molten lava with his mere intent.
In response, Adam extended a hand upwards, and a torrential storm poured down immediately, so fierce that it solidified the molten lava, saving the group from certain doom. Michael lunged forward with a gleaming spade, aiming to strike a blow against the colossal figure of Satan. With an effortless move, Satan deflected the attack, displaying his otherworldly agility. His gigantic hand surged forward, but it was met with an unexpected obstacle. A colossal mountain peak, summoned forth by Adam's power, rose from the very depths of the earth, intercepting Satan's hand.
"My rebellious son," Satan spoke with a mixture of scorn and dark amusement.
"I'm not your son" Adam shouted defiant. In unison with his fervent proclamation, an entire ocean cascaded from the heavens above, a torrential deluge aimed squarely at the hellish figure. For a fraction of a second, Satan tumbled in the tumultuous waters, his immense form momentarily thrown off balance. Uriel materialized a gold glowing spear and with an unholy cry he threw it with supernatural strength and practiced technique.
The spear stabbed into the flesh of the Devil, who screamed angrily, his scream causing the earth to shake. In that instant, Satan wrought chaos of a different order, reversing the laws of physics themselves. What was up became down, left became right, the ocean, which had descended with such ferocity moments ago, now moved in the opposite direction, disappearing into the stratosphere as if defying gravity itself.
The angels and demons present unfurled their wings to anchor themselves in the shifting battleground, defying the erratic laws of physics that governed their surroundings. Adam's voice echoed with defiance, "Stop!" His words resonated as his body defied the strange gravitational shifts, gravity reversing its trajectory back to its origins.
It was the signal for the other archangels and angels to launch the attack, spears and golden spikes flying determinedly, the sharp sound of their flight deafening the creaking of the earth. The demons in turn looked expectantly at Dagon, who took the initiative, launching his trident, and instantly hundreds of harpoons, tridents, and javelins joined the celestial spears.
Raising his arms, Satan, opened two rifts, releasing the united forces of celestial and infernal creatures against the united might of Earth. Angels wielding gleaming swords run alongside demons brandishing wicked pikes, hellhounds, with jagged teeth dripping with venom exited the portals prepared to hunt for human pray.
The Metatron materialized, smiling smugly, his disembodied head floating tall amidst the turmoil. His eyes blazed with an incandescent force as he fired searing rays of light, disintegrating anything unfortunate enough to be caught in their path. The destructive beams targeted both the demons aligned with Earth's defenders and the angels who dared to oppose his sinister designs.
Aziraphale, was focused on safeguarding the innocent humans caught in the crossfire. The angel focused his angelic abilities to shield and guide those humans in danger, ensuring they found refuge in the buildings that miraculously remained intact. Aziraphale exchanged a meaningful glance with Crowley, who was darting through the tumultuous battlefield with an air of confidence, using his demonic powers to manipulate the environment to his advantage creating swirling flames to stop the angels from approaching the humans that Aziraphale fervently protected.
Meanwhile, Satan and Adam remained locked in an intense battle of wills, where the very landscape itself shifted with their thoughts. Mountains rose to towering heights only to crumble into oblivion, oceans appeared and vanished with a thought, and lush forests materialized only to wither away into nothingness. The battleground they fought upon was in a constant state of flux, a surreal and ever-changing landscape that mirrored the ferocity of their conflict.
Crowley surveyed the battlefield, trying to identify key points and weaknesses in the enemy's defences. The chaos around him was palpable, but he was focused on the one goal that mattered most – defeating the Metatron.
The forces defending Earth were indeed dwindling, the combined forces of Heaven and Earth outnumbered them from the beginning. Their only real chance; Phanuel and Adam. The Book of Life, in Phanuel's hands, held the power to shape their destiny, and Adam, with his unique abilities, was their anchor in this tumultuous battle.
"We need to protect Adam and Phanuel!" Crowley's voice echoed through the mayhem, a call to arms that reached Aziraphale's ears. The angel's azure eyes locked onto Crowley's, and he nodded in resolute agreement. Aziraphale wasted no time, immediately weaving protective spells around the young boy and ensuring the Book of Life remained safe and untouched.
Crowley, slipped into the shadows and remerged beside Michael. With a deft manoeuvre, he created a rift that swallowed two massive hellhounds that threatened the archangel. His words were laced with urgency, "Don't separate, and protect Adam, you damn idiots!" He returned to Aziraphale's side, ready to stand guard.
Meanwhile, Sandalfon, Uriel, and Dagon led the combined angelic and demonic forces, their flaming swords cleaving through the ranks of hellhounds, lesser demons, and guardian angels. The trio steadily advanced toward the hovering figure of the Metatron.
Back within the protective ring of fire that Crowley had conjured, Adam, Aziraphale, Phanuel, and Saraqael stood united. Crowley's power crackled through the air as the demon unleashed electric rays that sizzled through the air, striking down any opponent that dared to approach as electric serpents hunting for their pray.
The ground shook beneath them as bombs rained down, and armoured humans joined the battle, arriving by air and land, repelling hellhounds, demons and angels with the heavy artillery. Adam had created his own portals, bringing in soldiers from different parts of the world, all willed to defend humanity at all costs.
The Metatron, undeterred by the onslaught, ascended higher into the sky. His malevolent power manifested as rays of destruction that turned the human soldiers into salt at his mere touch. Uriel, Sandalfon, and Dagon launched a coordinated attack, directing celestial light and hellish fire beams toward the floating figure in an attempt to halt his rampage. Sandalfon paid the ultimate price, obliterated by the Metatron's devastating rays. Uriel shielded himself and Dagon with his wings, narrowly escaping a similar fate.
Crowley watched the Metatron's merciless assault, knowing that they had no choice but to eliminate the Metatron, it was the only way for the battle to turn in humanity favour. Memories of eons past, when he had turned on the engine of the universe and effortlessly created galaxies, flooded his mind. He had known the Metatron then, Crowley was certain he was the only one capable to destroy him.
With renewed determination, Crowley stepped forward, his demonic powers surging. His eyes locked onto the floating figure of the Metatron, and a plan took shape in his mind. It was a plan that would require every ounce of his strength, but he knew that it was their only hope.
Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Aziraphale's focus was on tending to the wounded. Years of camaraderie with Crowley had bestowed upon him the knowledge of which spells and glyphs were safe to use, ensuring that those injured in the midst of this epic battle received immediate and proper care, regardless of their celestial affiliation - demon, human, or angel.
He worked diligently, his hands moving with practiced precision as he attended to a wounded demon. The lines of worry etched into his angelic features softened briefly as he cast a healing spell, easing the suffering of his patient.
But then, as abruptly as a lightning strike, he got spun around, his hearth leaping to his throat. Crowley's arms encircled his waist, pulling him into a passionate kiss that left the angel utterly stunned right in the middle of the battle.
Time seemed to stand still as Aziraphale melted into the kiss, his own hands instinctively finding their place on Crowley's shoulders and the angel simply got lost in the fabric of time. When Crowley finally released him, Aziraphale's cheeks were flushed, and his breath came in ragged gasps. "We'll take it from there when I get back," Crowley murmured before unfurling his magnificent black wings and flying away in the direction of the looming figure of the Metatron.
Reality shifted once more, leaving Aziraphale separated from Adam by a widening chasm caused by an earthquake that tore through the battlefield. The angel found himself standing alone, he picked up a fallen angel's sword, wielding it with newfound confidence he decided to go after Crowley, to stand by his side in this tumultuous battle.
He had no time to dwell on the unfamiliar weight of the weapon as a group of angels descended upon him, their swords gleaming with divine fury. In that crucial moment, Dagon, her scales glistening with blood, shot past him like a fiery comet. Her teeth bared, she unleashed hellfire upon two of the angels attacking Aziraphale, reducing them to smouldering ashes. Aziraphale, not wanting to kill, He used the hilt of his sword to strike the remaining angel unconscious, rendering him harmless. "I'm so sorry."
The battlefield was a swirling tempest of celestial and infernal powers, an all-encompassing maelstrom of chaos and destruction. Aziraphale's singular focus remained on reaching Crowley, his heart and purpose. As the angel opened his wings and he soared upwards, flames clashing with pikes and spears beneath him, as gunfire met hellhounds' venomous maws.
In the distance Saraqael, fended off approaching hellish creatures, ensuring the safety of the humans huddled near her. Michael, the archangel of supreme might, stood as a formidable guardian beside Adam, shielding the young man from any foe that dared to approach. The battlefield was a desperate struggle to protect all they held dear.
Meanwhile, Crowley, having separated from Aziraphale, ascended into the heavens. His determination burned brighter than any star as he locked eyes on the Metatron. Crowley conjured a swirling black hole, and shot it directly at the Metatron. The angel struggled to contain the destructive force but ultimately managed to dissipate it, albeit with great effort.
This brief distraction gave Crowley the opening he needed. He unleashed electric rays crackling with energy directly at the Metatron, while Dagon rained down hellfire upon the floating head. The Metatron deflected these assaults directing them into Dagon – who disappeared, her agonized screams fading into nothingness.
Crowley had seized his opportunity. With an audacious move, he transformed into his serpent form, a shimmering being of immense energy and power. Like a dark comet, he descended upon the Metatron, coiling around the fallen angel with swift precision. The serpent's immense strength held the Metatron captive, preventing him from causing further devastation.
Aziraphale, seized this moment to assist Crowley. He gripped the flaming sword, its blade radiating with righteous fury. Crimson blood seeped from his left shoulder as he surged upward, locking eyes with Crowley. He thrust the flaming sword into the Metatron's head, aiming precisely between Crowley's coils.
A brilliant white lightning bolt erupted from the sword, coursing upwards and enveloping the handle, Aziraphale's arms, and even his outstretched wings. The sheer force of the strike caused Aziraphale's wings to become paralyzed, sending him plummeting.
In that dire moment, the massive black-scaled serpent turned its head towards Aziraphale. One of its coils snaked out, catching Aziraphale, halting his descent. "Angel," the colossal creature hissed, its deep voice reverberating with power.
Crowley's white-hot rage intensified at the contact with the angel, the red underside of the serpent's skin turning white with power. Lightning crackled around them, as Aziraphale concentrated all the power his miracles could summon into Crowley's own ones, a storm of pure energy that merged with Crowley's final burst of fury, a blinding ray of light that jumped from one of his scales to the other until the Metatron was completely engulfed, there was an unearthly cry as their foe was reduced to ashes, and both the giant serpent and Aziraphale fell towards the floor at high speed.
The defeat of the Metatron sent shockwaves through the celestial and infernal forces alike. Angels began to retreat, their ranks shattered, the demons turned their eyes toward their leader, Satan.
The Devil himself, was being cornered by the boy.
Satan distorted time to his advantage, a futile bid to rewind time and change the course of fate. However, his efforts were countered by Adam, who wielded time manipulation with equal mastery. Each tried to outdo the other in this surreal battle of temporal manipulation.
It was in this fleeting moment, when seconds felt like eternities, that Michael seized the opportunity. In a movement almost imperceptible to others due to the speed of time, he skewered Satan on his gleaming spear, this time he hit square in the chest. The Devil's defiant roar was silenced as the archangel's weapon delved deeper as the combined miracles of the other archangels pushed it far in.
Adam's voice rang out, filled with determination. "You are mortally wounded!"
The Devil, his very existence unraveling, refused to yield. "No!" he roared, attempting to rewrite the very fabric of reality to deny his impending fate as he yanked out the spear.
"You are death!" Adam shouted, eyes blood red.
Phanuel, who held the Book of Life in his hands, received a divine message, with golden ink that shone like the sun itself, he inscribed, next to the names of Satan and the Metatron: "Death in battle."
And thus, death itself unfurled its vast black wings, a void that welcomed those old friends into its eternal embrace. Satan and the Metatron ceased to exist, their existence erased from the tapestry of creation.
With the defeat of these mighty adversaries, the forces of Hell began to crumble. As their leaders vanished searching for refugee into Hell, their unity shattered, and they retreated into the depths of Hell to lick their wounds and ponder the uncertain future that awaited them.
The dust settled on the battlefield, revealing the extent of the devastation. The Earth bore the scars of the battle, with chunks of land missing and entire cities in ruins. Millions of casualties attested to the terrible cost of the conflict.
Adam, though badly injured, managed to summon his remaining strength. "It's broken." He surveyed the wounded and the ravaged Earth, feeling the weight of responsibility on his young shoulders. "I can turn it back, make everything like yesterday or the day before; restore it." Adam said, eyes closed. "I could even leave the earth like it was three days ago, that's the most I can go back in time."
Uriel, defeated, sat on the floor. "It's useless. The sun will destroy this planet system anyway; the Metatron initiated the process a week ago. Humanity is over, even if we won the battle."
Michael, kneeling beside Adam, closed his eyes. "The moon will crash, the sun will never recover. This place is doomed."
The pain woke him up, like a stab, Aziraphale's heart raced, his breath ragged, as he clung to his wounded arm. Pain coursed through him, a relentless reminder of the battle's toll. He gazed at the unmoving form of Crowley, his savior, his love, whose serpentine embrace had spared him from a fatal fall. A profound sense of concern washed over the angel, threatening to drown him in a sea of fear.
In the midst of the lingering chaos, panic clawed at Aziraphale's hearth. "Crowley," he called out, his trembling voice laced with both worry and urgency. Carefully, he extricated himself from the coils that had supported their fall and knelt beside the motionless serpent's head. His wounded arm throbbed with each movement, but he willed the pain away, focusing all his attention on Crowley.
With trembling fingers, Aziraphale gently reached out to touch Crowley's head. He searched for any sign of life. He yearned for the reassuring rhythm of rise and fall of breath, for the flicker of those mesmerizing eyes that had held his heart captive for centuries.
Fear gripped Aziraphale's heart, squeezing it mercilessly, as the truth became undeniable. Crowley remained unresponsive, no air passed through the serpent nostrils. Desperation surged within him, and he leaned closer, pressing his lips against Crowley's scales in a tender and anxious kiss. It was a gentle plea, a wordless supplication for Crowley to return, to offer some sign that he still clung to life, still fought against the encroaching darkness.
Tears welled in Aziraphale's eyes as he cradled Crowley's head in his arms, his voice quivering with raw emotion. "Crowley, my dear," he whispered, his words a poignant blend of love, fear, and desperation. "Please, wake up. You can't leave me like this. Not now."
