Summary:

A Halloween prank gets out of hand (Good Omens)

Notes:

Prompts: Unconventional weapon; magic with a cost; "it's us or them"

Set sometime in the current era, but before Armegedidn't.

Side note, still a day behind. But at least it's still only one day!

Chapter 7: Only For Emergencies

"What do youmeanyouraised the dead, Crowley?"

The demon in question shot a quick look at the angel before turning back to the stumbling hoard of reanimated bodies. "It was supposed to be a joke! The bosses thought it was funny! They were supposed to just, you know, mill around and bump into stuff, scare trick or treaters. How was I supposed to know zombiesactuallyliked brains?"

"Oh, a certain night in 1941 should have been a clue.". Aziraphale was glaring. Crowley knew that without even looking, but he wasn't sure if it was at him or, well...the zombies.

The cacophonous sound of slacked jaws muttering "braaaaains..." filled the night air of the cemetery. It really should have been harmless. He'd tried to miracle them to be docile, but evidently Downstairs had added a little extra juice to the proceedings. No wonder they'd backed the idea.

So now here he was luring the zombies back into the cemetery before they could actually hurt anyone.

A loud screeching sounded beside him, and he whipped around to see Aziraphale yank a parking sign straight out of the ground. It was easy to forget sometimes how strong his angel really was. The meek looking bookseller brandished his new weapon, and Crowley put a little more distance between them as the metal flared to life with holy fire.

"Well then, Crowley. You woke them up. How do you proposed we get them back in their proper places?"

Snake eyes squinted, looking back over the open graves behind them. "I'm working on that. Can you keep this lot busy for a tick?"

Aziraphale looked affronted. Last time Crowley had seen that look was when a human had dared insinuate that one of the first edition Austen's (signed by dear Jane at tea) was a forgery.

"Right. Off I go, angel!"

Crowley turned and flew into the cemetery.

Aziraphale waved the flaming sign at the advancing zombies. There were only six; enough to be a handful, but not enough to be a real problem. As long as Crowley hurried, at least.

He could just burn the lot of them with holy fire, but that would be a last resort. These bodies had belonged to living people, once. People who still had loved ones out there, and the angel would not be responsible for subjecting those loved ones to more grief.

So he waved the sign to keep them at bay, hoping they would be deterred and keep their distance.

One lumbered straight into makeshift weapon, impaling itself. The dried out flesh caught like kindling.

So much for that plan.

He released the sign, extinguishing the holy flame in the process. A minor miracle also took care of the fire consuming the zombie. The stench of burnt flesh permeated the air, and Aziraphale fought to keep from gagging.

Pain brought his attention back to the other undead as another one latched broken teeth onto his arm. He shook it off in disgust as red bloomed across his sleeve.

"This jacket is over eighty years old! Now you've gone and ruined it!"

The zombie, of course, showed no remorse. But now that it had a taste of angelic flesh, it went into a frenzy. Limbs flailed wildly in an effort to grab the tasty morsel again. His companions scented the air, also going berserk at the smell of fresh blood.

"Oh dear."

Aziraphale looked all around, but there wasn't a shock of red hair to be seen. He started backing in the direction he'd last seen the demon go, hoping that the qily serpent had figured something out by now.

The zombie shuffled after him, a little faster than before with the promise of blood in the air. Even the one with the sign through its middle hurried after.

It took a few minutes, but Aziraphale spotted the demon near a mausoleum. "Crowley! You'd better have a solution, dear! These fiends are becoming a handful!"

The redhead waved him over. "I've got a solution, angel!"

Once Aziraphale had reached his side (he had to jog slightly. It was dreadful in these shoes), Crowley pointed at the open crypt. The bookish angel glanced at the opening and back again, question clear in his raised brow.

"We put them in there. The spell will wear off at sunrise, so we just need to lock them in for a few hours, and throw them back in the graves by morning!"

Dumbfounded was probably the most apt description for the look Aziraphale gave him at that moment. "Thatis your big plan?"

Thin shoulders shrugged, "It's either that, or we have a zombie bonfire."

"Crowley!"

"What?! It's us or them, angel!"

"There wouldn'tbea them if you hadn't raisedthemfrom thedead!"

Crowley threw his hands in the air. "You're never gonna let that go, are you? That's the one... Are youbleeding?"

Aziraphale looked down at the his blood-stained sleeve. "Oh. He took a bit more than I thought."

The demon growled and turned back to the approaching undead. "That's it. Burn them it is-"

"Crowley, no! We will go with your plan. You wait out here, and I will lure them in. They are following me anyway. Once they come in, I will just pop out here, and everything will be tickety-boo."

"If they don't tear you apart first, angel."

Aziraphale paused. Yes, well, that hadn't occurred to him. The crypt was a bit small... "Everything will be fine, dear. Now, here they come. Remember, as soon as they cross the threshold-"

"Yeah yeah, just be careful."

The angel disappeared into the mausoleum. Crowley slipped behind the door, waiting until the last zombie had shuffled instead before slamming it shut.

He waited for Aziraphale. A full minute ticked by, and still no angel.

Crowley had his fingers poised to snap when Aziraphale suddenly appeared. And promptly collapsed.

The demon rushed forward. It didn't look good- Aziraphale was coated in blood. Crowley dropped to his knees beside the angel as he was working to sit up, giving the serpent a clear view of his scratched face. Clothing that had been neatly preserved for decades was now shredded and stained red.

"Angel!"

Crowley carefully helped peel away the layers, praying that what lay hidden underneath wasn't as bad as it looked.

Bites covered Aziraphale's arms, ragged edges oozling red. He had scratches all over his face and chest. Overall, it looked painful, but nothing seemed overly serious.

Crowley still felt incredibly guilty, though.

"Angel, I-"

Aziraphale held up a bloodied hand to silence him. "You made a very unwise choice tonight, Crowley. You could have put human's at risk. My clothing is absolutely ruined, not to mention the fact that I look almost as terrible as those fellows in there.

"I expect you to make sure each one is returned to their rightful place by morning. I will be going home. I desperately need a bath."

Aziraphale stood, brushed off his ruined pants and slipped on his shredded button down. Jacket and vest in hand, he stalked out of the cemetery towards the bookshop.

At least, with it being Halloween, he wouldn't draw too much attention.

Crowley released the breath he'd been holding and settled in for a long night.