GOOD OMENS 3
FireFenix
Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15 - TO MAKE A PACT WITH THE DEVIL
The pristine, white walls of Heaven, Uriel thought, were lately sauntering vaguely towards a light gray. If that had always been the case and they'd simply never noticed, they had yet to decide it..
Three archangels currently stood within said not-quite-white walls, and all of them followed The Metatron with their gaze as he paced back and forth in front of them, his eyes fixed on the floor as he walked. The silence which enveloped them, the one which Uriel had somehow found soothing in the past, was now nothing less than eerie and cold; like the stillness of a clearing moments before the predator jumps on its prey. The archangel noticed now more than ever the cherubims and scriveners walking past in all directions, mumbling to themselves, working like automated machines. They had never before realized how gloomy, how empty, those halls were. How dim that white light really was.. How lonely it felt, compared to the energy and never-ending movement of the planet below.
Heaven was supposed to be a place of light, of joy. Paradise, for Christ's sake! What kind of filter had they been wearing all this time, not to see how wrong things were?
Whatever spell they were under, it had vanished in that Gallery; lost amidst all those faces. All those humans, terrified to the point of tears and fainting, by the beings which should be symbols of peace, of love, of holiness; of kindness. How had they managed to become exactly the opposite of that? And if Aziraphale had been able to notice it from the beginning, why hadn't the chain of command done the same?
They glanced sideways, discreetly, at the two archangels on their left; one the antithesis of the other. Saraquael, who was closest to them, had their face contorted into an expression of confusion, concern; and almost fear. Their hands, which usually laid comfortably on the floating chair's armrests, fidgeted anxiously on their lap; and they were practically unable to look at Metatron, their eyes shooting back and forth from his pacing form.
Michael, on the other hand, stood straight and regal on the far right of the group. Their posture was spotless, as was the usual, although the tension in their jaw and shoulders were clearly visible. The archangel's eyes followed The Metatron as he moved back and forth, not releasing him for a single second. Their expression was cold, of stone, the face of a soldier awaiting orders from the General who had promised an ascension in the ranks.
"Licking Metatron's arse", the demon had said. Uriel had to suppress a chuckle when they remembered the expression: it was every bit as accurate as it was funny.
Right then, The Metatron stopped dead in his tracks, and Uriel yanked their gaze back forward, mirroring Michael's posture like nothing had happened.
-So it's lost? Destroyed? - he asked, his stern voice echoing through Heaven.
-We believe so, your holiness - Michael responded without missing a beat - We didn't manage to get ahold of the book, but this…unexpected attack from the other side will probably have seen to its disappearance -
-If I may, your grace - Saraquael intervened, willing their voice not to shake - Are we sure the tremor was the result of a demonic attack? -
-And what else could it possibly be? - Michael answered for him, glaring sideways at them - Who else would want the Child of God hurt, if not downstairs? They already attacked Her once, with the legion of the ninth circle, no less -
- Precisely, Michael. Thank you - Metatron nodded, as though giving a dog a treat after a trick well done - Thank the Lord Almighty I was able to get you lot out before they got there -
-And why not protect Her? - Uriel asked, calmly, looking The Metatron in the eyes - Why run away when the opposing side strikes, if our mission is to keep Her alive? Why not fight? -
-A confrontation would only have made things worse - he claimed, stepping closer to them - The butcher would have been endless, and in the end She would have been in more danger -
-And how do you know the demons won't kill Her? - the archangel insisted, trying really hard not to sound as furious as they actually were - How are we sure the Child is safe? -
-Don't be thick, Uriel - Michael spat at them, earning a pointed glare - Of course we wouldn't leave Her without protection. The miracle block we established - they slipped the paper out of their breast pocket as they spoke - will linger long enough for them to find a way to safety. I sealed all of the doors and windows upon our retreat, as his divineness instructed me to do prior to the mission in case of emergency - they nodded slowly at Metatron. Uriel had to bite their inner lip to suppress a groan - As long as the miracles are blocked, they won't be able to get out of that building; and as long as they don't get out, She will be safe from Hell -
Uriel wanted to bite back, to ask if the human lives caught in between these plans meant nothing; but much to their annoyance, they had to be careful not to raise suspicions; especially not in front of The Metatron. So they decided on a stern nod, and the coldest expression in their arsenal.
- I see - they said, not meaning even one of the words which came out of their mouth - Very clever, Michael. I applaud your strategy -
-As you should - they responded with a huff. The nerve.
-What is more - The Metatron continued - And though it pains me to admit it, that bastard angel and his little…crew have proven capable of defending themselves -
-What are we to do now, your grace? - Saraquael inquired, holding onto the control of their chair to stop their hands from fidgeting - Should we intervene again, once the demonic attack subsides? -
- No - he ordered, the firmness of his voice suggesting it was not a debate - For the time being, we will wait and see. If I am right, the Child will continue performing the Divine Signs as Her destiny decrees; and that will be when we act. Only if something goes truly wrong will we intervene, is that clear? -
-Crystal, your excellency - Michael responded without missing a beat. The other two nodded their understanding.
-Good. You are dismissed - he turned to leave them, but glanced back before beginning to move - Michael, with me -
He charged forward, and the archangel followed suit; both of them disappearing from sight after only a few moments. Now only two archangels stood in that room, whose walls were getting darker and darker by the minute. A tense silence fell between Saraquael and Uriel, neither of them moving from where they'd been left standing, until the latter braved a sideways glance at the other; at which point they both realized they were looking at each other.
Uriel hesitated for a second, their corporation's heart pounding in its throat, and then decided to take the risk
- Something is very wrong - they breathed, forcing calmness into their voice. They heard a heavy sigh of relief beside them, and turned to face the other archangel in their own relief.
-Thank goodness you said that - they breathed back, then looked in every direction before speaking again, their chairs beginning to move at their command- Come. I think you and I need to talk -
-An Eccles cake - Eleyn stated, appalled, staring unblinkingly at the contents of the linen basket Crowley and Aziraphale had brought back with them from the kitchen.
-An Eccles cake, yes - Aziraphale confirmed, equally as appalled - The one I didn't eat yesterday, I believe -
-A fucking Eccles cake - Crowley double confirmed, even more appalled.
- It seems like it - Muriel triple confirmed, more confused than appalled. She prodded the pastry with a finger. Nothing happened.
- And you're sure there was nothing else in that kitchen? - God's daughter asked, looking Crowley straight in the eyes - Nothing edible, at all? -
- Unless you count iron pots and forks as edible - the demon responded with a sarcastic hiss
- Mashheet must have miracled it gone - sighed Muriel, turning to look at the guests- At the same time they made the humans hungry -
It had been at least five minutes since the wailing and screaming had subsided, and now all of them lay still, huddled up together against the wall; most of them in a side position and hugging their middles. When the four of them were silent, they could hear them crying silently. Sniffing, sobbing. Crowley could hear Archie whimpering, and it made him want to rip the head off that gray-winged wanker.
-Shit - he hissed, immediately starting to pace back and forth in front of the other three - Okay, what now? What do we do? -
-The doors continue to be locked, and we still can't perform any miracles - Aziraphale briefed, clicking his fingers to prove the point.
-I said what do we do, not what can't we do - Crowley growled - Anyone else? -
-It's pretty obvious - Eleyn sighed, clutching the basket with one hand - One piece of food, many mouths to feed. Bread and fish -
-Hell no - the demon hissed at her -Not that. Anything other than that -
-What do you mean, anything other than…?! - she squeaked - Crowley, it's the only thing we can do! -
-And get that bastard closer to what he wants? - he countered, teeth bared - I don't think so. Something else, we need other ideas. Muriel? -
-I… - she hesitated, glancing at the half-dead guests and then back at the demon with a sigh - I think Eleyn's right. There's no other way, Metatron and Mashheet have made sure of it -
-Nope. Nu-uh - Crowley shook his head, then turned to Aziraphale. He was about to ask, but the look on the angel's face was enough for him to understand he agreed with the other two. He groaned - You too? Angel, we can't let her do it! -
- This again?! - Eleyn huffed - The choice isn't yours! I don't need permission, you're not my mom! -
- No, God is - he shot back at her - And the more of these signs you perform, the closer she'll be to danger. Is that what you want? -
-The same God who allowed my entire reality to be destroyed? - she snapped - Excuse me for caring about these people more than I do about Her. And since when do you give a damn about Her anyway? -
Crowley growled, frustrated by how unbearably proud he was of her; and how irritatingly right she was.
- Hell knows what Metatron is planning with all of this! - he hissed - You may be putting the entire universe at risk! -
- Or I may not be, and I can save these people now! - Eleyn insisted - Besides, wasn't I meant to perform all of them anyway? The only thing I can control is when, and I choose now! -
-She's not wrong, my dear - Aziraphale whispered, placing a hand softly on the demon's arm - I don't see any other way out of this -
-But… - he stammered, his eyes shifting between the three of them - Ngk. Maybe if we…if we cut it in pieces or, or…! - he gripped the other handle of the basket, but Eleyn didn't let go.
- Oh, yeah, sure. Two crumbs each, that'll save them from starving for sure! Great idea! - she snapped, glaring at him - Are you even listening to yourself, Crowley?-
-Let's wait, then! - he proclaimed, throwing his free arm up in the air - We wait until the fucking miracle blocker wears out, 'n then we miracle them a five-course meal each, yeah? -
-Except we don't know how long the lingering effect is going to last - objected Muriel without missing a beat - It could be hours -
-So? - the demon hissed before thinking, stubborn as he was.
-So - said Eleyn, arm outstretched and finger pointed at the suffering humans - Half of them will be dead in two, or even less - she lowered her voice to a near-whisper and stepped towards the demon - And Archie's going to be the first to go -
Cowley flinched at that, and took a sharp inhale. He stared at God's daughter for a long moment, and then his eyes snapped onto the guests, that mass of dying people whose only offense had been being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He searched amongst them, one by one, until his gaze fell on the smallest of them all. The little boy looked scaringly fragile, rolled up like a ball on the floor between his parents, who held him tightly. The demon felt a lump in his throat when he swallowed, a lump of concern and impotence; maybe even of rage. He couldn't save him; he couldn't do a damned thing for Archie. Or for his father, who had just regained the ability to walk and was about to die anyway, nor for any of the innocent human beings who'd only come to donate money for a good cause.
But Eleyn could help them, and she was right. They had to act now if they intended for all of them to live.
He let out a primal groan, deep from within his throat, and looked back at the group.
-Fuck - he hissed beneath his breath- Shit shit shit -
He locked eyes with Eleyn for a short moment, and then released the basket.
-Do it - he breathed. She nodded, gripping both handles to set it on the floor and then sitting down herself.
-Do you know how, dear? - asked Aziraphale, speaking softly so as not to unfocus her.
-I…I think so - she muttered, eyes fixed on the singular Eccles cake - I couldn't explain it, though. It's too… -
-Ineffable? - the angel finished for her, and she sprung her eyes onto him for a moment. He smiled softly - These sorts of things tend to be -
She nodded slowly, then turned back to the linen basket in front of her
There was about half a minute of complete silence; thirty seconds in which Eleyn just stared at the pastry, calculating every breath. Then, she took it in her hands an looked up towards the ceiling; at the heavens. She let out a sigh, deep and relieved, and let the air slip slowly past her lips. Only when she'd ran out of breath did she speak, eyes still locked upwards.
-Thank you - she whispered.
Crowley gasped when Eleyn tugged at both sides of the little pastry and broke it in half, then in fourths. Without saying a word, she handed one piece to Muriel, one to Aziraphale and one to himself. The demon had opened his mouth to say something, to ask what the hell was going on, but then a feeling jutted down his spine; and he looked down on pure instinct.
Sure enough, three basketfuls of perfectly intact and warmed-up Eccles cakes rested at his feet, like if they had always been there. There were another three at Aziraphale feet; and the same went for Muriel and Eleyn. Twelve in total. He felt himself smile, because he knew it would be more than enough to feed the two hundred fifty-ish guests.
-Fuck me sideways - he said, cracking a smirk - It worked -
-Of course it worked - Eleyn fake-snapped, unable to hold back a pleased grin - I told you I could do it -
-You certainly did - Aziraphale agreed, one of his three baskets hauled up in his arms - Go on then, distribute them, get a wiggle on -
-Eh, right. Shit. Sorry - the demon spluttered, heaving one of his own Eccles cake basketfuls; which was much heavier than the angel had made it look.
It only took about two minutes after the sign had been performed for the starving humans to notice the warm smell of the pastries and turn towards them, moving for the first time in nearly an hour. Their eyes blew wide and wild the second they saw the overflowing baskets; and they all began launching themselves onto the Eccles cakes, pushing and pulling others out of the way, grabbing as many as they could in what had become a chaotic free-for-all and swallowing them whole, practically without chewing.
-Now now, there's more than enough for everyone, no need for any of that - Aziraphale tried to calm them, a joyful smile on his face as he watched them eat - There's plenty more where that came from -
Crowley, the selfish demon he was, made an immediate beeline towards Archie, giving out cakes as he went and hissing at anyone who tried to jump over him for them. When he arrived at the spot where the MacLeod family had been laying, he found both dad and mom sitting up, the latter with the weak little boy cradled between her arms, staring hungrily at the warm pastries. Without saying a word, Crowley offered a few to Alister and then to Clara. He squeezed his arm as thanks, and she looked at him like he'd hung the stars. Very softly, Clara stroked the boy's hair and held the pastry close to him, so that he could smell it. Crowley held his breath until Archie opened his eyes - albeit with some difficulty - almost a minute later. His eyes became adorably watery as soon as he realized what his mother was holding, and he immediately began nibbling the Eccles Cake. The demon sighed, relieved, and continued distributing the pastries.
Muriel and Eleyn, having been the first to arrive with the baskets, had been cleaned out of Eccles cakes almost immediately. However, by the time they attempted to go back across the hall and grab another, some of the guests had already begun piling up around them and snatching pastries left, right and center. They looked at one another, a fond sigh escaping them at the exact same time, and walked over to where the baskets were to make sure the cakes were divided as fairly as possible. Scrivener and Child of God found themselves sitting down on the floor distributing Eccles cakes for the next half hour or so, calmly chatting as they did so.
-How did you know them? - Eleyn asked at one point, a question Muriel had been slightly dreading - The angel who did this? -
-They… - the Scrivener began, unsure how to phrase it, silently passing a pastry to an elderly woman as she thought. She took a sharp inhale when she made up her mind - Mashheet is not bad, Eleyn. I have known them for…a number of years now -
-I understand they are, or were at some point, your friend - she argued, though she never raised her voice - But you can't deny they nearly murdered all these people -
-I'm not trying to - she assured her - But I'm sure they would never do it if they knew they had a choice. They were just following orders -
-What do you mean, if they knew? - Eleyn looked at her, frowning in confusion; so much so that she didn't notice a young man yank the cake she was holding from her hands.
-Mashheet is a complicated being - Muriel explained - They're not like other angels; they have slumbered throughout almost their entire existence, and they have been awoken in very few occasions, when the Lord or, by extension, Metatron ordered it - she sighed - They only called them when extreme measures against enemies of the Lord were considered necessary -
-Crowley and Aziraphale said something earlier, about slaughters - God's daughter recalled, turning back to the guests and continued distributing cakes
-Yes. Jerusalem, the Assyrians…that was all them - the scrivener admitted - They are something like God's problem-solver. A mercenary, if you will - her voice began to quiver - And they abhor it -
Eleyn didn't reply, and instead eyed her curiously, asking a silent question
- I know because they told me, when we met. Another angel always has to put him back to sleep once his task is finished, and after the Assyrians they assigned me to do it - she took a breath -When I was about to perform the miracle, they held my arm and stopped me; and they begged me to listen. They said that I seemed kind, and that they needed someone to hear what they had to say. They looked so desperate, Eleyn… -
-They weren't wrong about the kind part, I'll give them that - Eleyn mumbled just loud enough for the scrivener to hear, earning herself a small smile - So, what did they say? -
-They told me they were exhausted, that the sheer amount of guilt inside them would not let them rest, no matter how long the slumber - she paused, trying to recall the exact words - They said they had never wanted to be The Destroying Angel. That they wished to see that universe they'd been created into, not to hurt it -
-Why don't they, then? - Eleyn insisted, more confused with each word the scrivener said - Why do they kill if they don't want to? -
-Because they genuinely do not believe they have a choice - Muriel too insisted - They don't have a concept of freedom or free will. Their loyalty to Heaven is something which they believe to be unshakable, a fact. I know for you it must sound stupid, but when it's all you've ever known…-
-That's… - she tried to find the words, and abysmally failed to do so - Damn -
-And what makes it worse is that it's not just them - the scrivener breathed, her voice now positively shaking - That blind, chaining loyalty to God…it's all of us. I was like that - she raised her head to meet Eleyn's eyes; and the latter felt her breath hitch when she saw the tears which adorned Muriel's - I still remember the day they took Job's children. How concerned Aziraphale was…and I just let it happen, because I'd been told it was right. How was I so blind?! - she stopped to take a shallow breath, letting tears slide down her face, her voice shaken when she spoke again - Unlike him, I was a stupid little brainless minion. So stupid -
-Don't say that - Eleyn practically ordered, wrapping a hand tenderly around her forearm and using her other to carefully dry her tears- You're not stupid, Muriel. Or brainless. It wasn't your fault -
-It doesn't change the fact that that poor man almost lost his three children - she breathed.
A heavy silence fell between them, but Eleyn never released the scrivener's arm. Instead, after a few moments, she gave it a soft squeeze.
-You broke out of the cycle - she said, her words dripping with sympathy - You're fighting against the system now; you're making a difference - she raised her eyes briefly to the sky - You are the very best of them. Got it? -
The scrivener eyed her silently for a few seconds, the gratefulness blooming in her gut clashing with the feeling that she couldn't accept those compliments; that they weren't true. In the end, Muriel smiled a bittersweet smile and nodded. Eleyn, as if in response, squeezed her forearm softly one last time and then released it, going back to the pastries in her basket. Muriel did the same, quicky drying the tears which still danced in her eyes, and picked up a warm cake when she spotted a middle-aged woman shyly approaching her.
That was when a thought hit her. Eccles cakes. If Mashheet had, as Crowley and Aziraphale had said, used a miracle to make the food appear in the kitchen; then why the angel's left-over Eccles cake?
Muriel smiled to herself, a small little glimmer of hope appearing within her. Maybe Mashheet had intended to send a message to her, one that neither of them could interpret, for the time being. It was far-fetched; but it was better than nothing; and it meant that Mashheet was finally thinking. Her little speech had maybe worked after all.
She smiled sweetly at the woman who'd walked up to her and handed over the warm cake. She took a bite and hummed in delight.
-God, these are gorgeous! - she said with a thick Scottish accent - I could eat a million, they're to die for! -
-A friend of mine, Nina, makes them in her shop! - she chimed - "Give me coffee or give me death", it's called. She's very nice -
-And that's in London, is it? - the woman asked, her eyes curious as she took another bite.
-Yes, London Soho! - the scrivener beamed at her - Right across the street from the bookshop! -
-How nice! - she beamed back - You best believe I'm noting that, I'm ordering these by the kilogram! -
With one last smile and another bite of the pastry, she turned and walked back the way she'd come. Muriel followed her with her gaze, but her eyes stopped dead when they met cerulean-blue ones from across the hallway. Aziraphale, who now sat with Crowley in pretty much the same way she and Eleyn were, was looking directly at her, eyebrows high, completely frozen. He seemed so transfixed that, for a moment, Muriel wondered whether the angel was looking at her or simply into the distance, but in her general direction.
Only Aziraphale, at the other side of the corridor, knew that it was a bit of both.
Since the situation had gotten under control and they had ceased to be assaulted by starving people, Crowley and he had been sitting against the wall, taking a much needed breather. But then, a thought had wriggled out from the back of Aziraphale's mind and had begun bouncing around.
What pact?
Uriel had seemed surprised when Aziraphale had asked about it. Like they'd never expected it. Aziraphale had briefly thought they might have been bluffing; but then he remembered how broken their words had sounded, and the determination to help which had burned in their eyes. No, they weren't purposefully hiding information, that didn't make sense. His next thought had been that, perhaps, for some reason Uriel had been the only archangel who hadn't been informed about it. Somehow, that seemed even less probable. It was Archangel Uriel; everything that happened in Head Office went through them first. One could even argue their authority was pretty much parallel to Michael's. So no, that wasn't it either.
Two things then happened at the exact same time. The third and most plausible thought hit him, sending a chill down his spine; and his eyes met Muriel's across the hall. If one thing had triggered the other, he would never know. What he did know was that he felt his lips go dry.
If the archangels don't know, nobody else in Heaven does.
His blood froze. The pact existed, it had to, otherwise all four of them would right now be corpses lying in the depths of Inverleith lake. But Heaven didn't seem to know. Yes, Michael had not dared to attack Eleyn before, but it was only logical; after all, She was God's daughter. Pact or no pact, no angel in their right mind would touch the Girl.
So, why? What was the reason behind it? What was that blessed pact?
-Angel? - Crowley's soft voice snapped Aziraphale out of his trance, and he finally broke his and Muriel's shared gaze. The demon's amber eyes, in contrast, had a glint of concern - You alright? -
-Yes - he replied in an equally soft tone - I was just…thinking -
-Yeah, me too - he breathed - About our next move -
-There's only two signs left to go - Aziraphale sighed, briefly glancing at Eleyn, who handed an elderly woman a cake with a sweet smile painted on her lips - The poor thing…You don't think Metatron will do anything to hurt her, do you? - He looked back at Crowley, blue eyes full of fear.
-He better fucking not - the demon hissed, glancing upwards as though threatening the Voice of God to his divine face.
-We could find someplace to hide away - the angel suggested, anxiously fidgeting with his signet ring - Somewhere safe, where we can lay low. I could ward it, perhaps. It would only be temporary, but… -
Sleek, soft fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, and Aziraphale released the small golden ring almost automatically. His eyes immediately went up to Crowley's, and the sight of those yellow-golden irises was enough to calm him.
-No - he whispered, Aziraphale's eyes blowing wide when he spoke again - Raphael -
- But you said… - the angel began, only to be cut immediately.
-It's all we have - Crowley groaned, out of exasperation more than anything else - As much as I don't like it, all of you were right. It's our best bet. Still bloody suicide; but at this point, so is doing anything else -
-I… - the angel was unable to form sentences for a second, because of all the feelings that had overcome him at once, gripping him by the throat with such force that words became stuck halfway - I don't know, Crowley…What if we have to face Metatron after? What if he…? - he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and fantastically failed - What if he uses the dagger? -
-Hey, none of that - the demon squeezed his wrists, sending a pulse of calmness through his body - The last thing that bastard will do is separate you and me again -
-Right… - Aziraphale took a deep breath to ground himself, his eyes fluttering closed as he did so, and then reopened them to find his favorite smirk on the face of his favorite demon. He felt himself smile back - Right -
Without thinking much, the angel leaned forward and kissed the grin off his demon with one swift peck to the upper lip. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd done it, but he'd needed to feel the demon's warmth in that moment, to make sure he was right there and he wasn't going anywhere, to anchor himself. And it had worked a charm.
Crowley took a sharp inhale in surprise at first, but immediately relaxed into his angel's soft lips. Like clockwork, one of his arms slid around Aziraphale's neck and slim fingers began caressing the short curls they could find.
When they leaned back, after a moment which had seemed to last another 6000 years, the angel's cheeks were adorably rosy; and the demon's irresistible smirk had somehow grown wider.
-So - he said, softly, after letting a few beats go by in silence, fingers still playing with fluffy blonde hair - How the hell do we find an archangel whose divine punishment was to never be found again? -
-Excellent question, my dear - the angel took a sharp exhale, like if he was about to explain an already-plotted plan complete with five different steps and illustrations, only for a sigh to slip out of his mouth instead - I haven't the faintest -
-You found the antichrist in under a day! - Crowley half-whined, taking his arm back. The angel felt a chill at the sudden lack of contact.
-Why does everybody keep…? - Aziraphale let out a small, exasperated groan - I just read a prophecy and guessed! It was more luck than ability, really… -
- Right, and I don't suppose you have a crystal ball on you? - he tried, aiming to get a chuckle but getting an unimpressed glare instead.
-Not at the moment, no - the angel sighed - Where is a mad witch when you need her? -
-Tadfield, actually - the demon replied without missing a beat.
-Pardon? -
-Tadfield - Crowley reiterated - The witch lives in Tadfield, no? Book Girl? -
-Anathema - the angel pronounced the name slowly, chastising the demon.
-That one - he snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes at him - Maybe she has a "Nice and Accurate Prophecies: The Sequel" ? -
-And even if she didn't…- the angel slowly came to realize - She found the Antichrist as well. She got much closer to him; and in half the time! -
-Bingo - Crowley smiled proudly at himself - If Ane…eh…Book Girl found little Adam, Raph's gonna be easy peasy - he paused - I hope -
-A-na-the-ma - Aziraphale repeated, pronouncing every syllable carefully and gaining a dismissive wave of snakey fingers in return - But yes, I rather think she might be able to help -
-Right then, settled - the demon clapped his hands together, then raised his voice and shouted at Muriel and Eleyn, who were scared out of their souls on the other side of the corridor - OI, KIDS! WE'RE GOING ON A FIELD TRIP! -
-Did you feel that? - asked Saraquael, their levitating chair coming to an abrupt halt when a chill traveled down their back
-I did - replied Uriel, their voice hushed and their eyes looking in the distance - Another sign. We're running out of time -
-Indeed we are - the other archangel agreed, pulling on a small lever on the armrest to make their chair go forwards - Come, I know of a place where we can talk discreetly -
Uriel followed them through the winding, graying hallways; nearly running to keep up with the miraculous chair. After a few minutes and about a thousand turns, they arrived at a small office; piled almost to the ceiling with drawers upon drawers upon cabinets of files- the humble wooden desk which sat in the middle of the room had been practically buried. The sight made Uriel vaguely wonder if Aziraphale might have had a point with the digitalization proposition he'd pitched some decades ago.
With a decisive snap of Saraquael's fingers, the door behind them closed shut. They also soundproofed the room, for good measure, just to make sure the upcoming conversation was heard by nobody. When they turned their chair around, the archangel discovered Uriel already eyeing them, one eyebrow raised.
-I'm honored to be shown your little secret spot - they teased, though the question that followed was of genuine curiosity - Do you lock yourself in here often? -
-Sometimes - they confessed, hands interlocked and resting on their lap - For the last couple centuries or so. It's calm, and quiet. Good for thinking -
-I could've done with a thinking spot myself - Uriel muttered, glancing around, then back at the other archangel - I might have been able to realize something was out of place much sooner -
-Very out of place - Saraquael corrected - Uriel, the earthquake and whatever happened in that building…it wasn't Hell -
-What do you mean? - the archangel frowned, their breath slightly starting to shallow - Who was it, then? -
-Well, I can't be absolutely certain but… - the other began, but their words seemed to get stuck in their throat, unable to come out and complete the sentence. Uriel felt the dread crawling down their spine.
-What?! - they pressed, unable to bear the silence any longer - Who, Saraquael?! -
-I never heard Metatron give them the order - they responded after a long, deep breath - But I was sent to awaken the Destroying Angel by him, right before you and Michael went in -
-He…?! - they froze, and the dread they'd been feeling landed in the pit of their stomach with a resounding thump, sending chills through their skin - Mashheet…is awake?! -
-Yes - the other archangel nodded - Yes, they are. And what happened down there…Two more signs, in the same evening… Uriel, I don't think that's coincidence -
-What the Heavens is he doing? - they whispered, still trying and abysmally failing to settle their breathing - Is he trying to trigger the signs faster? Why? She's going to end up doing them all anyway, it doesn't make sense! -
-I know! - Saraquael interrupted their rant - That's why I wanted to talk to you. I don't like this, not at all; and I would very much love to get to the bottom of it. But I can't do it alone! - they took a breath, then lowered their voice, glaring at the document-walled room - Not that I'd know where to start either -
Both archangels fell into silence once again as Uriel followed the other's gaze and glanced around the room themselves, waiting for the question they knew Saraquael wanted to ask; the one they barely dared to. After another few minutes of the archangel fidgeting with their hands atop their knees, Uriel decided to answer said question even if it had yet to be asked; entirely out of spite.
-I spoke with Aziraphale - they said, still not looking at Saraquael; and not needing to to see their face of relief - Briefly and very discreetly. Michael didn't notice -
When the reply didn't come immediately, Uriel thought they might've misjudged the situation and messed up in divine proportions. Their heart traveled all the way from their thoracic cavity to their throat, where it firmly stayed, beating furiously.
-And? - came Saraquael's voice a few long moments after. Uriel began breathing again - Does he know anything? -
-Not much more than us - they responded without missing a beat - He asked about a name; Enoch - the other archangel was about to open their mouth, but Uriel jumped ahead - Son of Jared, descendant of Seth. Or son of Cain. Either way, the name sounds familiar and of great importance to you, but you don't know why, am I right? -
-You think it's a wipe - they stated rather than asked, making for their chair's controls - And I think you're right. We need to tell Aziraphale and the rest to look for Raphael -
-Already have - Uriel assured, signaling them to stop with a palm - He got there practically on his own, really. I didn't even have to mention the name -
-Good - the other nodded.
-And - they added - I think I know what you and I can do in the meantime -
-I'm listening - Saraquael said, hand at the ready over the chair's lever.
-Aziraphale said something else, something about… - they lowered their voice despite knowing all four walls and probably ceiling were completely soundproof -...about a pact with Hell -
-What pact? - the hand on the lever visibly relaxed, and their eyebrow shot upwards.
-That's what I said - Uriel explained - He asked me about the terms of it; he was absolutely certain I would know -
-I don't think we've signed anything with the dark council or any representative of Hell for at least the past decade - Saraquael frowned, then whizzed their chair around and headed towards the millions of documents which cluttered the room.
-Yes, when Michael agreed to lend Beelzebub some Holy Water in return for Hellfire - Uriel recalled - I remember that, we were all present when it was signed -
-Precisely - they raised a finger - We archangels would have had to be there if such a pact had been signed - Saraquael turned their head towards Uriel, lowering their voice - If it had been done by the rules, that is -
-You don't think…? - the oher began, the second half of the sentence falling to their stomach like a rock - The Metatron…? That deep of a betrayal? -
-Before today, I wouldn't even have dared to consider it - Saraquael admitted - But now…he has lied to our faces, to the archangels! Who's to say he's not capable of worse? -
As they let those words sink in, Uriel was hit by one solid, hard, unmovable thought.
What has he done?
-We need to find that pact - they breathed, steadying their voice as much as they could - Now -
The other's reply came in a resounding snap of their fingers, at which various small stacks of files appeared on the wooden desk - or what peeked out of it from under the paper mountain. The first of one of the stacks was one which Uriel recognized immediately, without even having to read the title. The beat-up, overused state of it and its sheer thickness was more than enough indication that that was the file pertaining to the Great Rebellion and subsequent punishments. The falls from grace. They could remember each one of them almost to the last detail; including…
They shook the thought, seeing as that wasn't the time or place to question each and every one of their past decisions, and gently picked the large file up. The next folder, not quite as thick as the last but just as stained, had one single name sprawled across the cover: Job. The pang of guilt was practically instantaneous.
When they opened the folder with a single finger, they found a summarized copy of the bet; the strange, momentary agreement between God and Satan. Reading it back now, Uriel could not fathom how they could have ever thought this to be even remotely right.
Uriel's eyes fell to the bottom of the page, and their chills were immediate once they spotted their own signature in between Michael's and Saraquael's.
They closed the page with a resounding thud and looked up at the other archangel, who eyed them silently from the floating chair.
-Why these documents? - Uriel asked, trying their best not to sound too disgusted at the mere presence of those files.
-Well, if the pact does exist, there has to be a physical signed document. You know how much Hell loves having signatures - the other nodded, following Saraquael's reasoning - And if no angel is meant to know, Metatron will have hidden it inside another file, somewhere nobody wouldn't even accidentally come across it -
-I see - they nodded slowly, their eyes glinting with understanding, and then glanced at the stacks of files - So you miracled up a compendium of Heaven's most shameful moments in the history of Earth -
-We're looking for a file no angel would ever go back to. Something we've all turned a blind eye to - Saraquael continued, closing the distance between them and the desk and taking a few files into their lap - Any ideas are welcome - they added when Uriel followed their lead, without responding.
-Let's see… - they read the folder's labels out loud - Cain and Abel, The Binding of Isaac…oh, what about The Flood? A lot of casualties, many infants. It's not exactly the sort of light reading I would pick… -
-You can try and have a look, but I think it's quite unlikely - the other said with a wave of their hand - Some angels go back and check some data on the Ark from time to time. Cross-referencing with new species found by humankind, you know… -
- Ah, yes, of course - they sighed, then lowered their voice to a mutter - God knows it's taking them absolute ages… -
-Tower of Babel? - Saraquael suggested, holding up the file for Uriel to see - That entails a whole lot of suffering. Split families and everything. Aziraphale came up to Head Office, all fussed up, to complain, do you remember? -
-Of course I remember - they replied instantly, their tone still low, without even having to think about it - Another instance in which he was so right and we were so blind - they sighed - But no, it's also unlikely. We still haven't cataloged all the languages and dialects which spawned from there, the file is opened often -
-Too right - they opened it and glanced at the pages briefly, but nothing seemed out of order, so they set it back down on the table - Besides, it's not like any angel would be ashamed of these things. As far as we were concerned, back then, it wasn't our fault in the slightest -
-What's something all of Heaven would be ashamed of, then? - Uriel inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow - Something we know was pretty much our fault? -
Both archangels stared at one another in silence for a long moment, going through millions of memories at the exact same time; until both came across the same one at the same time. Two pairs of eyes widened at the realization, and two archangels said the exact same thing at the exact same time.
- Jeptha -
Without another word, Saraquael began snapping their fingers around trying to find the exact file; and Uriel did the same shortly after. A couple of minor miracles later, a thin paper folder labeled "Daughter of Jeptha" fell into Uriel's hands.
-Found it! - they called out to the other archangel, whose chair was shortly stationed beside them - A father who killed his own daughter because he was convinced he had to; and because we never bothered to say otherwise. The day the kid died, there was a pretty much unanimous vow never to speak of this again -
-It's the perfect hiding place - Saraquael agreed, throwing the cover open without further hesitation
Much to both their delights, a very new and very recently written and very unofficial document sat right behind it; a document entitled "Pact of Allegiance".
-Oh, we're good - Uriel breathed, a small, proud smile tugging at their lips - We found it, Saraquael -
-I think so, yes - they fumbled around their pockets, pulling out some reading glasses which they promptly slid onto their nose - Let's see…"This scripture is the only real physical proof, with inclusion of the fake version made for discretion purposes and kept in Hell, of the pact made between The Voice of God and Satan, master of Hell…" -
-What?! - Uriel could barely hold back a gasp. Saraquael's fear-struck eyes were enough to show they were equally as shocked.
-Well, at least these "fake versions" would explain how Aziraphale and the rest caught wind - they reasoned - Crowley and he must have come across one of those while they were snooping in Dagon's office -
-It also explains why The Metatron was so angry when Dagon said they'd taken some documents - the other added - It was never about the Gospel, was it? -
-I don't think so, no - Saraquael breathed, then turned back to the page and continued reading - ..."master of Hell, in which on the one hand Satan promises aid in the matter of the Second Coming and any other requirement of the Voice of God in relation to it…" -
-Hence the attack with the Ninth Circle Legion - Uriel pointed out. The other nodded in agreement and continued reading.
-..."relation to it; and in return for which, on the other hand, the Voice of God swears to pay Satan, master of Hell, with…" -
Both archangels stopped breathing altogether when they read the last few words. All color drained from their face to the point the shade of white on their clothes was ten times darker than that of their skin. Uriel felt like they were about to collapse, and Saraquael didn't simply because they were already sitting down. Their stomachs dropped, they could feel the bile and acids of their corporations rush up their throats; they were about to be sick from the sheer horror of what they'd just learnt.
After a long silence, Uriel finally regained the ability to speak; saying the only thing that could possibly be said in that moment.
-Fuck -
Exactly an hour and half after all twelve baskets had been cleaned empty of Eccles cakes, in such a way that not a single crumb remained, Crowley's eyes shot open.
Once the situation had gotten under control and nobody was starving anymore, the demon, both angels and God's daughter had retreated to the rear wall of the corridor and sat next to the door, waiting for the miracle blocker to finally wear out. Not five minutes had passed when Crowley felt the exhaustion begin to creep up on him. He had wanted to say awake, in guard, but his eyelids had felt so, so heavy.
It hadn't been until he'd felt the soft weight of Aziraphale's head coming to rest on his shoulder that he'd realized he was the only one out of the four still awake. Eleyn had thrown her high heels off a good while before, her feet red and blistered, and had fallen asleep with her head on Muriel's lap and her knees slightly bent; the most comfortable position she'd been able to find with that tight dress. The scrivener, meanwhile, had simply let her head relax back onto the wall and had gone out like a light, almost instantaneously.
Aziraphale, of course, had rolled into a beige and tartan ball right next to Crowley, his head of white-fluffy curls having chosen the demon's shoulder as an ideal pillow.
It was only natural that they were all tired; they had hardly slept in days, and they hadn't stopped to breathe since that morning. Hell, Crowley had only had three shots of espresso in the entire day, no wonder he'd collapsed the way he'd done a few minutes later, when he'd let his own head fall onto those soft curls and closed his eyes.
And now, almost an hour later, all four of them had jolted awake. Aziraphale had felt a solid, cold chill shot down his spine which propelled him from the cuddle (much to Crowley's momentary disappointment), and then his fingertips had begun to warm up. For Muriel and Crowley, it had been exactly the same.
Eleyn, bless her soul, had been jolted awake when the scrivener had jumped in shock and sent the girl's head straight to the floor with a thud. If he hadn't been so occupied booting up his own brain, Crowley would have probably had a good laugh about it.
-Wha…? - she said, still not completely awake, rubbing her thwacked head.
-The block has been lifted! - Muriel cheered - We can get out of here! - the scrivener then glanced at the other's head, scrunching her nose - Sorry about that -
Eleyn waved her other hand in the air, dismissing it altogether, and hoisted herself to her feet with the scrivener's help, the dress pulling and protesting all throughout.
-Fucking finally! - Crowley growled as he stretched his long limbs in the most serpentine way possible - Goodbye, National bloody Gallery! -
He snapped his fingers as he proclaimed this, and the heavy wooden door, to everyone's utter delight, flew open; the cold, wonderful Edinburgh air flowing inside.
All four of them watched as the party guests, with stomachs full of Eccles cakes, stampeded outside and practically kissed the floor; most of them tearfully thanking God, much to Aziraphale's annoyance. The Gallery was emptied fairly quickly, and ambulances had been kindly called by those whose phone signal had returned first.
Only three people remained inside; two adults and the sweetest kid Crowley had ever met. (Not that he'd ever admit it out loud). Mr. MacLeod walked ahead of the other two, and reached out for the demon's hand the second he was close enough.
-I don't even know what to say - he admitted, moving on to shake Aziraphale, Eleyn and Muriel's hands as well - You saved our skins. Multiple times. Thank you doesn't even scratch the surface -
-You are very welcome - Aziraphale smiled brightly at him - Do make sure you are all okay after the…events -
-Yeah, 'course. Although… - he looked down at his still-very-functional legs - I still 'ave no idea how to break it to my doctor -
-Oh, well, y'know - Crowley responded in his signature nonchalance, staring him straight in the eyes - Medical miracle and all that, sometimes happens. Just like sometimes earthquakes naturally hit the most unlikely places, am I right? -
-Guess I can't argue with that, lad - he cheerfully responded, patting the demon amicably on the shoulder before turning around to his family
Eleyn raised an eyebrow at the demon, as though asking if he'd done what she thought he'd done. Her reply came in the form of a look; one single look which told her exactly what she needed to know.
They'll be safer this way.
She nodded at him in understanding, but their silent conversation was right then interrupted by two little arms which flew around Crowley's right leg. The demon beamed down at the kid, and instantly hoisted him into his arms.
-Starman! We had quite the adventure today, didn't we? - he said, gently tapping his tummy to make him laugh - You're such a brave boy; you'll make one hell of an astronaut one day! -
-Weawy?! - the kid genuinely asked, his little bright eyes widening almost like he was a cartoon. When Crowley nodded, Archie hooked his arms around the demon's neck; and the latter's knees very nearly gave out when the little one spoke -I wuv you ! -
-What's all this, then? - Aziraphale intervened with a fake offended tone, hands on his hips, making the child giggle - I wasn't told I had competition - he raised an eyebrow at Crowley, and Archie laughed even harder.
When Clara called Archie, saying it was time to go, the demon felt the boy's grip on him tighten; and he was tempted to tighten his own grip as well. But he knew the four of them had important matters to attend to, saving the world for a start, so as much as it pained him he would have to say goodbye to Archie. For the time being, at least.
He'd been about to release the little boy from his arms when Archie tugged at his collar, trying to propel himself up. Crowley was confused for about half a second, until he realized what the kid wanted to do and lowered his head so that Archie could whisper into his ear.
-When I go in the wocket in space, Imma look for a star you made, and Imma touch tha one fwist! - he softly spoke, his words sending tears of joy straight to Crowley's eyes - I pwomise! -
-I'd be honored, Archie - he replied just as softly, and just as genuinely. Then he raised his voice a little, and continued speaking as he set Archie down on the ground - Don't forget to wear gloves 'n sunglasses when you do though, eh? -
The kid nodded enthusiastically and, after squeezing one last hug against the demon's legs, ran to his mother. Clara took his little hand in hers and walked him over to their car, into which he hopped without complaint. When she opened her own door and made to get in, Mrs. MacLeod shot Crowley and the rest of them a wide, bright smile; which they reciprocated immediately.
When the family car pulled out from the parking spot and rolled past them, the demon spotted Archie waving a little hand at him from across the car window. He waved back, and a small tear slid down his face. He dried it before any of the other three noticed.
-Selfish demon - Aziraphale whispered just loud enough for them to hear, giving him a side-eye - You didn't modify Archie's memories like all the rest of the guests -
-Didn't I? - he smirked at the angel, nonchalance dripping from his every word - Must've slipped my mind. Honest mistake -
-Of course it was, dear - he sighed, smiling at the demon's steel-like stubbornness.
-Yeah, absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you've fallen in love with that kid and didn't want him to forget you - Eleyn took the piss, unable to help herself - Right, ? -
-Shut up - he hissed, and the other three chuckled -Let's get a fucking move on already, shall we? - he gestured in the Bentley's general direction.
-We should, yes - Aziraphale agreed, though he raised a hand - But first things first -
He snapped his fingers, and Eleyn suddenly felt every fiber in her body relax when the tight dress she'd been wearing was replaced by a pair of comfortable beige sweatpants, a blue shirt and a white, cozy woolen hoodie. In the same fraction of a second, a couple of brand new sneakers had appeared on her feet which, she was grateful to note, no longer hurt.
-Bless you, Aziraphale - she breathed, relaxing into her new outfit.
Crowley and Aziraphale's attires had also been switched back to what they regularly wore, the first rocking the impossibly skinny black jeans, turtleneck and black coat; and the second the customary beige three-piece suit and tartan bow tie.
When she looked over at Muriel, Eleyn realized her clothes had changed as well. She wore the same tartan skirt and pale blue jumper as before, accompanied by those funny knee-height white socks and brown loafers.
-Oi, what the hell happened to you? - Crowley's voice suddenly said, snapping the other three out of their comfy clothing reverie.
In the midst of the moment, none of them had realized Crowley turning on his heel and marching toward his beloved Bentley.
When he'd arrived, however, he'd been met by four half-deflated wheels carrying a beat-up and bruised car body, the hood full of bumps and scratches; topped off with a couple of droopy, dim headlights. And he was not happy about it.
-Who the fuck gave you permission to let air out your wheels?! - he told it off - Huh?! And what is that hood, the bloody moon?! -
-Don't be harsh on it, dear - Aziraphale calmly said, placing a hand on the demon's arm.
-Yeah, but…look at it! - he gestured to the Bentley with both hands.
-Not to worry, I'm sure we can find a solution - the angel chimed, hoisting himself up to his tip-toes and placing a peck on the demon's cheek, which promptly turned a light shade of pink.
In a blink-and-miss-it sort of moment, the Bentley came back to life. Its tires became inflated to the point of perfection, the headlights suddenly blasted a brilliant, potent, white light, nearly blinding all of them; and the hood looked like it had just been painted for the first time.
All four doors flew open, and the radio turned on with a faint click, sending Freddie Mercury's sharp-clear vocals booming through the empty parking lot.
Oooh, love
Oooh, lover boy
-Ah, that's more like it - Crowley smirked at the Bentley, patting the shiny new hood as he rounded it and climbed into the driver's seat, singing along to "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" as the other three followed his lead and got in the car - Right then, let's get…! -
Before he could even finish the sentence, the ignition set itself off, making the engine roar like never before. The gearshift placed itself on first, and the next few verses of the song became muffled under the robotic voice of the GPS which the Bentley had just produced out of thin air.
"Destination: Edinburgh Ritz Hotel and Restaurant, open, estimated time for arrival, fifteen minutes"
Silence invaded the car for a few long moments, until all four passengers burst out laughing at the exact same time.
-Looks like we're not the only ones happy for the both of you - Eleyn snickered, signaling both Muriel and herself before patting the Bentley's door - See? I told you they'd get there eventually -
-Oh, poor dear - said Aziraphale, caressing the dashboard with tears of laughter in his eyes - You must've felt so confused. Everything's taken care of now, not to worry -
-Nnnhhh fine, I'll let you off for the flat tires this time, 'cause it was kind of on us that you were depressed as fuck - Crowley finally conceded, the grin unmovable from his face - But never again, got it?! -
The Bentley revved up its engine, letting out another potent roar.
-Good. Right, so, Ritz after we save the world - the GPS turned off with a slightly sad ping as the demon explained the plan to the two rear passengers - We're going to Tadfield, Oxfordshire, to see a friend slash witch who can help find Raph. Questions? -
-Raphael? - Eleyn's eyebrows shot up - We're doing it? -
-We're fucking doing it - he replied, though from his tone he still wasn't completely free of doubt - You only have two signs left to go, we're running out of time, and we need to know who the hell Enoch is if we want to have a fighting chance -
-Raphael is our best option - Muriel sighed, glancing at Eleyn - Even if that'll leave you on only one sign -
-I'll be okay - God's daughter assured them, even though she wasn't so sure herself - So long as we learn what Metatron wants with all of this, and what Enoch has to do with it, it's worth it -
-I don't think it's only Enoch - Aziraphale suddenly interjected, talking slowly, as if giving his thoughts ime to arrange themselves - I think the pact has something to do with his plans as well -
-The pact? - Muriel reiterated, frowning - I thought it was pretty straightforward. Heaven and Hell united forces to make sure the Second Coming unfolds and they can go into war with each other when it ends. - she briefly explained - Just like the last time the world almost ended-
-Right. Seems logical - said Eleyn, not having yet processed all the information. Her brain caught up a second later, and she turned to look at the scrivener so fast her neck almost snapped - Last time?! -
-Long story - the scrivener whispered, gesturing that she'd explain another time.
-It would be that straightforward, if the angels happened to know that the pact existed - Aziraphale pointed out, getting three sets of very wide eyes locked on himself -...which, judging by Uriel's response when I asked them about it, is not the case -
-What?! - Crowley spat, being the first of the three to talk after two beats of complete silence.
-I asked them what the terms of the pact were, they looked at me like I was mad - Aziraphale insisted - They had no idea, Crowley -
-But…Uriel is an archangel! - Muriel protested - If anything, they'd be the very first to know! It doesn't make sense! - she'd already opened her mouth to further prove her point when she was hit by a thought which momentarily paralyzed her, eyebrows going up as realization settled - Unless… -
-Unless? - Eleyn beckoned her to speak, somehow feeling like whatever the scrivener had realized wasn't good.
-Unless we've been seeing it all wrong from the beginning - she said, locking eyes with Crowley through the rearview mirror. The slit pupils thinned in shock when the demon inevitably understood what Muriel meant and The Bentley, as though realizing with him, killed the music immediately.
-Oh, we're such fucking morons! - he shouted, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand -It's not a pact between Heaven and Hell! It's between Metatron and Hell! -
-No - Aziraphale breathed, catching the demon completely off-guard, counting his inhales as his chain of thought finally became clear - If that were true, we wouldn't have found that fake version of the pact in Dagon's office -
-How do you know it was fake? - asked Eleyn, her reflection frowning.
-My signature, for a start - he replied instantly - I can assure you my quill never went near that document -
-It would also be contradictory for your signature to be on it, if not even the archangels are supposed to know - Muriel added - Granted, you were the supreme archangel, but if you think about it your escape was never in Metatron's plans -
-Yeah, she's right, actually - Crowley agreed - If you were meant to stay in Heaven, then you weren't meant to know -
-Exactly. And, the fact that it was just laying in Dagon's drawer. I mean, if that information was so precious to Metatron, I doubt he'd simply allow that - Aziraphale pointed out - No, that document is there to make the demons cooperate without raising suspicion that something much bigger is going on -
-That way the ninth legion demons are forced not to attack Eleyn, without compromising Metatron's plan. As far as they're concerned, the pact exists and mustn't be broken; even if they don't know its real terms - Muriel summarized, and the other two nodded in agreement.
-Okay, yeah, but then who's the actual pact between? - asked Eleyn, still not sure where Aziraphale had been going with all of that.
-I think the real terms of this pact are known only by the two beings who made it - he took a breath - Metatron and Satan -
-Oh, fuck - Crowley hissed, pressing his palms to his face.
God's Daughter and the scrivener were silent in the back of the car, wide-blown eyes fixed on Aziraphale.
-You…you think Metatron made a pact with the Devil? - Muriel muttered, the words struggling to come out.
-He must have - the angel insisted - It's what makes more sense. Satan can provide Metatron with aid to make the Second Coming happen, hence the demonic attack -
Crowley shot upright that very moment; and going by the genuine horror with which those amber eyes had locked on Aziraphale, he'd realized something. Something terrible.
For a moment he looked like would be sick, the color slowly draining from his face and highlighting the golden irises, which were filled with such fear it made Aziraphale gulp. The demon's hands had started trembling, the other three could clearly see their shakiness even when he tried to hide them; and his breathing became shallower and shallower.
For a few, long moments he opened and closed his mouth in failed attempts to speak, the words crashing and disintegrating in his throat before he could get them out.
The angel stared back at him, his cerulean blue eyes full of concern; and the other two watched silently from the back, counting their breaths, not daring to make a sound.
When Crowley finally managed to speak, his voice began shaking almost violently.
-Wh…when you make a pact with the Devil - he began, speaking slowly and attempting to swallow down the ball in his throat, to no avail -The Devil…The Devil always asks for something in return -
-But what does Metatron have that Satan…? -
Aziraphale answered his own question before he'd even finished posing it, because that was the exact moment the penny dropped. It dropped into Aziraphale's stomach like a rock, sending bile and acid rushing up his esophagus, burning his throat. His lungs stopped working altogether, his heart missed not one but several consecutive beats, his every thought simply evaporated. Cold sweat slid down his back as an insuperable fear gripped him by the base of his spine and slowly clawed its way up, all the way to his terrified cerulean blue eyes, which sparkled within the sickly-pale tone his face had acquired.
Aziraphale would never know what had given him the strength to speak at that very moment, but four extremely shaky words somehow managed to sneak out past his lips.
-The angels don't know -
Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, unfallen tears burning inside of them, and let his head hang in utter and complete impotence.
-I don't… - Eleyn breathed, scared, unsure what was happening - I don't understand, what…Muriel! -
God's Daughter had turned to look at the scrivener, assuming she'd have the same confused expression on her face, and had found her gasping and sobbing into a hand which she'd firmly clapped atop her mouth, crying in fear and shock.
Muriel's breathing was erratic to say the least, nearing the hyperventilation limit, and the hazel in her eyes had been replaced by the color of absolute terror. Her face was so pale it could make ghosts run away screaming; she looked like she was about to pass out.
Eleyn instantly made to comfort the scrivener, placing one hand on her thigh and the other on the back of her arm. Muriel reacted to the touch, locking eyes with her, and slowly let her own hand slip from her mouth.
She tried her best attempt at a breath and then spoke, very slowly and very quietly, because that was all she could manage.
-The angels don't know because they're part of the deal. The Metatron has sold the souls of every last angel in Heaven to Satan -
Muriel felt Eleyn's grip tighten and her eyes blow wide. The tension inside the Bentley on that precise moment could have been cut with a butter knife.
The four of them not only had to save Earth; they had to save all of Heaven as well. And they had no idea if they could.
Without another word, Crowley smashed the accelerator and shot the Bentley forward, determined to make the seven-hour trip to Oxfordshire in three.
How's that for stakes?
Alas, 'tis I! I have returned, and I come bearing for you 11k words of chapter! (I had originally planned to make it about 7-8k words, but it my fingers just kept kitting the keyboard)
I know the wait time between chapters is obscenely long, but I can explain: First of all, I've started my new year of college, so evidently I'm not able to write as much as I would like. Second, I also have another project, a novel, whose second draft I'm aiming to finish this year, so I alternate between writing that and writing fic; and third, these are the final five chapters, and I want to make sure to get them absolutely perfect! (It will, after all, be my first ever completed fic, you see)
That said, I will continue writing it! I'm not abandoning it! I want to finish it, and I'm very exicted to do that with my dear readers :)
THANK YOU SO MUCH for taking some very valuable minutes out of your very valuable time to read this little story of mine, it means the world! Geniunely!
Because I'm in a very good mood tonight, I'll give you a little info about chapter 16: Tadfield! We get to see Anathema, our favorite witch, and Newt, our favorite witchfinder! Will they be able to help our ineffable quartet in their efforts to find Archangel Raphael? ...Well, I'm not telling you, obviously :)
But wouldn't it be funny if God's Daughter happened to meet the (ex-)Antichrist? You know, just a thought.
And that's all for this time! I shall see you next time!
Phoenix, signing off!
P.S. : On my Tumblr, FirePhoenix2305, you can see the picture that was supposed to go with the third scene; a memo pertaining to Job's file! Feel free to go check it out! :)