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the archangel raphael

Chapter Text

"Same again." Demanded Crowley with a drunken slur, his long, skinny fingers wrapped around a wine bottle as he held it up. He leaned in his seat, watching as the bartender moved over.

Crowley sniffed, face pulled down in despair as he tipped back the last drops of liquid from his small glass.

He had escaped certain death from Hastur and Ligur, killing one Duke with Holy Water, and trapping the other Duke in his answering machine, he had driven to Aziraphale's old book shop only to see it up in flames, and no Aziraphale... his angel was nowhere in sight, wasn't answering to his calls, he knew he should have trusted that numbing, tingling feeling up his back. It was the same feeling he got when Aziraphale was trapped in the Bastille, it was the same feeling he got when Aziraphale was in the middle of a face off with Nazis, he always got that feeling, always, and he... he began feeling it when he hung up on his angel, and he ignored! It all made sense when he arrived at the shop. 'Why didn't you just flee to Alpha Centauri with me?!' Crowley thought in sadness.

Maybe, if he had stayed on the phone he could have saved Aziraphale.

"I never asked to be a demon!" Crowley reasoned, eyes filled with red bloody tears as he looked to the bartender who set the bottle down.

The bartender gave the red haired being a look of sympathy. He thought the demon was just drunk, and having had a rough day. He had no idea, of course, just how bad of a day it really was. He walked off immediately after.

Crowley wrapped his hands around the bottle, desperately trying to stabilise himself in the moment, bring him back to reality. This was happening, this was actually happening. Aziraphale is dead...

'So, this is what the end of the word feels like...' He thought, sniffing and rubbing his eyes under his glasses.'What's the point without Aziraphale?'

"I was just minding my own business one day." Crowley slurred out, looking up to the sky drunkenly, "and then..." He wiggled in his seat with a sneer, "oh, lookie here, it's Lucifer and the guys!" He cheered, drunk and sarcastic. He looked to his left, "oh, hey," he shrugged, "the food hadn't been that good lately." He looked to the right, "I didn't have anything on for the rest of that afternoon!" He looked down, voice choked and thick with tears, "next thing, I'm-m-m, ah, uh, ngk, doing a-a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur!" He wailed out, voice broken and bloody tears down his face. (Not that anyone saw the blood of course, even in his drunken state he made sure of that. (Technically, demons don't cry. They aren't meant to, at least.))

He grabbed the bottle, and began trying to open it, as lightening stuck, and rain thundered. He looked up and paused, a frown on his face and he squinted letting out a drunken groan, "Aziraphale?" He whimpered out with a drunk groan, seeing a wobbly figure, transparent and warped in the seat in front of him, and it reflected onto his glasses. I mean, it looked like Aziraphale, but he could be wrong, "are you here?" He asked, seeming a bit more sober, as he pulled up his glasses, placing them on his forehead, fully squinting his golden serpent eyes. He was less sad now, maybe Aziraphale was there!

"Good question." Came the posh, British voice... "Not certain. Never done this before." The wobbly, transparent figure looked around in confusion and thought. "Can you hear me?!"

It can't be Aziraphale, Aziraphale is gone! Dead! That fire killed him! "Of course I can hear you!" Crowley's eyes were wide in shock, and his glasses fell over his eyes again, loosing the friction from his frown lines, and he let go of the bottle.

"Are you okay?" Aziraphale asked, eyes shinning in worry, "when I called, I felt that feeling up my back and I—"

"I-it was, uh, ngk... uh, Hastur and Ligur..." Slurred Crowley, leaning forward on the small, wooden, round table, "they were, uh, gonna kill m'..."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, leaning forward, "what?! Are you alright, my dear?!"

Crowley smiled, his lips sharp, and let out a watery laugh, "'m now..." Was this Aziraphale? It sounded and looked like him, but he's known the angel for six-thousand years, he's made an impressive hallucination. "Wot's happened?"

"Afraid I've rather made a mess of things." Aziraphale admitted in a broken voice, eyes sad and soft, "did you go to Alpha Centauri?" He asked, all nice, and soft, kind, just the way he always his.

Crowley truly has made a nice imagination, and he smiled, lips pursed in a sad wince, "nah, I changed my mind." He explained, calm, relishing the angels kindness. He paused. "Things happened," he explained, his features turning soft and sad, seemingly heartbroken and he held back a sob, "I lost my best friend." He admitted, choked up, lips pulled into a sad, pain filled grimace, as fresh tears formed, rolling down his cheeks in hot, sulphur smelling pelts. They rivalled the rain outside. 

Aziraphale's face fell to a look soft sadness, "I'm so sorry to hear it." He apologised, wishing he could just reach out and hug the demon, "listen, back in my bookshop there's a book I need you to get."

Suddenly, Crowley's face crumpled to one of sorrow, regret with a hint of distress all over again. Worse than before, somehow. "Oh, look," he rested his chin on the palm of his hand and leaned forward, "your bookshop isn't there anymore." He informed, sadly, and softly, as if that was the saddest thing to happen at the moment.

Aziraphale frowned confused, "oh?"

"I'm really sorry. It burned down." Informed the demon regretfully, being as soft, and gentle as possible. His voice was wavering and quivering.

The angels face fell more, voice broken slightly, "all of it?"

Crowley sniffed, "ngk, nu, em, erm, uh, yeah." He was again, cradling the drink to his chest, "what-what was the book?"

Aziraphale took a deep, shaky breath, as he looked down sadly, "the one the young lady with the bicycle left behind." He explained, his voice wavering in emotions as he thought of his home gone, "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of—"

"Agnes Nutter!" Choked Crowley in a triumphant yell of delight, pulling out the book from his jacket, "yes, I took it!" He held the book out to the ghostly figure, it was burned and tattered, and he pointed to the title, jabbing his finger into it. His voice was croaked and scratchy, choked and despaired. He practically shoved it in the angels face.

"Oh, you have it?" Asked Aziraphale with a smile, looking around, not able to see.

"Look, souvenir!" Cheered the demon, drunk and hazy, still pointing to the title, his eyes basically screaming; 'be proud of me!'

"Look inside. I made notes." Explained Aziraphale, wiggling in excitement. Crowley looked through the notes, flipping through the book carelessly, and he pulled out a folded piece of paper and began unfolding, looking through the notes. Luckily, they weren’t too damaged. "It's all in there. The boy's name, address. Everything else. I worked it all out."

"You brilliant angel, you! Look," Crowley said, looking up, eyes soft. He need Aziraphale, "wherever you are, I'll come to you. Where are you?" He asked, desperately squinting, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at, trying to figure out where his friend was. But he paused, his mind catching up with him. Right, he's drunk, and Aziraphale might not be here in front of him, and he's more than likely seeing things, and the angel is actually dead.

Aziraphale looked around, eyes glazed, "I-I-I'm not really anywhere yet. I've been discorporated." He explained with a frown.

"Oh." Nodded Crowley in remorse, still drunk.

"You need to get to Tadfield Air Base." Aziraphale explained.

Crowley looked down at the map, and saw the airbase circled with a pencil, and asked, "w-why?"

"World ending." Aziraphale answered, and the demon looked up. "That's where it's all going to happen," he said sad. "Quite soon now. I'll head there too. I just need to find a receptive body." He sighed annoyed, "harder than you'd think." He reasoned.

Crowley sneered, "I'm not going to go there." Why should he go when Aziraphale isn't actually there? It made no sense, his world has already ended, why save the world when he can die, and join his angel?

"I do need a body." Sighed Aziraphale, "pity I can't inhabit yours."

"Oh." Crowley hummed in thought, with a sneered shake of his head.

"Angel, demon..." Smiled Aziraphale, "probably explode."

"Blehh..." Crowley grunted. Aziraphale inhabiting his body... it is dangerous, that's for certain, and who knows what would happen, but... it would be enough evidence, enough proof that the angel was there, that Aziraphale is alive, and then they could save the world together, though Crowley's world would already be saved, life will have been brought to his dark, cold corporation, and if they do explode, then it wouldn't be too bad as they'd be together! I mean, the world is ending as it is...

"So I'll meet you at—"

"Let's do it." Crowley cut the angel off abruptly, head snapping up to him.

Aziraphale froze, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Let's do it, you can share my body." Crowley said, drunk and dazed, needing proof that Aziraphale is there. If he's there, he'll save the world.

"What if we blow up, my dear? Have you not been listening?!" Aziraphale asked in a mad panic, his eyes wide.

Crowley rolled his eyes, and admitted, "angel, I'm drunk and I need t' see you're there. Not made up." He explained, "'n' if we blow up, then fine... worlds ending isn't it?"


"My worlds already ended without you..." Choked the demon, and he sniffed, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Aziraphale frowned, his eyes soft, wanting to reassure Crowley. In anyway he could. "Okay... alright, just... Crowley, if I hurt you, you have to kick me out..."

"I will, just," Crowley held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. "Come on. Please..."

Aziraphale nodded, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, turning into white, bright smokey mist, and phased into Crowley. The demon's eyes widened, and mouth slack, jaw open slightly and he fell back off his chair, limp. The stool clattered to the ground with a loud slam, and his back hit the ground with a thud, as he stared at the spinning and hazy ceiling.

The bartender looked up in shock, eyes wide and rushed over from behind the counter. He knew he should have slowed on those drinks for him! He fell to his knees, and supported the mans head, "hey, you okay?" He asked, getting no response, "can you hear me? Say something!"

Crowley slowly closed his eyes, the mans voice fading into background noise, as well as ringing. Until finally nothing...

Chapter Text

Stars sparkled in the dark sky, glistening and twinkling, with tiny sparks of golden and white, which clashed against the pitch black sky. The tiny golden, glittering specks of star dust, seeming to shrink and grow to add to the brightness. The blackness of the sky, mixed and swirled with light purples and reds, in curls and twists, all blending together, besides a few strokes.

A long fingered, well manicured hand reached up, with three golden bracelets on each wrist, a ring on each finger, the middle being a snake, and the tips of the fingers glowed gold. Reaching up, with a twist of long red locks of hair, that faded to blond nearing white, the figure flicked one finger, allowing a faint splatter of white to scatter the sky infusing with the starry sky, . Though, the figure fixed the braid that wrapped around their head three times, and dangled then some.

Meet Archangel Raphael, Archangel of Healing and owner of the Flaming Sword, Star Maker and Seraph.

He smiled, and twirled a finger in a circular motion, and happily watched as two of the brightest stars slowly orbited around each other. His golden eyes, lined with blue winged liner shined in joy, and his lower lip had a line of gold drawn on. His teeth, while sharp were friendly, and his figure, while well built and plump, was tall and slinky. Pale blue specks, and glittery scales decorated his not pale, yet not tanned face. They were over his cheeks like constellations, and over his nose, and up to his temples.

He fixed his long grey robe, and elegantly swept his black sash with golden sparkles like stars to the side, and tightened his white belt, fixing a few beige bags of star dust onto it.

"Brother!" Called a voice, and Raphael smirked, and looked over. There stood his siblings, his brothers Michael with long, ginger hair, lovely light make up, and an off-white robe with ruffles around his neck and he was his friend, Gabriel in his pale purple, off white robe and sash, his hair styled back and his purple eyes shinning. There was his sister Uriel, who wore an off-white robe,that looked purple in some lights and she had golden specks and scales up her face. There was his sibling Sandalphon, who wore a brown robe, and had a shine in its teeth, and was rather strong. Finally, there was Lucifer his brother and best friend, he was tall with a black robe, and long black hair, well built and a sash.

"Hello brothers, sister, sibling." Greeted Raphael, eagerly unfurling his six, grey toned wings, with a few golden feathers, and even fewer blue feathers, he wrapped all six of them around his siblings, as he shined, like a constant light over him like a halo.

Gabriel smiled and laughed, hugging Raphael, "how are you?"

"Forget about me!" Scoffed Raphael, waving his hand, "how are you?"

Lucifer smiled, "oh just fine."

"We came to see how Alpha Centauri was." Smiled Sandalphon, looking at the stars. Its teeth shinned from the sparkles, but the shine wasn't as brilliant as the stars.

Raphael smiled, and waved a hand, "when's y'next performance?" He asked, looking to Sandalphon, as he set down a few of the beige bags. He unwound his braid, and flapped his wings, flying up to the harsh finger, and brush strokes of the paint, and used his hair to smooth them out.

Sandalphon smiled, "in five days. I have to blend a few tunes together, and remove a few melodies." It watched Raphael amazed, eyes shinning.

Michael smirked, and then asked, "where's your Flaming Sword?"

"Over there," said Raphael, waving his hand with ease towards the a circular symbol on the floor. A launch pad, created by Lucifer, Raphael and Michael to get from one lace to the other. There, against the grey, cool clouds was the Flaming Sword in a beige sheath and not flaming for safety reasons. "Any messages?" Asked Raphael, taking a star and he glared at it, his eyes wandering all over it... something was wrong with the star...

"Well, one... one that you'll like, and I'll be surprised if you haven't heard of it already." Gabriel smirked, hos purple eyes teasing in joy.

Raphael frowned, and looked over, brushing the pad of his index finger over his blue scales, and rubbed the colour against the star. He looked to them, and noticed how excited they all were, and stressed, and it wasn't a case of 'oh my lord!', more of a 'this is cool'. He then noticed how tense, and uneasy Lucifer looked and he frowned, he felt how displeased Lucifer was. "Does it link with Raziel naggin' me about my stars?"

Uriel frowned, "Raziel?"

"Yeah, they came to see me a few days ago." Reasoned Raphael, a scowl on his face, "they said I needed to make them darker, but too dark means they blend. All they know is magic." Scoffed the Archangel.

Michael frowned, "but, the stars are perfect!"

"Ignore Raziel, they're just jealous." Assured Lucifer.

Uriel made a mental note to talk to Raziel. That Seraph needed to stay away from her youngest brother. Raphael is technically the youngest brother out of all the Archangels, and he is the nicest, sweetest and tries to do what he believes is right, always trying to help, all smiley and happy, just... doing Right. Being a Good angel.

"Raziel is stressed with God's project." Uriel said, hands clasped together.

Raphael smiled, "you mean the Earth and Humanity project?" He landed on the floor, his bare feet soft against the clouds. He looked to Gabriel, and held his shoulders, "what have you heard?"

"Just that there's going be a meeting about Animals in a few days, discussing what each can do, so as crawl, slither and walk on four legs." Gabriel said, oversharing slightly, wanting to make his brother smile more. Just seeing his little brothers smile lit up anyone's day.

"Crawl and slither?!" Smiled Raphael, giggling and wiggling happily. His eyes were sparkling, star struck, "She's amazing! Who would think of four legs to walk on?!" He asked, amazed, "besides Her of course!" He accidentally fell into the role of a Seraph, praising Her constantly. He went silent, the tips of his fingers pressing against his lips and he flushed shyly, "sorry..."

Michael shook his head, "don't apologise, it's adorable!"

"Michael!" Giggled Raphael, looking to his feet shyly.

Lucifer grinned, "is it true these Humans will be wingless?" He asked, looking to Raphael. A rumour was fluttering about that the Human's would be without wings, and he knew Raphael would have heard such things. If the Archangels were honest, their Mother loved Raphael the most, he sang constant praise to Her, and She would talk to him about anything and everything, and he would talk about everything back, eyes shinning in childlike wonder.

Raphael grinned, and nodded, "yeah! Isn't it amazin'?! She's not giving them wings, and yet we have wings!"

"Why do you think they don't have wings?" Questioned Lucifer, a thoughtful frown on his face.

Raphael frowned back, "I... I don't know... She hasn't said..."

Michael coughed, "maybe we should go..."

"Brother," Gabriel smiled, looking to Raphael, "will you be joining us for the next meeting?"

"Of course!" Smiled Raphael, he couldn't lie. He's missed a few meetings, as has Lucifer. The two would go out, and eagerly watch the creation of The Garden, as clouds phased and changed shapes.

Sandalphon smiled, "lets go, we shall leave you to work."

"See y'soon guys!" Smiled Raphael. He watched as his siblings walked to the launch pad, but he gripped Lucifer's upper arm softly, "can I talk to you Lucifer?" He missed the concern glances his siblings sent each other.

Lucifer nodded and smiled softly, "of course." He stood back, and waited until their siblings went back to Head Office. He looked to Raphael, "what's up?"

"Are y'okay? You seemed... annoyed, angry and displeased with the Earth..." Raphael reasoned, hold his older brothers shoulders gently.

Lucifer sighed, "I guess I just... I don't like this, She's creating more beings and She... is She bored with us?" He asked in a rather offended tone, "and, how long until She gets bored with them? I know She talks to you, but is She talking as much as she usually does?"

Raphael went quiet in thought, "no... No, She's not... but, this Humanity thing... what is She going to do with it all, exactly?"

"I-I don't know..." Lucifer said softly, and patted his back, "I encourage angels to ask questions, but I don't want you to... you might get into trouble, and I don't want that for you..."

Raphael nodded, "right..." He watched as Lucifer walked off, going to the pad and leaving.

Looking up to his stars, he thought to himself, 'why do humans need stars? Why do they need a moon? Does She care for them?'



The meeting was amazing! Animals! They walk on all fours, some crawl and climb, they slither and fly, and glide! They do so much! Some are tiny, some are big! Some have fur, with strips or spots!

"Can you believe this?! She's a genius!" Smiled Raziel, as they looked to Adrian.

"She really is!" Gushed Adrian, his eyes wide. "Can you believe She's capable of such things?! Well, of course She is! She's The Almighty!" He smiled, as he looked up. The Seraphs were all clustered together as they walked out of the meeting room, and they all called out in praise. That is including Raphael.

"Isn't She amazing?" Insisted Adrian looking over to Raphael.

Raphael smiled, "yeah, She is!" She looked up to the sky, her eyes lighting up. Her eyes fell upon her brother, Lucifer and she frowned in thought, she needed to get to him... she slowed down, as angels of all status walked out. She fell in line with Archangels, "hell brothers, sister and sibling!"

Their faces lit up, eyes landing on Raphael, "sister!"

Uriel wrapped her arm around her little sister's shoulders, "I could hear your praises from the other end of the room."

"It wasn't just me." Smirked Raphael, hugging her back, and she took her sisters hand, "I'm afraid I'm here to borrow Lucifer. Though, I would like to hear what you and Sandalphon have planned."

Sandalphon grinned, and ruffled her red and white hair, "gladly!"

Michael smiled, "don't forget Raphael, we have training soon."

Lucifer held back again, taking his youngest sisters hand, "more questions?" He asked, quietly. He looked around, throwing wary glances, not wanting Raphael in trouble, "whats the issue, you were singing high praises the whole time."

"I'm a Seraph, it's what I do. Doesn't mean I can't question... and doubt..." Whispered Raphael, eyes shinning in worry.


"Will there be enough resources for all the animals? How about Humanity?" Raphael questioned in a panic. She messed with her fingers, and pulling them, popping her joints and knuckles, "will they be okay?" The Healer inside her was screaming, panicking and fretting in worry. She wasn't being fussy... though to some she might have been.

Lucifer held her shoulders, "don't worry. They'll be fine, and it's the 'Circle of Life', just as Mother said, and they'll have plenty of food, Humanity... I'm not sure... but, they'll be... hopefully okay?" He was cautious of God listening, and he said, "if She's not talking to you, if She's not explaining it all, how am I to know?" He looked out to the hallway, "go train with Michael, sister..."

"Right..." With a sad sigh, Raphael walked out. She unfurled her wings, and allowed the top set of wings to cover her face, while the bottom set covered her feet. Technically, all Seraph's were meant to be this way, but in the eyes of God, they drop their wings. Raphael never really did the uniform response of her wings, she's originally an Archangel, promoted and worked to a Seraph. Even she knew God loved her.

She pushed open the large, white, marble double doors, and sauntered into the Training Room. There stood Michael, his sword out and he pulled out her own Flaming Sword, "brother?"

Michael looked over, "hello sister. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just... thought I should do what 'm meant to with m' wings." Raphael insisted, lowered her wings. She held her sword out, "I'll go easy on you if you want?"

Michael smirked, and spun his sword, "come on then."

Raphael walked forward, and held it up in a defensive stand, and Michael nodded his head.

It began.

Michael swung his sword, and Raphael parried, side stepping. She undercut, and Michael blocked quickly. They went back and forth, shuffling back and forward, swords raised, and hitting against blades, sending sparks and flames, and loud clangs echoed over the quiet room.

"How will everything live?" Questioned Raphael suddenly, and Michael paused in shock. Raphael kicked his legs out from under him, and aimed her sword at him, and he twisted the sword, moving it, getting up and backing away.

"What?" Asked Michael, confused, thrown off.

"Humans and animals... how will they live?" Raphael asked again, her voice soft in worry. "Will they need to defend themselves?" She asked quietly, her eyes in worry.

Raphael blocked Michael's attack, "sister..."

"Brother..." Raphael spun the sword out of Michael's hands, and away, pinning her brother to the wall, "please..."

"Best not to speculate..." Michael said softly, eyes sad and gentle.

Raphael sighed, and nodded.

She went back later that night, and went to the Seraph's. Her wings covering her face and feet, "Raziel?"

Raziel barely looked up, "Raphael." They greeted, "what's the issue?"

"Actually, just curious... why can't we ask questions?" Raphael asked, "what's wrong with it?"

Raziel said, their voice careful and steady, "then that is questioning Her Ineffable Plan." They reasoned, knowing that if they upset the female, it would be their wings up on the wall, "it is going against Her..."

"Right..." Raphael nodded, a frown on her lips, 'what is her Ineffable Plan?' She thought to herself softly, as Raziel walked away. 'Maybe there is no Plan...' She smiled, covering her mouth, and began to laugh, her voice sounding like a snake, 'what a joke!'



"How dare he?!" Snapped a Seraph angrily.

"It's a disgrace!" Snarled another Seraph.

"It's terrible!" Yelled a third Seraph.

Raphael sat in a meeting, Archangels, Seraphs, Angels and more, however, there was a few select few missing. One of the big ones being Archangel Lucifer. This meeting is about Lucifer. It was no secret the Archangel was questioning the Ineffable Plan, and it was now known he was setting up a Rebellion.

It's Pride apparently. The beings in the meeting were saying it's 'Pride', a sin it's being called. They think he's going to create a kingdom, and a lot of angels were following his example, and agreed with him, followed him like disciples. Michael was worried about Raphael, how they were, how they were taking it, if they were okay... Raphael assured him they fine, and that they haven't questioned a thing.

Well, it's not the exact truth. They have questioned things, silently, keeping quiet and only voiced these questions to Lucifer, who listened, tried to answer, and shushed them.

"Do not worry! When the time comes we will fight! And, we will be ready!" Michael called out.

Raphael stayed silent, they didn't sneer and snarl, instead they were thinking, barely listening to training times Michael had planned. No, instead they were figuring out when to warn Lucifer... no, they're not back stabbing, but it's wrong! There shouldn't be a War! There shouldn't be a Rebellion! They're all beings of Love! Not Hatred and Violence!

"How dare anyone question Her Holy word!" Shouted a Seraph.

"Such an embarrassment!" Scoffed another Seraph.

Finally, Raphael spoke up, voice quiet and timid, "but, what's wrong with being curious?" They questioned.

It fell silent in the room, and all eyes fell onto them. Everyone stared, shocked and horrified, and despite Raphael whispering, their voices echoed the room.

"I-I mean, don't get me wrong! I agree with Her!" Assured Raphael, telling a small white lie. "But, isn't anyone else wonderin'? Don't we want to get it Right?" They asked, their golden eyes scanning the room, and felt themselves shrinking in on themselves. Nobody was entertaining the idea.

Uriel nodded, her voice soft for her sibling, "true, however, some might see it as disagreeing with Her..."

Raphael's eyes flashed in a panic, "I'm not a... a Traitor..." They assured, making a word up on the spot.

Sandalphon frowned, "what's a Traitor?"

"A Traitor is a person who betrays someone or something, such as a friend, cause, or principle." Defined Raphael, making it all up on the spot.

Gabriel smiled, and cheered, "I love that word! Nice work, Raphael!" He smiled, walking over and patting Raphael's back.

Raphael smiled weakly, and slowly found themselves frowning, as angels walked out to get ready for their work. Raphael watched, and waited until it was clear, and they ran out, looking for Lucifer.

"Luci!" Raphael called, frantically looking around, "Lucifer!" They bumped into Baal, their short, black hair falling in front of their face and Raphael frowned, "I'm so sorry!"

Baal snarled, "who are you looking for?!" They snapped, rubbing a slowly forming bruise on their shoulder.

Raphael frowned, and placed their fingers on Baal's shoulder, and their fingertips glowed, healing the bruise, "I'm looking for Lucifer. Do you know where he is?"

"Office..." Drawled Baal.

"Thanks!" Smiled Raphael, running past them and running to Lucifer's office. They knocked on the door, "Luci, you in there?!"

Lucifer opened the door, annoyed but then he smiled, "Raphael?" He then frowned, seeing his sibling's panicked look, and pulled them in gently, "Raphael, what's wrong?"

"They're angry! They're all angry, and they're planning for your attack. If you just... don't attack them, just apologise—"

Lucifer cut Raphael off, "I know, thank you for warning me. But, don't worry. All we want is answers. You want answers too, don't you?"

"Well, of course—"

"See? It'll happen in a few days if She doesn't answer, and we'll be using Holy Weapons, such as Flaming Swords. Baal with be there, so will..."

Raphael stared, and tried to look interested, they really did, but they didn't want a War. They didn't want to fight... maybe, if they told Michael, he could sort this all out? They nodded, "right... I wish you luck..."



It was terrible! Raphael's plan had gone wrong! He had warned Michael, but it had just kick started everything. The Rebellion came. The Rebellion came, and it was chaos. At this point nobody knew who was fighting who. All the Archangels had forced Raphael to stay in his tent, and stay away from the fight.

Raphael listened, most of the time. He did end up running out, and taking angels, both enemies and friends into the tent, and healed them with out question. Anyone who came in with the intent to hurt the beings he was saving, he would fight them without a second thought, Flaming Sword out, and he would win each fight.

He fell into a seat in the hallway, and covered his face with his hands and whimpered, "oh no..." Everything had gone wrong, all he wanted was for people to get along, not fight, and he's probably gone and made it all worse.

Michael sat next to him, "Lucifer has Fallen."

"Oh..." Frowned Raphael, rubbing his eyes, feeling tears well up in them. "I shouldn't have said anything..."

"And what, let us loose? Let them win?" Questioned Michael, his arm around his youngest brothers shoulders, "you did the right thing. I don't think even Lucifer would be upset, he knew you wanted Peace more than War."

Raphael nodded sadly, "just... I've been healing and fighting both sides—"

"Because, you're loyal and kind." Reasoned Michael, it didn't make him a Traitor... it just made him Raphael... "You're Raphael..."

A figure stormed in, white wings... not burned, but severely singed, ruined and dulled... Baal. They glared at Raphael, and stormed up, taking his wrist and pulled him up, "come on!"

"H-hey!" Snapped Raphael, eyes wide in panic and pulled his wrist, trying to pull away.

"Come on! You deserve to Fall with me!" Snarled Baal in anger.

Michael grabbed Raphael's other wrist, his fingers tight, "get your hands off my brother!" He pulled Raphael back, away from Baal.

"M-Michael!" Whimpered Raphael, eyes scared.

"Raphael asked questions!" Snarled Baal, pulling harsher on the arm. Raphael whimpered, feeling like his arm was going to be ripped from his socket. Baal added, "and he was helping us! He should Fall!"


"He kept quiet! And he's loyal! Healing is his thing!" Snarled Michael, pulling Raphael's other arm, and Raphael yelped in pain. "He's an angel, doing his job!"


Raphael was tugged left and right, up and down, trying to keep him Up and the other trying to pull him Down. He felt... something pulling from his middle. Ripping, tearing and pulling. Like, ripping paper, but the paper was desperately trying to cling onto the other, but making it all the more painful. It hurt. It ached. It burned. What... what was happening?!

"Let go!" Yelled Raphael, "you're tearing me apart!" His voice split suddenly, no longer one but two.

A grey light shot from Raphael, splitting into black and white. Michael fell back, as did Baal.

Baal grunted and looked into their arms, and paused. There was a tall, skinny figure with long red curled hair, golden eyes and one set of black wings, and a black robe, with a sash and bracelets, with black scales up his face. He was groaning, with red, bloody tears down his face from the unbearable pain.

Michael landed with a yell, and looked in his arms, and paused. There was a chubby figure with white nearing blond, short hair, blue eyes, two sets of white wings, and a white robe with  belt, and rings, with a gold line on his lip. He was also groaning, with golden tears running down his pale cheeks from pain.

Slowly, Michael and Baal looked to each other in shock, trying to figure out what happened.

Painfully, the white clothed being and black clothed being groaned, and sluggishly looked up. Golden eyes clashed with blue eyes, noticing the familiar features in the other. Their eyes widened, "Raphael!" They shot up, and ran to each other, the red haired beings arms were out, and crashed into the white haired being, and the chubbier one held the skinnier one close.

The skinny being buried his face into the chubby being's chest, they were both confused, so incredibly confused. And, they were very worried for the other. The red haired being pulled back, and cupped the others cheek, "are you okay?" He asked, in a serpent like voice, southern and swish.

"I'm okay, are you okay?" Questioned the white haired being, cupping his hand over the others, his voice British and posh.

"Who cares?!" Asked the other with a strained laugh, tearing up more.

"I do, my dear." He leaned forward, and kissed the bloody tears away.

The red haired being frowned, "what-what happened, R-Raphael?" He asked, shaking and he clung to the man.

"I-I don't know, my dearest Raphael..." He looked up to his brother, and Baal, and the red haired being followed his gaze.

They both stared at Baal and Michael, who were on the floor in shock, eyes wide in horror at themselves, "brother, Baal?"

In a moment of panic, Michael gripped the white haired shoulders and dragged him away, and Baal grabbed the other, dragging him down. The two's eyes widened in horror, and realised they were being split again, and suddenly they started struggling, "no! Let him go! Raphael!" They struggled, kicking their legs and reached out to grab the other.

They were too far away, and their tears fell harsher, "Raphael!"



Michael set the white haired being down, his face guilty. Sandalphon, Uriel and Gabriel stood around, their eyes confused as they wrapped their wounds.

"Who's that?" Questioned Gabriel, his smile tense and less genuine.

The white haired being stared in fear, wiping his eyes and tears, "R-Raphael..."

"One half of Raphael... Baal and I, we were, well we—"

"You split me!" Yelled the white haired being, backing up and sniffing, "bring him back!" He demanded in a whimper, holding himself.

Gabriel stared in shock, his tense smile softened to one of sadness. Sandalphon stared, "and where is the other?"

"He... he has Fallen..." Michael admitted, his head down in guilt. He frowned, "I-I don't think we can put him back..."

The white haired being stood up, "I want Raphael! I... I need him!" He went to run out, to get after the other half, but Uriel gently took his shoulders. He looked to her, "please, Uriel... let me find him, sister..."

Uriel frowned, "no... we can't, you might not come back..."

"But, it's Raphael! I'm not him!" Cried the being, and went to run again.

Gabriel frowned, and took the white haired being shoulders. He frowned, seeing the similar features of Raphael, and he pulled his half-brother into a hug, "you're Aziraphale..." He offered, voice soft, "a Seraph... your praise God—"

"No!" Snapped Aziraphale, backing up, "no, no! I'm not a Seraph! I need Raphael—"

Sandalphon held up its hand, and placed its hand on Aziraphale's head, rubbing a thumb over his brow. Aziraphale's eyes glazed over, and he slumped over, and Michael took hold of his half-brother, looking to Sandalphon, "what did you do?"

"I-I wiped his memory..." It admitted, looking down face riddled with guilt. "H-He doesn't remember who he is, was, or what his job was... He doesn't know who Raphael is..."

"Not a Seraph..." Gabriel said soft, and he nodded, respecting his half-brothers wishes, "we'll make him a Cherub," he looked to the Flaming Sword, "and a Principality. Hopefully The Almighty will agree to it... he can guard this Earth..." He said, voice soft and full of guilt. He wanted to make his half-brother happy, even if he didn't remember they were brothers, even if they forgot there was ever another half.



The red haired being whimpered, and sniffed as Baal gently placed the being on the floor. Lucifer walked over, "Baal?" He paused, seeing the figure, "Raphael?" He asked in horror, seeing the familiar features. He rushed over, and knelt.

"Michael and Baal split me!" Yelled the red haired being. He got up and went to run, but Lucifer stopped him, "let me go, brother!"

Lucifer's face was riddled with guilt, and he looked to Baal, "you split Raphael?! Where's the other half?"

"Still up there..." Baal said, voice full of equal guilt. They couldn't even imagine how this angel and demon was feeling, and yes they might not like the red haired being, they knew it must be difficult, it must be worse in a way. They felt bad...

Lucifer brushed his half-brothers long, red hair, "it's going to be alright! See, I can make you a Prince and—"

"I don't want to be a Prince! I want Raphael!" The red haired being yelled, and went to run off.

Lucifer, with a dead and heavy heart, placed his hand on the beings head, and the being froze up. He fell backwards and his eyes closed, and Lucifer caught him quickly. Baal jumped, "what did you do?"

"I wiped his memory... he won't remember Raphael, he won't remember anything... I'll make him a Lord... Demon of Temptations... he needs a knew name—"

"Crawly." Answered Baal, rather cruelly, "Fell for asking questions..."

Lucifer nodded, and set his half-brother down. He looked to Baal, and scowled at them, seeing the wings and pushed them into a pool of sulphur and relished the way they screamed in agony and pain.



"Well, that went down like a lead balloon." The demonic half said, staring out to the humans who were kicked out from The Garden. His first temptation went well, what with being a Demon of Temptation.

The angelic half laughed nervously, feeling the rolls of evil wash from the demon. He then frowned, realising he hadn't actually listened to what the demon had said, too overcome with the darkness washing from him, and too afraid for giving away The Flaming Sword for the humans protection. He failed at keeping them safe once, he wouldn't a second time. He asked politely, "sorry, what was that?"

The demon looked to the angel, and repeated, rather amused, "I said, 'Well, that went down like a lead balloon.'"

The angel nodded, and looked forward again, "yeah, it did..."

Chapter Text

Slowly, eyes opened. The first thing seen was the bartender, who was kneeling over and frantically asking, "are you okay? What happened to you?"

Sluggishly, raising an arm, and wiggling long, well manicured fingers; there was rings on each finger, the middle fingers having a snake on each and three bracelets on each wrist. When falling off the chair, and going unconscious, there was no jewellery... with a groan, the now shared body sat up, and turned to the mirror, and froze.

Looking back was his figure, yes his... he and him pronouns felt right for him. He reached up, and twisted a long red lock of hair, that faded to blond nearing white, his was long and had a braid wrapped around his head three times, and dangled then some. He stared, and let the braid loose, watching it fall and curl past his shoulders, and dragged his hands over the side of his hair. Two braids appeared on each side of his head.

His sunglasses had fallen off, revealing yellow, golden, serpent eyes, lined with blue winged liner, though it was straight and sharp unlike how soft it used to be, his lower lip had a line of gold drawn on, that dragged to his chin. His teeth, while sharp were friendly, and his figure, while well built and plump, was tall and slinky. He traced his pale blue specks, and glittery scales that decorated his not pale, yet not tanned face. They were over his cheeks like constellations, and over his nose, and up to his temples.

His clothing was different, three times different. He wore a topcoat, matching Aziraphale's style, however it was grey, and wore a tight fitted, off-white shirt that matched what Crowley would wear, and black waistcoat, with a golden pocket watch, a grey tie-scarf thing that Crowley wore, however it had the pattern of tartan. His shoes were snakeskin shoes, and his pants, while black, were fitted like Aziraphale's loose, squared pants, and holding them up was his white belt, snake designed pants.

He reached over, his fingers curling around the glasses and they instantly changed to grey, simple yet stylish, and covered his eyes. He slid them over his nose, and slowly heaved himself up, "looks like gonna have to get a bit of a wiggle-on." He said.

"Excuse me, sir?" Called the bartender, getting up in a worry.

He turned, "Raphael," he introduced. "Thank you for your help..." He rushed out the bar, and moved to the Bentley.

There she sat in all her glory, and he smiled, moving over. He placed his hand on the car, and patted her, "hey girl... this is going to be confusing, but uh... I'm Raphael, both Crowley and Aziraphale, and I'm going to drive you to Tadfield Air Base..." He carefully climbed into the car, as if afraid the car would rev and speed off.

He turned the car on, and immediately Queen began to play, 'I Was Born To Love You'.

"I was born to love you, with every single beat of my heart. Yes, I was born to take care of you, every single day of my life."

Raphael smiled, and covered his heart with his hands, "well, this all certainly explains a lot, doesn't it Crowley, Aziraphale?" He asked, as if the two would respond out loud.

He held back a grin, hearing a, 'it really does,' and another, 'no wonder we knew when the other was in trouble...'

The Archangel took hold of the wheel, and slammed his foot on the gas, driving off, speeding and safety be damned.





Rain pounded to the floor, crashing with wild winds and luminous loud lightening, as Queen's 'Another One Bites the Dust' played on the radio, hundreds of cars lined up all down the motorway, the motorway to get out of London, the motorway to leave. It was car, after car, after car.


Raphael is currently stuck in a traffic jam as he tries to get out of London to find Adam.


Raphael drove forward in Crowley's car, (though it might be their car now, who knows about the technicality of it all), very, very, very slowly, as the windscreen wipers went back and forth, wiping the rain clean, and he gripped the steering wheel, the leather squeezed beneath his hands, as he glared at the car in front of him.

The radio spoke up suddenly, "and it's official. This is the biggest traffic jam in England's history!" The male's voice said, amazed and astonished, as if this was a big achievement in England's history.

Raphael's face contorted into a helpless look of despair, sagging in his seat and his shoulders slumped, "why?" He whined, face crumpled in annoyance, his mind whirling in thought, his nose scrunched into a sneer of distress and anguish.

Suddenly, his mind was filled by a memory that he hasn't lived through, but Crowley has lived through. It was from eleven years ago, where Satan complimented the demon, using Freddie Mercury's voice; 'WHAT YOU DID TO THE M25 WAS A STROKE OF DEMONIC GENIUS, DARLING.'

His face fell, of course! Anything Crowley does backfires on him, horribly! "Oh," he cried, face crumpled in annoyance, "no, no, no, no, no!" He whined, voice full of grief and misery.

Lightening struck again, with a loud CRASH.

The traffic jam is being caused by problems on the M25, the freeway that circles London.

Crowley had a lot to do with the design of the M25 back in the 1970's.



Crowley, with a moustache, stood in front of a meeting with demons around him, four of them being Hastur, Ligur, Beelzebub and Dagon. He stood in front of a projection with plans on for a freeway that was in the middle of being built.

"So, thanks to three computer hacks, two breaking and entering's, one well selected minor bribery," he explained. He licked his lips, "and me moving some markers across a field one night," he hastily and quickly admitted, glossing over the fact. (He'd rather not think of that, everything else had failed and he spent two hours, in a wet, squelchy field at night, in an orange neon jacket, moving and shifting marker pages a few, but occultly incredibly significant meters.) "The M25 London orbital motorway, which was supposed to look like this," he turned to it.

Beelzebub coughed, bored, Dagon stared, bored, Ligur slouched, bored, Hastur scowled, bored.

He shifted the sheet, and looked behind him to a normal looking, and rather sensible road plan, projected up on a the pull down screen, then threw it down to the floor. "Will, when it opens in 1986, in actuality look like this," he slammed a new sheet down, to a used and worn down piece of paper, with an incredibly messy plan, looking crazed, it was a demons wet dream of anger, hatred and frustration.

Ligur scratched his upper lip, bored. Dagon and Hastur looked unimpressed, bored. Beelzebub shuffled in their seat, bored.

"And represent the dread sigil Odegra in the language of the dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu." He raised his hand with a flourish, and gestured to the title he wrote on the page, "'Odegra' means, 'Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds.'" He looked to the group, and grinned, proud of himself. "Can I hear a 'wahoo'?"

All he got in response was groans, yawns and a few "boo's" so it seemed, however Crowley knew even then, that this would be one of his better achievements. How could it not be? All that mad, raging Wrath, oh it would do sinfully well!

He hastily continued, moving the conversation along, "once it is built, the millions of darling motorists who grumble their way around it are going to be like water on a prayer wheel," he waved his hand around the plan, a smirk on his lips, pulled over his sharp teeth.

Hastur, whose arms were folded, raised his hand, a scowl on his face, with a dead eyed stare.

"Grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the entirety of London." Crowley turned with a grin, and saw Hastur. He walked forward, swaying his hips and asked, "yes, Duke Hastur?"

"What's a computer?" Asked Hastur, face unimpressed still.

"Another one bites the dust!"



As Adam came into his power, the world welcomed him in ways not even Crowley had expected.


"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds."

What was that noise? It was coming from far in front of all the traffic, and was getting louder and louder. Raphael looked up with a confused frown, one full of thought as he heard chanting coming from the M25. It was getting louder again. It was spreading. It was becoming repetitive, as if it was a prayer. It was coming in waves, carried by the harsh wind and was louder then the honking of horns and rain.

"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds."

The cars one the opposite side of the M25 exploded with a loud bang that echoed the quiet, and crashed into another. The road set fire, and the chanting continued, before turning into silence and cackling. Balls of fire shot outward, catching fire to the one next to it. It spread.

"Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds..."

It went up in flames, the type that if you looked at it, it would hurt your eyes. Fire spread, blowing up more cars, specks of fire flicking off in directions, it was getting bigger, and bigger.


The M25 had become, unexpectedly, a burning magical ring of fire that surrounded London. Nobody was getting in or out.
Crowley had made it, now Raphael, with Crowley and Aziraphale was trapped inside it.


Raphael stared at the red and orange flames that wreaked carnage and havoc, the flames grew and grew. The flames fluttered, and whipped wildly, spreading, surrounding London and keeping everyone inside trapped. Trapped like a cricket in a shoe box, just on a larger scale, with more anger and a higher chance of death. The ribbons of red and orange danced, as he sighed, feeling his stomach turn to a cold, icy, bottomless pit.

He growled out a pain filled groan, annoyed at how this backfired on one half (literally), again! Everything Crowley does always backfires on him! "Right. The M25 is now an impassable burning ring of infernal fire, and that's Crowley's fault," he admitted, and heard no objection from Crowley, or Aziraphale.

He then had a thought, that wasn't his, 'yes, but it was a great job grant you''but, was it worth it?' Questioned the next voice that was also not his. Then he had another thought, one that was a collective thought of all three, one that everyone could get behind... no, this is his thought, no debate, no second thought to argue, his. He was working as one, and the demon and angel weren't contradicting him. 'It's all out of control, and Heaven and Hell are not longer in control of things...'

Letting out an anxiety filled sigh, his chest empty, his heart falling to his butterfly infested stomach, as he whispered and muttered out, "come on, Tadfield. Tadfield. Tadfield." He chanted like a prayer, hoping someone heard, hoping someone would help, as he looked around.

He turned the wheel slightly, and slowly steered out into the side lane, a lane that you really shouldn't be driving in, the side of the road if you will, and drove down it slightly. He drove past car, after car, after car, who were staring at the ever rising fire in terror and shock. He gritted his teeth, and kept driving.

"Motorists are being advised to avoid the M25 London orbital motorway because, in the words of a Transportation Department spokesman; 'It's on fire or something.'" Came the woman's voice on the radio, "what does that even mean?" She asked confused.



The flames continued to grow on the M25, the flames fluttering and flickering, in rolls of bright blinding red and orange hues.

Raphael was still driving, only to realise there was no opening, no other turning points still and was just getting closer and closer to the fire. He pulled over, fumbled over to The Book, opening it, having read through the notes a million times now, by himself and from Aziraphale's thoughts.

"Come on. There must be a way across it." He mumbled, thumbing through pages, "burning roads... you predict this, Agnes?" He questioned, only to hear his thoughts, on all three sides, come up blank. (She had done, but he couldn't find. It read; A street of light, the black chariot of the Serpente will flayme, and a Queene wille sing quickfilveres songes no moar. Most of the Device family had gone along with Gelatly Device, who wrote a brief monograph in the 1830's explaining it as a metaphor for the banishment of Weishaupt's Illuminati from Bavaria in 1785.)

Actually, he hadn't really heard from Crowley and Aziraphale in a while, they had fallen silent, balancing each other out. The more he thought about it, the more he realised, he wasn't, or isn't, Crowley and Aziraphale. He is Raphael the Archangel of Healing, Seraph to God, Owner of the Flaming Sword. No longer Serpent, Demon of Temptations, Demon of Eden, Lord Crowley, or rightful Cherub, asked to be, Principality, Angel of Eden Aziraphale.

He flipped between pages, flipping back and forth and he asked with an annoyed and helpless sneer, "why isn't there an index?" He asked, helplessly, and he kept flipping, until a grimy, dirty, never washed hand, with dirt covered nails reached over and slowly pulled off his grey sunglasses. He jerked his head, confused, and his serpent eyes lined with blue widened, following the slimy hand, tense and he backed up into the drivers door automatically, eyes shinning in fear.

There was Duke Hastur, holding out the glasses as if they were poisonous, and he snapped them half, the lens shattering, and Raphael winced, gritting his teeth as he watched the scene unfold, trying to keep a distance between himself and the demon Crowley pissed off, by killing his (boy)friend. He shrunk down into his seat, and into the car door, looking for an escape. Nothing, he would be caught up with immediately if he ran...

"You'll never escape London." Hastur said, calmly his voice in a rasp, facing the front of the road. He hadn't even glanced to the Raphael who was now staring at him at him fear. "Nothing can."

Lightening struck again.

"Hello, Hastur dear." Raphael greeted, waiting until the Duke realised he wasn't Crowley, "how was your time in voicemail?" He asked in fake wonder, as if talking to an old friend who went on vacation, and he's not seen in a while.

"Funny, ha-ha." Hastur said, blandly. He looked to Raphael, "joke all you like, Cro—" He paused, noting the warm smile on the Archangel's face, and finally realised, "you're not Crowley."

"Oh, but I am..." Raphael said, "kind of. Let me guess, 'there's nowhere to run.'?" He threw The Book onto the backseat, "I'm Raphael, Crowley's half of me, the other half is Aziraphale." He smiled, and held the steering wheel, "aren't you to be lining up, ready for battle around now?"

Hastur stared, blinking, completely thrown off.

Raphael casually asked, "what? Disappointed I ruined your very stereotypical, and boring monologue?"

The Duke had no idea what was going on, all he could grasp was there is some Crowley, that the Archangel in front of him is Crowley somehow. Raphael had said so himself. He straightened up and said, "Hell and Heaven will not forget."

Raphael hummed with a pleasant smile, leaning forward.

"Hell and Heaven will not forgive."

His serpent eyes were scanning the area, and road, and the large fire, his eyes... they were practically glowing.

"You know where the real Antichrist is, don't you?" Asked Hastur, a knowing look on his face. "You'll never reach him." He held back a smirk.

Raphael jerked his head in doubt, shaking it side to side, his face filled with a doubtful grimace, "I can assure you dear boy, neither will you..."

"You're done, Crowley—"

"Raphael!" Sang the Archangel, his blue scales glittering from the fire.

Hastur pointed a disgusting finger the wall of fire, leaning closer to Raphael. "Think you're going to get across that? There's nowhere to go." He chuckled, a dark smirk on his face.

Raphael glanced to Hastur, and smiled all serpent-like, his eyes glowing a dangerous yellowy-blue, the scales on his face glittered. "Well, if Crowley and Aziraphale are fucked as it is; it makes you wonder what we're willing to do, doesn't it dear?" Asked Raphael, gaining fake confidence. "Let's put your theory to the test, shall we?" Suggested the serpent demon mixed with a cherub angel, getting the 'okay' from both of them, and he smirked. He put on a CD, 'The 50 Greatest Pieces of Classical Music', but of course it started playing Queen.

Thunder rumbled, and lightening struck.

Raphael began driving forward at a rapid speed, his face pulled into a calm, at ease look of casualness, and his hands tightened on the wheel.

Hastur tensed up, confused and slightly worried, "what-what-why are you driving?" He questioned looking between Raphael and the road. "That's-what-stop this thing." He said, worried and scared, but he hid his fear, swallowing back his anxiety.

"You know the thing I like best about time," asked Raphael as he kept driving, acting as if he was talking to an old friend, glaring from under his eyes, hunched over slightly. "Is that every day it takes us further away from the fourteenth century," he sneered suddenly, and shook his head, teeth bared in disgust, eyes in a glare, and nose scrunched up, "we really didn't like the fourteenth century!" He looked to Hastur, "you'd have loved it, then!"

Hastur swallowed and let out a fearful, "yeah." He too was also trying to keep this facade of casualness, though his tense shoulders gave away his fear. He sniffed, warily.

"They didn't have any cars back in the fourteenth century. Lovely, clever human people inventing cars, and motorways, and windscreen wipers." Raphael listed, and looked to Hastur suddenly, "you got to hand it to them!" He looked back to the road, and sped up.

Lightening struck again.

"Yeah." Nodded Hastur still trying to be calm, and suddenly he yelled a fearful scream, "ah! Stop it! It's over!" He yelled through gritted teeth, shaking in terror and anger.

Raphael didn't listen, he gripped the wheel with two hands, and stared, teeth clenched together, as reds and oranges lit up face, his forehead already getting sweaty, feeling the fire getting closer, as his clothing stuck to his skin already. His was getting a dark look on his face.

"You're doomed!" Screeched Hastur. "You hear me, whoever you are? You're doomed. Whatever happens. DOOMED!"

"See?" Smiled Raphael, looking at Hastur, "this day's already got better." His eyes were glowing a bright yellowy-blue, and slowly and ever so slightly, the iris expanded. Smoke steamed from inside the car already, surrounding the two.

Queen's, 'I'm In Love With My Car' played, as they drove into the fire wall, the fire engulfing them, surrounding them, swallowing them, "when I'm holding your wheel!"

"Stop this!" Demanded Hastur in terror, gripping the seat, pushed back into the seat. The fire licked at the car, and heated it up, dancing and threateningly. "You'll discorporate us both!" Hastur reasoned, and screamed in fear. He looked around in horror, seeing the thrashing and lashing, whipping red fiery flames, that slammed and kissed, licking the windows, the car, and was seeping into the car, and was now stabbing his feet, and up his legs.

The leather seat-covers began smoking.

Raphael had planned to stay calm, and hide the fact he was struggling to keep the car together, he had planned to whistle his way through calmly, however... it would scare Hastur to look like he was enjoying the pain for one. And, number two, this is hard to keep together, and even the demon and angel half of him were struggling to stay together too. They were in pain! All three sides of him seemed to agree on the same thing, and so, he smiled, and his iris's expanded, the yellow of his eyes spreading, "HAHAHAHA!"

Hastur kept screaming and whimpering, "this is not funny!" He cried out, eyes panicked.

"Come on!" Shouted Raphael, whose teeth were gritted together. "If you've got to go, then go with style!" He screamed, with an insane, serpent smile on his face, that looked methodically evil.

Suddenly, Hastur's corporation caught fire, and quickly went up in flames, wrapping and cloaking him, "I hate you!" He screamed, and exploded in a ball of fire, and a loud bang.

Raphael kept laughing in delight, just in case he could still hear. After a moment when he was sure Hastur was gone, he stopped laughing, and he gritted his teeth in pain, as the car rattled unsettling him, and bumped and crashed, and he tightened his grip, breathing harshly though his nose and teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as sweat formed on his head, his hair already a mess. His iris' were larger now.

He had to keep driving.

"You are our car!" Grumbled Raphael, knowing that if he claimed it as his the Bentley might just give out. He'd rather her think and believe that she was all three's car. (Not that Aziraphale would admit to it, but he always drove passenger in it.) "Crowley's had you from new! You are not going to burn!" Suddenly, his eyes were just yellow, his iris' had now covered the whites of his eyes, and his serpent pupils expanded, filling out the space appropriately. Crowley's not had eyes like that since The Beginning. "Don't even think of it!" He warned, angrily, his throat hoarse, hands tight and muscles tense. He grunted in discomfort.

The car rattled angrily, and furiously, as if rebelling against the Archangel. Or trying to, but it knew better. Raphael yelled out in pain and anger, his mind and will at work, "AH! Ha-ha!" He screeched, breathing heavily, panting and strained. His nostrils flared.


Raphael has something no other demon or angel have, especially not Hastur: an imagination.


The Archangel screamed in rage and agony, forcing himself past his limit, his serpent eyes shinning, and wide in pain. He was shaking, and his muscles felt weak. He couldn't whistle all calm now, he was in too much pain. His teeth were grinding together, and his entire face scrunched up.


Right now, he's imagining that he is just fine, and that a ton of burning metal, rubber and leather is a fully functioning car.

He had started the journey in their Bentley, and he was damned if he wasn't going to finish it in the Bentley as well.


He screamed, mixing with serpent yells, as the car furiously shook. It was the effort of holding the car together that caused the extreme screams of pains, and for him to grit his teeth near breaking them, and the biospatial feedback that was causing his eyes to become bright red, mixing with yellow. That and the effort of having to remember not to start breathing.

He hasn't felt like this since the fourteenth century!



The Metropolitan police were serious people. They were the hardest, most cynically pragmatic, most stubbornly down-to-earth police force in Britain.

"The boffins are on their way." Said one officer, as a few of the other officers laughed about a police report. "In the meantime, nothing is getting out of London." The police report was about a stolen police car, only the robber turned out to be an octopus. Honestly, some police forces believe anything these days!

It would take a lot to faze a copper from the Met, clearly.

It would take, for example, a honking car horn, a huge, battered car that was nothing more nor less than a fireball, a blazing, roaring, twisted metal lemon from Hell, driven by a grinning, red to white haired lunatic, with bright yellow eyes lined with sharp blue, sitting amid the flames, waving at them, as it was trailed by thick black smoke, coming straight at them through the lashing rain and the wind at eighty miles per hour.

That would do it every time.

"What was...?" Asked the officer shocked, "he was waving."

"The machine of a dream!"



'We Will Rock You' by Queen sounded the small area of Tadfield, and R.P. Tyler, who was ten minutes away from the village, frowned. Besides the terrible racket, that he would write about, he sniffed and smelt something burning in the air, of metal and rubber.

"We will, we will, rock you!"

R.P. Tyler slowed, and stayed calm as a car completely on fire, pulled up from behind him, and parked in front of him.

The window rolled down, and revealed a man with red to fading white hair, that was covered in soot, with weird yellow eyes, and blue shinning scales. He stuck his head out the window, "ah, excuse me?" He asked, a nice and lovely smile on his face, "sorry to bother you. I seem to have gotten slightly lost." Apologised the man, "could you possibly give me directions to Lower Tadfield Air Base? I know it's around here somewhere."

Tyler looked at the flaming car, squinting from the light and heat that came off the thing.


There are some things it is very difficult to say. What R.P. Tyler truly wants to say is:


"Your car is on fire!" Reasoned Tyler, in his sensible mind, and even more sensible imagination. 


But he can't. I mean, the man must know, mustn't he? Perhaps it's some kind of practical joke? So he says...


"Might have taken the wrong turn." Tyler said in a friendly tone over Queen's blaring voice, and the cackling of flames, pointedly ignoring the fire and the mans wild eyes. "A signposts blown down."

The red to white haired male smiled, his sharp teeth on show, "that must have been it!" The orange flames below gave him an almost infernal appearance. Said fire blew through the wind and towards Tyler, who felt his eyebrows frizzle.

Tyler smiled, all tense and he nodded, waving a hand, "easy mistake to make. So, second on the right." He began explaining, uneasily and gesturing down the street. He's been here before, after all.

The man nodded, a pain filled expression on his face, teeth gritted together.


When what he wants to say is...


"Young man, your car is on fire, and you're still sitting in it," Tyler said in his imagination.

The red to white haired male in his imagination looked at the dashboard with a frown, yellow eyes squinting in thought, or was that real life? And is Tyler still explaining in his head?

"And frankly, it's in no fit condition to drive."

"Right. Got it. Terrific." Smiled the stranger, "much obliged." He thanked, with a friendly drawl, leaning back in his seat.

Tyler decided to tell him, he had to! He couldn't keep ranting in his head! "Young man?!" He started, testily.

The man sat in fire looked to him again, "yes?"


I mean, it's not the kind of thing you don't notice, your car being on fire.


No, he best not... right? He stared at the fire flickering across the charred dashboard, and said lamely, "very unusual weather for the time of year."

"It is?" Questioned the man, with a welcoming smile, as he leaned back, ready to leave again. "I'm afraid I hadn't noticed." He sped off down the street.

"That's probably because your stupid car is on fire!"

"We will rock you! All right!"





Raphael kept driving down the road, car on fire and all, gritting his teeth and his eyes still yellow with slits, more serpent than human then ever, the scales on his face shinning more and glowing. The guitar solo riff played as he drove down the swerving road, the car shaking, as he grunted in pain.



The young soldier who was reading a book looked up from the sound of the loud rev of an engine, and 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen. There, swerving around the corner, was a Bentley, on fire, flaming, it had no black paint job anymore, no tyres even, and looked like it had smoked out windows, though that was the effect of having normal windows with a smoke filled interior. It made pingping noises, made from metal cooling.

The door opened suddenly, and out stumbled an Archangel, face covered in soot, in grey clothing that had darkened, and red to white hair that was more grey, all from the soot and smoke, a book under his arm, "you wouldn't get that type of performance from a modern car!" He slammed the door shut, and sauntered forward with a slink, his voice sore and scratchy, as smoke came from his mouth, the music stopping. Someone, he felt absolutely terrible, the whole 'keeping the car together' thing really took it out of him.

The solider got up out of his chair at the sight, setting his book down, and he picked up his gun, walking over to the man. 

"Army human," greeted Raphael, walking over, "it really is vitally important that we speak to whoever is in charge." He said, keeping the hisses that threatened to escape back, and down his throat, and waved his hands as he spoke.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that. Now, I must respectfully ask you to vacate the premise." The man said, gun not pointed to him, but was ready if he needed to use it as a threat.

"But, sir, my friends and I have come a long way, and—" Raphael was cut off.

The gate beeped, and opened by itself, and the two looked confused, Raphael falling silent, swaying where he stood.

"How did you did that?" Questioned the solider in distress.

Suddenly, four kids - three boys and one girl - and a small mongrel, cycled past on bikes, and into the base, ringing bells. It was kind of impressive really.

"Okay, those kids are in big trouble." Warned the solider, moving backwards to the base, gun still pointed. "And so are you." He pointed his finger at Raphael, "don't move!" He rushed off, and the Archangel stared at him, and the children on bikes.

Chapter Text

"Okay, those kids are in big trouble." Warned the solider, moving backwards to the base, gun still pointed. "And so are you." He pointed his finger at Raphael, "don't move!" He rushed off, and the Archangel stared at him, and the children on bikes.

Raphael relaxed, his shoulders easing up, tired from holding his car together, his head was pulsing in pain, and the acid in his stomach turned and twisted, feeling sick. He let out a shaky breath, trying to sort his eyes out, but the moment they returned to normal, despite the serpent nature of them, a loud explosion of fire, heat and metal debris came from behind him.

He barely reacted besides a dazed blink, the only reason he was blanking was because of Aziraphale, and he casually turned around with a raised eyebrow. Pieces of metal scattered and hit the floor, a long piece of metal with what looked like a handle on each side hit the ground with a loud ringing noise.

"Any way the wind blows..."

Raphael frowned, eyes sad as he sauntered forward with sagged shoulders, looking at the dark, thick, black smoke rolling off of his now destroyed car, he fell to his knees rather dramatically. His yellow eyes lit up red, "ninety years and not a scratch, now look at you." He whispered sadly, head down.

Suddenly, his thoughts became two again, 'my dear, he's got a gun.' Raphael ignored Aziraphale, and let his head hang sadly, 'he's pointing it.' Still, Raphael just stared blankly, 'do something!'

"I am having a moment here!" Raphael said out loud, voice tearful and thick, face pulled down in despair.

'Shit!' Snapped Crowley, 'we are in you, and we can't do much! We can't... oh...'

They were all treating this as if they're separate identities, and sure, at times that makes sense. But, they're not. This is Aziraphale and Crowley as one, as Raphael, who is a being all on their own. They worked together to control him, and therefore, he is his own person. The two fell silent once again.

"Sir, I'm giving you all five seconds to vacate this area!" Yelled the solider, his gun still raised as he moved forward, ready and angry.

Raphael nodded to the Bentley, picking up a piece of metal and kissing it, "rest in peace. You were a good car." He stood up, and moved forward, his shoes clicking against the ground, and snapped his fingers loudly. With the sound of an old-fashioned light bulb popping, the solider was gone. He stared at where the man had just stood and mumbled, "I didn't think I had it in me. I hope I haven't sent him somewhere bad."

Right, he now had to focus on the Antichrist, who might have been one of those kids who cycled past on their bikes. He would have no choice put to kill the child, not matter how much he'd rather not, as his whole Purpose is Healing, but he had no other option. Suddenly, two voices blurted from his lips, "I'll kill him." His eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn't believe what was suggested, "what you?!"

A grey light surrounded the Archangel, and morphed into white and black, and suddenly, rather than Raphael, there stood Aziraphale and Crowley, holding each other. The angel now had a body, able to have one since he was contributing to a body itself. Crowley's arms were around Aziraphale's and Aziraphale's arms were around Crowley's neck, their foreheads pressed together softly, eyes closed.

"You're an angel, Raphael..." Crowley said softly, his eyes opening gently, "you can't kill him..."

"And, technically, the Antichrist is one of yours..." Aziraphale responded, just as softly, "I won't let them hurt you for it, Raphael..."

Crowley's face fell, crumpled to one of sadness, as he realised he was unable to change his other half's mind, "stay safe, angel..."

"Of course, my dearest..."

Suddenly, Crowley saw a jeep heading towards them purposefully, and was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in. "Oh," he looked between Aziraphale and his destroyed car, "oh, okay. I need to get over the car thing." He sniffed, and moved forward, taking Aziraphale's hand, who walked next to him. "I'll deal with them."

"We are here to lick some serious butt." Smirked Aziraphale, rather excited.

"'Kick', Aziraphale. It's 'kick butt'." Crowley corrected with a saunter, "for Heaven's sake." Suddenly, he shivered and gagged, jerking forward like he was about to throw up, his eyes wide in shock as if he had eaten something bad. "Oh! I can't believe I just said that."





In a handful of moments, the missiles will fly. The forces of Heaven and Hell will attack. And everything depends on one small boy.

Silence holds the bubble of the world in its grip.


A military jeep holding Aziraphale and Crowley swerved around the corner. There they spotted four children, and four beings, and one dog. A boy who was skinny with glasses, a boy covered in dirt, a girl with a red raincoat and black curled hair, and a boy with curly hair. The adults were the four horsemen, there was no doubt about that; War, Famine, Pollution and Death.

Crowley pulled the car up, and the two got out quickly.

YOU COULD FINISH THIS FOR THEM WITH ONE THOUGHT. Death said, looking at the Adam Young, who stared back, not shying away from his harsh, dead and blank gaze. YOU CAN MAKE THE WORLD ANEW.

"That's him. The curly one." Crowley said, finger pointed to Adam as he sauntered over, book in his hand. Aziraphale rushed over him, staring at the boy. "Shoot him. Save the world."

YOU ARE PART OF US, NOT THEM. Death called, angrily and assuring. NO ONE WILL DISOBEY YOU.

Aziraphale stared at the boy, and rubbed his hands together and they glowed, like they never glowed before, they were gold and it lit up Crowley's face in amazement, yellow eyes wide in shock, as a blob of golden light formed between his fingers. He cupped the light quickly, and used his fingers to form a ball. Crowley placed his hands over Aziraphale's, and his eyes glowed slightly, the ball turning from gold to black, and the two looked to each other softly.

IGNORE THIS NONSENSE. A WORD FROM YOU AND I WILL END THEIR LIVES. Death assured, voice calm and steady, ready to follow orders.

Aziraphale's eyes landed on the small boy, and his hands wavered, and Crowley gave him a confused look. The angel looked to the demon, "perhaps we should wait?"

Crowley knew the angel didn't want to hurt the child in anyway, and neither did Crowley. There's only so much he, as a demon, will do, this wasn't one of them. But, it was the only thing possible, his eyes widened, having to do a double take to his angel, "what, till he grows up?!" Shrieked the demon in a mad panic, and pointed to Adam, who wasn't bothered by the whole ordeal. "Shoot him, Raphael!" He cried out in fear.

"Excuse me," called Adam, and the angel and demon jumped, having forgotten that there were people around. Suddenly, Crowley and Aziraphale let go of the ball of power, and it flew off randomly, and it exploded. They didn't care, and instead, just looked to Adam, who asked, "why are you two not whole?"

"Uh, long story." Said Aziraphale, leaning back slightly.

Crowley covered Aziraphale's mouth, "too long to tell, lets focus on this, yeah?"

"It's not right, you should be whole..." Adam said, as if that made sense, and it did.

The angel and demon shared a look, and the back to the Antichrist. Aziraphale shrugged, "true, but... we'll focus on that another time, dear boy... end of the world now..."


It was time to decide who your friends were. And Adam had.

So, the Antichrist, three human children and a former Hell Hound, faced Death and three monsters who came from the minds of humanity.


Dog barked readily.

War stood in the middle of the circle of people (and the horsemen, and angel and demon, and a dog), as she waved and swung the Flaming Sword around rather skilfully. Aziraphale and Crowley watched her, more specifically the sword, squinting in confusion, eyebrows pulled together, and had yet to pull away from each other.

"The thing is, they're not actually real." Adam said, not phased by the horseman, "they're just like nightmares, really."

War held out her sword, and pointed it to them, "little boys with your toys." She smirked, eyes evil.

"I'm not a boy." Snapped Pepper, angrily.

"I am War." She introduced, lowering the sword, looking to each child. "You were made to serve me, to live in me and die in me." She carefully gestured to herself.

"My mum says that war is just masculine imperialism executed on a global stage." Pepper informed, a sneer on her face.

Chuckling, War looked to Pepper with a smirk, "a little girl. Run home and play with your dollies, little girl." She waved the sword in the girls face.

Slowly, and angrily, Pepper walked forward and snapped out, "I do not endorse everyday sexism."

War raised the sword in anger with an angry call, and Pepper slammed her heel into War's foot. War dropped the sword, and yelped out, "ow! Oh!"

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a look of thought to the sword, and the looked back to them, impressed with the young girl.

Pepper picked up the sword, and aimed it at War, who paused and laughed, "we're Adam's real friends. Not you lot." Pepper sneered at them, throwing them the dirties look one could muster, "you're a joke."

Death and Pollution shared a look, with Pollution looking offended.

"Just say what you believe, Pepper." Adam encouraged, voice determined.

Pepper moved forward, sword raised and War took hold of the edge of the blade, not at all in pain. "I believe in peace, bitch." Swore the girl, and she shoved the sword into War's chest, and watched in satisfaction as War screamed in pain, going up in flames, being sucked into the sword.

"Drop it, Pepper. Quick." Adam yelled, sensing the danger the sword held.

Pepper dropped the sword in shock, and backed away quickly, not feeling the power.

Pollution rushed forward, and he tried to grab it, but Brian rushed forward, and picked the sword up first, pointing it to the white haired male that was more of a melted shape, trying to be a human. "I believe in a clean world!" He stabbed Pollution, who screamed in pain and agony, evaporating into black smoke and his crown fell and clattered to the ground at Death's feet. Brian dropped the sword.

Wensleydale moved forward, just as Famine did, and he picked up the sword, glaring at the black man with sharp teeth. He glared, "and I believe in food and a healthy lunch." Famine rushed forward, and he grabbed the blade. "Actually, it's a very good thing." Snapped Wensleydale, and Famine yelled in anger.

"Didn't that used to be my, or our, sword?" Crowley questioned finally, leaning into his other half and turning to him.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, and sheepishly admitted, "I do believe it was."

Dog ran forward, barking and he attacked Famine's ankles. Famine, now loosing, screamed in pain and turned to black smoke, and scales clattered the ground, as did the Flaming Sword.

Everyone stared in amazement, and Death stared at everyone. Crowley took hold of Aziraphale's hand nervously, and Aziraphale squeezed gently.



All over the world, people who had been wrestling with switches found that they had switched. Circuit breakers opened. Computers stopped planning World War Three and went back to idly scanning the stratosphere.


"Death, this all has to stop now." Adam said, looking at the remaining horseman.


Pepper looked shocked, and scoffed out, "cheek."

"Cheek..." Grumbled Crowley and Aziraphale, who felt comfortable as males now, but who knows? They were both experimental as themselves, and as Raphael.


Death opened wings of night. Wings that were shapes cut through the matter of creation into the darkness beneath, and in which, distant lights glimmered. Lights that may have been stars, or may have been something entirely else.


Everyone stared in shock at the sight of big black wings, appearing, swooping in black smoke and light, and Death disappearing out of sight.

"There. You see, Raphael?" Questioned Aziraphale, looking to Crowley. At this point, neither knew they were using 'Raphael', but it just felt natural for now. "It's like I've always said—"

"Oh, it isn't over." Crowley cut in, eyes wide and shaking his head, "nothing's over. What causes war is two sides that cannot stand the sight of each other, and the pressure builds up, and up. Both Heaven and Hell still want their war." He assured, and walked forward, "you. Boy." He nodded with a confused sneer, as the children looked over. "Antichrist, what was your name again?"

"Adam Young," greeted the boy with a friendly smile.

"So your friends got together and saved the world." Crowley said in a sneer, looking them over. "Well done. Have a gold star. Won't make any difference."

"You!" Shouted a female in shock, eyes wide. Just a few meters away from the group, was Professional Descendant and Practical Occultist Anathema Device and Witchfinder Private Newton Pulsifer, storming over to them. Crowley and Aziraphale turned their heads to them in unison, and Anathema pointed to them, "you're the man in the car. You stole my book!"

"Oh, book girl!" Called Crowley with a slight smile, "catch." He threw the old, tattered book over to her, feeling glad to have done something he would have done before his Split.

"What is going on out here?" Anathema demanded, glaring, as her hair whipped in the wind.

"Long story. No time." Insisted Crowley with a shake of his head, and Aziraphale frowned in the background.

"Well, try me." Anathema huffed, a wary look on her face.

"Uh..." Started Aziraphale walking over to Crowley, who looked between him and Anathema. "Okay, so, uh..." He looked to demonic half, "before the Beginning, I wasn't me and he wasn't him..."

They were all confused, and frowned, listening.

"Actually, out job was completely different. In so many ways, actually—"

Crowley sighed, this wasn't the time for a 'how I met your mother' situation, and he leaned over, shushing him, and pinched his index finger and thumb together, turning his fingers like turning down the volume on a radio. Aziraphale looked to him, a frown on his face, but was pleasantly surprised by the demon planting a soft peck to his lips, and so he fell silent.

Anathema blinked. She looked to the children, and greeted them all, "hey, Adam. Hi, Pepper. Hi, you two."

"Hello, Anathema." Greeted Adam, a smile on his face. "You just stopped them blowing up the world, didn't you?" He asked with a cheeky, knowing grin on his face.

"I guess." Grinned Anathema, taking Newt's hand in hers gently, "my boyfriend here did the tricky bit."

Newt smiled, and nodded his head bashfully, but then his eyes widened and looked to her, "boyfriend?"

"Another deluded victim of the patriarchy." Commented Pepper, shaking her head.

The loud sound of thunder and lightening came from behind them, and they yelled out, turning in shock. Aziraphale stumbled, and Crowley spun around. Blue lightening hit the ground, leaving behind ash, and there stood a figure in faded purples, and off-whites, a blazer, turtleneck and scarf, Archangel Gabriel. The ground next to him rumbled and crumbled in on itself, as fire flamed slightly, and out came a figure with black hair, in a suit, red tie and balls in the hair, burns on their face, and brushing off dirt from their shoulders with an "ugh," Lord Beelzebub.

The two looked to each other, regarding the other, and walked over. They turned to the angel and demon. This was the moment the group realised, the two male present beings in front of them are well and truly an angel and a demon.

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at them and realised two things; this would hurt, as Gabriel are their brother, and Beelzebub was the reason for their Split.

Aziraphale straightened out his tartan bow tie, tensing up slightly, looking between their bosses.

Crowley swallowed, and bowed, nervously with a flourish of wrist twists, "Lord Beelzebub. What an honour."

Beelzebub looked at him, and sneered, "Crowley, the traitor."

Crowley sneered, shaking his head, "that's not a nice word." Despite trying to look confident, he pressed himself into the angel's side as much as possible, and said angel holding him close, allowing him to shrink back.

"All the other wordsz I have for you are worzse." Beelzebub assured, "where'zzzz the boy?" They buzzed, in no mood to entertain the demon, and Gabriel looked to them, annoyed.

"Well, you see Lord Beelzebub—" Started Crowley, ready to give a long winded explanation as to what had happened to save his skin, as well as Crowley's.

"Silenzzzze!" Buzzed the Lord, seeing what was happening before it began.

"Right! Right!" Crowley said, hurriedly shutting up. Slowly, the red haired demon reluctantly nodded his head to Adam, who looked at Gabriel and Beelzebub.

Gabriel smiled, his cocky, punch-able wide smile, and pointed to the boy, "that one." He moved forward, happily, "Adam Young." He shoved his hands into his pockets, while Beelzebub followed. The two were now in front of Adam, and Gabriel leaned down, "hi." He sneered slightly, trying to be friendly.

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a look of horrified disbelief. Years with Warlock taught them, you don't lean down like that and speak all condescendingly! That's the last thing you do with a child! But, then again, Gabriel was never good with children, and if Adam's disgusted, and rebellious look said anything, it was Gabriel was doing the exact opposite of what he hoped would happen.

"Young man... Armageddon must..." He waved a finger in a circular motion, "restart. Right now. A temporary inconvenience cannot get in the way of the greater good."

Adam just stared at them blankly. He was not impressed.

"As to what it stands in the way of, that has yet to be decided." Beelzebub corrected, a bored look on their face, and Gabriel scowled in anger. "But the battle must be decided now, boy! That is..." They buzzed, and swallowed, stopping themselves, "your dezzzztiny. It is written. Now start the war!" They drawled, eyes stern.

Adam took a deep breath. The human watchers held theirs. Crowley and Aziraphale had forgotten how to breathe some time ago.

"You both want to end the world just to see whose gang is best?" Asked Adam, thinking about Greasy Johnson and The Johnsonites, there is no Tadfield if The Them and The Johnsonites aren't 'battling' it out, and being rival gangs.

"Obviously." Laughed Gabriel, a smile as he shook his head. "It's the Great Plan." He reasoned, his tone just making Adam move further and further away from this 'Great Plan'.

Crowley gave the boy, and their superiors worried looks, he was ready to grab the angel and bolt. Aziraphale on the other hand frowned, as he looked to his boss, confused. The 'Great Plan'... he and Crowley has taken that Great Plan, shook it, torn it, turned it upside down, and inside out! How can this Great Plan still be up and running?!

"It's the entire reason for the creation of the Earth." Gabriel explained, with a smile.

"I've got this." Smiled Beelzebub, while Gabriel looked away furious with the Lord. "Adam..." They moved forward, and bowed to the boys height, perfect! Doing exactly what Gabriel was doing, telling the married couple they had no idea how to talk to children either, and Adam scowled. "When all this is over, you're going to get to rule the world." They assured, a patronising smile on their face. "Don't you want to rule the world?"

"It's hard enough having to think of things for Pepper and Wensleydale and Brian to do all the time so they don't get bored." Reasoned Adam, shaking his head, "I've got all the world I want." He was not going to do what two back stabbing, two faced adults wanted - no way!

Gabriel looked absolutely baffled, "well, you can't just refuse to be who you are." Beelzebub stepped back, as Gabriel continued. "Your birth, your destiny, they're part of the Great Plan."

Aziraphale looked to Crowley to see him staring at them all warily. He took a deep breath and let out a polite cough, "um, ahem..." He hurried froward, missing the double take his half did. Crowley's eyes widened in fear and panic, watching Aziraphale walk forward, internally screaming.

Gabriel sighed, annoyed, and Beelzebub pursed their lips.

"Excuse me, you keep talking about the Great Plan." Aziraphale said, standing behind Adam on right.

Gabriel raised a hand, "Aziraphale, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut." He pinched his index and thumb together.

Aziraphale didn't bother correcting his brother, and stayed on topic. "One thing I'm not clear on. Is that the Ineffable Plan?" He questioned, eyes soft and kind, full of thought and wonder, though it had faltered to a bit sterner. He and Crowley has ruined the Great Plan, and yet no God has come to Punish them, and the world still stands.

"The Great Plan!" Yelled Beelzebub. "It izzzz written!"

Aziraphale looked to Crowley nervously, looking to see if he was getting it, and Crowley stared at him in confusion, leaning back slightly, thinking through what his angel just suggested, looking between his half and his boss. He was prepared to grab Aziraphale, and run, after knocking his boss out, because how dare they talk to his angel like that?!

"There shall be a world, and it shall last for six thousand years!" Beelzebub continued, and Gabriel gave Aziraphale a dumb look, as if shocked he didn't know. "And end in fire and flame." Their eyes burned into Adam's.

"Yes, yes, that sounds like the Great Plan." Nodded Aziraphale, eyes wide slightly, assuring them he understood that. He grew more and more smug, but hid it. "Just wondering, is that the Ineffable Plan as well?" He challenged, with an air of one who just asked an unwelcome question in a political meeting and won't go away until he gets an answer. His kindness went away, his face no longer smiling, no longer friendly, and instead was replaced with a cold look, one that dared them to correct him.

Beelzebub looked a bit off, and looked between the angel and Antichrist.

Crowley's mouth dropped in shock, he too realising why Aziraphale was bringing it up... the Plan was ineffable, they messed with the Great Plan, but not the ineffable one, as they're both alive and well, as is the Earth. He looked to the bosses, who were thinking, slightly thrown off. He too was now waiting for an answer.

"Well, they're the same thing." Reasoned Gabriel, as if that made sense. "Surely!" He raised a hand, squinting as if Aziraphale was the dub one.

'Surely,' thought the demon in pure delight at the loophole. "You don't know," he whispered in amazement, and he too sauntered forward. "Uh, um, ugh, ngk..." He stood behind Adam on the left side, "well, it'd be a pity if you'd thought you were doing what the Great Plan said, but you were actually going directly against God's Ineffable Plan." He stumbled out, praising to Her all over again, like the Seraph that he was.

Gabriel frowned, confused, and Aziraphale blinked smugly, a smirk on his face.

To further drive the point, Crowley looked around, "I mean, everyone knows the Great Plan, yeah?" He looked to everyone, and nodded, prompting them to all shyly and nervously nodded along, (they had no clue). "But the Ineffable Plan... well, it's ineffable, isn't it? By definition, we can't know it." He smirked, "you can't be certain that what's happening right now isn't exactly right, from an ineffable point of view."

Aziraphale looked to their bosses, waiting for an argument.

"But it izzzz... written." Reasoned Beelzebub, their argument falling weak.

"But it might be written differently somewhere else." Said Crowley, "where you can't read it."

"In bigger letters," said Aziraphale.

"Underlined," Crowley added.

"Twice," suggested Aziraphale.

"Perhaps this isn't just a test of the world." Crowley said, feeling smug and cocky. "It might be a test of your people, too. Hmm?"

"God does not play games with the Universe, or Her loyal servants." Gabriel said, in a worried tone, pointing to the two of them. Beelzebub nodded, She didn't play games with the demons, She made them Fall.

Crowley smiled, and laughed, his eyes widened in sarcasm and shock, "whooo-eee!" He called, throwing his head back, as if that was the biggest load of rubbish in the world, "where have you been?!" And Aziraphale scoffed loudly, laughing lightly. It was times like this that made them wonder why it took so long to figure out they were Raphael, one whole being considering how well they worked together.

The Split halves looked to each other, sharing a look of confusion, wondering where their bosses were getting this information from, though their gazes were also in joy. It got even better for the two when they saw Gabriel and Beelzebub grow worried, and they held hands behind Adam's back.

"Can I just—?" Gabriel took Lord Beelzebub aside, and said, "um..." He pointed his index finger up, "I'm going to need to talk to... Head Office." He waved a hand, "how I am supposed to get ten million angels to stand down from their war footing is..." He waved a hand, stumbling over his words, "it doesn't bear thinking about."

Beelzebub looked dead, and horrified, "you should try to get ten million demons to put down their weapons and go back to work." They looked to Gabriel, who was leaning down.

"Well, at least we know whose fault it is!" Gabriel yelled, looking over to the Traitors, as did Beelzebub.

Crowley, one hand in his pocket, gave a relaxed, sarcastic, serpent-like, grinning smile to them with a shake of his head, and Aziraphale raised his free hand, wiggling his fingers in a wave with a pleasant, friendly smile, while Adam just stared, tense and uncomfortable. Honestly, looking at it, it looks like two gay parents and their child at a homophobic family gathering.

"Young man..." Gabriel walked over to Adam, as did Beelzebub, his finger to his lips in disbelief. "You were put on this Earth for one reason and one reason only. To end it." He pounded his knuckles into the palm of his hands. "You're a disobedient little brat. And I hope someone tells your father." He pointed to the boy.

"Oh, they will." Beelzebub assured, staring at Adam with a dead eyed stare. Gabriel pointed to them with a jab of his thumb. "And your father will not be pleazzzzed," they buzzed out, teeth clenched together in anger.

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a tense look of worry, and Gabriel and Beelzebub vanished in a puff of green and purple smoke and sparkle.

Suddenly, something changed, something tense and it pulled at Crowley's very being, metaphorically dragging him down. It was as if the winds had picked up in him, and had weighed him down with his muscles, shoulders and into his stomach. Like, two sharp clawed hands gripping his ankles, and dragging him down. Something shot through his chest, and immediately, Crowley understood what was happening, and what the pain he was feeling was.

"No!" Yelled Crowley in agony. "No!" He fell to the ground with a slam, his head hung low and pressed himself to the floor, no longer able to fight off the nonexistent hands. He curled in on himself, in agony as things shook around them, angrily, the ground quaking. Adam looked to him in worried confusion, while Aziraphale jumped in shock. Crowley pressed himself to the ground, feeling a tortured stabbing pain, slashes and burns, with tight gripping and wringing of skin, "no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

Aziraphale's eyes widened, and went to help, but paused, "what's happening? I can feel something." He tensed up, his stomach felt empty and his heart was racing. Nothing was hurting like Crowley, but there was a numb pain that could easily be ignored.

"They did it." Crowley breathlessly gasped, eyes blank, "they told his father." He grumbled out in shaking agony, cheek pressed to the floor.

"Oh, no." Aziraphale's eyes were blank, and his lips were pursed. He looked to Crowley, who was staring back at him, a similar thought on their minds; the brother that made one half Fall was coming.

"And his Satanic father is not happy." Crowley said, slowly kneeling up shakily, eyes wide in mad panic, on all fours.

Something slammed, creating a bang, and it threw everyone about, making people stumble and yell in shock, clinging to each other.

"Perhaps it's a volcano!" Newt yelled, stumbling.

"No, there aren't any volcanoes in England." Anathema reasoned, trying to stabilise herself and her new boyfriend, and she groaned. "It's really angry, whatever it is. I can feel it." She stumbled, nodding to where she felt this anger coming from, "it's getting closer."

It threw everyone about again, and everyone screamed. The kids were thrown into each other. Crowley fell back again, still on the floor, planning a means to escape.

"What's happening?" Shouted Pepper in confused panic.

"Well, you can call me an old silly, but it looks like the devil is coming," Aziraphale answered, with raised eyebrows, "Satan himself."

Anathema nodded, all sarcastic.

Crowley knelt up, "angel—"

"He can't hurt you, he likes you! He made you a Lord out of guilt! He let you up here out of guilt!" Aziraphale said, though he wasn't too sure anymore with how Gabriel treated him. The Archangel's were always nice to him, guess him being one half of their brother would explain it, but now...

Crowley laughed bitterly, "with whats happened?! You think they like either of us, anymore?!"

Everything rumbled and grumbled, throwing everyone again. Crowley fell again in pain, and Aziraphale stumbled backwards in shock. The kids stumbled into each other. Anathema and Newt helped each other to stay upright.

"Right. That was that." Crowley said, his eyes serpent eyes wide and sad, looking up to his other half, "it was nice knowing you."

"We can't give up now." Aziraphale insisted, shaking his head softly with sad eyes, "there are people!" He placed his hands on Crowley's shoulders, desperately trying to calm the demon down.

"Yes, and me!" Crowley reasoned back, knowing Aziraphale wanted to help the humans, but he was here. He looked up, his fearful eyes locking with Aziraphale's horrified gaze. "This is Satan himself! This isn't about Armageddon! This isn't about us! This is personal!" The demon grumbled working through the pain, kneeling on his knees, looking to his angelic half. "We are fucked!" He hissed out in distress.

Everything grumbled in fury, and Aziraphale fell back, letting go of the demon, as he waved his arms to steady himself. Adam tumbled back, shocked. Anathema clung to Newt, who clung back. The kids held onto each other. Crowley looked around wildly for the danger, in a fear.

Aziraphale looked down, and saw the no longer Flaming Sword. He picked it up, and marched over, raising the sword up to Crowley, "come up with something or...!" He trailed off, looking to the sword helplessly, he hasn't rightfully used this thing since The First War in Heaven, not to mention he didn't actually want to hurt Crowley in anyway, he couldn't, he was too connected. Literally, and figuratively...

Crowley looked up to the angelic half, waiting, confused, anything. It scares him that he would do, and accept anything the angel would throw at him, including death... I mean, whats worse than death?

"Or I'll never talk to you again." Threatened Aziraphale with a breathlessly scared whimper, (he believed the threat to be weak, and pathetic). He lowered the sword, eyes soft and shaking his head.

Crowley's eyes widened in fear at the thought, death he could deal with, but to live and never talk to Aziraphale? To live, and never be Raphael with Aziraphale again?... suddenly, he stood up with a pained growl and panting, and felt around for untouched power up, and dug deep into the pit of his stomach. With a yell, he threw his hands up to the sky, and screamed out a loud yell. He pulled.

Time suddenly stopped.

Another Place...

It was sunny, calm, empty and sandy. There on a sandy hill was Crowley with sharp, pointed and angular black wings, his serpent eyes scanning the area, still holding the car piece. Aziraphale stood with two white smooth, large wings, and he stood with the now Flaming Sword held up. The there was Adam in the middle, looking around and amazed, staring at the two.

The angel and demon stood, rolling their shoulder blades, stretching their wings and letting their muscles relax.

..Crowley reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out sunglasses, placing them on his face, "Adam, listen," he started, "your father is coming to destroy you. Probably to destroy all of us."

"My dad?" Questioned Adam in doubt, "he wouldn't hurt anybody." He assured, it seemed ridiculous and humorous that his dad would do something like that.

"Not your Earthly father. Satan." Crowley corrected with a hiss, shaking his head head, "your father who is no longer in Heaven. He is coming, and he is angry."

"So, what do you want me to do about it?" Questioned Adam, "fight him?" He asked, scared and his eyes flashing in mad panic.

It fell silent between them, the angel and demon sharing wary looks.

Crowley, hesitantly and warily said, "I don't think fighting him would do any good." He frowned, "you're going to have to come up with something else." Fighting is what started this entire mess to begin with, fighting is what got Aziraphale and Crowley right here in this very moment, fighting is what Split Raphael. It turned out alright the first time around, but it might not the second time around. 

"But I'm just a kid." Reasoned the boy, turning away from them in fear, and he looked out. He felt... small...

"But that's not a bad thing to be, Adam." Smiled Aziraphale, his voice soft and gentle, and the boy looked to him, "you know, I was scared that you'd be Hell incarnate. I hoped you'd be Heaven incarnate. But you're not either of those things." He smiled fascinated and amazed, "you're much better. You're human incarnate." He shared a soft look with his demonic half, and Crowley shared an equally soft look with him.

Crowley took a deep breath, and looked to the boy, "Adam, reality will listen to you right now." The boy looked to him, "you can change things."

"And whatever happens, for good or for evil..." Said Aziraphale, taking the boys hand comfortingly, "we're beside you."

Crowley took the boys other hand gently, and Adam took a deep, shaky breath, relishing the comfort these men gave him.

"I'm going to start time." Said the demon, "you won't have long to do whatever you're going to do."

Aziraphale raised the Flaming Sword, and Crowley grunted, spinning the car piece. Winds picked up, blowing their wings back, making them unsteady, sand spun around their feet, and suddenly, time started again. There they stood, hand in hand, at Tadfield Air Base.

"Do it quickly!" Called Crowley, desperately, not allowing the boy to feel or see his fear.

The ground moved, ripped up with a rumble, a fiery base under it with yellow smoke, and a monstrous red hand shot through the ground, and out came a fiery red coloured giant figure with a big crown of black horns, teeth and claws, glaring down at them with an inhumane roar, with it's large red, and slightly torn wings spread out, with horns and spikes on them. Crowley recoiled slightly in terror and fear, and Aziraphale held his breath. Everyone gasped and stared in fear and terror, letting out small whimpers.

First, his eyes landed on Crowley, and he scowled, "Crowley..." He sounded betrayed, as if he was offended, as if he accepted more considering how much he gave the serpent.

Said demon gulped; no more special treatment. He gave a shaky smile, "hello Satan."

"Where is my son?" Came Satan's angry, grumbled voice, awaiting his demons answer.

Crowley realised this, and realised, his brother thought him to be under his control. Slowly, he shook his head, "I'm not telling you..."

Adam, being the brave Antichrist that he is, shakily walked forward, eyes wide in terror, but stood protectively in front of the angel and demon.

Satan's eyes fell onto Adam, "you? You're my rebellious son? Come here."

Adam marched forward, and the angel and demon got ready to attack if needed.

"You're not my dad." Adam said, looking up to Satan with a shake of his head. "Dads don't wait until you're eleven to say hello, and then turn up to tell you off." He spat.

"What?" Questioned Satan, with confusion, his wings falling slightly.

"If I'm in trouble with my dad..." Said Adam, the ground rumbled, throwing everyone about, "...then it won't be you. It's going to be the dad who was there. You're not my dad!"

"What did you say?" Gasped Satan in shock.

"You can do it!" Shouted Aziraphale, holding the sword up in battle position. He had placed himself protectively in front of Crowley.

"Say it, Adam." Crowley called, car piece raised, spinning it and his knuckles white, his grip tightening, "say it again!"

Satan slammed his hands down, the floor on lave under the devil raised, and the ground shook, "come here."

"You're not my dad." Repeated Adam, "you never were."

"No." Said Satan, crumbling into dark, black smoke. "No, no, no, no, no, no!" He glared at Crowley, who glared back, and he disappeared with one final, "no!"

Crowley and Aziraphale felt the world change.

A car drove forward and pulled up as the smoke disappeared. The demon looked around, and the angel looked to his sword confused, it was no longer Flaming, the two looked to each other softly.

A man got out the car, "Adam? Adam?" Called the figure, and Crowley recognised him from eleven years ago. Mr. Young... he moved forward.

"That's not really his father." Aziraphale said, voice quiet, carefully overlooking the human.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake. Where is he?" Questioned Mr. Young.

"It is." The demon realised, "it is now. And it always was." He grinned in delight and joy, very much snake-like, with a shake of his head. "He did it. He grew up human, and is to be left alone..." He smiled, hissing out happily, and looked at Aziraphale, who smiled back softly and amazed.

"Adam!" Mr. Young slowed down in his panicked stumbling, and frowned confused, looking at the odd gang. "Would anyone here care to explain to me what exactly is going on?!" He demanded angrily.

Adam stared at his Dad, and he knew, he was unable to tell him the truth. So, Crowley stood in with a small, and sly, tempting smile, and telling a small, white lie to get the child out of trouble; why, they were playing Armageddidn't.

Chapter Text

It was dark, and quiet. The Apocalypse averted. An angel and demon in new glasses, sat on a bench in front of an old church, the demon on the left and the angel on the right. They shared a bottle of wine together that was hidden in a brown paper bag.

"It's all worked out for the best, though." Aziraphale assured, taking a mouthful of alcohol from the bottle. "Just imagine how awful it might have been if we'd been at all competent." Joked the angel with a playful sneer, passing over the bottle of wine to the demon, looking to him gently.

Taking a sharp intake of air to disagree, Crowley stammered, "ngk, point taken." He took a sip as well.

"So, today has been hectic..." Aziraphale sighed, leaning into the bench.

Crowley smirked, "can't believe we took out Hastur."

Aziraphale grinned and laughed, "he deserved it, and worse..."

Crowley let out a hissing laugh, a sharp grin on his face, "Adam... human again?"

"As far as I can tell, yes." Smiled Aziraphale, not completely sure, but he agreed to it.

A white mail van came driving over, having a delivery to pick up, and he drove past the angel and demon, barely seeing them, as if his eyes scanned over the,. It skidded to a sudden stop just a little way away, with a loud tyre screech.

"Angel..." Started Crowley, looking to his half who looked back, giving the wine back, "what if The Almighty planned it like this all along?" He questioned, "from the very Beginning? It would be amazing, wouldn't it?" He smiled, eyes shinning, "just as amazing, and clever, as I remember Her to be."

"Could have." Shrugged Aziraphale. "I wouldn't put it past Her." He reached out again, and took hold of the wine, drinking it again, a confused frown on his face. He was unsure, just as much as Crowley was, all he knew was that he trusted Crowley more. Crowley who is his other half, Crowley who was so careful and kind to him, Crowley who got Adam out of as much trouble as possible.

(That had gone a little like this...

Mr. Young paused, as Crowley moved forward with a tempting smile on his lips, all kind and soft, said, "Mr. Young? I'm sorry, seems our game of Armageddidn't got a little outta hand." He held out a hand, "Raph—" Aziraphale coughed loudly, and Crowley corrected himself, "Anthony J. Crowley."

Mr. Young took his hand and shook, "and, you're at the Air Base because?!" He asked in outrage, panicked for his son and his friends. I mean; talking to strangers?! Running onto land that would get him killed?!

"I'm afraid that was me as well. See, I know a few of the men here, and they let us on the grounds." Crowley lied. Why blame a child, when an adult smoothly convinced them? He'd still be punished of course! But, not as much as he originally ought to have been punished.

"And, your eyes...?" Asked Mr. Young, glowering at the serpent eyes.

That had stumped the demon, what could he say about that? That was until Aziraphale walked up next to him, "my half here has coloboma, he usually wears glasses." He stuck out his hand, "I'm A. Z. Fell.")

Crowley smiled as if in deep thought, "from what I remember, we were never on what one might call speaking terms. She certainly wasn't one for straight answers. In fact, She'd never answer at all. She would just smile, as if She knew something that you didn't."

"She certainly told me more than any other angel." Reminded Aziraphale, his eyes soft.

"Yeah, she loved me." Crowley agreed with a grin.

A car door shut from not too far away, and a man came over wearing a brown uniform, and brown cap. Lesley, he held a clipboard and asked, "you got the, um...?"

"Ah," Aziraphale hummed, patting the box gently, "didn't want them falling into the wrong hands." Crowley watched him, and looked between the human and the box.

Lesley looked through the box, checking the items, scales, a crown... "Uh, excuse me, gents. There's, uh... there's meant to be a sword in here." He said suspiciously, and confused, pointing to the box.

Crowley and Aziraphale turned to look at each other, the demon with pursed lips and the angel confused.

"Oh. There is." Aziraphale gasped out, looking around as he got up, handing the wine to Crowley. He picked up the no longer Flaming Sword, his fingers clenching around the handle. "Yeah. Sitting on it," Crowley and Aziraphale shared a sad look, neither really wanting to let it go, but did so anyway, handing it to Lesley.

Lesley let out a smile and chuckle, "good thing you were here, really." He nodded, picking up the things

"How nice to have someone who recognises our part in saving the..." Started Aziraphale, him and Crowley looking to each other, until Lesley cut in.

Lesley cut the angel off, and held out a clipboard, "I need someone to sign for it."

Crowley's head turned from Lesley to the angel.

"Oh, right," hummed Aziraphale, taking the board, and signing his name.

"Do you believe in life after death?" Asked Lesley.

Aziraphale looked to him, "I suppose I must do." He admitted, I mean... look at him, a whole part of him was dead, even if he didn't know it, just... something felt off, only realising what it was when he was discorporated. He sat back down.

"Yeah." Chuckled Lesley, as he was handed the clipboard back. "If I was to tell my wife what happened to me today, she wouldn't believe me." He picked up the package, tucking the pen into his upper pocket, a smile on his face thinking about his wife. "And I wouldn't blame her." Lesley moved off, and placed the package in the van.

A small, bumpy, circular, blue bus drove down the small road. 

"Oh. There it is." Smiled Aziraphale, pointing to the bus, but the frowned confused. "It says 'Oxford' on the front..."

Crowley took another sip of wine, looking over, "yeah, but he'll drive to London anyway." He sniffed, "he just won't know why."

"I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop." Aziraphale said, looking to the front of him.

Suddenly, Crowley turned and looked to him, back straighter than usual, "it burned down, remember?" His voice was so soft, and gentle, so incredibly tender, that for a second you could forget the fact the demon was in fact a demon. He sounded just as sad as Aziraphale felt. He said gently, "you can stay at my place, if you like?"

Aziraphale shook his head, licking his top lip, "I don't think my side would like that." He reminded the demon, ringing his hands together. His voice sounded so sad, and defeated, so small.

"You don't have a side anymore." Crowley said, and Aziraphale blinked at the realisation. "Neither of us do. We're on our own side." The demon smiled. Crowley stuck his hand out, and the bus pulled over.

They climbed on the bus, and sat in the dirty front seats, and automatically, Aziraphale took Crowley's hand in his. The demon squeezed gently, and softly, and the angel squeezed back.



Aziraphale sat on Crowley's leather, and modern sofa, having cleaned up the sludge of Ligur for the demon, not wanting him near anything Holy. He picked up a wine glass, which was immediately filled by Crowley.

Crowley fell next to him, wrapping his long fingers around his wine glass, pouring himself a drink, and then wrapping an arm around Aziraphale's slightly large waist, "so... it's been a night, it's been a day..."

"What do we even call ourselves?" Aziraphale asked, spinning the red wine in the glass, as he looked to the demon.

"I... I don't know, this whole time we've been calling ourselves Raphael, we're even saying 'me', when it should be 'us'..." Listed Crowley, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, pulling off his sunglasses, as he thought about God. 'She loves us,' is what he should have said to Aziraphale, not 'me'.

"I don't think that's bad that we say 'me'..." Hummed Aziraphale, turning on the television, and Golden Girls came on. He rather liked being called 'me' when they're talking about Raphael, it's comforting...

Crowley nuzzled his face into Aziraphale's neck, inhaling the angels old book smell, "it feels good being one."

"It does, it explains everything..." Chuckled Aziraphale, nuzzling his face in Crowley's red hair, taking a deep intake of sulphur, "how we knew when the other was in trouble, where the other was, why I didn't smite you were you stood all those years ago..."

Crowley smiled, letting out a calming sigh, "it explains our thoughts of Alpha Centauri," smirked Crowley, "why I like the stars, why you heal, why we're curious all the time... and, it explains why we feel so attached..."

"So...?" Offered the angelic half, being careful to not scare the demonic half off. It was unsaid, of course it was, and when would they make it said?

"What pronouns do we used?"

"Last I remember, Raphael changed pronouns whenever we-I, wanted..." Aziraphale said.

Carefully, Crowley took Aziraphale's hand, and pressed a cool kiss to his warm, smooth knuckles, "what do we do?"

"What do you want to do?" Asked the angel.

"I don't know..." Sighed the demon, cuddling up to Aziraphale.

Crowley hummed, as he set his wine glass down, and wrapping his limbs like a snake around the angel.

Aziraphale smiled, and held the angel close, running his fingers through the red locks of hair, and he closed his eyes. They fell silent, not bringing up Raphael again, and the demon happily watched Golden Girls, while Aziraphale kept planting gentle kisses to the demons temples.

"Crowley..." Started Aziraphale, and the demon hummed, "you ever think, that for six thousand years, we were bound to..."

"Fall in love?" Offered Crowley, swallowing, as he nuzzled his face into Aziraphale's chest.

Aziraphale smiled softly, "at times, with the way were are... it almost seems—"

"Like we're married..." Crowley finished, "makes sense, considering we're Raphael... two beings to come together to make one, having to balance each other out..."

"If one is too much, or not getting along, it becomes unbalanced..." Aziraphale realised, looking to Crowley, "how did we not realise we were meant to be, for six thousand years..."

Crowley smirked, "I fell in love with you the moment I met you..."

"I only let myself love you after 1941..." Aziraphale looked down to his glass with a frown, "I'm sorry I took so long."

Crowley frowned, seeing Aziraphale's sad, and apologetic eyes. He felt his own heart break, he never blamed Aziraphale for taking so long, Heaven was terrible, Heaven would make you think things, and he didn't blame Aziraphale for not wanting to Fall, or be bad, he didn't blame Aziraphale for not wanting to caught. He reached up, and gently caressed Aziraphale's cheek, rubbing his thumb against his soft cheek, "I don't care, angel... I'm... I'm going to kiss you now..." He softly pulled the angel down. His lips brushed against the angels pink ones, pausing hesitantly, waiting for him to pull away.

Aziraphale pulled the demon close, kissing the demon, his eyes closing, his hands moving to Crowley's waist, and Crowley's eyes closed, arms wrapping around the angels neck. The demon titled his head, deepening the kiss, as their noses bump together slightly, and the angel pulled him closer, so they were chest to chest.

Crowley pulled back, panting slightly, and nuzzled his face into the angels chest. "You think Hell and Heaven'll come after us?" Crowley asked, softly and gently, whispered.

Aziraphale frowned, and shook his head, holding the demon close, his fingers gently digging into his waist, "if they do, I won't let them hurt you, my dear..."

Crowley looked up, and leaned up, his nose brushing against the angels, "and I won't let them get you, angel..." He gently kissed his angelic half again.






Adam had rebooted reality.

He had changed the past and changed the present.

So on Sunday, people woke to find a world that was almost, but not entirely, the one that they used to inhabit. Although people who were dead were now alive. And things that were broken had now been miraculously restored.



St James's Park was comparatively quiet. The ducks, who were experts in realpolitik as seen from the bread end, put it down to a decrease in world tension. However, there were a lot of people in offices trying to figure out what happened to the computers yesterday, and where Atlantis had disappeared to.

A brass band played Queen's 'Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon' in the park, as the mostly deserted park, was filled with quiet chatter. A member of the MI9 was trying to recruit someone who, to their later mutual embarrassment, would turn out to also be a member of the M19.

"As far as the British government is concerned, the apparent appearance of the legendary monster the Kraken was a mass hallucination." Said one man, reading over the newspaper as some rain fell down with a quiet and gentle patter.

"There were a number of mass hallucinations in our country too." Said the other, with an accent as he bit a sandwich and read his paper.

"Yes, only this one ate our trade delegation."

And there was also Crowley and Aziraphale.

The strolled side by side across the grass, hand in hand.

"Same here," said Aziraphale. "The shop's all there. Not so much as a soot mark."

"I mean, you can't make just make an old Bentley," said Crowley. "You can't get the patina. But there it was, large as life. Right there in the street. You can't tell the difference."

"Well, I can tell the difference," said Aziraphale. "I'm sure I didn't stock book with titles like Biggles Goes to Mars and Jack Cade, Frontier Hero and 101 Things A Boy Can Do and Blood Dogs of the Skull Sea."

"Gosh, I'm sorry," said Crowley, who knew how much the angel had treasured his book collection.

"Don't be," said Aziraphale happily. "They're all mint first editions and I looked them up in Skindle's Price Guide. I think the phrase you use is whoo-eee."

"I thought he was putting the world back just as it was," said Crowley.

"Yes," said Aziraphale. "More or less. As best he can. But he's got a sense of humour, too."

Crowley gave him a sideways look. "Your people been in touch?" He said.

"No. Yours?"


Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth, lips pursed in thought, as he squeezed his other half's hand, "do you know what happened yesterday?" He asked, leaning in slightly.

"Well, I understand some of it." Crowley replied, squeezing the angels hand back. "But some of it..." He trailed off, "well, it's just a little bit too—"

A dark hoarse, rumbled voice sounded from afar, INEFFABLE. Death stood, with his scythe raised and was feeding the ducks.

Crowley stared at Death, and mumbled, "oh, that-that's funny, seein' 'im 'ere. That's meant t' be bad luck." He stammered out.

Death vanished into black smoke, gone again, as the ducks flew about in fear.

Stammering, Crowley turned to his side, "it's meant to be bad..." There was no Aziraphale, nothing, and he wondered in fear when he lost the hand he was holding before. He spun around frantically, confused and worried, and suddenly he paused.

There was Aziraphale, white tape over his mouth, hands bound with white rope and was being dragged back by two angels. His brownish, blueish eyes were wide and he was mumbling and yelling behind the gag. (What was being said was, "Raphael run! Run now!")

Sandalphon and Uriel stood in front of the scene, shielding Crowley from Aziraphale.

"Renegade angels all tied up with strings." Uriel said, in an outfit of a white shirt and beige dungarees.

Sandalphon, like the slime that it is, smiled, a sick twisted smile, "these are a few of our favourite things."

The two turned, loosing their twisted smiles as they went off after the shuffling and helpless Aziraphale.

Crowley's eyes widened in panic, and pointed, "stop! Stop them!" His eyes wide, and he ran forward, stumbling as he did.

"What's wrong, love?!" Screeched a voice of what looked like a Korean woman. She raised a crowbar, and slammed against the red haired demons head, and watched in satisfaction as Crowley fell down with a pain filled grunt. No, who was thought to be a lovely Korean woman, was in fact Hastur in disguise and he spat out, "oh, bad luck, dear."

Crowley looked up, eyes squinting behind his glasses, and looked around with groans, three demons surrounded him watching with hateful glares, and he grunted out, and groaned in pain, everything spinning, "it's not a problem. It's... ngk..." He fell down, unconscious and in pain, limp.



Aziraphale's hands were bound together in front of him with white rope, and he sat in a clean chair up in Heaven. He looked around the spacious room, and saw a multitude of things. First was one half of the room was bright, filled with angels, from low level angels to high up Seraph's, standing and watching, the other half of the room was dark, filled with demons, from low level demons to Princes and Lords, and they sat far, far back, shielded by a piece of smudged glass. The next thing he saw was the gross, grimy, slimy, bacteria infested bathtub on the demons side, that once might have been white, but was certainly no longer that colour, and stood next to the bathtub was Michael, with a large pitcher of clear water in his hands, Holy Water, he could feel it from his seat that Uriel was holding him down on. On the angel's side was a ring of white, clean, and large, methodically placed brimstone stones, and next to it stood a low level demon, a Disposable Demons (Eric or Legion if you prefer), with a black, dirty cauldron on his hands filled with black specks of something... he wasn't sure what...

He didn't care about himself, all he cared about was Crowley; where is he? Is he okay? Is he alive? If he didn't get answers in the next few minutes, he's tearing down all of Heaven, and even Hell, to get to his other half. He's not being Split again.

"Ah, Aziraphale." Called Gabriel.

Aziraphale didn't give Gabriel the satisfaction of looking over, and he stared up at Uriel, annoyed. How was it at one point they were all close? How was it at one point they all babied him? And, now they were going to do who knows what?

Gabriel slammed his hand on his shoulder, and said quiet evilly (though the Archangel would deny it), "so glad you could join us." He moved in front of him.

"Where's Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, finally looking to his brother. He was getting straight to the point.

Gabriel smiled, "oh yes, the demon." He waved a hand to the dark side of the room, "Hell is dealing with it."

Aziraphale looked over, and saw Lord Beelzebub, Duke Hastur, Under Duke Dagon and one of Hell's Usher's, besides the Usher, they were sat in big thrones, Beelzebub half way down theirs. He looked to Gabriel, "so, what is this?"

"It's an extraordinary rendition." Gabriel answered with a smile, gesturing to the whole scene.

"The trial of the demon Crowley, beginning with evidence and ending with utter obliviation, is in session." Hell's Usher announced, and slammed its staff down twice. "All rise."

All the demons, Dagon and Hastur included, stood up from their seats as asked, all seeming eager.

Aziraphale called out, "thank you for the answer!" He looked to Gabriel, his eyes stern, he wasn't taking this anymore, he wasn't allowing it. He glared, "so, a trial? Ending in death? How original..." He pouted, voice full of heavy sarcasm, that not even a clueless angel like Gabriel or Sandalphon could miss.

Gabriel scowled, "that demon has gotten to you. But, it'll all be sorted very soon," he smiled widely.

Uriel let go of Aziraphale's shoulders, and she hissed, "up."

Aziraphale stood up, a scowl on his face, and he looked to the empty bathtub, and the brimstone, Holy Water and, now understanding everything, came to the conclusion, Hellfire. He rolled his shoulders, "where's Crowley?" He snapped, eyes wondering the room. Finally, he locked onto Beelzebub, and glared, warning them, if they didn't bring Crowley out, he'd drag them down to wherever they go after death.

Beelzebub saw and held their breath, and stayed in their seat, flies buzzing around their head, watching with a glare-full glare, and buzzed out with a bored drawl, voice echoing, "bring in the Traitor!"

Two dark hooded and cloaked demons led a frowning, and annoyed, and worried sauntering Crowley down bright hallway, his snakeskin shoes slamming against the floor. His hands were bound with red rope in front of him, tight and uncomfortable, and he paused as he came into the room. He noticed all the same things Azirphale noticed, he too had been panicking about the angel, and he was fully prepared to run out, and beat the shit out of everyone, and kill everyone in his path to get to Aziraphale.

His eyes landed on Aziraphale, and Aziraphale stared at him. Slowly, Crowley pulled his glasses off, dropping them to the floor in shock, and Aziraphale saw the red tears in his eyes, and felt golden tears in his own, no... this was like when they were Split all those years ago, and neither were letting that happen again.

 "Raphael!" They yelled and ran to each other. Aziraphale wrapped his bound wrists around Crowley, moving them to his waist, and Crowley wrapped his bound hands around Aziraphale's neck. The demonic half buried his face into the angelic's half chest.

Crowley pulled back, and checked Aziraphale over, "are you okay?"

"I'm okay, are you okay?" Questioned Aziraphale, pressing his forehead to Crowley's, as golden tears fell down his cheeks.

"Who cares?!" Asked the demon with a strained laugh, tearing up more.

"As I said years ago; I do, my dear." He leaned forward, and kissed the bloody tears away.

The entire room froze. Michael dropped the Holy Water, the glass shattered, echoing the quiet room, and water spread over the floor, soaking his shoes, and Beelzebub recoiled in their seat, knees pulled up to their chest in terror.

Everyone had heard of the Archangel and Seraph Raphael, and how he Split into two, but nobody knew who it was. Beelzebub and Lucifer knew one half was Crowley, while the Archangels knew the other half was Aziraphale, that was all that was known, to two incredibly small groups.

Uriel, Sandalphon and Gabriel shared unsure looks, unsure if this was a game for angel and demon, unsure if this was actually true, that the two halves found each other.

Michael warily looked around, eyes wide in fear, and rushed over, taking Aziraphale's shoulders, "don't be stupid, let go." He began pulling, like he did all those years ago.

Beelzebub got up too, and ran over, gripping Crowley's shoulder, "let him go." Snapped the Lord, pulling Crowley as well, like they did all those years ago.

Crowley and Aziraphale's eyes widened in panic, and their eyes locked together, fear dancing in their eyes, as did tears of red and gold. They held tighter to each other, tears rolling down their face, "let me go! Don't Split us again!" They begged, gripping each other, and pulled themselves closer, lips crashing together desperately, with a mixing of cool and hot.

A flash of grey light wrapped around the two halves, and Michael and Beelzebub let go, falling down on their backs, and backed away with flailing legs.

"Aren't you two the reason I Split?"

Beelzebub and Michael tensed up, staring in fear at the sight. Raphael. Raphael stood in front of them, all the rings and bracelets he wore, grey toned clothing, blue specks like stars, golden eyes with sharp blue winged liner, red to white hair, height and size, it was all the same, just more modern.

"I think it should be known, Aziraphale and Crowley quit. I quit." Raphael scowled, and picked up the sunglasses Crowley had dropped, changing the colour to grey. He looked to them all, and nodded to Hastur, "hello dear boy, how was your drive with me?" He smirked, enjoying the way Hastur's lips pursed as if tasting something nice.

A Seraph stood up, eyes wide in amazement, as they lowered their wings. Raphael stared, he recognised this angel. Raziel. They stared at Raphael in amazement, "this is Her work! Her doing!" They praised in delight, looking up, "thank you! Thank you for bringing our brother back, Mother! Thank you for—"

"Yeah, no!" Raphael cut in, waving a hand, a sneer on his face. "This was completely accidental, and I'm grateful for it, really I am, but it's not Her." He shrugged, "there's just God," he said eyes soft as if having a profound realisation, "moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us..." He smiled soft, understanding new things, "it's all ineffable... all to do with choices and Free Will..." He laughed, "always thought the Ineffable Plan was a joke, that there was no Plan... after yesterday, I'm inclined to believe there is a Plan, just not what you all think..."

Raziel looked horrified, "so you... you don't believe Her anymore!"

"I never said that. I do believe Her, and I always will... I just don't trust Her as much, I don't trust Her as much as Aziraphale and Crowley trust each other." Raphael explained with an at ease tone. He slipped his sunglasses on, "go ahead, kill me with Holy Water and Hellfire. It's so incredibly original, not to mention, I'm half angel and demon, it won't work." He sang, smiling, shrugging his shoulders.

Uriel stared, "you... you really are Raphael again..." She said, eyes wide and amazed, tearing up. She wanted to run over and hug him, hug her little brother.

Raphael saw, and raised an eyebrow, "I am to happily hug you, after you decided to try and kill me? Don't be moronic." He snapped, sharp teeth clenched together.

Sandalphon's eyes widened, and held itself back, wanting to run over, and check its brother over.

Raphael raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in mock thought, "and didn't you wipe Aziraphale's memories?" He looked at Beelzebub, "tell Lucifer to leave my Earth alone, for the greater good—"

"Don't talk to me about the greater good, sunshine." Snapped Gabriel, cutting his brother off shakily, as Raphael looked over in tired shock, "I'm the Archangel fucking Gabriel. The greater good was we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all."

"And, I'm a Star Maker, the Archangel of Healing and Seraph Raphael!" Snapped the red to white haired Archangel, "rightful Owner of the Flaming Sword! One half is an angelic Cherub and Principality! The other half is a Serpent demon, Lord of Hell, and Demon of Temptations! I am half angel and half demon! I clearly know more about the greater good than you, Archangel fucking Gabriel!" He stormed over to the messenger, and hissed out, "you're lower than me, a messenger, an Archangel. In all three sides of me, I'm higher than you. You stay away from my Earth, from Her Creations, you stay away from the Antichrist, The Them, Warlock, Anathema and Newt, you stay away from me, Crowley and Aziraphale. And, you tell Lucifer the same, you don't want to see me when I'm angry." He snarled, and looked to everyone, as if waiting for someone to challenge him. "I think it would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future. Don't you?" He asked, nodding to encourage everyone, and slowly everyone nodded in agreement.

His eyes landed on Hastur, and he snapped his glowing golden fingers, pointing to Hastur. The Duke flinched, but his eyes widened, there next to him was Ligur, well and alive. The Lizard Duke looked around patting himself, and saw Hastur. The Toad Duke stood up, and looked to Raphael, "why...?"

Raphael smirked, "I'm an Arsehole, not Evil, along with my own Free Will. Not to mention, killing isn't my nature, until it has to be." He turned, and sauntered out to the door, out of Heaven, opening it, and raised his hand, "ciao!" He called, the door closed behind him.

They all looked to Ligur, who was confused. Raphael had brought someone back to life, and if he can do that, and has all these abilities and titles, and is in fact both angel and demon, how would you kill him? Silently, they agreed, to leave Raphael, Crowley and Aziraphale included, alone.



Berkeley Square was quiet that afternoon, and it was still sunny out, the air was cool and crisp. Raphael sat on a bench in the middle of the garden, and let out a deep breath, a soft grey glow engulfed him, and suddenly, there sat Crowley, curled up on Aziraphale's lap, kissing the angel's cheek, and the angel held the demons narrow waist.

"Do y'think they'll leave us alone now?" Asked Crowley, messing with a curl on Aziraphale's head.

"At a guess, they'll pretend it never happened." Replied Aziraphale, taking Crowley's hand, and pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand.

"Hmm." Hummed Crowley, "mine too... that's bureaucracy I guess... kinda hard to ignore when you bring someone back from the dead..."

"True..." Agreed Aziraphale. He grinned, "did you see Gabriel's face? He looked terrified!"

Crowley had already framed it in his mind, and cackled like a snake, and Aziraphale laughed posh-ly in joy, as the two wearing bright smiles on their faces.

"They'll leave us alone..." smiled Crowley, "for a bit." His smile softened to a tired frown. "If you ask me, both sides are going to use this as breathing space." He offered looking to his angel. "A chance to morally re-arm, and get the defences up. Get ready for the big one."

Aziraphale frowned, and looked to his demon, "I thought that was the big one?"

"I'm not sure. For my money, the really big one..." Crowley looked around the park, to people who wandered the streets innocently, oblivious to the dangers around them, "is all of Us against all of Them."

"What?" Aziraphale followed Crowley's eyes, "Heaven and Hell against... Humanity?" He fell silent in thought, confused and worried.

"Right. Time to leave the garden." Crowley said, turning to the angel, wanting him to calm down. He pursed his lips in thought, leaning into the angel's comforting hold, "let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?"

The angel grinned, it was as if he was back on that Wall, back in the Garden, "temptation accomplished." He chuckled patting Crowley's knees.

Crowley got up, and helped Aziraphale stand. They began walking down the grass, Crowley sauntering and Azirafell strolling, smiling with soft eyes.

"Hmm... what about The Ritz?" Hummed Aziraphale, his arm out, and the demon slipped his hand in the crook of the angels elbow. "I think a table for two has just miraculously come free."

Crowley smiled, and let out a pleasant, serpent-like, "ah...!"



The Ritz was fancy, and bright, blooming with people, couples young and old, all genders, and all ethnicity's. And one angel and one demon. A pianist in a black dress, played a familiar song on a white piano, Vera Lynn's, 'A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square'.

A waiter poured a glass of champagne for Aziraphale, and the angel smiled in thanks softly. The waiter moved to Crowley, who had yet to stop watching Aziraphale with soft eyes, and poured the demon a glass of champagne too.

Aziraphale picked up his glass, "I like to think none of this would have worked out..." Crowley looked over to him, as the waiter walked away. "...if you weren't, at heart, just a little bit a good person."

Crowley could take being a good person, he liked that. He smiled, "and if you weren't, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing."

Aziraphale smiled, and flushed lightly as he looked down shyly, he liked that, being a bastard.

The demon raised his glass, and said with a soft smile, and said nervously, "lets be Raphael..."

"Lets..." The angel replied with an equally soft smile, staring at his demon, nearly choking up.

The two clinked glasses, the glasses ringing out, and sipped their champagne slowly, still smiling. The held hands, and pressed their foreheads together, and suddenly, in place of Aziraphale and Crowley was one being. Half an angel, and half a demon. An Archangel and Seraph. Raphael...


Perhaps the recent exertions had had some fallout in the nature of reality, because while they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale actually did sing in Berkeley Square.
Nobody heard it over the noise of the traffic, but it was there right enough.



"That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,
There were angels dining at the Ritz
And A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square"