Chapter Text
20 September 2025
Aziraphale gripped the scroll in his left hand tighter as he knelt in front of the Book of Life. His head bowed, tears streaming. “Dear Mother, this is not what I wanted, not what should be happening. Why did the Metatron trap you in the book? Why was it your wish? I’ve been told why is the most dangerous question. There are so many whys that I’ve wanted to ask and now I can’t.”
He reached up to pull the book into his lap. “You know my heart, my dreams, my wishes, my soul. Dear Mother, hear my pleas, my wish to save Earth and Humans. Listen to my prayers and what I’ve written in The Book, your Book. Let those who love find one another from now to all eternity. Let every generation find a better way. Without Heaven and Hell interfering, Humans will have to save themselves and their home on their own. They can do this, I know they can. They must have the opportunity, because without them there will be no one to remember what was, no one to become what will be. You are the last hope, the last best hope. I have no more choice. Ten million angels and ten million demons or seventeen billion humans. And that's not including the rich and varied life you created on Earth and throughout the universe.” It boiled down to arithmetic, it always seemed to be about arithmetic.
He was running out of thought and time. “Please.” He closed his eyes and struggled to bring himself back under control. He glanced at the scroll, which had been written in the beginning, before time. The Almighty had known this moment would happen. Somehow she’d always known. This was the Ineffable Plan, the plan only She had known, until now.
He stood slowly, placed the scroll where the Book of Life had been, he snapped his fingers and his sword appeared in his right hand. It flamed briefly in acknowledgement, then dulled. He placed the book under the sword, moving them to his left hand and snapped his fingers again, they both vanished. He stared at his hands for minutes.
“Supreme Archangel Aziraphale.” He spun around. More than two dozen armed angels stood at the entryway.
“Yes.”
“We have orders to arrest you for crimes against the Almighty.”
“You mean the Metatron,” Aziraphale whispered as he touched the tattoo on his left arm. He walked slowly over to his escort.
***
Anathema sat at the dining room table not watching Newt or eating.
“Is there really no other way?” Newt asked after a long uncomfortable silence. She noticed he wasn’t eating either.
“I don’t know. I’ve read both of Agnes’ books multiple times. I cannot find anything. There is no choice.”
“No choice.” Newt slammed the fork he hadn’t been using onto the table.
“No choice. But…”
“But nothing, there has to be another way.”
“Besides letting Earth be destroyed?” She reached over and took his hand and tried to smile. “I’ve been trying. Oh. Knowdge beith supreme, only they who were babes in arms knoe how to be human.”
“That’s from the new book.”
“Yes.” This thought was better than the alternative Crowley would not deny or confirm. “I love you. Marry me?” If the angel and demon didn’t succeed, at least she and Newt would be together at the end.
Newt smiled at her. “I would be honored to be your husband. What’s that?” From the garage, Anathema heard music.
“Shit, One Day More,” she whispered. “The date. It’s happening.” She looked upwards and whispered a prayer to a God that she had never really believed in and who had recently disillusioned her completely.
Crowley ran in from outside. “Damn the miracle restrictions, I’m taking the Bentley.” He ran toward the stairs. The two humans listened as they heard thumping upstairs. The demon ran back in and threw two large envelopes, one gray and one gray with green trim on the table in front of them. “I’m going to London. Here, if you haven’t heard from me in three days, these need to be mailed.” He smiled at them. “I’ve left Arcadia Manor to you, amongst other stuff.”
“Crowley, you mustn’t think the worst.”
“Then consider it my wedding present. You are together?”
“We are. How did you know?” Crowley had already fled out the door. They heard the roar of the Bentley’s engine, the squeal of tires and the Demon was gone. Newt reached over to take her hand.
She smiled sadly at him as she squeezed his hand. “It will be a long night.”
21 September 2025
Eight eves afor michelmas, a black night look in black shelvés, having forgotten all, to find the book, and the sworde, destruction will coom to some and a future cometh for all.
Aziraphale touched his arm as he exited the lift. The armed angels who were his escort did not accompany him further. This was it then. He had to take several deep breaths to calm his nerves. It didn’t work. The other archangels and the Metatron stood there, the Metatron had his arms crossed. To delay the inevitable, Aziraphale moved to stand where he could see everyone. He didn’t try to settle his expression into the usual look of bland heavenly condescension.
“What the Hell are you thinking!” Aziraphale said letting almost three years of pent up frustration and anger shine through. “Where is it even written that the Almighty wants the world and the universe to end.”
“It is the Great Plan,” Uriel said, remarkably calmly.
“So I’ve been told for over six millennia. But I’ve spent enough time with the Book of Life to know what is in it.” All that remained in it was Her memories, Her dreams, and his words. “Nothing is written about a Great Plan. Nothing is written about total destruction. We have lost our way. It isn’t too late…”
“Silence, traitor. The plan has commenced,” the Metatron said very calmly and coldly.
“Traitor? Traitor to whom? You or the Almighty?”
Metatron had taken a few steps to his left. “I am the Voice of God, I speak in her name. Nothing can stop the Great Plan, not even you whining about it.” Aziraphale moved slightly to keep the others in front of him.
To Hell with being a silent witness. “Yes, I know you promised many of Earth’s leaders total power and glory if they launch a full blown nuclear strike against everyone else. Is this your great plan?” He angled himself so he faced the Metatron as he asked that question. “What does the Almighty want? You claim to be the voice of god. When did she actually last speak to you?” He turned slightly to face the others. “We can still stop this.”
“No,” Sandalphon said, his usual unsettling grin on his face. The others moved to stand further apart. Aziraphale shifted his position again.
“And Jesus? He fled centuries ago, rather than be part of this.” Aziraphale's smile was ugly as he watched the others take that in.
“We don’t need him,” Saraqael said. “Once the Humans destroy themselves, the Heavenly Hosts will sweep down, gather the worthy souls and together launch the final glorious attack on Hell.” The Metatron was still slowly walking in a semi-circle to his left, while Sandalphon inched to his right.
Now was not the time to back down, or reveal his plan. The Book of Life and his sword were safely somewhere else. This was his very last chance to stop everything, to make Heaven see reason.
“And what will you do in the eternity before you? A boring eternity by the way. You will have nothing to do or watch.” His attention was back on the Metatron. “You, YOU want to become the Almighty when this is over. But the Almighty of what?”
“We will have Heaven: a Kingdom of infinite goodness and holiness.” Saraqael spoke softly. “It is what the Great Plan promised.”
“Heaven is not good or holy,” Aziraphale shouted. He was almost surrounded, but he slowly kept turning in an attempt to keep the others in view. “There is no Great Plan, there never was. This is his plan, his pride, his dreams of…”
***
Crowley was almost to Soho when the Bentley started to play Memory. The sun was setting. Tonight the Second Coming would begin and if he and Aziraphale could do it, would also end.
Crowley grimaced. “Hang on Angel. I’m coming. For someone’s sake, Agnes you had better be correct about this. If you aren’t, I’ll hunt you down and send you deep into the bowels of Hell.” Not that there would be a Hell. He finally let the Bentley go faster, even as he heard Aziraphale’s voice say, ‘you can’t do ninety.’
The bookshop was dark, empty, foreboding. Words that had never described the shop in the past. Even at the height of the blitz, it had been light, full, safe. He glanced around the street quickly and reached for the door knob. The door did not open, yet he sensed someone in the bookshop, he thought it felt like his Angel, his friend, and so much more. He used the key he’d never used. “Aziraphale? Angel?” No response. “Damn…” He stopped. No, there really was someone in here and it wasn’t the little Inspector. “Hello?” He flicked his tongue. Agnes had been correct. “Angel?”
This time he heard a thump from above. He sprinted up the stairs. Aziraphale was curled up on the floor. “Angel!” Aziraphale coiled into a tighter ball. At least he was clothed. “Do you know who I am?” The look of panic in Aziraphale’s face was enough of an answer. “No, I guess not. Forgive me, Aziraphale.” Crowley knelt down beside his best friend and reached a tentative hand to stroke his cheek. “I mean it, please forgive me.” He leaned in to place his lips on Aziraphale’s. There was a brief struggle, then nothing. Crowley pulled away. “Damn it Angel, you said this would work.”
“It did.” Aziraphale smiled at him even as he reached a hand around Crowley’s neck to pull him back down. “I missed you so much, foul fiend.” Crowley didn’t respond as their lips reconnected.
“Do we have time for more?” Crowley let his tongue trace Aziraphale’s lips.
“Probably not,” Aziraphale smiled sadly at him. “Check your phone.”
Crowley pulled back into a crouching position and pulled his phone out. “No, I guess we don’t.”
“He has become death, the destroyer of worlds.” Aziraphale buried his head in Crowley’s shoulder.
“Multiple missiles are in the air, two have already detonated over Washington D.C. and Moscow.” The sound of air raid sirens ripped through the air. “I wonder if anyone even remembers what to do when the sirens go off?”
“Once I pull the Book of Life from its hiding place, there will be no more time. Heaven will notice me, will know I have my memories back, and will try to stop us. We also need to stop any further detonations.” Aziraphale sat up as Crowley snapped his fingers to stop time. “I wrote a very carefully crafted contract in it. When we destroy the book, that contract will be considered signed, validated and irrevocable.”
“We?”
“I need you Crowley, I’ve always needed you. For this to truly really work, a high ranking angel and a high ranking demon…”
“I’m a demon. I’m not any rank.”
“But you could have been. I remember you from before. Starmaker, creator, healer. Why didn’t you become an archdemon or even a Prince of Hell?”
“By never saying yes.” He stood slowly and held out his hand to help Aziraphale to his feet. “If I had I wouldn’t have been sent to Eden. And all that jazz. Are you sure about this? Is there no other way?” Crowley knew the answer even without the angel’s response. “What do we do?”
“When I miracle the book and sword here, I’ll need you to hold the sword with me so our powers will merge.” Aziraphale looked around and walked over to a bookstand. “This will work.” He pulled Crowley back into his arms. “We will meet again. And again. And again. We will be together for all time.”
Crowley almost smiled at that, but instead placed his lips back on Aziraphale’s. “I love you, Aziraphale, Angel.”
“I love you, Crowley, Demon.” They both took a deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the glowing-red Book of Life materialized on the stand; the sword appearing in Aziraphale’s left hand instantly flamed bright white. Crowley moved to stand behind the angel, his hands covering both the angel’s and the hilt. Aziraphale started to chant. Their wings appeared, flapping twice, then entwined as they pointed the flaming sword upward.
“Aziraphale! What do you think you are doing?” A very panicked voice shouted from somewhere. He barely recognized the voice as belonging to Michael.
“Finishing what should never have started.” Aziraphale whispered, then returned to his chanting.
“Ashûrzû, globûrz-krûg, rûkûrz. Ghashûrzû krûb, ghashûrzû uruk, latûrz-ûkûrz obûrz-ûr.”
As Crowley joined in, the sword flames turned deep black. “See you in twenty some years, my love.” The black flames rose higher and as the pair plunged the sword downward, the deep dark flames spreading out…
The end.
All right, there will be an epilogue, I’m not this evil