Archive of Our Own

“Say goodbye, then.”

The last angel pressed his fingers to his lips as a sign of devotion, then extended them to Crowley, who accepted the kiss with his own. They smiled, hands clasped, as their bodies and souls dissolved, followed by the shop around them, then everything that still existed, until—

BANG!

“I still can’t believe You’re indulging them,” Satan complained.

“Who says I am?” The new universe hovered over Her hand as God directed it, skipping past the dull bits. “No, I’m giving them what they asked for. That’s not the same thing.”

No point in running billions of years of empty Earth. She’d use a copy of the one She’d just destroyed, populate it with the same souls reborn. Angels and demons changed to human. Witchcraft turned to little more than superstition and intuition. No Antichrist. No Atlantis. No lingering blessings or curses. Everyone would simply wake up with history slightly rewritten and be none the wiser. Quick and efficient.

“I don’t see any difference.” He leaned against a bare wall manifested for the sole purpose of supporting him, arms crossed.

“I know you don’t.” She turned Her fingers, gathering what was left of Aziraphale and Crowley, scattering them around the planet. “But this can be instructive for you as well as them.” One last sweep to ensure whatever power the two might have retained could not be used to control or change the new universe. Probably unnecessary; the initial dissolution should have taken care of that, the power loss accelerating the more a being tried to protect themself. The Metatron’s demise had been especially dramatic.

But here, she needed them to stay ever so slightly conscious. Just enough to be aware of the world around them. And that required a few extra precautions.

Besides, they’d probably attempted something predictably foolish, like protecting each other instead of themselves. No point in taking risks.

The laws of the universe were also designed to block Her. But God left Herself a few generous loopholes; it wasn’t cheating if You were the one writing the rules.

Satisfied, She wrapped everything in a clear globe and set the universe into motion.

“Now. Let’s see how they like that.” God gave Herself a chair to recline in as She watched. The space around Her was perfunctory, a rough sketch of the bookshop minus all the unnecessary details. “I think just an hour or two, to give them time to get their bearings.”

“You’re allowing them to exist in there?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a lesson if I didn’t.” She watched the world turn, the scattered dust of angel and demon cautiously exploring. “But only a little. I want to give them a chance to see the world they so brazenly requested, their defenseless little Earth and humanity. And then I’m going to take it, break it, bend it to my will, and have them watch me destroy it all again. Then we’ll see if they have anything more interesting to say.”

“Hmmm,” Satan said. “Clever.”

God waited, but it didn’t seem any other praise was forthcoming.

She clicked Her tongue in annoyance. She did generally like to have someone to speak Her thoughts to, someone to offer Her praise and respect and admire Her creative efforts. The Metatron would have been a much better choice, but that would have required Her to dig his soul out of the mess before it went into the new universe. So She was only left with one option, unless She wanted to create a third.

Too tedious. This ought not to take very long.

When enough time had passed, God slipped Her fingers through the surface of the globe, into the other London, tracing Her way down the streets towards a likely building, reaching for—

The door shut, cutting Her off.

God’s brow furrowed as She tried again, the door rattling slightly.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” She withdrew, circling the building until She found another way in. A narrow crack. Not very dignified but She only needed to establish a presence. Once She had a firm connection, She could manifest fully, attune to the universe, and start accessing the power She’d left for Herself.

She pressed against the crack, filtered through, and found Herself facing Aziraphale.

“I really think we should get a contractor,” he called, picking up a board. It covered half the crack, pushing God away. Expelling Her from the building. From the universe.

“That was unexpected.”

“Shut up,” she snapped at Satan, plunging in again.

This time She could see it wasn’t actually Aziraphale—just a human bearing a little of his soul. That was a predicted result of what she’d done, a way to allow him and Crowley a close view as She dismantled their world.

Except, for some reason, God couldn’t get past him. The barrier between worlds stretched and warped, but held firm as he nailed the board into place.

“...more of an open concept,” the human said, trying to gesture and swing his hammer at the same time. “One big open room, with tall cases dividing the space. Instead of all these walls.”

“Hm?” Another figure appeared behind him. Her own Metatron, nose buried in a book. When he glanced up, he seemed a bit dazed, unfocused. “A shop has to have walls, doesn’t it, Asa?”

“Outer walls, yes, but that doesn’t mean—oh!” Asa stuck a bright-red thumb into his mouth.

With him distracted, God reached for the Metatron, trying to activate his dormant personality. She hadn’t expected to need this trick so soon, but—

Her touch slid off his mind. Of course. Without an established presence in the universe, She couldn’t reach the levers she needed. But She didn’t seem able to get a fingerhold at all, and that was troubling.

Meanwhile, Asa had grabbed another board to slide over the rest of the crack. “...the last time. If I find one more issue, I’m calling a carpenter—”

The scene fell dark, and God found Herself repulsed, pushed back to the space between universes.

Satan laughed. “Well. Not so clever now, are We? Locked out of Your own creation by—”

“I said shut up!”

The little man dissolved into nothing, his essential nature flowing back into Her. After all, the Great Adversary was just another aspect of the Creator, a useful perspective to see the world more completely.

A world that was also just an aspect of Herself, an extension of Her will. Or that should be.

She tapped a finger against the globe. A few clouds skittered into new positions, but nothing else changed. Nothing at all.

///

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

///

After weeks of effort, God had managed to establish a foothold of sorts in the new universe. Not a large one; too weak to allow any manifestation, and She could only manipulate a few objects within reach, but if She could just find a way to expand—

“Just admit it, Asa, she’s beautiful.”

Reality shifted around Her, the air turning almost solid. Suddenly, She found Herself capable of sending a mild breeze to shake the trees and grass in the park, but little else. A moment later, the bookseller ambled up the path, accompanied by… exactly who She should have expected.

“I’m sorry, Anthony, I just can’t imagine what you would do with a ninety-year-old car.”

“Drive it, of course! Just look at her, she was built for racing.”

Asa frowned at Anthony’s phone, then turned back to his ice cream. “Built for it, maybe, but probably not maintained. I’ll bet if you push it to second gear, the whole engine block breaks.”

“Ah, you don’t understand. I always wanted a car just like this.”

“Then by all means bid on it, my good fellow, I’m not going to stop you.”

God clenched Her fist, building up the wind as high as She could. Book pages fluttered, trash cans rattled, a few hats took flight. Was that all She was capable of anymore?

“That’s the problem, I did—three times! And every time this–this Brian Cameron outbids me.”

“Sounds like a ghastly fellow.”

“I can’t afford to go any higher!”

They walked past a cluster of picnic tables. A group of children sat at one, playing a game, until a carefully timed blast of wind flipped the board over and scattered pieces across the path.

Asa stumbled, just stopping himself from stepping on the board. “Oh, here, let me help.” He crouched, collecting tokens and dice with one hand while ice cream melted across his other. “Look, Anthony–that site has private messages, does it not? Why don’t you contact this Brian Cameron directly? Maybe you can come to some sort of… mutually beneficial solution.”

“Oh, yeah, maybe we can share the car. Or play for it over a game of—Whoa!”

Finally, God succeeded in getting the wind to move the right direction, at precisely the right speed. It caught against the umbrella attached to one of the round iron tables, tipping the table over—right where Asa crouched. The bookseller froze, eyes wide, watching.

The human wearing Crowley’s likeness sprang into action, dropping his own ice cream and flinging his phone in his haste to catch the table. It banged into his hip, then slammed down flat again.

“Anthony!” Asa dropped his own ice cream as he stood, shoving the gathered playing pieces towards one of the children. “My dear—Are you alright?”

“Fffffine, just…. Ah, that’s gonna bruise like–nnnh!”

“Get yourselves inside,” Aziraphale told the children, “before it storms.”

But already the wind was dying. Anthony’s phone had struck the spot where God had anchored Her foothold, sending Her stumbling back to the echo of the shop.

In the globe that still hovered before Her, She could see Asa searching Anthony for signs of injury, while the taller human tried to wave away the attention. Asa caught his face in both hands, meeting Anthony’s eyes, and intoned quite seriously, “My hero,” before kissing Anthony on the cheek.

“Stupid. Unimaginative. Predictable.” God muttered to herself as the two men, shy and hesitant, shared a soft kiss, and then another. Another.

It no longer made her smile.

///

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy’s eyes

///

It took eight months for God to manifest Herself on the side of a country road far from London. Two to find a location that didn’t seem to be blocked by the world’s strange interference, and six more to establish Herself.

Six months of electromagnetic interference, odd visions, magnetic anomalies, and other strange–but ultimately harmless–phenomena. But now, finally, She was able to give herself something like a physical presence.

Eight months to manifest, and it ended in less than twenty seconds.

The peace of the isolated road was shattered by the roar of a car engine, headlights cutting through the gloom. She caught a strain of music—I reign with my left hand I rule with my right—and was thrown back out of the universe again.

In the globe, a black classic car screeched to a halt and two figures leapt out. She wasn’t even a little surprised.

“See? I told you I didn’t hit anyone.” But Anthony scanned the soft shoulder, searching for any sign he might be wrong.

“I’m sure you did—there was someone—someone standing in the road!”

Anthony dropped to his knees peering under the car. “I’m telling you, there’s no sign…” He glanced back up the road, to the point where God had barely managed to assemble a body. A divot in the pavement was the only sign of all Her time and effort. “Look, see? I just hit that pot hole.”

Asa squinted in the failing light, unconvinced. “I’m sure I saw a person.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. Anathema did say this road is haunted.”

“Anthony, dear, you don’t believe in ghosts. You said the whole concept is ridiculous!”

“Less ridiculous than the idea of me running someone over.” He paused to examine the grill of the car, using his sleeve to polish away a fleck of dust.

“Hmmm. Remind me how you met Anathema again?”

“Ah, no. Because we’re going to be late. Hop in, Angel, we’ll have to really wiggle it.”

“It’s ‘get a wiggle on,’ as you perfectly well know.” Asa tutted as he climbed back in. “And I must say, I don’t think much of your mix tape.”

“Someone must have switched the cases. S’not supposed to be Queen, it—”

The car roared off, brakelights fading in the distance until the globe showed nothing but the night.

///

Listened as the crowd would sing
“The old king is dead, long live the king!”

///

After that, God tried a different tactic. Taking a page from the Enemy’s book, except the Enemy was just another part of Herself, and all books were ultimately Hers.

She reached into the minds of humans, one by one, looking for weaknesses. Nudging their emotions, thoughts, perceptions. 

The Devil had always had a path to enter the world through the minds of those who strayed, through the thoughtless, the cruel, the overly curious.

The minds of the young were particularly receptive.

After a little experimentation, God decided her most promising option was a little rural school in the south of England, just isolated enough that the children knew what they were missing out on. In the minds of the teenagers—fourteen, fifteen, sixteen years old; some even younger as well—She found much to work with: frustrated curiosity, boredom, resentment towards the ineffectual teachers, anger towards their parents, loneliness, fear. One student was trans, deeply closeted, afraid to let any of her friends or family see the real her. A few boys were growing more certain they were only attracted to other males, or to no one at all. But as no one talked about such things, they stewed in their silence, confusion, and anxiety.

The perfect ingredients for a little youthful rebellion.

For more than a year, God played the Devil for them, drawing the group together, isolating them from their peers and families, feeding their need for knowledge with promises: Soon. Soon.

The minor crimes and schoolyard fights would have amused Satan, but God had little interest in them. The actions the children undertook were hardly important. She simply needed their hearts, their devotion, their entire being turned towards Her. Once She had them, She could use that connection to cross into the world.

And then Her plans were once again interrupted by the roar of an ancient engine.

The nascent gang, huddled around the school building at the end of the day, arguing over what activities sounded the least boring, perked up to watch the long black car roll into the parking lot. The youngest members immediately ran over, eager to inspect the new sight, but even the oldest found themselves drawn slowly over by the gravitational pull of their curiosity.

“...best idea you ever had,” Anthony said, leaping from the car, face split by an enormous, infectious grin beneath his latest pair of sunglasses.

“This was my best idea?” Asa emerged from the other side, carefully extracting a box of books from the back seat. “Not, I don’t know, something that was said over dinner last night?”

“Doesn’t count. That was my idea, you just agreed to it.” Anthony peered over his glasses, dark eyes gleaming just a little in appreciation of the bookseller’s easy strength. “But this? This was brilliant.”

“Well. I’m glad to have helped you clean out your garage. One or two more stops and my car should finally have a spot out of the rain. At least until your second printing.”

“Second…? Stop, don’t joke about that.”

“Who’s joking? Your new paper is very clever and—oh, hello!” Asa smiled. “My, don’t you look like a coterie of avid readers.”

This was entirely untrue: Not one of the gathered teenagers looked the sort to enjoy reading, though several of them did anyway. Asa just happened to know that readers can, in fact, look like anyone.

The students stared, not sure what to make of the comment, or the two strangers who stood ready to burst from their own excitement.

Asa beamed and tossed his head. “My husband-to-be has come to make a donation to your astronomy club.”

As the students murmured to each other, Anthony leaned closer. “Husband?”

“Oh. Ah. I really shouldn’t have—Spouse?” He put the box down, freeing his hands to fiddle with a brand-new ring. “Partner? Er… Wife?”

Anthony wagged his head, thinking. “We can talk gender tonight. For now, we can stick with fiance, or…”

“Betrothed?” Asa smiled, and Anthony grinned back.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. Right.” He clapped his hands, turning back to the students. One had already started pulling copies of Astrophysics for Everyone out of the box. “So. When we talked to your headmaster, we agreed on one signed book for whoever wants it, plus one for the library, a packet of recommended activities and experiments designed by yours truly, and a free one-hour AMA over Zoom. But, the packet is mostly for ages twelve to fourteen and it looks like a lot of you are older than that, so we can probably negotiate that AMA up to two hours.”

“AMA?” one student asked.

“Ask Me Anything.” Anthony grinned as if he’d invented the phrase himself.

“Anything?” Another looked into the box. “About astrophysics?”

“Mostly, but you know. Science, chemistry, history. Life in general. Weird questions are encouraged. Just try stumping me!”

Asa shook his head fondly. “One thing at a time, dear. Can you tell us which teacher is in charge of your astronomy club?”

The students spent far too long glancing at each other before one managed, “Don’t have one.”

“Ah. But I thought…” Anthony swung his arms. “Right. Um. Science club?” Head shakes all around. “Engineering team? Extracurricular lab time? Chess club?” He scratched his head. “Gardening?”

“No. Nothing like… any of that,” said one of the younger students, and added, with the air of one already used to disappointment, “I think you’ve got the wrong school.”

Anthony stared, mouth slightly open, first at the student, then at Asa. The book seller considered, then smiled and nodded. Grin restored, Anthony turned back to the students, pulling his glasses away. “Well. Do you guys want one?”

It would take many weeks for the mentorship of Dr. Anthony Crowley to undo all of Her work, but from that moment God knew she would make no further progress here.

///

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me

///

The problem, God found, was that the two humans bearing a fragment of Aziraphale and Crowley’s souls created an effect on the world comparable to ley lines in the last one. The laws of physics in a universe are never completely uniform—particularly once one got to the quantum levels—but they tended to be unpredictable in predictable ways. Ley lines put a thumb on the scale, stretching that natural variation to its limit.

Not that God had ever struggled to account for ley lines. They were a known and expected part of Her world from the very beginning. Had She known to expect them here, She could have built a workaround into the universe, or oriented them to her particular needs, or—

Well. No matter. She understood them now.

The presence of either of the two humans—or worse, both—distorted Her powers, could even completely destabilize them. Once She had fully entered the universe and aligned Herself with it, that would cease to be a problem. In the meantime, it made things… difficult.

At the same time, too much distance from Asa and Anthony also had an effect, the universe becoming a bit too real, too static. She could scratch and scramble at the walls of it but never make an impression. So in order to succeed, She would need to build her entry to the universe in a place near them, but one that never came too near.

After a long stretch of observation, She elected to build Her stronghold near a beach they had come to enjoy, but set back in an area they wouldn’t dare approach. Slowly, slowly, She pressed Her realm—an echo of her echo of the bookshop—into the fabric of reality there. Invisible, of course, and not especially grand, but for now it just needed to exist. She could always develop more appropriate aesthetics later.

After four years, it was nearly complete. A tiny bubble of in-between space, projected into the new universe. A little protected globe just for Herself.

She watched them now, wondering if this particular visit was business or pleasure. Likely a little of both. Asa and some friends from up north were setting up beach chairs and a picnic, half-watching the dog chase things up and down the sand. Anthony had gone for a walk by the dunes, trailed by the gaggle of children that seemed to follow him all the time now. Most of the original cohort had grown up, but there were always more to take their places.

“Doctor Crowley?” one student called out. “These sand dunes are shit.”

“Oi, language!” He spun back to the group of teenagers, hands on his hips. “We are scientists here. Don’t just say it’s shit, give me your observations. What about these dunes looks shit to you?”

The children shuffled around, squinting into the distance. Some of the oldest hesitated slightly as their eyes passed near God’s stronghold, but they shook their heads and continued looking. “I mean,” the first hazarded. “There’s no cool plants, just all this grass. And, see, it’s all flat here, then the one big one over there.”

“And look,” another jumped in. “Someone’s been digging holes in it. You can see the digger tracks. They knocked out that whole part over there,” pointing almost directly at the place where She stood watching.

“Alright, not a bad start. And you’re right, these dunes are shit, for now. What you’re looking at,” Anthony waved his arms expansively, “is a sand dune restoration project, which is very slow and fiddly work, but fascinating and vitally important. This project started four years ago…”

God glared at him, fingers itching to reach out and wipe that cocky smile off his face. But She couldn’t. Yet.

The stronghold protected Her from the strange instabilities, insulated Her but also isolated. Her attunement to the universe had slowed to a crawl, Her reach so limited She could do nothing more than toss sand in his direction and hope it would get in his eyes.

Might still be worth the attempt.

Just as Anthony’s rambling lecture wandered into lizard nesting habits, and as Asa was climbing up to the observation platform to call them back for dinner, a flat orange disc soared past their heads and into the dunes.

“Newt! I told you to be caref—oh, Dog! No!”

The young adults down on the beach started running, but the little terrier had a massive head start and an enthusiasm none of them could match. He shot past Asa, wriggled through a hole in the fence, and tore across the pristine sand of the dune restoration area.

“I’ve got him!” Asa called, kicking open a gate and charging in heedlessly.

“Asa, no! The lizards!”

“I’m well aware, dear. Now come on, Dog, that’s a good boy. Just pick it up and—No!”

Dog crouched and wagged his tail, eyes gleaming mischievously, then darted off—directly towards the unseen stronghold.

“No!” God commanded. “Turn away!”

The words had no effect on the little beast at all.

“We’ll help, Mr Fell!” called one of the students, and as one they swarmed the edge of the platform, flipping over the wooden barrier or climbing up the chicken wire fence. Invading the serenity of the dunes.

“No, don’t help!” Anthony ordered, his words having no more effect than God’s. “Stay here and—no, watch where you step!”

God tugged at the universe, drawing in as much wind as she could summon and blasted it at the invaders, spraying sand and salt in their faces. Children shrieked and covered their eyes, continuing to stumble around blind, crashing into each other. Someone produced a ball to try and entice Dog, which only led to more confusion.

The animal had vanished into the grass. Asa tripped and fell into an infant dune. One student tackled another and they laughed.

All the humans, even Anthony, laughed and laughed while the foundations of God’s stronghold weakened, crumbled, and collapsed into nothing.

///

And I discovered that my castles stand
On pillars of salt and pillars of sand

///

Infuriated, God seized on another plan. It wasn’t elegant. It wasn’t subtle. It had a crude directness even the Devil would have been ashamed of. But She was past caring.

God scoured the range in which She could work, searching for every soul built from one of Her angels—or Her demons, it didn’t matter now. She rang every bell in their minds, pulled every lever. Pulled buried memories to the surface. Stoked feelings of righteous anger, of cruel hatred, anything that tended towards wrath and violence, and sent them towards the book shop.

The results were… disappointing.

Eric and Muriel had a loud, furious argument in the street that resulted in them storming off in opposite directions. Neither even glanced at the shop, and the breakup lasted only three days.

Michael—or Michaela or whatever name she went by now—lost her job at the cafe and started publicly blaming and harassing her former customers. But then Anthony put in a few calls and found her a new job. The woman was so happy and grateful that God could find no trace of the Archangel in her mind for months afterwards.

Hastur kicked a stray cat, which might have been a promising start, except the cat fought back and he wound up stuck at home with an infected leg until his anger had more than cooled.

The Metatron was a lost cause. He spent so much time in Asa’s presence that his mind became a locked box to God. Not that his human form seemed terribly useful or intelligent.

Eventually, She turned all Her attention to one former angel—Gabriel. For weeks, months, God assaulted his consciousness, dragging every memory she could access into the light, twisting them to her needs, pouring commands into his brain day and night. Eventually he snapped, kicking open the bookshop door and screaming promises of violence.

///

I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing…

///

Five minutes later, the former Supreme Archangel was wrapped in a blanket, nursing a mug of cocoa and crying so hard he could barely form words. “I just… I don’t know what’s going on, and I want it to stop.”

“It’s alright, Jim,” Asa said soothingly, patting his arm. Behind them, the Metatron tidied up the wrecked displays and Anthony searched his phone for the mental health crisis hotline. “We’ll make sure you get all the help you need and—and everything will be right as rain.”

“My—my partner. Bea. Won’t even talk to me anymore. They—last week they moved back in with their ex.”

“Oh, that does sound complicated.” Asa glanced towards Anthony, who pressed his lips into a line and nodded. “Let me call them for you. I can be quite persuasive, and… oh, I’m sure Bea is very worried about you.”

“I–I’d like that.”

“And who else?” Asa asked as he retrieved the shop phone. “Family? Friends? Just say the word. As many as you like.”

“No, they… they won’t want to see me like this. I’m supposed to be… strong. Confident. In charge. Not… begging for help…”

“You’re not begging,” Anthony said, coming to put a hand on the crying man’s shoulder. “Everyone needs help sometimes. There’s no shame in that. And if they love you, they’ll want to see you no matter what.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, tears running down his face. “I… uh, I have a cousin…”

///

Roman cavalry choirs a-singing…

///

Nearly worked. It had nearly worked!

God clung to that thought, just as She clung to her hold on Gabriel’s mind. If only he’d brought a gun—What sort of American doesn’t have a gun?

But she could hold on. Try again. Do better next time.

Now, at last, She could feel her tendrils settling on the surface of the Metatron’s mind.

And not just him.

More were coming. Answering Asa’s call.

Beelzebub. Dagon. Sandalphon. Saraqael. Uriel arriving in the ambulance, sirens like beautiful music. Eric and Muriel, holding hands again, rushing to see what the commotion was. Even Michael, lagging behind the rest but coming to offer what help she could.

Finally. At long last. God’s army was gathering.

///

Be my mirror, my sword, my shield…

///

They all arrived together, and God plunged into their minds.

No subtlety now. She reached for every bit of control, digging deeper and deeper into each mind until something stirred. Something reached back.

Connection after connection, each a breath of air, a new set of senses, another layer of the world to see and explore.

This was it. Even if God couldn’t enter the universe Herself, She had it. She had everything She needed.

///

My missionaries in a foreign field…

///

But then, at her moment of triumph, Asa looked at Her.

Not just in Her direction, gaze drifting past unseeing. He looked directly at her, eyes narrowed but focused, lips twisting into a frown of distaste. He looked at her without cowering or flinching or showing the least bit of surprise.

He just took a breath and shook his head firmly.

///

For some reason I can’t explain…

///

The universe slammed shut around Her.

God was thrown back across the room, into the wall of Her echo of the shop.

It didn’t hurt. But it was supremely unpleasant.

///

Once you were gone there was never….

///

She seized the globe from the corner it had rolled into, fingers digging in, shaking it for all the good that would do. Tried to send Her mind back through the half-formed entry to reach Her angels and demons once again.

It repulsed her. LIke two positively charged magnets, She couldn’t even get close to the entry.

God turned the globe, searching, testing each of a dozen more she had been working on. The point above Trafalgar Square. Closed. The alley behind the restaurant. Closed. The campsite near the sea. Closed. Closed. Closed closed closed closed!

Worse, every time She eased her control, even for a second, the view inside the globe shifted back to the shop. To what should have been Her Supreme Archangel, surrounded by what should have been Her army, all overcome with pathetic human emotions.

Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, embraced Gabriel, whispering to him as he nodded wordlessly. Sandalphon clapped his shoulder, wearing a look of sympathy she’d never designed his face for.

///

Never an honest word…

///

For a moment, Asa seemed to look up through the curve of the globe, a satisfied smile on his face. He nodded, then joined Anthony, their arms around each other, watching their shop, crowded with individuals all fussing over a single soul.

While God sat in Her own version of the shop, empty and alone.

///

But that was when I ruled the world

///

For the first year after that, God simply brooded, watching the images in her globe slip from Anthony’s perspective to Asa’s and back. Occasionally, with a great deal of concentration, She could force it to show her someplace else, but it never held for long.

During the second year, She started systematically searching the length and breadth of England. Meticulously picking at the fabric of reality. Documenting everywhere She found even the slightest variation.

In the third year, She made Her plan.

As Asa and Anthony purchased their little cottage in the South Downs, before they had a chance to move in, God coiled all Her essence into a tiny seed and buried it deep in the soil of the back garden.

For at least ten years, that dark, dank underground void was all She knew. She could feel Asa and Anthony’s presence, pressing down on Her, sealing Her off from integrating fully with the world, but it was too late to remove Her. She was here.

For ten years, She waited, bided Her time, and grew. Little by little, She crept out of Her seed, testing Her surroundings, tasting them. When She could reach elements of this reality, She devoured them, breaking them down, taking the strength from every atom. When She could reach nothing else, She turned on Her own form and power, fueling Her transformation with Herself.

For ten years, She feasted on Her own body and soul, Refining Her power, Her senses, Her divine anger.

Then, when the time was right, She arrived.

///

It was a wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in

///

God burst out of the ground as a darkly glowing eldritch horror, all limbs and eyes and mouths searching for a feast. Ahead of Her, She could see two chairs. Red. Rustic. Quaint. Holding two pale-haired old men, gazing together across the dark fields.

She stepped towards them, reasserting one of Her customary forms. She tried to show the dignity and poise She had always reserved for meetings with lesser beings, but She couldn’t quite manage it today. Her breath, she knew, rasped harshly from Her throat, and Her eyes glinted unnaturally.

Even now the interference kept Her from Her full strength, but ten years had given Her more than enough to deal with two foolish humans.

She clenched Her fists, darkling energy crackling.

Then one of the men clicked his tongue.

“Really?” said the one on the left as they rose, synchronized, as if they’d practiced. “And they were having such a nice evening.”

They turned, and God found Herself confronted not by Asa and Anthony, but Aziraphale and Crowley, angel and demon, fully manifested, wings and all.

///

Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn’t believe what I’d become

///

“You.” God narrowed Her eyes, studying them, looking for the trick. “You can’t be here.”

“Neither can You,” Crowley drawled, circling his chair. “I thought we were clear on that.”

“No angels or demons,” Aziraphale reminded them all, mirroring Crowley’s walk. “Heaven or Hell. God or the Devil.” He folded his hands behind his back. “Yet here we all are. It would seem Someone made quite the mistake.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” God snapped, a little too harshly.

“I didn’t think You had,” Crowley countered. His serpent eyes glittered in the night. “You went back on our deal. You broke the rules.”

“I make the rules.” God swallowed, tilted her head, and continued in a more even tone. “And you never said anything about forces from outside the universe.”

Crowley groaned, rolling his entire head. “It was implied,” Aziraphale said coolly. “And, really, the spirit of the agreement—”

“Don’t bother.” Crowley waved in disgust as if he might walk away from the whole affair. “You can see She doesn’t care. Just more little tricks to make Her game of solitaire more fun.”

God ground Her teeth and started again, slowly. “How. Are you. Here?”

Crowley smirked, clearly not intending to answer any questions, so She turned to Aziraphale. The angel spread his arms and shrugged. “You put us here, didn’t You? Scattered us all over the world.”

“To watch,” Crowley interjected. “Whatever She was planning. She likes an audience.”

“Surely You knew that restoring consciousness would have repercussions.”

“We’ve been aware of You the whole time. And we found if we just pull enough of ourselves to the same place…” Crowley spread his arms.

“Not that we’ve needed to. Asa and Anthony have been handling things quite well on their own.” Then Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow and said, with the air of one reviving an old argument, “That young astrophysicist can be quite charming.”

“I’m charming!” Crowley protested. “Plenty of—Thousands of humans have called me charming!”

“There’s just a crumb of us inside them.” Aziraphale held up his thumb and forefinger. “Just a little teensy speck. But it’s enough.”

“You have no power over this world!” She objected.

“Obviously not,” Crowley scoffed. “But You’re not part of this world, are You?”

“We were happy enough to let things stand,” Aziraphale continued. “We had an entire world to explore, and You—well. It was all just a bit of harmless nonsense.” He paused, face turning grave. “But after what you did to Jim…”

///

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate

///

“Jim?”

“Gabriel,” Crowley snapped. “Your Supreme Archangel? Only he’s not Gabriel anymore, he’s just some poor human being who’s going to be in therapy for the rest of his life.”

“We obviously couldn’t let you try that again.” Aziraphale’s round, kind face turned to granite. “Not to anyone.”

“So while everyone was gathered, we pulled together as much angelic or demonic power as we could and locked the doors.”

“Sealed up the cracks,” Aziraphale added. “As many as we could find.”

“We assumed you’d get the message and clear out.” Crowley ambled around Her, hands in his pockets. “Go build some other universe to bother. But I guess eons of omniscience have left You a bit thick.”

“Or She can’t.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “All the power in the universe, but perhaps that means only one universe at a time?”

“Or all Her favorite souls are tied up in this one, and She’s too lazy to start over.”

“I am not constrained by such simple matters.”

“Or, option four, She’s just that petty. Which, honestly? That tracks.” Crowley returned to his original spot, drawing one hand from his pocket. “But seriously. Lord. Take the hint this time.”

“This universe is in good hands,” Aziraphale said, raising his own, palm out. “Please. Let us be.”

“Are you trying to intimidate Me? Me?” God loosened her hold on her physical form, growing as tall as the cottage itself. “You couldn’t harm Me even if you burned your souls to ash in the attempt. I’m only still here because I don’t like loose ends but you, this universe and you in particular,” she pointed at Crowley, “have been the most stubborn, irritating loose end in My eternal existence. But now I understand. Even if you stop Me tonight, I only have to wait for these two humans to die and leave this world defenseless. And you can be sure when that day comes, I will find you both and make you suffer for this indignity.”

All through Her speech, the angel and demon had stood tall, not flinching or stepping back. But when She mentioned the humans, they glanced at each other, perplexed.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, looking back up at Her. “Do You think Asa and Anthony are the only ones?”

“See what I mean?” Crowley shook his head. “Fixated. Obsessed. Petty.” His serpent eyes flashed in the dark. “You scattered us, remember? There’s Asa and Anthony, yes. And there’s Antonia, who teaches free art classes at the public library just to have an excuse to chat up Eliza behind the desk. There’s Enzo and Toni, who have been married for fifteen years and have so many kids I can’t even keep track. There’s AJ—”

“Oh, poor AJ,” Aziraphale interrupted. “He was bullied so badly at school this year.”

“Ah, he’s a tough kid. And he’s got Ezra watching his back now. The point is,” Crowley jabbed a finger, “there are dozens of them—dozens of humans living their tiny, boring, predictable, beautiful human lives. Dozens, and more born all the time that have that crumb of the occult—”

“—Or the ethereal—”

“—And are ready to put themselves between this world and You.”

“And behind all of them stand us,” Aziraphale finished. “And there we will stand for as long as there is a humanity to defend. So again. For the last time.” They raised their hands once more, palms pointing towards her. “Leave this world.”

With a cry, God lunched forward.

The angel and demon’s fingers barely twitched, but their wings swept wide.

The world flashed—hung in darkness for an eternity or a second—

And God crashed once again to the floor of the bookshop. Truly, completely alone.

Inside the globe, She could still see the back garden of the cottage in perfect, minute detail. See how Her opponents smiled at each other.

She pounded the floor boards with Her fist, shook the globe and screamed.

A few more meteors fell from the sky, a little flurry of snow, to burn up in the atmosphere and vanish without a trace.

///

Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh, who would ever want to be king?

///

The angel and demon lowered their hands and looked almost shyly at each other. “It’s… It’s good to see you again,” Aziraphale said softly. “In this form.”

“Yeah.” Crowley touched the angel’s cheek, and was rewarded with the brilliant, blinding smile that no human echo could ever quite capture. “Yeah. It is.”

“I mean, yes, we’re… we’re always together now, but…” Aziraphale smoothed his hands down Crowley’s coat, then gazed up at him. “I missed your eyes.”

“Missed a lot about you, too.” Shifting closer.

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Ngk. Y’know. Missed your—”

Before he could finish, Aziraphale’s lips were locked over his. They wrapped their arms around each other, drawing close, as if to merge their physical forms entirely.

When they pulled apart, Aziraphale shuddered, eyes closed. “You know, I—I almost wish She’d, er, that God would… try again… Just so… so… Oh, but I’ve always been a very selfish angel.”

“I know.” Crowley brushed a soft kiss across his brow.

“Well.” Aziraphale fumbled for Crowley’s hand and squeezed it. “We, ah, we ought to let these two lovebirds get back to their meteor shower, eh?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want to miss the peak of it.”

They moved awkwardly back around the chairs, trying to keep their hands clasped even as their wings faded away. By the time they were seated, they were like a double image, human and non-human occupying the same space at the same time.

“Oh, speaking of lovebirds,” Crowley flashed his grin. “Think I learned a new trick.”

“You did no such thing,” Aziraphale pouted. “You can’t do tricks any more than I can.”

“Wanna bet?” The demon’s face softened into a genuine smile. “You’ll like this.”

He flicked his fingers and birdsong—real or imagined—filled their ears. Aziraphale smiled his dazzling smile one last time, then faded away like an afterimage.

“You hear that bird?” Anthony asked. “That’s definitely a nightingale.”

///

I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing
Roman cavalry choirs a-singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason, I can’t explain
I know St. Peter won’t call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world.