I'm Gonna Set Things Right Again (Good Omens fanfiction)

You're not welcome anymore

Crowley was about to pay his Mayfair flat his usual visit, but he stopped dead in his tracks when arriving at the front door. This he did not do without reason, seeing as a familiar figure was laying propped up against it.

It was clad in an immaculately white suit, the only part of its clothing bearing any colour being his tartan bow tie. This could hardly be said to be uncharacteristic, however, there were some disturbing details as well. Firstly, the fuzzy curls of the figure's hair were not tinted with their usual white-blonde colour, but glistening in the same hue that Crowley's locks had instead. Secondly, there were dark lines on its cheekbones, not to mention the fact that the lines seemed to be moving.

"You," Crowley spat, arriving in front of the figure with two long strides and grabbing it by the lapels of its suit to yank them up from the ground.

The next moment, however, he immediately dropped it in shock, and the white-clad body landed back on the floor with a thump.

The reason for the demon's astonishment was quite simple. He could now see clearly that what had seemed to be moving lines from afar were actually two sizable snake tattoos, much like his own, with the sole difference that they were in constant motion.

"An- Az-," Crowley struggled to address the figure in a way that would not make him feel even more like his chest had been cut open, his heart ripped out, and then replaced by some boiling tar. "Principality!" he then came up with, at last.

Of course, the figure lying in front of his flat was no longer a Principality, but an Archangel. However, he could not bring himself to call him that.

"How dare you?!" Crowley then snarled.

It was at this moment that Aziraphale's eyes slowly opened, only to reveal a pair of golden irises with narrow slits as pupils, much like Crowley's own. In fact, they were an identical copy of Crowley's own.

Now, telling which way a snake is looking and if its gaze is distant or not can be quite a challenge. However, Crowley was quite experienced in this, and he had no trouble realizing that the Angel's gaze was completely unfocused.

"Crowley... Crowley," Aziraphale then rasped in such a broken and pleading voice that it would have broken any heart, even one made of stone.

In Crowley's case, however, it only served to fuel his fury further.

"Nooo! None of that!" he hissed. "You don't get to bloody say my name like that. Understood?!"

Then, he proceeded to shake the Angel's form harshly, but it had little to no effect on Aziraphale. His limbs were still as lifeless as a rag doll's, and he proceeded to gaze into the distance with unseeing, serpentine eyes.

Crowley continued to try to shake him into a state of consciousness for a while longer but had to discontinue this activity when his efforts turned out to be unsuccessful. His thoughts raced through his head at a speed much greater than the one he usually held when racing through the city in his Bentley, and he finally scooped the Angel up from the floor, hurrying out of the building.

He threw Aziraphale onto the passenger seat of the Bentley in a manner that was far from gentle, whereafter he took up his usual position behind the wheel. He could have teleported the two of them to the bookshop with a snap of his fingers, but considering the events of the past few minutes, he was in desperate need of a drive.

He quickly miracled some seat belts onto the passenger seat, not wanting the Angel to fly through the windshield in case he needed to slam on the brake, despite how furious he was at him. Then, he set the car into motion and put the cassette player on.

The Bentley had been willing to play other songs than those produced by Queen on occasion ever since the Notpocalypse. However, those soundtracks never seemed to be the ones that Crowley had wanted to hear, but rather what the car itself was in the mood for. To top it all off, Aziraphale had spoiled the Bentley completely by listening to classical music when driving to Edinburgh, making the car's music choices even more unpredictable.