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

Like falling without ever hitting the ground

Crowley sat beside Aziraphale without moving or speaking for a long time after he had taken a look at the Angel's wings. The image projected by the last memory still hung in the air, although studying it would have made little difference, seeing that the picture shown was one containing nothing but darkness with occasional shifts of light.

Then, some muffled sound could be heard from the memory when several minutes had ticked by. A few moments later, Crowley successfully identified it as the echo of his own footsteps, and he was soon able to make out his own voice, although it was muffled and distorted.

"'Uuu! Ow dae uu?!" he heard the now mangled words that he had spat at the Angel the first time he had laid eyes upon him after their parting following Aziraphale's fateful discussion with the Metatron.

The next moment, it was as if Crowley had been slapped with all the emotions that this distorted semblance of his own voice had evoked in the Angel: remorse, despair, sorrow, anxiety, but also some love and hope. He couldn't help but shiver at the strong sensations.

"So, you're hearing everything I'm saying to you?" he then said, cocking one eyebrow as he closed his fingers around one of Aziraphale's hands. "In one way or another, at least," he gave a small shrug. "So, listen here, Angel. I remember how devastated you were when you thought that you had Fallen. You know, after Job. I almost thought that that would be the first time I would see you cry. You have come such a long way since then. I mean, bellowing about how you are sinful on top of your lungs? I must say, Angel, I'm actually proud of you. And you averted the Apocalypse for the seco- thir- well, more like the two comma fifth time, all on your own. That's my Angel. Well done!"

The memory slowly faded out, seeping back into Aziraphale's True Form. At the same time, the Angel's pupils gradually widened as his head lolled to the side, resting on Crowley's shoulder.

It was then that Crowley decided that these were desperate times that called for extremely desperate measures. He needed answers. All he had ever done was to ask questions without getting any answers, but this time, he would make sure to get them.

He gently peeled Aziraphale off of himself and made his way towards a round rug on the ground floor. He pulled it aside to reveal a circle constructed of Enochian symbols and made eight electric candles appear and spread out around its arc with a snap of his fingers.

He could sense the holiness as a scratching tingling in his True Form as soon as the last candle had found its position.

"Eugh, bit unpleasant," he grimaced. "Hello!" he said then, but it was a demand much rather than a greeting.

Nevertheless, he had to cringe at how much he had sounded like Aziraphale just then. Usually, he always managed to put the "hell" in "hello", while the Angel stretched the last letter, making the greeting all merry and sing-songy. Now, however, the word came out like a mixture of the two versions.

That did, nevertheless, not seem to help much, as there was no response.

"I said: Hell-O!" the demon repeated himself somewhat more loudly after clearing his throat.

He contemplated throwing some hellfire into the middle of the circle for good measure. At first, he only considered that as an outlet for his frustration. However, it might not even be such a bad idea on second thought. Considering that combining angelic and demonic miracles seemed to make for something quite powerful, letting some flames from Hell mingle with a protection circle might at least attract some attention.

Just when Crowley was about to summon the fire into his palms, the air inside the circle was illuminated with a soft, ethereal light. At first, Crowley had thought that he would have to get past the Metatron and their "Speaking to us is speaking to the Almighty"-nonsense. He had even prepared to brace himself against the impulse to jump inside the circle, backhand their sizable face and consequently cease to exist due to the contact with the holiness. However, there was no ginormous head, just a familiar voice.