'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 16

1941, London

The world was engulfed in the darkness of World War II. London, with its streets illuminated only by dimly lit lanterns, was a city under siege. Amidst the chaos and destruction, Aziraphale and Y/N found themselves entangled in a dangerous mission—one that would test their mettle and their dedication to humanity.

In the dimly lit shadows of a church, Aziraphale, ever the bookish angel, stood with a false air of confidence. He was flanked by Y/N, who stood in the shadows behind him. He had been approached by a group of Nazis, who believed him to be an ally in their quest for power. Little did they know that Aziraphale had his own plans, a plan to deceive and outwit the forces of darkness.

With an air of authority, Aziraphale presented the books of prophecy they had brought for Hitler, knowing full well that the Führer's obsession with such texts would play right into their hands. By feeding him false prophecies, they hoped to lead the Nazis astray.

But their intricate plan took an unexpected turn when Aziraphale introduced a woman, a supposed British spy, who he believed would help apprehend the Nazis. However, as the events unfolded, it became evident that the woman had her own agenda, one that ran counter to Aziraphale's intentions.

Y/N, watched with growing concern as the situation escalated. Threats were exchanged, and tensions reached a breaking point. It was a dangerous standoff, one that threatened to unravel their carefully crafted plan.

It was then that Y/N, emerged from her spot in the shadows. Her presence was a reassuring one, and her eyes were steely with determination. She knew what needed to be done to protect the world from the Nazis' dark intentions.

The woman, who had initially seemed trustworthy, revealed her true allegiance by pulling out a concealed firearm. Aziraphale and Y/N found themselves cornered, facing the very danger they had hoped to thwart.

Tensions in the church escalated as the standoff unfolded. Y/N, not one to be outdone, reached into her coat, pulling out two sleek handguns with an air of practiced precision. With a practiced grace, Y/N drew her guns, aiming them squarely at the Nazis who now found themselves trapped within the church's hallowed walls.

Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, a sudden gust of wind swept through the church, carrying with it a familiar and chilling presence. Crowley had arrived, despite the searing pain of the consecrated ground. He made his way up to the altar, hopping from foot to foot as if the ground was hot sand on the beach.

Azirapahle turned and gave Crowley a disapproving look, shaking his head "I should have known. These people are working for you."

"No. They're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running around London, blackmailing and murdering people. I just didn't want to see you embarrassed." he hissed at Aziraphale, grimacing in pain.

One of the Nazis recognized Crowley, "Mr Anthony J Crowley. Your fame precedes you."

"Anthony?" Y/N questioned.

"You don't like it?" Crowley asked worriedly, despite the imminent danger they were in. He would change the name if Y/N didn't like it.

"What does the "J" stand for?" Aziraphale asked, momentarily distracted from their situation.

"It's just a "J", really." Crowley replied. He turned back to the Nazis, noticing the fountain next to them.

"Look at that! A whole fontful of holy water. It doesn't even have guards." he said incredulously as he hopped over to it. Y/N stifled a giggle watching Crowleys antics.

"Enough babbling. Kill them." Ordered one of the Nazis.

Crowley leaned against a pillar with an air of non chalance, despite the pain he felt. With a sly grin, he addressed the Nazis, his voice dripping with wicked amusement. "Gentlemen," he began, "I've taken the liberty of changing the flight plan for your beloved bombers. You see, they're now headed somewhere far less explosive."

"You expect us to believe that? The bombs tonight will fall on the East End." The Nazis scoffed at his words, convinced that their plan was foolproof.

But Crowley's grin only widened as he continued. "You're currently inside a church, and I'd wager that it won't be standing for much longer. In precisely..." He glanced at his watch, "30 seconds, the ground you're standing on will be reduced to rubble."

The Nazis exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado wavering. But they remained defiant, refusing to believe that their scheme could be foiled so easily.

As the seconds dwindled, panic gripped the Nazis, and they hesitated, torn between their loyalty to the Fuhrer and the fear of impending doom. The sound of approaching bombers grew louder, the vibrations rattling the very foundations of the church.

The tension within the church reached its breaking point. Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a knowing glance, a silent agreement passing between them. It was time to use their celestial powers to protect Y/N and themselves.

With a shared thought, they conjured a miracle; a shimmering, protective barrier that enveloped the three of them. It was a shield that defied the laws of nature, an ethereal cocoon that would shield them from harm.

As the bombs struck with a deafening roar, the church around them crumbled, reduced to rubble and chaos. But within their protective cocoon, Y/N, Crowley, and Aziraphale remained untouched, their bodies unscathed by the devastation that raged around them.

When the dust finally settled and the echoes of destruction faded, they found themselves in the midst of the ruined church, miraculously alive and intact.

With the danger now passed, Crowley turned his attention to Y/N. He held her tight to his chest and placed a kiss to her forehead. "Are you alright sweetheart?" he asked, concern etched into his features.

Y/N nodded, her heart filled with gratitude for their miraculous intervention. "I'm fine, thanks to both of you."

Aziraphale smiled warmly at her. "It was the least we could do, my dear."

Satisfied with Y/N's safety, Crowley pulled away from the embrace. In the corner of his eye, he spotted something. Crowley, with determination in his eyes, approached the lifeless body of a Nazi, who had been clutching a bag of books. With a devilish smirk, Crowley gently pried the bag from the dead man's grasp. He handed it over to Aziraphale, who cradled it with a mixture of relief and triumph.

As the realization of their survival settled in, Crowley turned to Aziraphale, a half-smile on his face. "Aziraphale," he said, "how about a ride home?"

Aziraphale's eyes twinkled with a mixture of amusement and affection. "I'd love that, Crowley," he replied.