'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 30

Wednesday, 4 Days Before the End of the World

Y/N returned from her visit to Tadfield, where she had attended Adam's birthday party. She couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as she made her way back to London. The encounter with the true Antichrist had left her with a sense of responsibility she couldn't easily shake. However, as she approached Aziraphale's bookshop, her thoughts focused on her two companions.

Y/N noticed the familiar form of the Bentley parked outside the shop. She knew that both Aziraphale and Crowley were inside, likely engrossed in some significant discussion.

The atmosphere inside the shop was palpably tense. Crowley and Aziraphale, usually the picture of collected composure, appeared deep in conversation, their expressions etched with worry. Y/N didn't want to interrupt, but her eagerness to know what was happening got the better of her. Her heart quickened its pace as she walked towards them.

With a soft smile, Y/N approached Crowley, her heart aching with the weight of unspoken truths. She leaned down and kissed him gently, a silent reassurance that they were in this together. Crowley welcomed her presence with a fleeting smile before she took a seat next to him.

Crowley, his golden eyes filled with curiosity, broke the silence. "How was your party?" he asked, flashing her a warm smile.

Crowley's fingers found hers under the table, their connection a source of comfort. Y/N smiled and replied, "It went rather well, dear. Kids had a grand time, you know." Y/N's answer was deliberately vague, for she had no intention of revealing the true nature of the party or her connection to the young Antichrist. She understood the importance of keeping that particular secret close to her heart.

She gazed at Aziraphale, her eyes betraying her curiosity, and asked, "So, how did Warlock's birthday party go? Did the Hellhound make its grand appearance?"

Aziraphale's expression darkened as he somberly replied, "Not so good, my dear. The Hellhound failed to appear, which means we've been looking after the wrong boy. I'm afraid we've lost the true Antichrist."

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy as the weight of their predicament pressed down upon them. Crowley, reclining casually, broke the silence with a hint of frustration evident in his voice. "Why in Satan's name was I chosen to deliver the Antichrist?"

Aziraphale and Y/N exchanged knowing glances before reminding Crowley of his lengthy history of sending Hell memos bragging about his apparent exemplary work on Earth. "You've been sending Hell memos for centuries, Crowley. They think you've been doing such a marvellous job when, in reality, it's been the humans doing it all for you."

"So the humans beat me to it. That's not my fault-"

A subtle shift in the air caught Crowley's attention. His voice tapered off mid-sentence, his sharp senses attuned to a change that couldn't be ignored.

Y/N felt it too, an intangible shift that sent a shiver down her spine. Something had happened, something significant. Her heart raced, and she tried to maintain her composure, knowing that their peculiar alliance depended on it.

Crowley, ever the keen observer, turned his attention inward, taking a deep breath and allowing the aroma to fill his senses. His eyes narrowed as he analysed the subtle nuances of the scent.

Y/N, trying to maintain her composure while her heart raced in her chest, quickly improvised a response. "Oh, it's just this new perfume," she offered, raising her wrist to her nose and inhaling deeply.

Crowley, however, wasn't so easily fooled. A knowing look flashed in his eyes as he replied, "I know what you smell like, darling."

In a world where deception was second nature, honesty had a peculiar charm, and Crowley's nose seldom led him astray. He sniffed the air once more, his gaze focused and unwavering.

"It's not you," he stated with unwavering certainty. "The Hellhound has found his master."

A tense silence settled upon the trio. Aziraphale's nervousness was palpable, and Y/N struggled to hold back the words that threatened to spill from her lips. She yearned to tell them everything about her day in Tadfield, about the boy named Adam Young, about her familial connection with the true Antichrist.

Aziraphale, ever cautious, sought confirmation. "Are you sure, my dear Crowley?"

Crowley's response was unwavering. "I wouldn't lie about something this serious."

The weight of their reality hung heavy in the air, and Aziraphale uttered the words they all knew to be true. "Then Armageddon has started."

Crowley nodded in agreement, a solemn acknowledgment of the dire circumstances they faced. It was a moment that had been foretold, a destiny they had worked tirelessly to avert, and yet, they found themselves at the precipice of the end times.

Y/N, her voice laced with a blend of acceptance and resignation, offered her own reflection on their grim situation. "Welcome to the end times."