'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 34

Thursday, Two Days to the End of the World

As the Bentley carried them on their journey back to Tadfield, Y/N and Anathema found themselves seated in the backseat, the recently injured cyclist regarding her once-damaged bicycle with a perplexed expression.

Glancing at the bike rack on the rear of the car, Anathema furrowed her brows, "Listen, my bike, it didn't have gears. I know my bike didn't have gears."

Aziraphale, ever the guardian of their secrets, felt a bead of sweat form on his brow. He glanced nervously at Y/N, then back at Anathema, who was clearly puzzled by the sudden transformation.

In a strained yet gentle voice, Aziraphale replied, "Gears? Oh dear, I believe you must be mistaken. Your bicycle doesn't have gears."

With a subtle flick of his angelic power, Aziraphale discreetly altered the bike's appearance, causing the gears to vanish as though they had never been there in the first place.

Anathema blinked, seemingly accepting Aziraphale's explanation as she turned her attention back to the road ahead. The oddness of the situation was briefly overshadowed by her gratitude for their help.

When they finally arrived outside Anathema's home, Aziraphale was quick to assist her out of the car, his angelic abilities allowing him to lend a helping hand without drawing undue attention. He helped her to the gate, ensuring she had her bicycle in tow.

"Thank you for the ride," Anathema said, her voice sincere as she held the gate open.

Aziraphale nodded, his demeanour warm and caring. "You're quite welcome, dear. Take care of yourself, and do be careful with that bicycle of yours."

With their brief encounter coming to an end, Anathema entered her property, and Aziraphale retreated to the car. Crowley, who had been waiting, leaned toward Aziraphale with a hint of impatience.

"Come on, Angel," Crowley urged. "Let's get out of here."

Aziraphale complied, settling back into the passenger seat. Crowley revved the engine, and with a swift burst of acceleration, the Bentley sped away from Anathema's home, leaving the strange encounter behind.

.......

The Bentley glided through the twilight, carrying Aziraphale, Y/N, and Crowley on their journey back to Aziraphale's cozy bookshop. Inside the car, the atmosphere was tense, the topic of conversation still revolving around the lost Antichrist.

Aziraphale, ever the thoughtful one, broke the silence. "We've spent far too long searching for the boy ourselves, and it's getting increasingly difficult."

Y/N, who had been quietly contemplating the situation, spoke up. "Maybe we need to enlist the help of humans. They're quite good at finding other humans; they've been doing it for centuries."

Aziraphale continued, "I have some human agents who could help in the search. They're quite resourceful."

Crowley, keeping his eyes on the road, smirked slightly. "Well, I've got a team of humans on my side as well."

"Do you think they ought to work together?" Aziraphale, ever the optimist, suggested excitedly.

If this "team" of human operatives that Crowley meant was the same one Y/N had met, then she knew it would be a bad idea. Y/N glanced at Crowley, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror; his look confirmed her suspicions. Crowley replied, a hint of scepticism in his voice. "You know, my lot aren't exactly the most sophisticated."

Aziraphale chuckled softly. "Well, mine aren't all that sophisticated either, come to think of it."

Their laughter filled the car for a moment, a fleeting respite from the weighty task that lay ahead. Finally, they reached an understanding. "So," Aziraphale said, "we shall instruct our respective teams to search separately."

Crowley nodded a hint of determination in his eyes. "Agreed. We'll find the Antichrist, one way or another."

The agreement settled, and the atmosphere in the Bentley lightened somewhat. As the car continued to glide through the London streets, their resolve strengthened. With their human agents enlisted in the search for the Antichrist, they hoped to regain the upper hand in this celestial game and prevent the impending apocalypse.

........

The Bentley came to a halt outside Aziraphale's quaint bookshop, its warm, inviting exterior contrasting with the night's chilly air. Crowley turned off the ignition, and the trio prepared to disembark. As they stepped out of the car, Y/N couldn't resist giving Aziraphale a warm hug, a silent gesture of camaraderie and shared purpose.

Aziraphale reciprocated the hug, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of gratitude and genuine affection. It was a brief yet meaningful connection, reaffirming their bond in the midst of their tumultuous mission.

However, as their embrace came to an end, Aziraphale's sharp eyes fell upon a curious item nestled on the backseat of Crowley's Bentley—a book. A sense of realisation dawned upon him, and he hurriedly retrieved the forgotten tome.

"There's a book back here," Aziraphale remarked with a touch of excitement. "It must belong to the young lady you hit with your car." he stated, examining the title with keen interest.

Y/N and Crowley exchanged puzzled glances, momentarily baffled by Aziraphale's enthusiasm over a seemingly ordinary book.

"I'm in enough trouble as it is. I'm not going to start returning lost property. That's what your lot do." Crowley grumbled. "Why don't you just send it to the Tadfield post office, addressed to, 'The mad American woman with the bicycle'?"

Y/N shot Crowley a disapproving look, failing to hide the smirk on her face in response to his remark.

Aziraphale's eyes, now fixed on the book's cover, sparkled with newfound enthusiasm. "Oh, no need, my dear. I think I'll return it myself. You two carry on, but I mustn't keep her waiting!"

Without further ado, Aziraphale darted back inside his beloved bookshop, a flutter of anticipation in his steps. As he disappeared from view, Y/N and Crowley exchanged amused smiles, their heads shaking in bemusement.

Y/N turned to Crowley and raised an eyebrow. "Curious, isn't it? I wonder what has him so excited about that book."

Crowley, a grin playing on his lips, shrugged casually. "Who knows, angel. Aziraphale always has his quirks."

With that, they returned to the Bentley, leaving Aziraphale to his bookish endeavours. The engine roared to life, and they embarked on the short journey back to Crowley's apartment, their minds occupied with the mysteries of the night and the impending search for the elusive Antichrist.