'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 41

5 Hours and 48 Minutes to the End of the World

Aziraphale returned to his bookshop, and the sight of Y/N waiting there brought a faint smile to his lips. Her presence was a comforting balm to his frayed nerves, and he was grateful for it. However, she could clearly see that something was amiss.

Y/N's concern was genuine, and she couldn't help but ask, "Aziraphale, what's wrong? You seem rather on edge."

Aziraphale hesitated momentarily, his gaze shifting to the cluttered shelves of books that surrounded them. "Oh, it's nothing to worry about, really," he attempted to dismiss.

Y/N, sensing that there was more to it, offered a reassuring smile. "All right, but remember, you can always tell me if something's bothering you."

He nodded and then looked back at her with a curious expression. "And what about you? Is there anything you'd like to share?"

Y/N's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, and she decided it was time to open up. She took a deep breath and began to explain her recurring flashbacks. "Aziraphale, I've been having these flashbacks... visions of the past. And... I know where the Antichrist is." Her voice quivered with a hint of uncertainty.

Aziraphale's eyes widened at the revelation, mirroring her seriousness. "That's quite something," he commented.

Aziraphale was quick to explain that he, too, had made significant progress in their quest to locate the Antichrist. He mentioned the book left behind by Anathema, which had provided crucial information.

Aziraphale headed toward a particular rug on the floor, discreetly concealing something beneath it. With a swift movement, he revealed an intricate circular pattern etched on the wooden floor. Aziraphale then set up a circle of candles around it, creating a makeshift shrine.

The room was filled with anticipation as Aziraphale struck a match, its soft glow dancing in his eyes. He lit the candles one by one, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the bookshelves that lined the walls. The scent of candles wafted through the room, adding to the sacred ambience.

With a steadying breath, Aziraphale lowered his head and began to pray, his words an emotional plea to the Almighty. "Hello. This is the Principality Aziraphale. I'm looking for, erm... a higher authority. Is there anybody there?"

As the last words left his lips, the candles' glow intensified, and the air around him seemed to shimmer. A portal of radiant light materialised, leading to the heavenly realm. Within the portal, the face of the Metatron, chief communicator between God and the angels, appeared.

Aziraphale wasted no time, his voice urgent as he addressed the celestial being. "I need to speak to the Almighty. Am I speaking to... God?"

The Metatron regarded Aziraphale with an impassive expression, then replied, "You are speaking to the Metatron, Aziraphale. To speak to me is to speak to God. I am the voice of the Almighty."

Just as they continued, a knocking on the door of the bookshop interrupted their conversation. Y/N, from elsewhere in the shop, called out that they were closed.

Aziraphale returned his attention to the Metatron, explaining his dire concerns. "I want to complain about the conduct of a few angels. But the-the important thing is the Antichrist. I know who he is, I know where he is. So there doesn't need to be any of that nonsense about, erm, a third of the seas turning to blood or anything. There needn't be a war. We can save everyone."

The Metatron regarded Aziraphale with unwavering, divine authority. "The point is not to avoid the war. The point is to win it."

Despite his request, the Metatron's gaze remained resolute, and Aziraphale understood that this was a heavenly decree he couldn't easily sway. As the celestial being spoke, the knocking on the bookshop's door grew more insistent.

Aziraphale, now with a heavy heart and a profound sense of urgency, conceded, "Very well, I understand."

The Metatron nodded and assured him, "The battle commences, Aziraphale. Join us. We will leave the gateway open for you. Do not dawdle."

With a nod, Aziraphale acknowledged the Metatron's offer, "In a jiffy. Two shakes of a lamb's tail. Just a-a couple of things left to tie up."

As the Metatron abruptly vanished, leaving the shimmering light portal activated, Aziraphale wasted no time. He hurriedly dialled Crowley's number, his voice trembling with urgency.

"Crowley, I know where the Antichrist is," Aziraphale exclaimed, relaying the vital information as quickly as possible. He knew they had no time to waste.

While Aziraphale was engrossed in his conversation, he was unaware of Sergeant Shadwell's arrival at the bookshop. The scruffy, suspicious man watched Y/N and Aziraphale with a scrutinising gaze.

The portal continued to emit a radiant glow on the floor, undeterred by the sudden appearance of an intruder.

Aziraphale reeled from his call with Crowley and returned to the portal, determined to defend it from Shadwell's prying eyes. His anxiety was palpable.

Y/N, standing off to the side, observed the unfolding drama with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She knew their efforts to locate the Antichrist had reached a critical juncture.

Shadwell, witnessing the luminous portal, let out an accusatory cry. "Witchcraft!" he bellowed, pointing at Aziraphale with a trembling finger. "You're a witch!"

Aziraphale protested, "You've got it all wrong, I assure you!"

Shadwell, undeterred and fueled by his zealous mission, announced, "You're possessed by a demon! I shall exorcise it from you."

As Shadwell began to move about the shop in search of the necessary tools for his impromptu exorcism—a book, a bell, and a candle—Aziraphale felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow. His gaze shifted nervously towards the activated portal, which lay illuminated on the shop's wooden floor. It was a fragile bridge between realms, a beacon of otherworldly power, and one touch might lead to catastrophe.

"Yes, er, fine. But, please, keep away from the circle. It's... it's still powered up." Aziraphale warned a tremor of anxiety in his voice.

Shadwell, undeterred, gathered his belongings and positioned himself directly in front of Aziraphale, his accusatory finger pointed squarely at the angel.

Slowly but deliberately, Shadwell began to close the distance between them. Aziraphale stepped back, his expression a mix of frustration and dread, understanding the severity of the situation.

"Please, you-you-you must keep away from the circle." Aziraphale insisted anxiously.

Panicked, Aziraphale retreated further, trying to put some distance between himself and the relentless Shadwell. He never saw it coming, but as he took another step back, his heel touched the shimmering surface of the active portal. It was an unfortunate slip, and Aziraphale looked down in a moment of realisation, his eyes widening with fear.

"Oh, fuck!" Aziraphale exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock and despair. Before he could react further, the portal's energy enveloped him, and he was dematerialised and whisked away to heaven.

Shadwell stood there, shocked and confused by the sudden disappearance of Aziraphale.

Amid the chaos, Shadwell turned his attention to Y/N. With renewed determination, he moved toward her, pointing an accusatory finger and muttering the incantation, attempting to exorcise her as well. But in the face of this new threat, Y/N suddenly had a vivid flashback that overwhelmed her senses, and she fell to the ground, knocking her head on the edge of a table, rendering her unconscious.

Leaving Y/N behind, Shadwell, still bewildered by the sudden events, exited the bookshop hastily. In his hurry, he knocked over some candles, their flames flickering and igniting a dangerous fire that quickly began to engulf the shop, casting eerie shadows in the once serene and quaint space.