'Til We Meet Again - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 44

One Hour and 43 Minutes to the End of the World

As Crowley's sleek black Bentley sat stranded in the never-ending labyrinth of traffic on the M25, the frustration that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally boiled over. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, a gesture of exasperation, the car's horn adding to the cacophony of gridlocked motorists.

"Who in their right mind designed this infernal M25?" Crowley muttered, his annoyance palpable. He glared at the cars ahead, as if expecting them to part like the Red Sea, granting him an escape route.

Y/N sat in the passenger seat, her voice tinged with a teasing tone. "Technically, you did," she pointed out, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And I helped you move the markers in the dead of night."

Crowley let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "The things I do for efficiency."

Just when it seemed like their patience was being pushed to its limit, a wall of fire erupted on the M25 ahead of them. Flames and smoke billowed into the sky, causing the surrounding cars to grind to a halt. A collective murmur of shock and panic filled the air.

Crowley's exasperation turned into resignation as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on the fiery spectacle. "Right," he muttered, his voice tinged with a weary sort of amusement, "The M25 is now an impassable burning ring of infernal fire, and that's my fault."

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. As if to add insult to injury, a light drizzle began to fall, casting a melancholic haze over the already chaotic scene.

The first droplets hit the windshield, tracing rivulets down the glass. Y/N looked out into the dreary weather, and something in the misty raindrops triggered a memory, pulling her back into the recesses of her mind.

......

Standing beside the Almighty, I witnessed the culmination of an eternal struggle, one that had torn the very fabric of Heaven itself. God's divine presence radiated, encompassing the vast expanse of the angelic assembly.

Before us knelt the fallen angels, their expressions a spectrum of despair, anger, and—above all—remorse. Lucifer, my brother, their leader, was the embodiment of rebellion, his once radiant character now marred by defiant sorrow. I dared not meet his gaze, my own eyes already welling with tears.

But my heart ached most for Raphael, his eyes locking with mine for a fleeting moment. I glimpsed the deep hurt etched into his eyes. I saw the longing for forgiveness, and I felt my heart breaking. We had been lovers, kindred spirits, and as God's creation, it was unimaginable to witness him cast down. I yearned to reach out to him, to offer comfort, but I knew that such displays were forbidden.

As God's voice resounded, the fallen angels knelt in submission, their final plea echoing throughout the celestial realm. My own body trembled with grief, though I maintained my stoic composure. This was the Divine Will, and I would not question it.

One by one, God, in her infinite wisdom, stripped the fallen angels of their halos, symbols of their divine grace, casting them to the cold, unforgiving ground. Their collective amnesia swept over them like a dark, heavy shroud, erasing all memories of their time in Heaven.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away, for God's presence demanded unwavering devotion. The consequences of rebellion were clear, and none were exempt from divine justice. With her swift, decisive action, God cast them out from Heaven, sending them into a freefall from Heaven and condemning them to exist in a world of their own creation. It was a fate both just and heartbreaking, for these angels had been my brethren, my family.