The nice and accurate oneshots of Good omens

The consequences of averting the apocalypse

In the weeks following the apoca-wasn't everything had returned to normal. The them had returned to being a normal gang of kids, there were no prophecies, no Atlantis, nothing out of the normal at all. Everything was ok. Except it wasn't. Nothing was ever going to be the same ever again.

Aziraphale was pacing around the bookshop, making very little noise on the old wood. He had closed the shop earlier than normal adding to the already erratic opening hours he kept to dissuade hopeful book collectors. He felt wrong. He was glad that Armageddon had been averted, of course he was, he loved earth, loved humanity, loved his wiley demon but it felt wrong. For 6000 years he had lived in fear of what heaven could do to him, what Gabriel could do to him. Lived 6000 years on earth waiting for the end of the world and now? Now it was all over and he had nothing. Nothing to prevent, nothing to fear, no structure. He knew he should be glad, he was free but if he was going to be honest with himself he had never felt so trapped.

An all too familiar feeling of hopelessness and fear was flooding into the angel's chest. A constricting, choking feeling threatening to overwhelm him, it took everything he had to keep it at bay.He continued to pace, rubbing the bottom of his waistcoat between his forefinger and thumb. There was a slight comfort about the action.He had to keep moving, he knew that if he stopped, well it didn't bear thinking about. There was a strange buzzing in Aziraphale's ears and he felt as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. Now technically, Aziraphale didn't need to breathe, he knew that, but in the 6000 years he had spent on this planet he'd gotten pretty used to it. A stab of fear shot painfully through his chest, he needed out of the bookshop, he needed air and he needed it now.

Aziraphale threw open the bookshop door with less care than he would've liked to admit but he wasn't really in the right frame of mind to properly process this. The door locked itself behind him as he raced down the London streets. He was walking faster and faster as his mind and heart raced uncontrollably. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could barely see through the tears streaming down his face. They fell like in a constant stream down his cheeks, dripping from his face onto the concrete below his feet.He needed his demon.

***

Crowley was in his apartment, painfully unaware of what was going on with his angel.For him, life since the failed apocalypse had been exceedingly peaceful, like removing a weight that had been crushing him for so long that he forgot what it was like to be without it. Liberating to be free from the expectations of hell.Demons don't have free will, it's one of the things that separates Crowley from the humans he lives amongst. That had come to be the only reason that he had tempted humanity. He didn't enjoy it, and had never been a good demon in that respect. He had done it because he had to, and now? Now he was free and the freedom was suiting him quite well.

Crowley was sprawled across his couch in a vague attempt to get comfortable enough to take part in his favourite of humanity's rituals, napping, when a frantic banging sounded on his door. Feeling somewhat annoyed at the disturbance, he sighed and reached for his glasses before untangling the mess of his limbs and sauntering over to his door.The demon swung the door open, 'What?' he said, the irritation clear in his voice.

Instantaneously, his demeanour changed when he saw his angel, a crying, panicking mess standing before him. As Aziraphale stammered out an apology, Crowley pulled his angel into a tight hug with one hand, discarding his glasses with the other. With the angel's body pressed against his he could feel how badly Azirphale was shaking, how fast his heart rate was, how much effort each shaking breath was taking. He pushed the door closed behind the angel with his free hand before carefully holding Aziraphale's head against his shoulder, rubbing his thumb through his angel's curly hair. 'Angel?' he murmured quietly, 'Angel what's wrong are you ok?' concern laced each of the demon's words.

Aziraphale tried to answer, he drew a deep shaky breath but it caught in his throat.Being here, in Crowley's arms had made it slightly easier but he still couldn't think and the racing of his heart made him feel so disoriented and lightheaded.He clung to the demon and shook his head, forehead rubbing against the shoulder of Crowley's jacket. 'Angel, look at me for a second,' said Crowley softly, 'Do you need out?'. Aziraphale met Crowley's eyes for a second before quickly looking away, tears still streaming down his cheeks.He nodded. Crowley placed his hands on the angel's shoulders, 'Ok, that's alright,' He said, before his brow furrowed for a second. He clicked his fingers.