The End of the World...Again? [Aziracrow]

10

They remained silent there in the darkness. Neither felt uncomfortable, but there was so much to say, and neither knew quite how to get it out. Just as Crowley cleared his throat to speak and Aziraphale also had words poised on the tip of his tongue, a yellow light appeared, drawing their attention. Both turned to the window and began to witness something catastrophic. Explosions started to appear in various parts of the city, with towering flames rising in their wake. The motorway that Crowley had once turned into a trap was once again engulfed in a halo of fire.

They stood there, watching as everything began to burn as if it were hell itself. Aziraphale cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence. "Are we to assume this is the sign? The beginning of the end?" he asked, his voice faltering.

Crowley stepped closer and, hesitating at first, feeling a bit awkward, took Aziraphale's hand. "It won't be if we both try to prevent it. Besides, there's no sign of Raphiel. What Shax said was likely just an excuse to provoke this and have someone to blame."

Those words brought Aziraphale slight comfort, but then he heard a trumpet, and a voice addressed him.

"Supreme Archangel, your presence is required in Heaven," it announced formally.

Azira's eyes flashed purple, and he pulled away from Crowley, releasing his hand. "I must go; they need me in Heaven. Please, if you hear anything about Raphiel, don't hesitate to tell me. All you have to do is..." He clasped his hands together, indicating that Crowley should pray.

The hand Crowley had been holding was now clenched into a fist, his lips pursed. He didn't say anything, just nodded.

In Heaven, everyone was making preparations again. Angels were being assigned roles and military uniforms, and when Aziraphale arrived and saw this, he felt thoroughly confused.

"What's going on?" he questioned aloud.

Then, an elderly hand touched his shoulder—it was Metatron. "Supreme Archangel, we've been waiting for you. You're to lead the armies."

"What?" he blurted out, bewildered. "No, no, no, this isn't a war; there can't be a war until I find Raphiel. She must be out there somewhere, frightened..." He stopped at the look on Metatron's face. "Is Raphiel all right?"

"She is fine, Aziraphale, but it seems you haven't understood. This isn't about a war. What's about to happen is the Second Coming and Armageddon..." Metatron began to explain. When Aziraphale tried to mention Raphiel again, Metatron raised a hand to silence him. "I have a question for you, Aziraphale. When you created Raphiel, why do you think no one said anything? Didn't it strike you as odd that everyone accepted her existence, even though it was you who created her and not God?"

"No... I don't understand..." he said, now feeling deeply afraid.

"It's simple, Aziraphale. The purpose of allowing you to create Raphiel is that she will be the instrument of Earth's destruction. Think about it. You and Crowley together are powerful; you created her as a blend of the two of you. Her power is so great that it will make stars fall and summon brimstone."