The Incarnate (A Good Omens CrowleyxReader)

~Chapter 21.5~

I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I did this to you. I'm sorry for the unspoken words, the pain, the loss of their memory. I'm sorry for everything that you've endured. I'm sorry for your deceased parents--it was my fault. I'm sorry about the man who tried to rape and kill you (who's name, if you'd like to know, was Edward Luis), and how he left you a permanent scar, reminding you forever of that day. I'm sorry about the fire in the bookstore. I'm sorry for everything... Everything I've put you through.

I guess, Y/N, you deserve an explanation. First of all, I didn't mean for it to happen this way. I just play an ineffable game of my own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of yourself, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.

And so I'm sorry for doing this to you. I may not be able to speak to you directly, but I can and will tell you everything that is fated to happen during your time there.

You may be wondering what would have happened if your parents never died. Well, they would have sent you off to a local college. You would have taken a journalistic path and become a major news reporter. Quite successful. You would have gotten married to a man four years older than you. He would have had some emotional issues, but you would have been happy altogether. You would have no children as he died after a short but lethal bout of cancer before you were ready. You wouldn't have married again.

You would have remained an atheist until you died and went to Heaven after a heart attack during your sleep, no blemishes on your soul. You would never have seen Aziraphale or Crowley and you wouldn't know a thing about Armageddon, as blind as everyone on Earth was. Your life would have been painfully average in comparison. So I suppose that's one thing to be thankful for.

Moving on. Now it's time for me to explain what really happened afterward. After all, you don't know the whole story yet.

When you spoke to Crowley, minutes before your untimely demise, you realized you had made a mistake. A big one. You saw how Crowley was trying to hide his hurt. He was scared for you, and he thought it was his own fault. Both Crowley and Aziraphale thought it was their fault--as an angel and a demon, it was their duty to protect you from any harm that may befall you as a result of this entire thing.

But it was your decision, and you knew that no one, especially them, deserved to have that weight on their souls.

So you spoke to Adam. You gave him directions. You told him, that when Armageddon is over and everyone's leaving, fix all that was lost--Crowley's Bentley, Aziraphale's bookshop, everything. And the real kicker? Make everyone forget you'd ever existed.

And he agreed. After all, it's not kind to disobey one's dying wishes. After Adam altered Aziraphale and Crowley's memories, there were--and currently are--only eight beings who know who you are. Myself, Satan, Adam, Beelzebub, Gabriel, your mother, and your father. And you, of course.

(For the record, as Adam has the same position in his "kingdom" as Beelzebub and Gabriel, so he wasn't able to alter their memories. Trust me, he tried.)

But Crowley and Aziraphale no longer know your name. They don't know what you did for them. And, most of all, they have no idea that you're currently rotting in Hell for them.

It was for the best, you decided. Better to have never been known and none grieve for you than to be known and inflict so much pain on the ones you love. After all, you of all people know how much it hurts to lose the people you love.

After Armageddon, this is what happened to the people you knew:

Pepper became an actionist against LGBTQ+ and gender discrimination. In her late teens, she came out as being pansexual. Her three friends support her unconditionally.

Wensleydale became a doctor. He decided that health and biology were quite a bit more interesting than math and accounting. His parents were happy with that decision.

Brian became a primary school teacher and eventually married the math teacher for intermediate school. They had three children-- the oldest was a boy named Toby, and the younger two were twins named Addison and Jackson.

Adam became a large political force. When he was sixty-one, he ran for president and was in the lead when he was assassinated for his contemporary views in the world.

Gabriel and Beelzebub, of course, were furious at you. But they had sworn to the deal, so there was no turning back.

Anathema was puzzled by the note she found in her pocket back at home after Armageddon. It read:

Anathema--

If there happens to be a second edition of The Nice And Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, I have a feeling that Aziraphale, located at A. Z. Fell & Co. in London, would be interested in purchasing them. Don't worry, he will keep them in the best care and won't let them into the wrong hands. He is someone you can trust. Thank you.

--Someone you knew but forgot

She did sell them to Aziraphale after he explained who he is. He appreciated the note, although he was just as confused about where it came from.

Crowley started acting slightly unusual. After Armageddon, he felt more alone in the world. He supposed it was because he didn't know what he was anymore, demon or angel. He didn't belong in either category. Admittedly, Aziraphale didn't seem to mind so much at becoming a tad bit more "demon", but people are different.

To Crowley, there was something about the peculiar note he found in his pocket that made him long for someone. Someone he couldn't quite remember, someone his memory was denying access to.

Crowley--

Keep this safe and with you. At some point, you'll hopefully understand why I gave this to you. Do me a favor: Don't lose this note or throw it away. Trust me on this one. After all, you'd probably need some kind of reminder at some point. Just know that I miss you and I really wish things could have been different.

--A friend you probably forgot. Don't worry, I'm not taking it personally.

He carried the note with him in his pocket most days even though he didn't believe in good luck charms. He just wanted it on him in case he found out something about himself, despite the fact that it had no reasoning whatsoever. It was probably a prank from Adam, or maybe Aziraphale. But he wasn't sure. It didn't sit right with him.

To distract Crowley from his troubles and the note, Aziraphale came up with an idea for a collaborative activity. Being so in love with books, he started teaching Crowley to write. It worked.

They both started writing and became well-known. Crowley wrote dark stories, many about religion and philosophy. He got into contact with some artists and designed an untraditional "superhero" comic book. Aziraphale wrote fantasy sci-fi, with abstract concepts connecting to folk tales, mythology, and fairy tales.

After they reached fame, they decided to collaborate on a book under the same pen names they had used for their personal projects. And this book was about a personal experience they shared. They decided on the name Good Omens after it was complete.

Crowley chose the pen name Neil Gaiman and Aziraphale decided on Terry Pratchett. Any time they would go into public as the authors, they would change their appearance so as not to draw any attention to the fact that they look exactly like the characters of Good Omens. Because that would certainly draw a lot of attention.

Some time after releasing Good Omens, "Terry Pratchett" was tired of the fame and did what he had to do to not have people worry extensively why he never went outside anymore. "Neil Gaiman" followed suit, although admittedly quite some time after Aziraphale.

The book they wrote was what they thought happened. Their recollection of the events, as incorrect as they were. The two forgot all about the unnamed girl who sacrificed every bit of herself, both body and soul, keeping them safe. And the world accepted the story, and the angel and the demon were mostly happy. What happens next? Not much.

You just look up from your perch in the deepest, darkest pits of Hell. And you smile.