Good Omens - You and I

Bad omen

Back to life has many aspects, none of which are simple. One of them was that you often thought about how you died and why, and rarely very rarely, were happy memories. To be reborn for some was to return to one's beloved as in Newt's case, for others, was to return to resolve unfinished business. In this case the frown of the demon who was draining the bottle of wine, was linked to the thought that he had returned just in time for the probable second end of the world. Which is hardly a serene thing to say.

Aziraphale, he rested on the small couch in the cottage and occasionally emitted some sounds, some indistinct noises. Shortly after his return to his usual form he decided to take a break and after dragging himself to the sofa still in the garden he closed his eyes and began a long sleep. 12 hours, 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep. The witch did about the same thing but decided that the most suitable place was the breach of her beloved. Crowley and Newt had put the little cottage back in shape while the two were resting, it was a totally insignificant thing but to them it seemed the only feasible thing at the time.

The boy took yet another chair while the demon displayed superhuman strength and lifted the heavy mahogany table by himself. He had returned with a brand new body for his soul and it was both wonderful and wrong. He loved that body, he had looked like that for centuries but now he felt different. Something had changed, now as a novice demon struggled to control his powers. Perhaps that's why the human kept some distance, he himself felt his demonic aura fluttering here and there. His snake tongue was able to free itself from his control for an instant and came out of his lips to investigate the situation, to which was added an irritated hiss. He felt his hand resting on his shoulder at the last minute. "Don't be in such a bad mood, we are alive after all, and we even took what we were looking for," the boy now spoke to him fearlessly, as if they were old friends. Crowley watched him for a moment, his brain had disconnected the connections. Then as Newt came out normal functions were restored and the demon realized that perhaps when he had been inside him he had underestimated the fact that the human might have some information about him. Now Newt knew, and he knew a lot of things. When the last chair was put down Crowley took two glasses and went to the porch, without too much compliment he put one in the boy's hand and poured him a pounder of a good vintage red.

It didn't take an instant for Risengard to feel the energy. She had flown out and plunged into the bliss of another angel. She had forgotten how beautiful it could be to have that gold around you. It was magnificent. Not far away on the roof of the building Miro had fallen into the shop and cried silently, the bliss hurt him but he could not escape that touch. Too many centuries had passed since they had left paradise. It was only an instant as she appeared disappeared into thin air. A single tear had slipped down the face of the archangel who had not even noticed it. Just as that moment the tear fell into the void and left no trace, as if it had never existed.

When Risengard also landed on the roof, his follower was still sobbing, it took him a while to stop. "Miro, I think the time has come to gather everyone, the second piece has been taken. Our time has come, the time has come to be free, to start from scratch", he took the demon's hand in front of him and headed towards the door that would bring them inside. Inside the reaction to what had just happened was very different, the beasts and monsters were wriggling on the ground suffering and full of rage. Many were completely blinded by fury and biting each other, some were frightened and hiding behind each other like beaten dogs, the lower they came down the more the beasts became massive and horrible. The smell of putrefaction that they emanated was more and more terrible, partly coming from them and partly from the remains of human bodies that had left the beasts after their meals. They descended slowly step by step, observing that part of the army they had managed to collect.

It had been difficult but they had managed to put together a quite varied group. Slowly they had begun to knock on their door several of the worst demons, tired of the stupid hierarchies and inactivity of the last centuries, had decided that the world was narrow. The most welcome surprise had been the arrival of some angels. Those angels of heaven who had never descended from their delicate clouds had decided to go in search of a new beginning. The world they had to watch over was too corrupt and too weak. The first and now also the most trusted who had come to ask for them were the archangel Amenedial, and one of God's last creations, Stria. When he had welcomed them he was not sure that everything was going well, he even suspected that heaven had sent them to control the situation, but he had pleasantly discovered that this was not the case. They had come to his door with hope, they too were tired, tired of a world that was not going, a world that no longer welcomed love, that did not reflect its purest form. Now even among the angels, human emotions had begun to make their way. They had begun to turn against each other even though it did not seem so and they had begun to feel sadness and loneliness, even in heaven perfection had finally been broken. Then up there, too, a new faction had arrived, there was no longer only hell and heaven, there was the faction of the new creation. They had talked a lot about it in the last few months and eventually decided to see with their own eyes if it existed.

Risengard knew he had more than a chance now. So he started to weave a complicated plot so that Aziraphale and Crowley could get to the pieces and take them out of the kingdoms without anyone noticing that he was behind it. Yes, those two had to get to the pieces, because only a love born between two eternal lovers could have the power to rebuild the mirror. This had to be impossible to create and for this reason it seemed that the pieces were safe but it wasn't. In the end it was born and the gears were set in motion.

They reached the top floor and Risengard interrupted the thread of his thoughts, it was time. Around the fragment floating in the air many demons had gathered and taken small amounts of power. The last one that was not fast enough to move was touched by the archangel and in an instant all that was left was ashes. A giggle rose from Risengad's lips as all the others flattened against each other. "Good work in Heaven, I never thought I would see two angels lie so well my dear ones," he said to the two figures in the semi-darkness. Amenediel stepped forward holding little Stria in his arms, "We did what we had to do," he replied slow and controlled with a motion of anger that was palpable at the bottom of his words. They had been promised that they would have no consequences, yet they had been tortured after their capture until Amenediel was able to free himself and take Stria out of heaven. As long as he watched the cover in the hands of the archangel who had Risengard in front of him for an instant he saw his Olympia. He moved without even thinking about it, no one noticed the movement too fast even for the eyes of the demons. He stopped near the body of the unconscious angel and placed his hand on the forehead of the unconscious angel, Amenedial tried to pull back but it was already done. Stria opened her eyes and smiled quietly. "Yes, you did it, and that is why we can now realize our dream together," Risengard said as he hurried back to the fragment, reached out his hand and closed his eyes, it was time to make his presence known to the rest of the world. The power began to free itself from the mirror from first slow and silent then increasingly abundant and fearful flowing inside her. Dark, menacing clouds began to accumulate above the city of London, promising a terrible storm. Meanwhile, on the porch of a small cottage, a demon and a boy watched the sky and thought that those clouds on the horizon were nothing more than a bad omen.