The A in Angel

2

As Crowley opened the shop door, he noticed at first sight that something was wrong. It was already 10 in the morning and the angel would have been there, standing behind the serving desk. Waiting for customers, a cup of cocoa in his hand and an excited grin on his face. This usually happened on normal weekdays where the demon used to visit his friend, laughing about some jokes they had heard the day before. 

But today, something had changed. Crowley couldn't tell why or who had been there before him - he only could see that something was wrong. He had a sixth sense for negative change. 

There were the ruins. The whole bookshop, the angels' greatest possessions - all had been thrown on the ground or torn into pieces. The massive wooden shelves at the wall had been broken into half as if a fairytale giant had wreaked havoc. Paper had been shredded, parchment lying on the muddy floor. Dozens of copies from Aziraphales favourite books...all had been destroyed without mercy. 

Crowley swallowed hard, making his way through the destruction. He took off his black sunglasses, revealing his yellow serpent eyes he used to hide. He almost expected the angel being curled up in a ball, crying behind the desk or in the back corner about what he had lost to the possible burglar. He would be there for him, hugging him, kissing him, telling that everything was all right. No need to worry. 

But Aziraphale wasn't there. Not in the corner, not behind the serving desk. Not behind the shelf. 

He was nowhere to find. 

The demon couldn't believe it, feeling the pain of truth like being hit by a car. 

Aziraphale had been kidnapped. Like in the movies, the burglars would send a message with the wanted amount of money to give them. Otherwise, they would kill him. Maybe in the next 24 hours. 

But these were just movies, nothing to do with reality. And besides - why would someone kill an angel if he knew that a celestial being was immortal? How could they do that without Hellfire? Stupid humans. 

Crowley hissed, letting go of his imagination. Sometimes, it annoyed him being a demon without straight thoughts like Hastur. Having his own way of thinking was...a habit. Straight thoughts on killing or torturing - no, he preferred things like they were.

 Maybe God had given him this gift to - why? Maybe that was the hidden secret, the riddle he had to solve. He was pretty sure he would find out about all this in the near future. 

The demon just wanted to search for possible clues on the mysterious kidnapper as his chest began to hurt. He was about to sense something different - this had to be a smell or an echo from a human being broken in the shop. Demons could sense this way more than angels did, humans did not. While Aziraphale could feel the flashes of Love all around the planet with growing warmth, Crowley felt nothing than inner pain. Like knifes stabbing in his flesh. 

Knifes, drenched with Holy Water. 

He sank on the ground, gritting his teeth. His heart pounded rapidly under his chest, his blood felt like frozen. His face went pale, he was sweating within seconds. 

The pain grew stronger and stronger, along with the echo of heavy footsteps. Someone was coming in the bookshop, a scene was about to happen. A dark figure stopped in front of the desk, raising a deep, nasty voice. 

Hello, Aziraphale. 

Crowley gasped, choking on the pain just getting more intense. 

At the next moment, darkness surrounded him.