The Improbable Alliance of One Angel and Demon~ Good Omens

Drive

  "Armageddon is happening where?" Crowley gripped the Bentley's wheel tight, navigating the M-25.

"Tadfield, specifically, an airbase in Tadfield," Aziraphale flipped through The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter.

"And you found out about this, how?" Crowley dug though a glove compartment, pulling out another pair of sunglasses to replace the one he broke.

  Aziraphale gestured to the book.

  "Ngk," said Crowley, staring out the front window. It was raining hard, water droplets as big as- hang on, was that a lobster?

  It's official, this is the biggest traffic jam in England's history. The radio announcer said, her voice far too peppy for Crowley's liking. He growled and turned the radio off.

  "Why?" he asked the squid outside his window. It didn't answer, and continued to drag itself along the road.

  "Didn't you say you had something to do with this motorway's design, back in the 1970's?" Aziraphale asked innocently.

  "I wasn't bloody well expecting this to happen!" he complained. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the clouds for a brief moment. Not brief enough however, to hide the many sea-dwelling bodies inside them. So it was raining fish now.

  Brilliant.

  A sudden demonic chill ran down Crowley's spine, and somehow, he knew, that the M-25 was now an impassable ring of hellfire, and that was, inadvertently, his fault.

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked Crowley, eyes wide.

"New plan. Hold tight." Crowley murmured a quiet thanks to the Bentley for all of it's years of service, then he reversed the car quickly, slamming into the truck behind them. It earned him a few rude words and gestures, which he gladly returned, but more importantly, it offered him room to maneuver the Bentley onto the side of the road.

"What in the Heavens are you doing, Crowley?" Aziraphale clung to his seatbelt for dear life.

"Driving," the demon resumed his leisurely pace of 90 miles per hour on the side of the M-25.

"Could've fooled me." a voice said from the back seat. Aziraphale whipped around.

"Hastur, hi. How was your time in voicemail?" Crowley asked, scanning the ring of fire in front of him for a way around. He found none. He was reminded of an old nursery rhyme he saw once. How did it go again? Right.

Can't go over it.

"Funny, ha ha, joke all you like Crowley. You two won't get out of London. Nothing can." he turned his beady eyes to Aziraphale. "There's nowhere to run."

Can't go under it.

"Shouldn't you be lining up for battle right about now?" Crowley sighed.

"Hell will not forget." Hastur leaned forward, plucking Crowley's sunglasses off his face.

Can't go around it.

"Hell will not forgive." he crushed the sunglasses in his fist, dark blood dripping onto his coat from where the glass pierced his skin.

"You know where the real Antichrist is, don't you?" He smiled at Aziraphale, exposing decaying teeth. "You'll never reach him. You're done, Crowley. Extermination is imminent. And I expect your angel here'll Fall," he pointed to the wall of fire in front of the pair. "You think you can get through that? You're crazy."

Got to go through it.

"Maybe I am. Let's find out." Crowley shoved a Mozart tape into the player, and was greeted by the sound of Freddie Mercury, per the usual. He sped up a bit, the rain falling heavier as he did.

"Why're you driving? Stop-stop this thing." Hastur's intimidating facade crumbled.

"You know the best thing about time, Angel?" Crowley turned his head lazily towards Aziraphale. "Every day it takes us further from the fourteenth century. I really didn't like the fourteenth century. All that nonsense with the rats and the doctors. Whole thing was a terrible mess." Crowley pressed his foot down on the gas, the car speeding up. "No cars, no motorways, no windscreen wipers." Hastur whimpered as they sped closer and closer to the fire. "Barely any literacy." Crowley added for Aziraphale's sake. "At least nowadays human's can carry a conversation. Not sure if that's a good thing though."

"Stop this, it's over, Crowley!" Hastur shrieked. Aziraphale wouldn't ever admit it, but he was a tad, okay, quite, terrified. He glanced at Crowley, who's unhinged smile cut through his face, his eyes shining like lanterns. Hastur was screaming about damnation and doom in the back seat, his eyes pressed shut.

The leather wheel began to sizzle, but Crowley paid it no notice, a gleeful laugh freeing itself from his throat.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself Crowley, but in case you haven't noticed, driving though this blaze will most certainly cause us to discorporate!" Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley glanced at him, then shrugged. "If you've got to go, then go with style!" He cheered.

"I hate you!" Hastur moaned from the backseat, before disappearing in a cloud of fire and brimstone, presumably to tell Lord Beelzebub about what had just happened.

"I started the journey in the Bentley, and I'll be damned if I won't finish it in it!" Crowley cried.

"You're a demon. You're already damned," Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. It was getting very hot in the car.

"Figure of speech, Angel," He snapped. The end of the fiery curtain was in sight. Crowley was breathing heavily now, and sweat dripped down the side of his face. Aziraphale flipped through the book in his lap in a panic, searching for guidance. He found nothing.

The Bentley began to rattle violently, throwing Aziraphale into the door.

"Crowley, this is madness!"

"The world ends in an hour and a half, angel! There's no time to think rationally!" Crowley managed to mutter between clenched teeth. He pressed his foot further down on the gas pedal, the car shooting out of the inferno.

The Bentley fizzed and popped as rain landed on it's scorching hood. The water did nothing to quell the flames surrounding the car. Crowley whooped, waving at a police car near the towering blaze.

  "What the hell was that?" the policeman asked from the side of the road.

  "Someone else's problem," his partner responded with a sigh, going back to her crossword puzzle.