An unofficial sequel to Good Omens
"Crowley," Leviathan mused, "Raphael, was he not?" They hummed, the ghost of a smile crossing their face. "Always the baby of the lot of us, never understood the magnitude of our operation..." their eyes narrowed. "He and an angel killed our Master's son?"
"N-No not k illed, your disgrace. Worse. Befriended," she spat the word, both literally and figuratively as blood and bile sputtered from her lips, "they all became allies p-plus the with w hore and her b-oy. Gabriel and I did our b-best to settle the m matter but...in the end the Antichrist d-denied his own f ather."
Leviathan let go abruptly, and Beelzebub fell to the floor, cursing under her breath.
They squatted in front of her, tapping their quartz fingertips together.
"How long, then, have we been delayed?"
Beelzebub swallowed. "...Ten years."
"And I presume that...the opposition wasn't pleased either?"
Beelzebub shook her head.
Leviathan stared for a long while before their eyes rolled, and their lips parted into a gleaming smile.
"Hmmhm," they chuckled, standing up and adjusting their blazer, "Well well...then darling," they held out a hand, "we have work to do."
I forgive you.
Aziraphale watched as Crowley walked out the door. He'd seen the demon walk out of the bookshop a million times, always knowing that he'd walk right back in the same door tomorrow.
This time, the door closed with a stifling sense of irrevocability.
This time, Crowley wasn't just walking out of his bookshop.
This time, Crowley was walking out of his life.
I forgive you.
Foolish. Stupid. Cruel.
Those hadn't been the words sitting at the tip of his tongue. Far from it.
But it didn't matter. Those had been the words he spoke, and he couldn't take them back now.
~oOo~
Or, the one where Aziraphale realises he needs to ask Crowley's forgiveness this time. Meanwhile, Crowley is just trying to make the Bentley stop playing Taylor Swift.