Aziraphale furnished him with what was a somewhat lovely single malt Scotch, which Crowley wasted by swallowing down until it burned his throat. "Dagon. You have Dagon in your shop. Aziraphale, my oldest and best enemy, I go away for just a few decades, and you summon my line manager? You-you-" Aziraphale looked a little guilty. ***** Crowley finds out that perhaps napping for a century isn't completely without consequences. One of the consequences is apparently finding himself courting an angel who is incomprehensibly attached to the Lord of the Files and Master of Torments. Love is a worse torment than even Dagon could dream up. NOTES: The first three chapters of this were posted in some form or other in my Good Omens shorts book, but it's getting long enough to need its own book. If you're looking for new content, jump to chapter 4.
7 parts