soldier, poet, king (a good omens fanfic)

04 - Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth

A/N: HERES YOUR VERY GOOD REMINDER TO GO READ THIS FIC ON AO3 WHERE THE FORMATTING DOESNT SUCK. CANT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, GO READ IT ON AO3 BC IM TOO LAZY TO FORMAT IT PROPERLY

***

Aziraphale was already pretty anxious that morning.

For one, the morning news had been filled with bombshell after bombshell — the lost city of Atlantis had risen from the sea, people had sighted a large, scaled, monster off the coast of Atlantic Ocean, lush green forests were sprouting up in places they hadn't been before, especially in the country of Brazil — which, judging by one of the prophecies him and Crowley had deciphered the night before, meant the final of the four Horsemen had been summoned * and Armageddon was on its unstoppable way towards them.

* Pollution was being gifted their crown right now, in fact.

How it had all happened, he had no clue. Perhaps Adam had heard something about Atlantis or the Kraken or Brazil on the radio, or from one of his friends, and had subconsciously made it all come true in his sleep. He couldn't fault the boy for that. He was doing his best, after all. He just hoped Adam didn't accidentally hear all the news and work himself up over it.

Though, if Aziraphale was lucky, Adam was still sleeping. It was still early in the morning for human standards, barley past nine o'clock. Crowley would have still been sleeping if Aziraphale hadn't woken him before he had left earlier. He would have let his partner keep sleeping, but with all the signs of the apocalypse that had happened overnight, he was paranoid of leaving his family alone in the house with no awake and alert. *

* Crowley had grumbled, but, internally, agreed with his husband.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, had needed to go out. He had one last, desperate plan to maybe stop Armageddon before it happened and spare Adam some grief. He had put it off before, because it barley had any chance of working and could cause more problems then solutions if it went south, but, at this point, it might be their only option.

He was going to contact Her.

He hadn't done it ... for quite some time. He could remember the last he had, actually *, but he knew it had been at least a few centuries. He hadn't had much need for it, after all. Gabriel came to give him orders, or sometimes he would go directly upstairs for a brief visit, and most higher ranking angels hadn't even speak with Her since before the Fall. He was simply a Principality stationed on Earth, so he would need an incredibly good reason to contact her.

* It was during the height of the Bubonic Plague, when over two thirds of all humanity was either sick, dying, or already dead. She hadn't answered, but her spokesperson, the Metatron, had and said something alone the lines of 'according to the Great Plan' before disappearing and leaving Aziraphale to go back to his doctoring duties with a heavy heart.

Luckily, Earth was Her most prized creation, Humanity, going up into flames and plunging into the battleground of a terrifying war? Definitely something important enough to contact her about.

That's why Aziraphale was currently rushing towards Tadfield Main Street to buy the supplies he needed. He probably had everything he already needed — candles, chalk, the works — back at the shop, but they were old, it would be better to have fresh things, and he always liked supporting local businesses, especially in a place like Tadfield where everyone knew everyone and all the people were friendly, meaning you had many acquaintances. He was also taking a shortcut through the park, which was always lovely and quiet in the early morning, and the fresh air was ever so nice in his lungs.

He also knew he was stalling. He could miracle the supplies he needed, if it came down to it *. But just because he was going to do it didn't mean he liked having to it.