Hellfire and Holy Water (A Good Omens Fanfiction)

Chapter One

All there was, was darkness.

It was the suffocating, oppressive kind of darkness beyond that which merely the eye perceives. The shadows crept in, snuffing out every bit of light that threatened to bloom in this forsaken place. But, of course, such was the life of a demon. This darkness was as much a part of him as his wings now; and in fact even they had been affected by the shadows so that the once snow-white feathers became mottled with shades of grey, before long they had turning darker than the emptiest of nights.

But that was millennia ago. Now this shade that clung to Crowley was more like his oldest friend. Some nights it was his comfort, telling him that no matter what he at least had his identity as a demon to cling to, for whatever that was worth. Tonight it hung in the air about him, filling his car with its overbearing presence until he was convinced, not for the first time, that he wanted nothing more than to outrun it.

"Perhaps some music," he mumbled to himself.

By his command the radio whirred to life and a song began to play almost instantly, but just as quickly he lost interest and his mind wandered off despite his best efforts. Music was usually such an excellent way to drown out the arguments of his inner psyche, but now the music only served as background noise to the turmoil.

The more he thought, the more Crowley was certain he should tell Aziraphale everything that had happened, though telling him everything would be quite the treachery to the plan that had been brewing since the dawn of mankind. He could hardly interfere with that. This day was a long time in coming, and of course he had to be loyal to the forces of hell now more than ever.

Then again, there wasn't necessarily that much that had happened, he reasoned. After all, his only role more or less was to deliver a basket...a task that took no time at all. That could hardly be a terrible thing to mention to someone in passing. Even if the basket did contain the end of humanity and Earth as he knew it, to be delivered and set in motion a series of events that would start the war to end all wars. Heaven probably already knew anyway. All he would be really doing is making sure Aziraphale was kept in the loop, if he didn't know already.

The thoughts raced through his mind on repeat for a short time before he barked out, "Call Aziraphale."

"Calling Aziraphale," an automated voice said in response. A second later a dreadful sound came telling him the call had failed, followed by the voice saying, "Sorry, all lines to London are currently busy."

Crowley groaned in annoyance, mostly at his own stupidity. Of course this just happened to be the day he so cleverly crashed every mobile carrier in the London area—the night the antichrist was born--and he needed to warn Aziraphale before it was too late.

Not warn, he mentally corrected himself. This whole idea would only work in his head under the presumption that he wasn't doing anything to betray his side of the war.

"My side of the war," Crowley grumbled quietly to himself with distaste.

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He might say the taste was like sulfur, but at least that was a taste that he had grown familiar with over time. He didn't like hell, or other demons. Well, no demons did, really. Still, even after all this time he didn't feel much allegiance toward the forces of darkness, now that the time had come to prove his loyalty. It was all fun and games meddling with human affairs and causing mischief, until some bloody brat has to pop up to ruin it all.

He was already starting to form a plan as the Bentley rolled up next to a telephone booth. If he were a religious man, he might be praying right then for the blonde bastard to agree with him. He probably would have prayed that Aziraphale was even in his book shop. But prayer was never really his thing, so hoping would have to do.