Good Omens (One-Shots)

What Might've Been

⚠️WARNING - harmful intentions, gore descriptions (not much but still there)⚠️

This is dedicated to the lovely BlueMeanieAt221B !! What a wonderful being. Whomstever still reads these shots of mine should go check them out, absolutely brilliant.

I'm working on two or three drafts at the moment but they be coming sloooooow. Perfection (and not-so-perfection) takes work y'know. ;)
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!
Go crazy with those New Year's Resolutions, yeah?

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Pairing: Crowley x Aziraphale (sort of?)
Song: None presently
Written: December 14, 16, 21, 22, & 24
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     One scream. Two screams. Loud screams. Quiet screams.

     Hell was generally a quiet place. The only place that was ever full of sound was the Torture Department. Most cells, with the growth of the outside world's populations, became telepathically automated - an idea trademarked by Crowley as a feeble attempt to spare the souls from demons. The tortured souls receive no more than what they think they deserve (subconsciously, of course). If Crowley had it his way, they'd all have chances to be redeemed.

     This, however, was obviously not the case.

     After Armageddon, what our most beloved demon and angel thought were punishments of certain death, were not. The last prophecy in Agnes Nutter's book was, in fact, not about them but some random humans in Brazil.

     They thought they were so clever, the pair. They thought they'd outwitted their superiors. They thought they'd go home with no more injuries than the events leading up to Armageddon inflicted.

     Aziraphale knelt at the mercy of the Prince of Hell and the Archangel Gabriel. He had taken the form of his best friend, Crowley, but it had long since been forced from him and he returned to his original body. Crowley kneeled beside him, his hands tied behind his back with more than one material. [*]

[* Houdini had taught the demon, his underling, many escapee tips. Despite popular conceptions, Crowley was into magic tricks but more so the daring ones.]

     "I'm sorry, angel," Crowley's eyes, free of concealing glasses, flickered over to his best friend's face. He whispered almost inaudibly, Aziraphale only hearing him because of their sheer closeness. "I'm so sorry."

     The blond principality clenched his jaw, tears threatening to build up. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

     "Finally. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to punish you, demon Crawley," Beelzebub's face lit in sadistic excitement. They tugged their jacket, barely being able to sit still.

     Crowley didn't bother correcting them - mostly out of fear.

     Gabriel stepped forward, his hands behind his back in his usual stiff posture. "Time to face your punishment. I summon forth thy wings!"

     A pure angelic aura washed over the area as white wings unfurled themselves, only to compete with the following dark feelings demonic wings emitted.

     Thoughts ran through Crowley's mind, going everywhere and nowhere. He hadn't expected this. Neither of them had.

     In a last attempt to help his angel before the storm struck, Crowley prayed. God, he asked, I know I've never been easy to handle and I know I've blamed you for all of my problems - even if they were trivial. But please. Please. I ask you to help us - help him, Aziraphale. Please.