realityshifted | 001 | an angel's arrival

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good omens (d4) aziraphale

001 | an angel's arrival

[Aziraphale appears on the Plane, looking about in bemusement.] Oh, dear. This wasn’t quite what I expected.

[He knew there’d been something strange about that shop. Still, it’s a bit disappointing. He’d been somewhat looking forward to the prospect of a new little store. They often contain books overlooked by everyone else in some forgotten corner.]

Adam? [Asked hesitantly, because this certainly isn’t Heaven, it doesn’t seem to be Hell, and that more or less leaves the cause of this in the hands of the only teenager he knows who’s capable of manipulating reality.]

[Then he spots the kiosk and strides over, selecting the first brochure (paper, of course, his brief interaction with the machine in order to get it to print was more than enough) and begins to skim it, murmuring comments aloud as he does.] Do former hellhounds count as sentient, I wonder? Chicago? That seems rather a random choice. Television character? As if I’d– Test subjects? Dear Lord. ‘Dragged from one reality to anoth-’

[There he stops, frowning at the area around him.] Oh, come now, dear boy, this is quite surpassing the top. [Not exactly the expression he’s looking for, but he continues on unperturbed.] Perhaps I do need a change of scenery, but this is hardly the appropriate way to go about achieving that. I’m very busy, you know, so I’m afraid I really must insist you put reality back in its proper order. [That comes out a bit more disapproving than he’d intended, and he pauses.] Er. Please. I’d very much appreciate it, if you don’t mind.

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[Crowley had been wandering around the Plane, hunting for his bloody sunglasses. He was currently wearing the outfit Gwen had brought him: a tunic, britches, and cloak all fit for a king. He would have been wearing the suit that Brax had given him, but he needed some variety, blast it.]

Bloody Machine. Where are my bloo---

[He heard a voice. It was at once familiar and welcome, but also entirely, gut-wrenchingly painful. It brought back wonderful, peaceful, perfect memories and the memories of losing his soul mate. And he'd really come to think of his angel as his soul mate over the thirty years since his death.

He moved faster than he thought he could toward the sound of that voice, rounding the corner to the kiosk and froze. Standing there with his back to him was a familiar set of shoulders and mop of beautiful golden curls. He trembled for a moment. He couldn't possibly... Finally...]

Angel?

[Aziraphale had been expecting a response of some kind (hopefully the dissolution of whatever this place was and the return of his own reality, perhaps accompanied by Adam looking sheepish and appropriately chastised), but the voice he heard was absolutely not it. He turned, quite certain he'd been hearing things. It wouldn't be the first time, really, and -

He dropped the paper he'd been holding. He wasn't hearing things. Or perhaps he was, and just seeing things as well. Hallucinating. Was he capable of hallucinating? If he was, this was a particularly cruel hallucination. Crowley's clothes were wrong, for one thing. Neither of them had worn anything like that for ages. (Yes, clothes, that's what's wrong with this situation.) And if it was a hallucination, that meant sooner or later, it would stop being there, and Aziraphale couldn't - he didn't -

Aziraphale still hadn't said anything. He should say something. Hallucination or not, Crowley was standing there, and it wasn't polite to just stare at him without saying anything.]

Crowley.

[He's hoped, he's dreamed that the Plane would bring him his perfect, wonderful, beautiful Angel. And while only a few minutes earlier he'd been blessing the Machine, he is now feeling grateful again. He doesn't care if he never found his shades. He doesn't care if he is forever as weak as a human. Anything is bearable as long as this is real.

He stares for a long moment, trying to decide if this is real or not. Maybe this is an experiment or a hallucination. There is only one way to find out for real. He closes the distance between them and pulls the angel into a desperate kiss, one hand caressing his cheek, the other running through his hair.]

[As unexpected as seeing Crowley was, what he does next is - well, no, it's not more unexpected. Crowley had been dead, gone, and seeing him again had been infinitely more surprising than Crowley kissing him.

There's a brief moment of shock, then Aziraphale finds himself kissing back, tentative and very brief, before he pulls away.]

That was nice, my dear, but as apologies go, I'm afraid it hardly makes up for allowing me to believe you were dead. You'll have to try a bit harder if you wish to be forgiven.

[That's a little bit of a lie. Crowley's more or less on the road to forgiveness just by standing here, being alive. But Aziraphale's still upset. Once he stops being a bit dazed from the kiss, he'll work himself up into a proper anger.]

[The kiss was like tasting heaven (and tea) for Crowley. He didn't want it to ever end. But of course, his wishes were not to be granted and the angel pulled away much, much too soon for his taste. He looks momentarily confused listening to the angel speak before realization dawns on him. Dead? Oh.... Bloody hell... He frowns.]

I'm dead on your world...

[He looks down. Somehow telling Aziraphale that he was dead in the demon's world was more painful than telling that other handsome devil.]

Angel... In my world, you're dead.

[Whatever tentative grasp Aziraphale thought he had on the situation is now gone. Aziraphale attempts to put those words together in a way that makes some form of sense, and fails utterly.]

Have you been drinking, my dear?

[He can never quite understand the point Crowley's trying to make when he's drunk. Generally that's because Aziraphale's quite intoxicated as well, but being sober doesn't seem to help much.]

[He lets out a small, exasperated sigh. He'd actually followed Brax's advice and had stopped drinking a few days or so ago in an effort to get his bloody shades back.]

You were reading the pamphlet, weren't you?

Edited 2011-06-18 04:16 (UTC)

[He frowns, looking down at where he'd dropped the papers. He'd forgotten about them as soon as he'd seen Crowley.]

Well, yes, but--

You don't mean to tell me they're true?

Unfortunately, and fortunately yes. It's hard to deny all that when you're looking at yourself the way you used to look before the apocalypse happened.

[The hand in Aziraphale's hair hasn't been removed, but slids town to caress the angel's neck. When he speaks next, his voice is rough with emotion.]

I've been hoping I'd... Hoping I'd get to see you again.

Looking at yourself?

[Now he's curious. It must be true, if Crowley says it is. Aziraphale manages to resist the urge to snatch up the papers and read them again, more carefully. But likely only because Crowley's hand moves down to his neck, and the emotion in Crowley's voice makes Aziraphale look back up at him.]

So you're from one of those other realities? And I...died?

[His tone is a bit hesitant. He almost feels as though he should apologize, though he isn't certain why. Perhaps just because Crowley is clearly upset, and he caused it. In a manner of speaking, anyway.]

[He nods a bit, looking down again.]

We were just trying to broker a peace between our two sides... Instead we were branded traitors and Michael ran you through with his flaming sword. There was nothing.... Nothing I could do.

[Crowley's last words hit hard, because Aziraphale knows exactly how that feels. It comes along with the memory of a splash of holy water and a lot more rage than he'd felt in a long, long time. Something painful twists in his chest, and his voice is barely above a murmur when he speaks.]

Oh, my dear.

[He knows there's nothing he can say, because there'd been nothing anyone could say to him when Crowley - well. It should feel strange, attempting to comfort Crowley over his own death. Especially since it's bringing back Crowley's death. But at the moment, all that matters is that Crowley is here, and he's upset. Aziraphale reaches out hesitantly and gives Crowley's hand a tentative squeeze.]

[He brings the hand up to his face and closes his eyes. He drinks in the angel's scent before he nuzzles the hand, somehow a very intimate gesture.]

Angel... My angel... It was so long ago now.

[There's a lump in Aziraphale's throat that he tries to swallow around, but he isn't successful. He hadn't been quite expecting the gesture, but he doesn't move his hand, and has to resist the urge to move closer, reassure himself again that Crowley is indeed alive.

He isn't certain he wants to know, because Crowley's acting like - well, he's acting like a number of things, but mainly like he hasn't seen him in a very long time.]

How long?

[He kisses the back of his hand.]

It's been about... Thirty years since you we murdered... 25 years since both sides retreated. I was alone until I got here.

[He looks up at Aziraphale and offers him a grateful smile.]

I'm so glad I'm here.

Alone?

[He doesn't know why he's angry. Or surprised, for that matter. If the apocalypse had happened, there wouldn't really be an Earth left, and if they'd both been considered traitors, there wouldn't be a place for them in Heaven or Hell, either. But the idea of Crowley being alone - At least Aziraphale had had people. And Adam.

But then Crowley smiles at him, so he smiles back.]

I am too. Though I'm still not entirely certain where 'here' is.

[Not that it particularly matters. Here has Crowley, for the moment, that's enough.]

[Something seems to give in Crowley and he grins rakishly, much more like his old self.]

The Plane is nice. You can go back and forth between the Plane and your world by thinking about it. I've only been back to my world once since getting here, but it was only because I was looking for my bloody sunglasses.

[Aziraphale gives a slightly amused smile in return, and tries not to let on just how glad he is to see that grin. He probably fails, but at least he tries.]

That's convenient.

[He considers asking if anyone knows why this place, or the people in it, are here, but asking questions like that have never gotten him anywhere in the past, and he doesn't particularly feel up to having to consider ineffability at the moment.]

You've lost your sunglasses? I can't believe you let those out of your sight.

Er.... I didn't mean to...

[Boy had that been obnoxious. He'd gone to bed that night (drunk) and woke up with his shades and powers missing.]

They were gone when I woke up. Along with... My powers...

Of course, my dear boy, no one ever means to lose something.

[That last part gets a pause.]

Your powers? You woke up and they were simply gone?

[He's a bit disturbed now.]

[He shrugs a bit.]

Yup. Poof. Gone. It's not the worst thing that's happened to me.

[He starts to protest, then stops. No. No, it really wouldn't be.]

Is that what the brochure meant by test subjects?

From what I can tell, yeah. It's probably some sort of experiment, but it seems like it's happened to other people, too. Nathan lost some dagger and was pissed out of his mind when he came to the Plane looking for it. And Duo lost this cross necklace... For some reason it turned up in my world. It didn't hurt to pick up.

Other people are losing their powers as well?

[He's back to feeling uneasy. He wouldn't really care for losing his own abilities.]

It didn't hurt-

[He cuts off and looks briefly away. He doesn't want to think about Crowley and holy items.]

Other residents of the Plane, I presume? How long have you been here?

[He frowns a bit, noticing that brief look of pain crossing the angel's face. He decides to let it slide for now. He's clearly not ready to talk about it yet.]

I've been here about six weeks. Let me tell you it was a relief to talk to people and drink some bloody alcohol.

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001 | an angel's arrival

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/fixes tense lol

/didn't even notice. fails. XD

<3 We're both awesome like that.

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