#and gabriel would have stayed close by michael's side instead to assist in directing heaven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

not-a-space-alien · 7 years

Text

Aziraphale’s Legion, Part 1: Fortifications

Title: Aziraphale’s Legion

Rating: M

Word count: 50k words

Warnings: Some violence/gore

Summary: The empty throne left by Satan’s untimely death has Hell in chaos. Aziraphale’s actions may have drawn him some rather unwanted attention from legions of the devil’s former followers, potential successors, and a newly fallen archdemon on the prowl for revenge. (Direct sequel to “In Sickness” and “The Coming Events”)

Series masterpost

On AO3

It is very rare for an angel who did not side with Satan in the rebellion to fall, but it does happen occasionally. Very occasionally.

God does not cast angels out anymore unless he is in a particularly unpleasant mood, but the archangels take it upon themselves to see to it when the need arises. And in a time of crisis, when things get really bad, if all six are united against the seventh, an archangel may fall.

Rare. But it can happen.

“Damn it,” said Victoria, slamming Camael’s desk drawer shut. “Where would he have put them?”

The angel that had been Camael’s personal assistant was standing at the far end of the room, looking chastised and feeling useless. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “I’m not blaming you. I’m sorry.”

She left the hapless angel standing there and moved out into the hall, resentment growing inside her. Leave it to Heaven to thrust most of her former boss’s duties onto her without giving her his position or promoting her at all. Just dump all of the archangel’s responsibilities onto his power and leave the archangel position empty, I’m sure she can handle it, nothing will go wrong at all…

They were dragging their feet on choosing his replacement for some reason. And they hadn’t even let her have Camael’s assistant to help her. He had gone to Gabriel instead. She let herself think a few dissent-laden thoughts, knowing she wouldn’t be punished for it.

“Gabriel!” she shouted, making a bee-line through the courtyard. “Gabriel, I need to-”

“Victoria!” came a sudden, urgent shout, and she turned to see the angel Rosia running towards her at full speed, waving her arms manically. “Victoria, we need you at the front gate!”

“What, Heaven’s gate?” said Victoria. “Are we under attack?”

“I don’t know,” said Rosia, her hands on her knees, panting. “They told me to run and find the first warrior angel I could.”

“Keep running until you find Michael. I’ll see what’s going on.”

The lesser angel fled while Victoria spread her wings and zoomed to Heaven’s entrance.

Victoria thought of what had happened a while back when Heaven’s own infernal double agent had stood close to the gate. He had almost gone into shock. She hadn’t seen it herself, but she had been told about it. If that was what happened when a demon got close, there was no way Hell’s forces could carry out an assault on Heaven directly. No, never in a million years. There was no way…right?

The gates came into view, massive, looming metal bars laced with powerful ethereal iconography and—contrary to common conception—golden brass, not pearly. With a whorl of wings, she leapt over them and landed lightly on the outside, finding four or five lesser angels already aggregating in front of the gate.

“What’s—” she began, but fell silent when she saw it: a milky white portal about a dozen meters away, swirling silently. “What is that?”

“We don’t know,” said one of the angels nervously. “It just appeared. Nothing’s come out of it yet.”

There was suddenly an enormous bang! from the other side of the portal, but it was muffled.

Victoria dropped into a defensive crouch, materializing a bow and arrow. She nocked one and pointed it at the portal. “Well, get ready for something to.”

A few of the other angels produced similar long-range weapons, while the remaining armed themselves with swords.

Faint voices could be heard through the portal, clearly shouting but suppressed as though being heard from the next room.

Victoria’s hands were starting to sweat on her arrow. She really was more comfortable with her sword. “Show yourself!”

Another bang! The angel beside her flinched.

Finally, something appeared from the portal: a figure dressed in black, dragging another body with an arm over his shoulder, both of them covered in blood.

“Oh my god,” said Victoria, dropping her weapon and rushing forwards. The portal closed behind them, and the figure in black collapsed as soon as both feet were through, the second person falling beside him.

“Help,” said a voice, and Victoria recognized it as the demon Crowley.

Victoria indulged in a curse as she knelt down. Aziraphale was unconscious and disgorging blood at an alarming rate, and as she reached him the other angels were already lifting him up and taking him back towards the gate.

“Get him to the healing ward,” said Victoria. The damage to his body had been wrought with an infernal weapon, and she didn’t like the look of it at all.

She turned back down to look at Crowley, but as she did so the angel beside her raised his sword.

“Vile creature—”

Victoria hit his hand with the pommel of her own blade so hard she could hear a bone crack, smacking the sword out of his hand. “What are you doing, you stupid fuck?”

“This demon has the audacity to-”

“Go get Raphael. Or another very skilled healer. Now.”

The angel grit his teeth in pain and scurried off without further complaint.

Victoria knelt down and materialized a rag to press into Crowley’s wounds, trying to stop the blood flow, feeling it saturate immediately. “I’ve got you.”

Crowley looked past her and raised an arm feebly.

“Don’t worry about Aziraphale. They’ll take care of him.”

A few words dropped incoherently out of his mouth. His eyes slid shut, and his head lolled.

“Shit,” said Victoria. “Crowley, stay with me.”

His entire body had gone limp. She looked at how close they were to the gate. Then, she scooped him up and opened a portal to Earth with her sword, stepping through it and plummeting towards the ground.

Heaven’s hospitals are not like human hospitals; there are fewer machines, and much more healing that uses water. And the same heavy aura that blankets Heaven and makes it dangerous for demons is comforting for angels, so the very air itself helps.

Aziraphale drifted awake to the sound of a fountain, and when he opened his eyes he immediately shut them again against the brightness.

Yup, definitely in Heaven.

He lay there for a moment before levering himself upright, suddenly worried about Crowley. Surely they hadn’t brought him inside…?

A low-level healer knocked on the door, then cracked it open to step through. “Good mo—”

“Where’s Crowley?”

The healer looked perturbed. “Who?”

“I would have come in with him.”

“You were brought in by yourself.”

“No,” said Aziraphale. He was making no attempt to hide his anger, because last time he had left Crowley alone while he went into Heaven by himself, the demon hadn’t been there when he came back out. “I want to talk to someone who knows where Crowley is. Now.”

The healer scuttled off, slamming the door behind him. Aziraphale knew he had been rude, but his whole body ached and he was already out of patience.

He drew the covers around himself down to see bandages all over his body. They had done a very thorough job. He suspected the healers in Heaven might have been bored since the only injuries ever happened on Earth, so they would jump at the chance to put their skills to use. He had probably been a first-class patient while he was unconscious.

He struggled to remember how he had gotten here. They had been on Earth, and….

Oh. That’s right. Crowley’s quick thinking in opening that portal had been the only thing to get them out of the shop alive, but Aziraphale had no idea he had been getting them out to Heaven, of all places. It made perfect sense, but it was still bold. And he was concerned whoever had brought Aziraphale in wouldn’t have recognized Crowley, and there was no telling what might have happened.

He stewed in his anxiety until he saw a familiar face at the door. It was a power.

“Victoria!” he said as she came in.

“Aziraphale, it’s good to see you’ve recovered. You looked pretty bad.”

“Thank you. Where’s Crowley?”

“He’s on Earth,” said Victoria. “He’s with Raphael.”

Aziraphale let out a breath of relief. “Is he all right?”

“He was still conscious when we found him, so he’s starting off a bit better than you, at least. And Heaven’s best healer is attending to him, so he should be fine.”

“Oh, good,” said Aziraphale, now embarrassed he had displayed such emotion.

Victoria took a seat next to his bed. “Aziraphale, what happened? Who did this to you?”

Aziraphale’s face darkened. “It was an archdemon.”

“Did you recognize which one?”

Aziraphale sat in silence for a moment, the fountain still babbling.

“Victoria, no one told me Camael had fallen.”

Victoria sighed, and leaned to put her face in her hands. “I was afraid that’s who it was. His name is Kabata now.”

“What happened?”

“The other archangels called a tribunal and decided unanimously that he should fall.”

“Because of what he did to Crowley?” said Aziraphale. He could see Michael being angry enough about it to do something like that, but he had a hard time imagining the others would care enough about a demon to cast out one of their own. Especially Uriel and Metatron.

“Maybe. That’s…. not something for me to speculate on,” said Victoria.

“What?” said Aziraphale. “What do you mean? You don’t know why Camael fell? What would it be, if not for falsely promising asylum to a demon? That has to be what it was, right?”

“Look, that doesn’t matter,” said Victoria. “We don’t need to know the details. They were trying to keep it quiet. Heaven is still trying to start the war with Hell, and if word got out that one of our military leaders had fallen, it would be disastrous.”

Reading between the lines: Heaven, once again, refused to acknowledge it had made a mistake, and instead swept the evidence under the rug. Aziraphale rubbed his temples, trying not to let his frustration loose on Victoria. “But everyone is going to find out eventually, Victoria. A new archdemon running around isn’t exactly something people don’t notice.”

“It’s not my decision,” said Victoria stiffly. “And it’s not yours either, Aziraphale. Know your place.”

He looked at her tiredly, too fed up to be offended. He sighed and said, “I didn’t think the war could go on without the Adversary.”

“I don’t think it can, either. But they’re still trying. They’re nothing if not persistent.”

Annoying, thought Aziraphale, at this point more exasperated than afraid. “I’d really like to get back to Earth as soon as possible. Do you know how long they’ll keep me here?”

“I know you’re worried about him, but he’s with an archangel.”

“Dear girl, that’s precisely why I’m worried about him.”

Victoria looked uncomfortable. “He’ll be fine. Kabata wouldn’t dare try anything with Raphael there, I’m sure. Do you know why he attacked you? Did you manage to injure him at all?”

“Revenge, I’d imagine,” said Aziraphale. “It’s not hard to think of why he might hate us. And as for the second question, no, unfortunately. Unless you could count a small cut on the arm from my sword.”

“I’m afraid you might have made yourself a target by what you did to Satan, Aziraphale. There are probably plenty of other archdemons who’d jump at the chance to avenge their master.”

Aziraphale picked at the hem of his blanket. “Of course. It can never be easy, can it?”

“Afraid not.”

Silence for another few moments, except for the gurgling water.

“I can talk to someone about getting some warrior angels sent down to protect you. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince them. I know they’ll keep asking why you can’t just stay in Heaven where it’s safe if you’re such a target. I don’t know how I can make them see.”

There was one reason why he couldn’t just stay in Heaven, and its name was Crowley. “Thank you, Victoria. See what you can do. I think we should be all right. I have lots of grimoires I can get anti-demon sigils out of.”

As Victoria rose to remove herself from the room, Aziraphale called out after her, “And ask them how long I have to stay here, will you?”

When Crowley drifted awake, it was the ceiling of the upstairs bedroom of the bookshop he saw. He struggled to remember how he had gotten here and blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the semidarkness of an unlit room with blinds drawn at midday.

They had been in the bookshop before, which is where Crowley had hastily thrown together that spell to get them to Heaven….unless it hadn’t worked? No, he remembered that damned—blessed—light, bright as Hell—Heaven. More precisely, he remembered the stabbing pain being in the place had caused him, distinct even on top of the wounds he had garnered from the archdemon’s weapon.

He felt bandages tight on his wounds, so obviously he was missing something between arriving in Heaven and now. Just as well. He would hate to see what would happen if they had tried to bring him into the gates.

He slid out from under the duvet. The motion caused a fresh wave of pain to surge through his body, and he stopped, hissing from between clenched teeth. He started again, more slowly, and succeeded in levering himself into a standing position.

He padded forwards and cracked the door open. The hallway was dim and empty. He tiptoed out, taking the stairs slowly both because of the possibility of ambush and the pain moving was causing him.

The shop itself was empty. He turned towards the back room.

It was still a mess like they had left it, jars of spell ingredients and incense scattered and shattered everywhere, multiple volumes of spellbooks flopped open on the ground. The circle Crowley had drawn was still there, although it was smudged now by what looked a broken jar of frankincense. The poor couch in the corner still bore the enormous tear where the archdemon’s weapon had torn into it, as well as the table—

There was someone standing by the table that Crowley hadn’t noticed, and noticing them startled him so much he stumbled backwards and landed directly on his arse.

The imposing figure by the table looked up from the volume he had in his hands and snapped it shut. “You’re awake!”

Crowley nodded, mute with apprehension and a shooting pain in his spine.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” said the other. “But I’m sure you know who I am. I’m Raphael.”

The archangel of healing. The archangel part made Crowley’s instincts to run kick in, but the of healing part engaged the logical centers of his brain that told him Raphael was the one who had saved his life. If the archangel wanted to harm him, he could have done so already. The two reactions fought into stalemate, and the fact that Crowley wasn’t sure he could stand was the tiebreaker. He stayed on the floor.

Raphael slid the book back onto its shelf and, drawing his robes about himself, picked his way across the chaotic room towards him. “You managed to put together such a complex spell while under attack? I’m impressed.” He knelt and held a hand out.

Crowley took it, relieved that he wouldn’t have to fight to get up by himself. He felt Raphael’s hand on his back. “Oh, dear, you’ve hurt yourself again. Here.”

Raphael herded him onto the ruined couch and helped him stretch out facedown. Crowley tried to stifle his noises of discomfort, embarrassed despite that he was sure Raphael had seen much worse.

He felt the touch of hands on his back, and heat flowing through him. “You know,” said Raphael, “I’ve never treated a demon before for….obvious reasons. I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it. The process I would have used on an angel would have involved holy water, so I had to do some scrambling.”

Crowley suddenly felt his spine being popped back into place, accompanied by an unsetting crick. He gasped.

Raphael gave him a pat. “There, that should be better now.”

Crowley swung his feet around and stood experimentally. He felt fine, except for a dull body-wide background ache that he suspected was the inevitable result of getting the shit kicked out of you. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Where is Aziraphale?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s still in Heaven.”

“Oh.”

Raphael put a hand on his shoulder. “They told me about what you did.”

“You mean with the circle?” said Crowley, bewildered.

“No, I mean about what you and Aziraphale did. About how you switched sides.”

“Oh.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “I want you to know I’m one-hundred percent on your side, Crowley. Demon or not, you’re with us. If anyone ever gives you trouble about it, you can come to me. Okay?”

Crowley had not expected such an outpouring of support from anyone, let alone an archangel, and didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you, sir.”

“Let’s get you back into bed.”

The stairs were easier going up, and Raphael supported him by the elbow even though he wasn’t having any trouble walking now. It was a bit more awkward when Raphael helped him into bed, though.

“I can’t stay around much longer, but I’m sure Aziraphale will be back down soon,” said Raphael, moving towards the door.

“O—Oh, you’re leaving?”

“I’ve patched you up as best as I can, so there’s not much else I can do. Let me know if you start feeling pain in your back again.”

“Oh, okay—wait!”

Raphael’s hand froze on the doorknob, and Crowley flushed with embarrassment, feeling like a child.

“Er, could you….Would you mind putting some anti-demon sigils on the outside of the shop before you go?”

“Oh,” said Raphael brightening. “Of course. How could I forget how you got injured in the first place? Don’t worry, leave it to me. You can rest safely.”

As the bedroom door shut, Crowley felt like he had gained an awkward relative of some sort. But he was fine with it. He needed all the allies he could get.

“Come on, come on,” said Aziraphale, dragging Victoria out of the medical ward and through the courtyard. “If you were going to hold me back, you shouldn’t have offered to escort me back down.”

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t overexert yourself yet,” said Victoria helplessly as Aziraphale motored forwards at an agitated pace.

She put her foot down and kept him grounded when he tried to fly over the gates. He huffed in annoyance and tapped his foot as the gates winched open, then continued to the entrance to Earth, walking straight off it and diving feet-first.

Victoria followed as Aziraphale dropped out of the sky, miles up, white clouds rushing past them. She snapped her wings open and glared at Aziraphale until he did so as well, convincing him that they should descend by gently spiraling rather than skydiving like he had wanted.

They finally arrived at the bookshop. She noted the outside of the building was covered with crude marks in white spray paint. Aziraphale opened the door and left his keys in the knob, which even Victoria, who hadn’t spent much time on Earth, knew was a no-no. She shut the door behind them and put the keys on the counter.

“Crowley? Where are you?” Aziraphale called. He stuck his head in the back room, found it empty, then marched up the stairs.

Victoria followed as Aziraphale opened the bedroom door without knocking. The room was dim, bars of light from the blinded windows falling onto a lump under the covers of the bed.

“Crowley?”

The duvet drew back, revealing a pair of yellow eyes looking at him sleepily.

“There you are,” said Aziraphale, sitting on the edge of the bed. The rest of Crowley appeared from under the duvet. They took each other in their arms. Victoria couldn’t help but think they were holding each other uncomfortably close.

When Crowley reached up and kissed Aziraphale on the mouth, and Aziraphale’s hands slid down lower on Crowley’s body, Victoria gasped and spluttered, “You’re—?”

They broke off, looking at Victoria strangely. “We’re what?”

She was growing red. “You’re together?”

“Victoria,” said Aziraphale, dismayed, “You were there when Camael confirmed he loved me, don’t you remember?”

“Well, yes, but I thought…”

“You thought what?” Crowley prodded.

“I thought. You know, it was philos love, not…”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale. “Well, I suppose there’s that, too…”

“I, uh, I’ll just be going now, then,” said Victoria, growing more embarrassed by the second. “Let me know if you need help with anything, all right? I’ll definitely ask about getting someone sent down to protect you.”

This last sentence was said as Victoria moved towards the door and disappeared through it.

Crowley’s eyes slid shut and he gave a small laugh that Aziraphale found absolutely delightful. “Philos. Does Heaven understand anything? As though someone would go into Hell for anything less than eros.”

Aziraphale gave him a little slap, and Crowley really regretted saying that, because then he had to listen to Aziraphale talk about how philos wasn’t “less than” eros until he tired himself out enough to fall asleep.

“Coffee?”

Aziraphale looked up from his notes. “I’m more in the mood for tea.”

Crowley waved a hand over the cup, then extended it out again. “Tea?”

Aziraphale sighed and took the cup. “What are you working on?” said Crowley, seating himself next to him.

Aziraphale ruffled his papers. “I’m trying to design a demon-repelling sigil that will still allow you to come and go. So we can put it on the outside of the shop and keep it up.”

It seemed like a good idea. And if anyone would be able to design new occult symbols, it would be Aziraphale, with all those books of magical things he kept around. “Have you ever designed a sigil like this before?”

“No, unfortunately.”

Ah. “How do you know it’ll work?”

“Crowley, I’m still designing it.”

“Right.”

Aziraphale huffed in annoyance. “This would be much easier if I had my copy of the key of Solomon. I looked everywhere for the bloody thing but I can’t find it.”

“You can’t find it?”

“Someone must have taken it. I knew it was a bad idea to let customers into the shop.”

Crowley sipped his coffee. He looked to the front window, where the symbols Raphael had painted were still visible on the front window. He had noticed they kept customers out as well as demons. “You could incorporate my real name into the sigil. That would make sure it was only me and no other demons that could get past it.”

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale, slamming his hand on the table, “I’m not putting your true name in an anti-demon sigil. That’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous to protect ourselves with a sigil that has holes in it,” Crowley shot back hotly. “Who knows who’s going to show up next?”

Aziraphale rubbed his temples. “We’ll be getting help from Heaven soon, hopefully. It doesn’t need to be air-tight.”

The handle of Crowley’s coffee mug suddenly snapped off, and it was then that he realized how tightly he had been holding it. He let out a deliberate breath and put the handle down.

Aziraphale marked the page he was on and then closed the volume he had open on the table. “I can see we’re both a little stressed out right now. It’s natural. Let’s just calm down.”

They were both scared, but neither of them wanted to acknowledge it. “Come on, I’ll make us breakfast,” said Aziraphale, patting Crowley’s hand.

They ended up back in the bedroom after breakfast, but when they discovered they were both still quite sore and vigorous activity of any sort would be bothersome, they ended up just laying there and watching telly. Aziraphale let Crowley have the remote, and when the demon predictably fell asleep, the angel quietly slipped out of bed and went back downstairs. A few more hours with his spell books and he had a new sigil that would bar the entrance of any demon with one very special exception. He wiped the outside of the building clean before putting it up. He then crawled back into bed, wrapping around Crowley, secure and resolved to still follow through on the promise he had made before to not let anything happen to him.

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic #fanfic

4 notes · View notes