#it'll just depend on how Zoom University is treating their music majors each week lol

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

The Angel, the Demon, and the Not-so Holy Ghost

                                                  Chapter One

Thank you to SuperiorDimwit for helping me by editing this chapter!

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Soho, London, 1881

    The sun has just risen over the city, but Aziraphale had never gone to sleep. Rather, he sets down the book he had been rather engrossed in as the sun slips through his dirty windows. With a small sigh, he pushes to his feet and begins his morning routine by putting the kettle on.

Angels needn’t sleep. This was true, and Aziraphale never had seen any reason for sleep. However, he prided himself in a concise morning schedule: put the kettle on, make some bread and jam, enjoy a nice cup of tea while deciding when to open the store for the day- or whether to open at all! He loves the liberty of choice. 

 A gentle smile graces his face as he considers the loaf of bread, just bought the day previous. He slices the first slice. The butt of the bread is viewed differently among different cultures. Some treasure the first slice, others find it beneath them to eat such a piece. For Aziraphale, he couldn’t bear to throw out even a morsel, no matter the meal. Crowley would always flash him a knowing smile, aware of the angel’s concerns, and would always slide his barely touched dish over. Crowley always seemed to know the perfect time to ‘tempt’ him…

 A frown grows and he finds he had long stopped slicing the bread. He sighs, and sets down the knife and allows his hands to unclench. Even as his hands relax, a knot begins in his stomach. He turns away from the bread and intends to cross the kitchen for a deep breath at the window, but freezes at the sight of the book on his countertop. Any previous trace of a smile has long been forgotten as he slowly nears. 

The book seems to be his instruction on the birds of Europe. It is still open, and the only sketch on the page is of a duck. Aziraphale cares not to read what type of duck it is as his fingers trace the sketch. 

‘Do ducks have ears?’ The voice in his head wonders, in that familiar lilt. ‘Must. How would they talk to other ducks?’

Aziraphale’s lips twitch at the thought, but then immediately disappears at the recognition of the voice and the memory drags its burdens along. He slams the book shut much harder than he intends, but merely huffs as he moves the book off the counter. He turns back to the bread, cutting the second slice with much less grace before turning to the jam.

It has been twenty years since his argument with Crowley, and he hasn’t heard from the demon since. As an angel, he shouldn’t worry, let alone about a demon...but Aziraphale has never been very good at angelic things. He ate, he drank, and he worried about demons who he had refused a means of suicide. At the time, he thought it was wise to not give in to Crowley’s request. Now, he wonders if Crowley even existed anymore, or if he had found his own means...oh, he can’t bear to think of it-

The door opens and slams shut, and Aziraphale jumps. Instantly dragged from his brooding, he stiffens and calls. “We’re closed!” 

Now that he thinks about it, the door had been locked…

Catching a breath he didn’t need, he holds it as he creeps around the corner into the shop. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to stop his shop from being robbed, he thinks as he gathers his angelic power, but he didn’t think it would ever happen this early. Why it wasn’t even noon yet…

“Aziraphale!” Aziraphale jumps at his name, and whips around, hand poised to defend himself. He freezes, though, as he connects the familiar voice to the face. 

“Gabriel?” He lowers his hand, before hurriedly clasping them behind his back as he clears his throat. “I...I wasn’t expecting you.”

Gabriel waves him off. “Just dropping by for a quick word.” He glances around, “I see you’re still attached to this...mortal collection.”

“The bookshop.” Aziraphale clarifies before nodding. “Yes, it helps establish a cover for me and connects me with many humans-”

“That’s great, Aziraphale.” Gabriel interrupts, sitting down in Aziraphale’s favorite chair. The other angel tries not to make a face at that as his superior relaxes into it. “We need to talk.” 

“What...what about?” Before Gabriel can answer, the kettle begins to whistle shrilly from the kitchen. Gabriel covers his ears and glares. 

“What is that infernal sound?”

“Oh, that’ll be the kettle. I will take care of it.”

Aziraphale bustles off to the kitchen, and hurriedly moves the kettle to a cooler plate on the stove. The kettle quiets, and he reaches up into the cabinet and pulls down two teacups. 

“What is that?” Aziraphale nearly drops a teacup as he whips around to find Gabriel in the doorway, nose wrinkled. 

“Erm, tea.” He places the tea leaves before pouring the hot water. “Would you like a cup?”

The wrinkle in Gabriel’s nose grows and Aziraphale’s smile fades as he sets the kettle down. “Right.”

“Right.” Gabriel agrees, before clearing his throat and crossing the room. “Now about that business…” 

Aziraphale is cornered against the counter as Gabriel towers over him. 

“Normally this would be a mission reserved for angels of…” He decides not to finish that sentence, instead giving him a grin and a chuckle that seems forced. “However, seeing as you are the only unassigned Earth agent, this will be your mission. You need to go to Paris.”

“P-Paris?” Aziraphale stutters out, remembering his last experience in France. That time in the bastille was simply awful, he really had been lucky Crowley had been there… His thoughts break off at the demon’s name and at Gabriel’s sharp look. 

“Yes, Paris. To one of those human...singing places. The unangelic ones. I believe it has something to do with the word Populaire…”

“The Opera Populaire?” Of course, Aziraphale knew of that! Before the French revolution, Aziraphale had taken quite a liking to the opera, especially in Paris. However, it’s been so long since then… “What about the opera?”

“There have been...rumors.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows at that. “The humans have been letting their imaginations run away with them, it seems. Talking of a spirit terrorizing the place, scaring the humans that are there. I’m sure it’s nothing, just a silly story. However, if there is a spirit, then you must stop them. They do not have permission to remain on Earth and must be dealt with accordingly. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale nods. “Just...how exactly am I supposed to find this spirit?”

Gabriel grins and claps a hard hand against his arm. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But get to Paris, and stop that spirit.”

With that, Gabriel snaps and disappears. 

“...Right.”

                                                          ---

The next day, Aziraphale finds himself in a train car, watching the world pass him by as he attempts to read. This train would take him to the Channel, where he could take a ferry across, and then another train to Paris. It was much less convenient than a miracle, but he had no doubt Gabriel would consider it ‘frivolous’, especially when he might have greater needs for miracles on this journey. 

Most spirits are content to pass from Earth to the afterlife. After all, they are the souls of humanity, and many have been told of a paradise or of a new life waiting for them. Some got lost on the way, and so angels would be sent to guide them to their judgment, whether it be the paradise of Heaven or the heat of Hell. Those spirits (ghosts, as he learned humans called them) were often apologetic, and pliant the rest of the journey. 

However, there were some who had become attached to Earth. Aziraphale couldn’t necessarily blame them, but everyone had their time to take their leave. He dreads the day, but he would go willingly when called. That’s what these spirits don’t understand. They drag their feet, clinging to a belonging treasured  from their life that is often in the hands of another human, bringing terror to the new owner. Removing those spirits were nasty business: attachments were destroyed, humans were traumatized, and often that earned the spirit a one-way ticket to Hell. The memories and stories of those spirits send a shiver down his spine as he clutches his long-forgotten book between his hands. He may need every miracle and power in his inventory. Who knows if this spirit has simply lost their way, or has no desire to travel to the afterlife at all? 

For the moment, he needs a plan. He needs to sneak into the Opera Populaire himself and see if he can reach out to the spirit, show himself to be a peaceful guide to the afterlife. That will be much harder with humans in the way, and he would rather not force many humans to look the other way. No, that will gather too much attention...

He blinks and suddenly realizes the train has come to a stop. The scent of salt in the air and the muted cry of seagulls turns his attention to see the train station and the docks beyond. His ferry waits for him, and he still has not a single plan. Perhaps he’ll think of something while crossing the Channel.  

“This is my stop.” He says to no one but himself, closing his book and slipping it into his carpetbag. He rises and reaches above his head for his suitcase. With a huff, he grips both bags, and shoulders his way out of the compartment. He hears a gasp of air wrenched from his someone’s lungs and a loud BAM. A cane clatters to the floor, and Aziraphale drops his bags in horror. 

“Oh, my dear boy, I am so terribly sorry!” Aziraphale fumbles for an apology, and instantly bends to grab the cane. Unfortunately, so does the man, and their foreheads collide. Stars dance in front of Aziraphale’s eyes as he winces, both men clutching their heads. “Oh, how clumsy of me.”

“Satan’s sake! This is the last thing I needed this morning!” 

Aziraphale freezes and the man suddenly stops when he finally looks at Aziraphale. 

I know that voice…

 After a pause, as he prays his eyes aren’t deceiving him, Aziraphale’s gaze travels up, meeting the shaded gaze holding what he knows to be snake-like eyes blown wide, just like his own. 

“...Crowley?”

#Good Omens #Good Omens fanwork #Phantom of the Opera AU #Angel Demon and Ghost AU #Aziraphale #Crowley #I hope y'all like this story! #I'm gonna try and update weekly #it'll just depend on how Zoom University is treating their music majors each week lol