The sky was a shade of red that could only be imagined by those who had seen Death. Not the small, individual passings of the victims of accident or illness or age. But the blood-soaked, multitudinous extermination of pestilence, of famine, of war. The kind that came at the End of Days, when the only victor from the battle being raged was DEATH ( Read more... )

( For the Banishment of a Fallen Angel )

Aziraphale had awakened before dawn, instantly too fretful to be still. He'd slipped out of bed, with a word to Wilson that he just wanted to step down to the kitchen. But that hadn't been enough, he found himself pacing, and rather than disturb the young doctor any further, had gone out for a walk ( Read more... )