Good Omens: Missing generation (4/12)
Title: Good Omens: Missing generation
Pairings: Late Aziraphale/Crowley, hinted Adam/Pepper, hinted OC/OC (likely to develop in future fic)
Warnings: None as long as you've read Good Omens
Summary: What if Crowley and Aziraphale weren't the only agents on Earth? What if there had been another pair, there all along but simply forgotten - lost - from the story? View the Apocalypse-that-wasn't through the eyes of their two respective students, Damian and Muriel, and find out the truth of the missing generation!
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"Oh, dear. Do you think we ought to rescue him?" Muriel asked, watching her tutor's poor attempt at magical entertainment. Damian was too busy dying of laughter to respond to her question. After much debate, it had been decided that Muriel and Damian were to enter the party under the guise of being children's party designers/decorators. Essentially, they were there to decide what should go where, and to create a rough plan of the order of events within the party. Now was the 'magic show', and so the younger pair were standing at the back of the room, watching as Muriel's tutor desperately tried to entertain the gathered children with various magic tricks. It wasn't going well. In fact, 'it wasn't going well' was a grave understatement. The fact that the elder angel was using the type of language that curled up and died about 80 years beforehand didn't help matters in the least.
Rolling her eyes slightly at Damian's now-crumpled form, Muriel studied the room, taking in everyone within it. Glancing over at Crowley, she saw the elder demon studying a gerbil intently. Unsure of what else there was to do, she quietly walked over to stand next to him. "Should we help him? I, for one, know what children can be like at times. I have enough experience with them, after all." She murmured into his ear. It was true, and earlier in the day she had successfully held their collective attentions with an impromptu story, with suggestions given in from her audience. It had ended up with the nice alien octopus defeating the evil robot unicorns with his laser jelly, or something along those lines. Really, it was amusing to hear what children of such an age could come up with at times...
Crowley glanced at the younger angel over his sunglasses, and hissed in amused annoyance. "Don't think there's much we can do for him, really. We don't have any reason to try and stop the show." He replied. Pulling a face, Muriel turned back to face her tutor - just in time to dodge some airborne jelly propelled in their direction by a gun landing in the bowl. She watched in horror as Warlock grabbed the gun, yelling excitedly at his friends.
Meeting Damian's now-serious gaze, she nodded in the boy's direction, silently suggesting that they find a quick way to remove the gun from him or keep the other children otherwise occupied. All was resolved, however, when Warlock pulled the trigger, only to hit Crowley with a stream of water. She snorted, hearing Damian laugh behind her, before turning to watch her own tutor walk out just before a water fight started. The poor guards were mobbed for their guns and jets of water flew in all directions. She watched as Crowley beat a hasty retreat, hissing slightly as he left. Muriel raced over to Damian, receiving quite a few squirts of water in the process. Pulling a face, she grabbed his arm. "Let's go! Evacuate the building!" she yelled over the war cries of several hyperactive children. Nodding, Damian ran with the angel right on his heels. After all, she may love children but that didn't mean she loved water fights.
Crowley and Aziraphale were talking across the road, the demon pausing only briefly to make a call. Damian sighed, leaning against his own, more modern, car. He caught a glimpse of himself in the wing mirror and grimaced, deciding to believe that there were towels in the boot. Opening it, he pulled out the three towels that had suddenly begun to exist within the vehicle. Placing one of the large ones around his shoulders, he ambled over to where Muriel was sitting, and silently offered the other two to her. His angel counterpart took them with a small smile and wrapped the other large towel around her own shoulders. With the other she began to dry her hair, patting at it gingerly as small streams of ice-cold water began to drip down her face and onto her back, causing her to shiver.
Starting to dry himself off and trying to look as unruffled as possible, he watched as their tutors started a nervous conversation between themselves. Heading over, be blessed loudly as a window shattered a few feet from where he was standing - evidently, Aziraphale had missed a gun. Behind him, he heard Muriel yelp, before muttering a rare curse. The last time he'd heard the younger angel curse, in fact, had been during the blitz, when they took a wrong turning and ended up in an alleyway. Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts, he listened in to the elder pair's conversation in time to hear the words he'd been dreading. "No dog." 'Oh, crap...'
Muriel approached from behind him then, and on seeing Aziraphale's discomfort she passed over the larger of the two towels. "Thank you, my dear. I suppose you heard that?" he asked the two, accepting the towel with a smile and using it to remove the cream on his face. Both Muriel and Damian nodded, watching as Crowley climbed into his Bentley and Aziraphale, after a pause, followed.
"What do we do, then?" Muriel asked as the two drove off. Turning to face her, he tilted his head at an angle in thought as the angel continued, "Is there any way of tracking the dog, at all? Anything?" Damian blinked, tapping his foot in contemplation before shaking his head sadly. After a while, Muriel spoke again. "So, what do we do?"
After another pause, Damian sighed. "I guess it's time to get our detective hats on - we have an antichrist to search for." He answered, grabbing Muriel by the wrist and walking over to his car.
Pairings: Late Aziraphale/Crowley, hinted Adam/Pepper, hinted OC/OC (likely to develop in future fic)
Warnings: None as long as you've read Good Omens
Summary: What if Crowley and Aziraphale weren't the only agents on Earth? What if there had been another pair, there all along but simply forgotten - lost - from the story? View the Apocalypse-that-wasn't through the eyes of their two respective students, Damian and Muriel, and find out the truth of the missing generation!
-
-
-
-
"Oh, dear. Do you think we ought to rescue him?" Muriel asked, watching her tutor's poor attempt at magical entertainment. Damian was too busy dying of laughter to respond to her question. After much debate, it had been decided that Muriel and Damian were to enter the party under the guise of being children's party designers/decorators. Essentially, they were there to decide what should go where, and to create a rough plan of the order of events within the party. Now was the 'magic show', and so the younger pair were standing at the back of the room, watching as Muriel's tutor desperately tried to entertain the gathered children with various magic tricks. It wasn't going well. In fact, 'it wasn't going well' was a grave understatement. The fact that the elder angel was using the type of language that curled up and died about 80 years beforehand didn't help matters in the least.
Rolling her eyes slightly at Damian's now-crumpled form, Muriel studied the room, taking in everyone within it. Glancing over at Crowley, she saw the elder demon studying a gerbil intently. Unsure of what else there was to do, she quietly walked over to stand next to him. "Should we help him? I, for one, know what children can be like at times. I have enough experience with them, after all." She murmured into his ear. It was true, and earlier in the day she had successfully held their collective attentions with an impromptu story, with suggestions given in from her audience. It had ended up with the nice alien octopus defeating the evil robot unicorns with his laser jelly, or something along those lines. Really, it was amusing to hear what children of such an age could come up with at times...
Crowley glanced at the younger angel over his sunglasses, and hissed in amused annoyance. "Don't think there's much we can do for him, really. We don't have any reason to try and stop the show." He replied. Pulling a face, Muriel turned back to face her tutor - just in time to dodge some airborne jelly propelled in their direction by a gun landing in the bowl. She watched in horror as Warlock grabbed the gun, yelling excitedly at his friends.
Meeting Damian's now-serious gaze, she nodded in the boy's direction, silently suggesting that they find a quick way to remove the gun from him or keep the other children otherwise occupied. All was resolved, however, when Warlock pulled the trigger, only to hit Crowley with a stream of water. She snorted, hearing Damian laugh behind her, before turning to watch her own tutor walk out just before a water fight started. The poor guards were mobbed for their guns and jets of water flew in all directions. She watched as Crowley beat a hasty retreat, hissing slightly as he left. Muriel raced over to Damian, receiving quite a few squirts of water in the process. Pulling a face, she grabbed his arm. "Let's go! Evacuate the building!" she yelled over the war cries of several hyperactive children. Nodding, Damian ran with the angel right on his heels. After all, she may love children but that didn't mean she loved water fights.
Crowley and Aziraphale were talking across the road, the demon pausing only briefly to make a call. Damian sighed, leaning against his own, more modern, car. He caught a glimpse of himself in the wing mirror and grimaced, deciding to believe that there were towels in the boot. Opening it, he pulled out the three towels that had suddenly begun to exist within the vehicle. Placing one of the large ones around his shoulders, he ambled over to where Muriel was sitting, and silently offered the other two to her. His angel counterpart took them with a small smile and wrapped the other large towel around her own shoulders. With the other she began to dry her hair, patting at it gingerly as small streams of ice-cold water began to drip down her face and onto her back, causing her to shiver.
Starting to dry himself off and trying to look as unruffled as possible, he watched as their tutors started a nervous conversation between themselves. Heading over, be blessed loudly as a window shattered a few feet from where he was standing - evidently, Aziraphale had missed a gun. Behind him, he heard Muriel yelp, before muttering a rare curse. The last time he'd heard the younger angel curse, in fact, had been during the blitz, when they took a wrong turning and ended up in an alleyway. Shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts, he listened in to the elder pair's conversation in time to hear the words he'd been dreading. "No dog." 'Oh, crap...'
Muriel approached from behind him then, and on seeing Aziraphale's discomfort she passed over the larger of the two towels. "Thank you, my dear. I suppose you heard that?" he asked the two, accepting the towel with a smile and using it to remove the cream on his face. Both Muriel and Damian nodded, watching as Crowley climbed into his Bentley and Aziraphale, after a pause, followed.
"What do we do, then?" Muriel asked as the two drove off. Turning to face her, he tilted his head at an angle in thought as the angel continued, "Is there any way of tracking the dog, at all? Anything?" Damian blinked, tapping his foot in contemplation before shaking his head sadly. After a while, Muriel spoke again. "So, what do we do?"
After another pause, Damian sighed. "I guess it's time to get our detective hats on - we have an antichrist to search for." He answered, grabbing Muriel by the wrist and walking over to his car.