One demon in particular, thinks the angel.

Jul 13, 2005 20:04

Aziraphale can tell when the clouds knit together that the storm is a demon-binger. A demon-binger, for those unused to Aziraphale's world, is like a harbinger, only far more loud, dangerous, and unsubtle. Well, perhaps unsubtle is the wrong word. This demon can be very subtle when he wants to be.

There is nothing yet, only wind and the leaves it whips by. Aziraphale thinks he may know better than to assume it's going to be a quiet night.

He wants to pull out his wings and welcome it, and is only stopped by few reasons, like the loss of the tweed jacket he is wearing.

Instead, he smiles into his tea, alone in the darkening bookshop, and listens for the quiet purr of the familiar, 1926, mint-condition (even for all the reckless driving - Crowley wouldn't have it any other way), black Bentley.

And he thinks he is faintly excited.
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