Crowley’s hand closes around Aziraphale’s wrist just in time, and he holds on tight for Somebody’s sake. This isn’t fingers twined in hope and goodbye while the ground opens up for the Morning Star. That was simple compared to this: one grand gesture versus two scared and lonely people who don’t know what they can do for each other.

“Just let me ( Read more... )

Crowley, flaming sword between his ribs, forces himself up from the floor and crawls forward, limb by Fallen limb.

Gabriel still wears that blessed smirk, still waves a lofty hand at a pillar of flame, still sips a fruity drink, waiting for an angel to deliver himself into doom.

Remembering a burning bookshop and the taste of ash he screams the ( Read more... )