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Mimicry	By : Macx Category: G through L > Good Omens Views: 2227 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Mimicry
- 2-part 2
- 3-part 3
- 4-part 4
- 5-part 5
- 3
- 4
- 5
Crowley leaned against the brick wall of a building and ran a tired hand through his jet black hair. Aziraphale didn't look any livelier than him and from the dullness in the blue eyes, Crowley suspected he needed rest as much as the demon did. They had been on their feet for three days now with no rest, no minute to recharge, and even immortal, divine or hellish creatures reached their limit sooner or later.

They had found and lost track of their prey again and again, countless times, and the closer they got, the stranger things became. Whatever it was that had been stolen from both Sides, it had reeked of a power Crowley really didn't want to get to know any closer. It was… wrong. And deadly. And dangerous. And so many things more.
He still felt the tingle of the attack when the remaining power had nearly touched him. It had been divine, would have flayed him alive at best, utterly melted him at worst, and Aziraphale had protected him. His angel in turn had been hurt by the demonic part of the object, and both immortals showed the strain more and more. They truly needed to recharge. Crowley had spent a lot of energy on helping Aziraphale heal, and his angel was down to his last reserves after shielding him.
Whatever Jones had stolen from Heaven and Hell, it wasn't meant to be in anyone's hands, be it human, demon or angel, but only humans could handle it. Crowley was secretly terrified of facing whatever it was, now in the hands of a warlock who had been able to steal demonic power before.
Reaching out for his lover, he startled Aziraphale a little, which showed how depleted the angel was.
"C'mon," he murmured. "Let's find a place for the night. You need to sleep."
As did Crowley. He was so incredibly tired.
They did find a hotel. It was a pricey one and Aziraphale protested immediately.
"If I have to run around and find some creep who stole from Up There and Below, I want to sleep in style!" Crowley growled, eyes flashing.
He was too tired to control what temper he had. Aziraphale shot him a startled look and the demon exhaled slowly.
"Zira, please. Just… let's get a room and sleep, okay?"
"But it's expensive!"
"I don't care, angel. I really don't. I know we won't get our expenses paid by either Side, but that doesn't mean I've to sleep in a flea-bitten b&b. I'm even paying for it, alright?"
And he would. Aziraphale wouldn't have it with influencing anyone to dodge the charge for a room that was more fit for a king than two very tired and rather dishevelled looking men, divine or not. Well, one was.
The wide eyes of the angel as he looked around the suite were worth the money. Aziraphale stood in the middle of a dream of a hotel room, mouth hanging open, unable to comprehend the luxury for one night.
Crowley walked over and wrapped his arms around the blond man, smiling as he rested his head on one shoulder.
"Like it?"
"I… I've never been to such a hotel… well, aside from business… never to sleep… Crowley…"
He kissed the slender neck. "One night, angel."
Aziraphale leaned and me the questing lips in a tender kiss. "One night."
"We earned it."
"We haven't even found Jones yet."
"We still earned it, angel."
Crowley pulled his lover over to the separate bedroom and Aziraphale gave a little squeak at the giant bed. No noise from the streets reached them up here, and there was nothing but total peace permeating the room.
"It's lovely," he whispered.
And if he wasn't so tired, Crowley would have used this to his advantage. As it was, he was exhausted, Aziraphale was down to his last reserves, and they would need all the strength they could get for the confrontation with Jones. He just knew it.
They fell together in a tangle of arms and legs. He kissed his exhausted lover, their tongues touching briefly. Crowley had no intentions to arouse him, and he doubted Aziraphale would even last long enough. The angel smiled as he took him into his arms.
Feeling safe, warm and content, Crowley let the world slip away and sleep claim him.
*
He wished it would never end.
Morning had come too fast and Crowley, unlike normal, had woken first.
Laying together, snuggled into the sheet, the demon revelled in the closeness of his lover, the soft sounds around them, the breathing, the heart beat, the sheer life he felt radiating from Aziraphale. If anyone had told him he would one day love an angel…
He smiled.
He loved an angel.
"Love you," he whispered into the nearest ear, kissing it softly.
The words were easier now, especially when no one was listening, and they filled him with pride.
So much had developed, so much had happened, and they were still discovering new sides to their relationship. And their deep friendship.
He loved Aziraphale. Pure and simple. Loved him with all his quirks and faults and divinity; with all the humour and the emotional warmth and the way his angel loved life. Crowley knew this was it for him. He had found what he had been looking for.
In his enemy.
His opponent.
His counterpart.
His angel.
He sighed sleepily. An arm wrapped around his middle and Aziraphale snuggled closer.
"Comfortable?" came the sleepy voice and blue eyes cracked open a little.
"Very."
"Good."
Crowley played with the unruly blond hair. Aziraphale's head lay against his side, warm puffs of air touching the demon's skin.
"Love you," the angel murmured.
Crowley felt something inside of him blossom and bloom, as it always did in such tender moments.
"We need to go, hm?" Aziraphale added as if in an afterthought.
"I guess so."
"Duty calls."
"We don't serve either Side any more."
Aziraphale smiled. "We do for now. They asked, we accepted." He sat up and Crowley sighed with the loss of warmth and comfort.
His angel slipped out of bed, naked from head to toe, and Crowley shot him a lecherous look. Aziraphale just raised an eyebrow and walked into the bathroom that was as huge as a standard living room in many homes. Crowley had never been one to ignore opportunity when it was parading around naked. He followed his lover in a hurry.
* * *
They had a large breakfast and then checked out. To their surprise, the hotel didn't want any money.
"Your company is paying for the room and service," had been the simple answer.
Aziraphale and Crowley had exchanged stunned looks. Their company?
"Bloody He… whatever!" Crowley hissed when they were outside.
"Just be glad it was paid for," Aziraphale said calmly.
"I am! But if I had known, I'd have emptied that mini bar in no time flat!"
The angel chuckled, eyes alight with humour and patience at the demon's outbreak. He looked a lot better, Crowley decided, and that alone was worth having missed out on really putting a dent in their 'company's' credit card. He briefly wondered who had paid anyway. Above? Below? Then he decided he didn't want to know. It was better.
* * *
Their search continued and they were narrowing down their target corridor. By the end of the day they had a hot trail and Crowley was already looking forward to finally finding the little rat who had kept them so busy in the last four days. He wanted to go home.
Home.
Crowley smiled a little to himself.
Home was a bookshop in Soho, was a gentle angel with blue eyes and those blessed books. Home was being with that angel, his angel, and holding him, listening to him breathe, his heartbeat, his very life humming all around the demon.
And Jones was making him miss that!
That alone allowed Crowley's temper to simmer, waiting for an outlet.
When they finally did find the human, it was in a lively shopping mall of all places. Aziraphale was indulging in a guilty pleasure – ice cream – while Crowley had strolled through the crowds of the food court, not really out for trouble. He was just… scanning, yes.
It was when he made out their target.
The pulse of dark magic was unmistakable and he narrowed his eyes behind the shades, scanning more intently, until he found the source in form of a middle-aged man, totally nondescript, dressed in designer jeans and some expensive t-shirt that only cost so much because of the label, not the material.
Aziraphale was still talking to the ice cream guy, so Crowley pushed through a group of teenagers just finishing their MacDonald's, homing in on his target.
Jones looked up from his food, eyes narrowing, and half across the food court their eyes locked. Crowley smiled darkly, promising painful retribution for stealing stuff, for making Above and Below come back and ask for their help, for having them running around for days, for keeping him from enjoying his new life with his lover.
The human stood slowly, smiled back, then turned and began to walk.
Crowley followed.
People got in the way, but a little bit of his own magic got them to move immediately out of his path without even thinking about it. It cleared a way ahead of him and he caught up to Jones, who dodged left and into the gaming arcade.
Crowley still followed.
There was noise and lights around him, children squealing, teenagers yelling at each other to score higher points, a cacophony of sounds that hit his sensitive ears and he immediately dimmed it down, snarling softly.
Sharp eyes pierced the gloom and found Jones at the other end already, moving just as fast as the demon himself.
Bloody magic-user!
Crowley burst out the other side of the arcade and briefly got his bearings. He was in the amusement park behind the arcade, just underneath the indoors rollercoaster ride, and Jones was disappearing toward a service door.
The demon decided that it was time to stop playing. With inhuman speed he homed in on his target and was just about to grab the man when something brilliant exploded right into his face. He howled in pain, blinded for a second, and thought he heard laughter, then it was gone. The precious seconds it took him to clear his vision and look around were all Jones needed.
He was gone.
Snarling to himself, eyes glowing a dangerous red behind the shades, fangs showing through the snarl, Crowley banged his fist against the wall. Hissing softly he tried to get back control.
Fucking human freak!
"Crowley?"
He whirled away from the wall and before he could turn the demon inside him lose on whatever unsuspecting soul had caught him on the wrong side of his temper, warm angelic energy calmed him.
"Angel?"
Aziraphale smiled and held out a cone. It was filled with chocolate chip ice cream.
"You lost him?" the angel asked as Crowley reluctantly took the offering.
"Yes. He used magic on me. I didn't expect it. Fucking idiot!"
Aziraphale looked around, then started to head off toward the jungle of plants that had been placed around the rollercoaster to hide the support or to just give it a nicer look.
"Zira?"
"He went this way," the angel just said.
Crowley hurried after him, still cursing himself and the human. He wouldn't fall for that trick again. Bested by a simple human being! What kind of demon was he?
Angrily licking at his ice cream, he followed Aziraphale.

* * *

It took them three hours to get back on track and Aziraphale looked pale and drawn. He was concentrating hard on their prey and Crowley wished he could help him more than just follow his angel and keep him from running into people or vehicles. All just went out of the way the angel was taking, thanks to a demon steering them carefully around his lover.
Aziraphale had touched the summoning circle. He knew how Jones 'felt' and so only he saw the faint trail the human was leaving.
Crowley gave a bunch of men a rather forceful shove and they suddenly swerved out of Aziraphale's way and right into a Burger King, without even wanting to go there. Now they did. Crowley added a nasty afterthought to take order the greasy double meal with an extra on the side, then finish it off with ice cream and milkshakes, while following Aziraphale.
They finally ended up outside a recently built football stadium, gazing at the dark, unlit structure. The grand opening was in a week and aside from security, no one was around. And even security didn't really keep them from entering.
"What's he doing here?" Aziraphale wondered.
"I really don't care," Crowley answered. "As long as he stays here like a good little human and lets us take care of things. I'm sick and tired of chasing him all over town. I'm not on some sight-seeing tour!"
"His trail is diffuse. I can't say where he is inside," the angel murmured.
"Then let's split up."

Aziraphale frowned as he walked into the silent stadium. There wasn't a sound and he couldn't feel a presence anywhere. Crowley had opted to scout through the corridors and tunnels below, hoping to scare the human out into the open.
If he was really here.
Aziraphale had felt the trail, had followed it, and it had become stronger, but like the shopping mall, the closer they got, the more diffuse it became once more. As if Jones was purposefully leading them somewhere, only to disappear once more.
What were his plans with the stolen items anyway? Since they had no idea what it was that had been taken, neither demon nor angel could hazard a guess as to what the result of the theft might be. Though it hadn't sounded like either Heaven or Hell would dissolve or break apart.
The warning prickle of an attack came almost too late. He thought he saw a movement in the shadows and turned to get a better look when suddenly something heavy crashed into his right shoulder. Pain exploded in his arm, numbing every nerve. He dropped to his knees with a cry. Aziraphale let himself fall aside and rolled around, trying to get some distance between himself and the attacker. Another move drove him back and he gasped as the attacker pulled out a long blade of glinting metal, stabbing at him.
The blade vibrated with power, an unholy power, something fused together.
Divine.
Hellish.
It seemed to grow in size, fluctuate and shape itself to the will of the blade's bearer, and Aziraphale's mouth dropped open in horror.
A weapon made from celestial and demonic powers? No… it couldn't be!
But it felt like it. Something inside the angel resonated with its divinity, and with its demonic darkness. It touched a core, something only Crowley had ever touched, and he shivered.
Impossible.
"What is this?" he breathed.
Jones laughed softly, but far from maniacally. "This, my friend, is the ultimate weapon. And I have it."
Aziraphale swallowed. Ultimate weapon, yes. It was powerful and it hurt to feel the pulses of magic, of energy, that seemed to thrum along his spine into his head and down to his feet. It touched something so deeply rooted inside him, Aziraphale shied away from the resonance. It felt like…
… like Crowley and him. It felt like them together. It felt terrible and wonderful, promised so much good and bad.
Jones swung the blade again and Aziraphale cried out, moving back, only to trip over something and go down. His shoulder shrieked in pain.
There was a moment of frozen terror, then anger. He didn't know where the anger came from, just that it was fuelled by the simple sight of a human holding this… object… this divine and hellish creation.
There was a dark blur that slammed into the human and threw him back. Jones almost gracefully somersaulted away, the blade firmly in his hands.

Crowley hissed, clawed fingers flexing. He had felt the burst of power, had heard Aziraphale's scream of pain, and something inside of him had answered it with one of rage. No one hurt his angel! No one!
"What the fuck are you?" the human demanded angrily. "You're not warlocks!"
"You wish," the demon muttered.
Crowley stepped in front of the injured angel, glancing briefly at Aziraphale, who was holding his burned shoulder. The blue eyes contained a fire that the demon recognized as anger. Not divine anger, no. It was more. It was something he had never seen in his lover's eyes before.
Blood seeped between the fingers of the hand pressed against the horrible burn and Crowley felt his own rage multiply.
No one hurt what was his.
"We're here to get back what you stole," he only said coldly as to answer the human's question.
Laughter answered him. "You and what army?"
Aziraphale got to his feet, straightening, radiating energy. "Give it back and we won't have to hurt you."
"Hurt me? I just smacked you a good one and you're talking about hurting me?!" More laughter. "You're insane! No force in Heaven or Hell can stop me! They would have sent their armies after me if they thought they had a chance. But this," he brandished the sword, "will destroy them both. No more Heaven, no more Hell."
"And then what?" Aziraphale asked, letting the injury heal slowly.
"Humanity will be free from meddling intervention!"
"And you will be the most powerful being on this planet," Crowley snarled. "A god?"
The dark eyes glowed with the power stolen from Ashkat. "Well, why not? I can show them what to do."
"And that's different how from the current condition?" Aziraphale wanted to know, rolling his now healed shoulder.
Jones's eyes narrowed at the fast healing. "Who are you?" he demanded, frowning.
"My name is Aziraphale. I'm an angel."
Crowley took off his glasses, smiling nastily at the kid. Golden eyes glowed with a deep inner fire, red at the edges, promising a painful demise.
"You can't be an angel!" Jones called, shaking his head with an insane smile. "I've been Up There. I know how they feel. And don't tell me you're pretending to be a demon," he addressed Crowley.
"Who's pretending?" Crowley asked pleasantly and unfolded midnight black wings.
"Show-off," Aziraphale murmured, eyes twinkling briefly.
"No!" the human gnashed. "That can't be! I know angels and demons! You aren't like them!"
Crowley's smile turned nasty. "Got that right, kid. We're not like them and you don't know us at all. How about you just give back what you stole and we all forget about it?"
Hollow laughter answered that offer. "Even if I were to fall for that, do you think they'd really let me get away with it? Heaven maybe, but not Hell!"
The demon shrugged casually. "You never know."
"Oh, I do know. I know very well."
"Have it your way then."
Jones chuckled. "Exactly. Do you even know what you were told to retrieve? Can you even handle it?" He grinned at their expressions. "Of course you don't know. How could I even think that the Almighty would tell his lackeys what it is a mere human stole. This," he held up the sword, "is merely a shape of it. It can have many. It is all-powerful. It is Creation!"
Crowley's eyes narrowed and he saw Aziraphale's confusion mirroring his own.
"This is what Created, this is what He used," Jones rambled on. "This is the ultimate destruction of Heaven and Hell!"
"Nothing can destroy the realms," Aziraphale stated calmly.
"You would believe that, right? You being an angel and all." The human sneered disdainfully. "If you are one, that is. But this can and will destroy what shackled humanity with its false beliefs. It's in my hands!"
"Humans cannot destroy the realms!" Aziraphale insisted stubbornly.
"No, angel, that's where you are wrong." The grin widened again. "Neither celestial nor hellish powers can destroy the realms. They can take out each other's armies, but never the whole realm. Because to do that, it would need this." He waved the sword and Crowley felt an odd thrum ripple through him. "No angel can handle it, no demon either. It broke and He gave half of it to his arch-enemy, secure in the knowledge that neither side could ever handle the complete thing. But no one counted on humanity, right? Humanity can touch what neither angel nor demon can."
"Oh dear," the angel whispered.
"Oh fuck," Crowley agreed.
"Your God hid this away from every tempted being, split it up and collaborated with Hell to keep it safe!" Jones proclaimed. "But I have it and I will rid humanity of their dominating presence, starting with you, golden eyes."
Power rose around Jones like a whirlwind and Crowley could only stare at the energy masses dancing around the human.
"I don't fucking believe it," he whispered.
Ashkat had been a mid-level demon. Strong, sure, but not like this. This wasn't Ashkat's magic they were facing. This was the warlock's, mixed with the demon's, intermingling with that weird energy from the sword.
Bloody… fucking… freaking… He…ngh!
Jones raised an arm, fingers pointing toward the sky, and the whirlwind increased, the power howling and screeching. Then he pointed at Crowley and things got ugly.
Crowley was fast. He was a demon, he was old and he had been in battles before. Sure, they had been against angels, namely Aziraphale when they had still been enemies the first few centuries, but later he hadn't really faced anyone with such power.
Razor shards of power hurtled toward him and Crowley threw up his arms, creating a shield.
It held.
For a minute.
And then something cut him. His side, his arms, his legs, his face. One cut came close to taking out an eye and he gasped, blood dripping to the ground. A shard stabbed him in the right thigh and he yelped, trying to pull it out, but it was slick and he couldn't grab it.
"Demons can't beat me," the warlock human whispered evilly. "No one can!"
Crowley snarled and gathered his own power, snapping out his wings. He flung a fireball at his attacker and the human evaded. Jones laughed nevertheless.
"Is that all you can give me?"
Crowley bared sharp fangs and his eyes started to glow a golden-red. "No, kid, it isn't." He flexed his claws. "Not at all."
There was a fast exchange of blows, some of Crowley's landing on the human, but he was incredibly fast, and whatever he was using, it was more than demonic power. Snarling, he lunged forward

Crowley wasn’t fast enough to evade Jones, whose reflexes were inhuman to say the least. He was clipped by the first blast, the second hit him head on, and then there was only pain. It was as if every single feather was on fire, as if they were torn out one by one. Something plunged into his chest –
-- and he screamed.
Ice.
It was like ice running through his veins, freezing him, turning him to stone, into a glacier, a statue, something undead and alive and dead and….
Cold.
So terribly, terribly cold.
Icy.
Crowley's next scream was of utter agony, dying halfway, making him whimper and cough and retch, and then he fell.
- 3
- 4
- 5
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Mimicry