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My Angel, My Muse	By : lyssiana Category: G through L > Good Omens Views: 2810 -:- 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-My Angel, My Muse
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 3
- 4
- 5
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Good Omens, or any of the claimer: characters. They all belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaimen. If you haven’t read them, you should...really quite good.
With Hastur, when he says "open" in the last chapter, he does indeed mean "opening". But I imagine Hastur saying "open." And anyway, I was hoping that the meaning wasn’t clear. ::evil smile::
Soooo afraid this is going to turn out badly.
On to the mush!

Chapter Four
Crowley, realizing that the feathers ended farther away from the angel’s place of business than he liked walking, made the decision to go back and get his car. He knew where the angel was, so there wasn’t any need to hurry. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say when he got there anyway. "Hey, angel, did you lose some feathers?" Crowley's nose wrinkled in embarrassment.
Around the corner brakes screeched to a halt, just a little too late. Crowley relaxed, and strode the rest of the block to his car. As he opened the car door, a twinge of guilt crawled up his spine. He rolled his eyes. In the distance you could hear someone yelling, "Call an ambulance! They're alive!" It was something.
Hastur crouched, grinning at Aziraphale. Every touch from Hastur killed a small portion of the angel. "It hurts does it?" He let go of his wrist. Hastur spoke directly into Aziraphale's ear.
Aziraphale couldn’t find the strength to speak. The courage was there, and had it not been for the feeling such as that of molten lead being poured down his throat, he would have told Hastur that he wasn’t afraid and that it didn’t hurt at all. Aziraphale was sure it was okay to lie to demons. Without the strength however, Aziraphale just kneeled there, mouth open to speak.
Hastur was loving this. That, Aziraphale could feel pouring off of the demon in gallons. Again, if he could have spoken, he might have told the demon that regular bathing was staple in human infiltration.
"Angel, I would just kill you and be done with it, but I've been told to give you a choice." Hastur grabbed Aziraphale by the hair and forced his gaze. Aziraphale bit back another scream as he let go. The last scream had made Aziraphale feel weak, and if there was one thing he wasn’t, it was weak.
"Tell me that you’re grateful Angel." Hastur sneered.
Aziraphale closed his mouth. He really didn’t care what the choice was, if Hastur thought he was going to beg, he might as well kill him.
"Oh?" Hastur raised his eyebrows. "Stoic? Is that what you’re going for?" He grabbed Aziraphale by the throat and stood up bringing the angel with him.
Aziraphale’s eyes began to water, not from tears alone, but the sheer pain of the thing. He hadn’t realized this much pain existed. His left shoulder and arm were useless because Hastur had touched him there, and his head hurt so much that he was having a hard time seeing anything. Now it felt as if his throat were collapsing in on his lungs.
His eyes widened. He hadn’t ever been trapped to his body before...It had been all too easy to move with bullet wounds, or after stepping in between a drunken Crowley and one of the male strippers on "Ladies Night." Crowley had felt that dancing topless to The Village People just wasn’t sinful enough, and had been intoxicated enough to say so. The thought of Crowley made things seem further away. Aziraphale felt himself drifting.
"Angel!" Hastur screamed, angry that Aziraphale wasn’t screaming.
Aziraphale blinked. The world spun back into place. He was back, writhing in pain, being held in the air by a demon with an agenda. Right, ow.
"Lucifer, in all of his...mercy," Hastur placed the word as if he disliked its taste. "Has decided to give you a reprieve."
Aziraphale met Hastur's eyes again. The demon didn’t want to give Aziraphale anything. He just wanted to kill him in the worst possible way. And it was bad. Aziraphale was curious as to just how he was keeping conscious. Maybe a deal wouldn’t be too bad...something like "Don’t interfere here, get us some inside there..."
"Fall Angel."
Aziraphale's eyes focused. He looked at Hastur as if he were wearing a pink tutu. Crowley would be proud.
Hastur drove Aziraphale back to his knees. "Don’t you understand yet angel? This is new." The way he said new made Aziraphale’s skin crawl. "You wont be returning to heaven this time. This," he held his free hand out in front of Aziraphale, "is going to destroy you angel...not just this mortal coil." Hastur was almost laughing. "Where is your faith now Angel? Do you know what happens to angels when they actually manage to perish?"
Aziraphale didn’t even try to imagine. No one knew. They just...disappeared.
Hastur leaned in again. "Fall. Fall Angel, and this will all have been a bad dream."
The uselessness in Aziraphale’s limbs was spreading, no, creeping down to his toes. He felt as if there were true fire erasing his insides. Soon he was left with nothing but the raging pain coming from Hastur's hand on his throat.
"Fall Angel," Hastur smiled angelically, "Or don’t, it’s almost over anyway."
Aziraphale managed a grimace and tightened his right fist. Wait. Aziraphale loosened his right fist, the tightened it again. So, not a fluke. Would his whole arm work that way?
Hastur loosened his grip. "Almost over Angel, too bad I can’t prolong your life, I would love to see more of your exquisite face twisted up in pain." Hastur leaned in closer to Aziraphale's face.
Aziraphale flexed his fingers. It certainly wouldn’t work if he waited much longer.
Hastur loosened his grip more as he leaned in closer.
Oh, if you do what I think you are going to do, I think I'll wretch. He thought.
Crowley drove, as he normally would have, only this blue haired old biddy in a car that looked like it hadn’t been serviced since the American civil war was sitting in front of his Bentley maintaining 3 miles per hour. What was worse was the fact that the woman was so old, her mind was closed to Crowley. He couldn’t make her pass gas, let alone drive the pedal to the floor.

It was as if something lit from behind Hastur's eyes as he forced his mouth down onto the angels waiting lips.
Aziraphale put up with that for as long as it took for him to swing his right arm up to Hastur’s chest and then he forced everything he had left out of his hand, and through Hastur himself.
A very surprised Hastur knocked down every bookcase in his flight to the very front wall of the store, where he lay still.
Aziraphale gasped, for air, as the pain that had raged through the rest of his being, rolled into his right arm. He was ashamed of himself. He had let the demon get the best of him, he hadn’t been prepared. A simple thing really.
The shadow that was Hastur groaned and began to wake up.
Aziraphale knew that too. Had the angel been strong enough he could have send the demon back to hell, but he gave it his best. Even if his best had destroyed his beloved bookshop.
Hastur stood. "All deals are off Angel." He began walking in a very determined way, setting books on fire as he went.
Aziraphale thought that was just as well. He had never planned on making a deal with Hastur anyway. He did feel bad for the books though.
Hastur grabbed a hand full of the angel’s hair and drove him violently into the bathroom. Aziraphale couldn’t really help with the driving, as he couldn’t move. He did however feel his head making contact with that antique tub he had fancied so much.
Crowley heard it. All of the birds heard it too; it was enough to drive the bat in front of him into slamming her foot down onto the gas and accidentally driving up onto the sidewalk, taking out several parking meters.
Crowley was stunned, whatever that was, had him sitting there in traffic not moving at all. That sound, blood curdling, and desperate. A scream. An angel screamed. Crowley had only ever seen one angel die. He was actually glad that wasn’t his fault. Angels only scream like that when... Suddenly real panic hit the demon square in the chest. It sounded, it sounded like Aziraphale. Crowley took off in his Bentley, driving through whatever didn’t move in time.
Fighting the urge to drive the Bentley right into the shop, Crowley double-parked, cursed the angry drivers behind him with gout and ran towards the shop door.
Panic rose in his throat when he saw the inside. The books were everywhere, and some were charred. Aziraphale wouldn’t allow someone to vandalize his books. Stepping carefully over broken glass and fallen shelves Crowley moved further into the store. "Angel?" He called, carefully, and not quite loud enough. He was hoping that the angel wasn’t actually there. Another step.
Crowley looked down at one of Aziraphale’s loafers. "Aziraphale!" He called louder, the urgency rising in his voice. He wasn’t in the shop front, that left...
Crowley rushed into the bathroom in the back, never noticing that the door had been blown clear off its hinges.
Aziraphale was there, his head leaned against the old tub. He looked as if he were sleeping, having peaceful dreams.
Crowley reached out and touched his shoulder. He was cold. The demon knelt beside Aziraphale and began to wrap his arm around his waist to hoist him off of the bathroom floor. He drew his arm away quickly however, when he felt the wetness on his back.
Crowley leaned the angel forward to get a better view, and had to tear his eyes away from what he saw. Covering his mouth with the collar of his shirt he looked again at Aziraphale’s face.
Even the demon in him was repulsed by what he saw.
Something had taken, no ripped Aziraphale’s wings from his back.
The thought made Crowley’s own backache. His wings. The demon turned, and made a quick exit from the room. He couldn’t look at Aziraphale anymore. It made him afraid. He had taken so long to get back to the shop. Aziraphale looked peaceful.
He closed his eyes. He had heard him scream. There was nothing peaceful about that.
Suddenly the store felt smaller and Crowley began to make for the front door. He had heard, and still hadn’t been prepared. Angels weren’t supposed to die. They weren’t -

A gasp, sounding like a strong intake of breath.
Crowley stopped. Breathing.
Spinning around like a bottle cap Crowley made his way back into the bathroom.
Aziraphale’s eyes were wide open; he was looking right at Crowley.
"Can you stand?"
The angels eyes started to water.
"Can you speak?" Crowley was a demon, he was NOT letting his own voice break.
Nothing, the angel just stared at him. But he was alive.
"You can blink?"
The angel blinked. That was something.
"Right, one blink for yes then." He knelt beside the angel. "Am I right? You can not move at all?"
Blink.
Right. "Right, then I'll carry you to the car." He pushed his arms under Aziraphale and lifted him slowly. "We," he made sure to breathe slowly, "we cant just let you lie here all night..."
Crowley carried Aziraphale out of the bookshop trying very hard not to notice how heavily the tears were falling. I'm a demon. He told himself before asking Aziraphale if he'd hurt him.
Nothing.
"Are you in pain?"
Long pause, blink, pause, blink, pause, blink.
Crowley turned away and walked around to the driver’s side. He got in and began to drive silently.
"Are, are you going to die?"
Blink.
Crowley ran all of the red lights back to his flat. All of them. He had even asked the angel if it bothered him. Aziraphale didn’t blink.
The angel can’t die. I - I wont let him. There has to be something.
They entered his flat, Crowley still carrying the angel. He laid him down on to the couch. "Is this alright?"
Blink.
Crowley thought at that moment, he would do anything. Truly anything, to stop the angels tears.

To be continued.
There will be a weird little twist I promise. I considered leaving Aziraphale dead for this cliffhanger, only I realized I myself would have a serious issue with that.
Of all of the chapters I’ve written I think I like this one least.
Anyway, enjoy, and keep reviewing! I love hearing from you all.
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My Angel, My Muse