A/N: Ok, guys. Celestina here. I wrote it, Neko beta'd it, and… well, while I like it, let's just say I scare myself. It was originally called "Truth or Dare?" as some might know, but that bit hasn't happened yet. So it seemed to me that the title appeared rather pointless. I haven't updated for a while, so I probably will soon. Just be warned- my obsessions are sporadic. I may write 3 scenes in one day and then nothing for two months, and have in the past. This fic has been kicking around on my hard drive for about a year now, and has only just been posted. Why? 1) I'm lazy. 2) It's not in chapters. And 3) There is no third reason! I'm uploading it now, because… well, I feel like it, basically.

A word to the wise before going on?

WARNING! This story is weird-arse! It has much gay relationships/slash/yaoi/shounen ai/boy love/whatever you want to refer to it as, so if the offends you, run now. While you still can. Otherwise, your brain may break. If your foolish little homophobic ways cause you to suddenly lose all logical thought capacity as I have heard they are wont to do, feel free to flame me. Please. I thrive on criticism; I shall laugh, and really, it will be nice to have something to mock and keep me warm. You have been notified.

Also, for those of you who are still here and don't have a problem yet, DO NOT, I repeat NOT, skip ahead gleefully. You may still be scarred for the rest of your life. Why? There is yaoi, yes, but that obviously isn't the issue anymore. The thing is, God and Lucifer. Yeah, you heard me. God's a bit of a brat in this- and Lucifer is in love with Him. So if this disturbs you, or burns your Christian eyes, you may wish to escape. But most yaoi fans I know aren't particularly religious anyway, so it hopefully won't be that hideous for most people.

Oh! And one last thing! (do I ramble, or what?) The disclaimer! We must not forget it! It covers no legal arse really, but it is a ritual, and so, without further ado:

I hereby relinquish all claim to anything that belongs to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaimin. They are my gods, and I am as a pitiful worm beneath their booted heels. HOWEVER. Metatron, Gabriel, God, and Lucifer are all mine. ALL MINE I TELL YOU! MWAHAHAHA! *sigh* It feels so good to actually own something. But enough of my babble. On with the writings!

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 Crowley thumped the wall with his fist irritably. He had long since come to the conclusion that the world and everything in it tended to be completely pointless sometimes, and it was days like these that proved it.

 Being a demon, these days usually delighted Crowley. In fact, in this respect he was quite alike to most humans, because as long as the bad things were happening to somebody ELSE, everything was just perfect. Being a demon, these things often DID happen to other people. Owing not least to the fact that Crowley quite regularly caused said things to happen.

 But the point was, Crowley had this inexplicable gut feeling that said that bad things were done by demons and didn't happen to demons. Which is why he didn't understand nor appreciate the fact that his life, such as it was, was down the proverbial shit creek.

 Growling under his breath, Crowley leaned his head back against the wall. The mantra "things like this don't HAPPEN to me!" was playing constantly through his thoughts. This wasn't anything like the time when the apocalypse had almost happened. That wasn't really personal, as such. The apocalypse was a piece of cake compared to the mess Crowley was in now.

 Fighting the urge to repeatedly bash his head into a flat and solid object, Crowley closed his eyes with a hiss. Bashing his head in wouldn't work, anyway. Being immortal did that to you.

 Although Crowley had been avoiding painful thoughts as if the plague, it had come to his attention that they could not be ignored for much longer. They were insistent little buggers, jumping up and down and screaming at the top of their metaphorical lungs. Ignoring them was giving Crowley a killer headache that he just didn't have the energy to dispel.

 Sighing, Crowley kicked the can lying near his foot in a display of aggressive frustration. For G- Sa- SOMEBODY'S sake! This was just ridiculous! Was he a demon or not? Well, really that's the problem, isn't it? A nasty, niggling little voice from his subconscious replied venomously. Crowley decided that he hated that voice more than all the other thoughts put together. At least the other thoughts could be ignored, albeit at risk to one's health and sanity, but his subconscious forced him to listen. Dimly, Crowley reflected that now he knew what it was like to go insane.

 The problem he'd been skirting around for the last ten minutes or so had to be faced. This was worse than anything he'd ever endured, and he could tell that this was not likely to be pretty. The thing was, Crowley was undeniably attracted to Aziraphale. Therein lay the pit just waiting for Crowley to fall in.

 The attraction itself was not what had Crowley so wretched. Come on, he was a demon. Lust was his speciality! Lust was good, no problem there. Plus, there was even the possibility of Sodomy. That was debatable though, considering that he never really got it sorted out whether or not Aziraphale was actually male. Also, it wasn't classified as a sin, exactly. God just didn't really approve, that's all.

 Anyway, it was the fact that Aziraphale was an angel that might cause some raised eyebrows. Or worse. Hell didn't really go in for disapproving from a distance. They preferred the more hands-on-approach.

 There was also the problem that Crowley had the horrible suspicion that he actually LIKED Aziraphale just a bit too much. Ok, far too much. He'd already been overstepping the boundaries in that aspect, first with the Agreement and then their friendship. Not to mention the whole Apocalypse jazz, but that was rather irrelevant at this precise moment. The thing was, he wasn't really in Hell's good books at the moment. Insofar as Hell HAD good books, at any rate. More to the point, he was most assuredly in their BLACK books, which was far more to be concerned about. The black books of Hell were very black indeed.

 So. Crowley (a demon) was attracted to Aziraphale (an angel), and on top of that, they were friends. This had the potential to become very dangerous. Very, VERY dangerous. This would have to be dealt with, unfortunately. Maybe Crowley could avoid Aziraphale for a century or so…

 Grabbing a bottle of some potent alcoholic substance that was lying conveniently nearby (very convenient indeed, considering Crowley had willed it into existence), Crowley skulled the whole thing in an attempt to get extremely drunk, hopefully to the point where no intelligence dared to venture. Crowley's last conscious thought before he finally passed out was short and to the point.

 Shit.

 Aziraphale sighed wearily, thumping his empty coffee mug onto the table with rather more force than strictly necessary. He missed his old bookshop, dammit, and he wanted it back right now![1]

 Of course, that wasn't exactly what Aziraphale was thinking in so many words. For one thing, the Ineffable One might possibly take offence at the use of the word 'damn', not that this had ever stopped the angel before. For another, although Aziraphale really DID miss his dusty old bookshop, he happened to have other, less pleasant things on his mind. Like Crowley.

 It wasn't that he didn't LIKE Crowley. On the contrary, he considered Crowley to be a close friend. In actual fact, basically his ONLY friend. Being immortal, it seemed highly impractical to go making friends with those whose lifespan was infinitely shorter than yours.

 Actually, come to think of it, the problem had nothing to do with Aziraphale disliking Crowley. In fact, it happened to be the complete opposite- Aziraphale was a bit scared that he might like Crowley TOO much. For all his in-built demonic evilness and the complete obnoxiousness that had nothing to do with being a demon and a LOT to do with being Crowley, Aziraphale was still very fond of Crowley. He even considered the idea that it may be BECAUSE of Crowley's innate ability to be obnoxious that he liked him so much, but that was a dangerous train of thought, and so would be abandoned immediately.

 The thing was, Aziraphale had a deathly fear of Falling. He LIKED being an angel, and he didn't like the idea of an eternity in Hell. Heaven may be indescribably dull, but at least it wasn't painful. The difficulty with the whole liking-Crowley thing was that Aziraphale was CERTAIN that God really wouldn't like it. Keeping up work place relationships, that was good. The whole love-thy-neighbour thing being put into practice and all that. But there was a difference between being civil and fraternising with the enemy.

 The whole averting-of-the-apocalypse thing hadn't done anything in Aziraphale's favour, either. That just PROVED that his association with the demon Crowley was corrupting him. Or doing whatever Crowley did, anyway. But for all his fear, Aziraphale didn't want to stop being friends with Crowley, and THAT was possibly the most frightening thing of all.

 Aziraphale had a feeling that angels weren't SUPPOSED to like demons. At least, not very much. Definitely not as much as Aziraphale liked Crowley, however much THAT was. That last part was a bit of a sticking point with Aziraphale, as he didn't want to go looking into that one too far. Just in case he didn't like what he saw, an outcome that he was increasingly starting to suspect.

 Coming to the conclusion that there was nothing to do but think, and being left alone with his thoughts for a century or so was only likely to make things worse, Aziraphale decided to go pay Crowley a visit. At least he'd have someone to talk to then. Besides, it was hardly possible that things could go even more wrong than they already were, could they?

 …Could they?

 The Metatron rolled his eyes in disgust. For such an intelligent angel, Aziraphale could be really dense sometimes… For the love of GOD, he had practically bashed him over the head with it!

 Although it may have seemed to some that the Metatron intensely disliked Aziraphale, this was in fact not so. He was actually rather fond of the other angel, lovable as he was in an irritating, English sort of way. But no matter how favourably you looked at it, Aziraphale was being incredibly stupid at this precise moment.

 The Metatron had decided it was his duty to "deal" with Aziraphale's problem for him. Even if he and that demon weren't smart enough to realise, they were made for each other. The Ineffable One had even decided that they were so cute that special allowances could be made in favour of the whole angel-having-relationships deal. Of course, no one had informed either of them of this, but these things had to be left to run their course.

 The only problem was, Aziraphale himself was making the Metatron's job very difficult for him. How could he still have failed to realise? For pity's sake, it was just getting ridiculous. They were never going to get anywhere this way! The Metatron had even entertained the idea of going and making an official complaint to God, but he didn't think that that would really achieve anything at all. The Ineffable One would probably just tell him that he was too nosy by half and he should go and mind his own business rather than set up poor defenceless angels. God was probably right, but the Metatron didn't particularly care.

 As for Crowley, the Metatron didn't mind him too much. Just as well, considering the end results would hopefully concern the aforementioned demon. Crowley did tend to get on one's nerves somewhat, though. The Metatron sometimes considered asking God to smite him, except for the fact that that would just spoil EVERYTHING. However, the Metatron felt that Crowley wasn't too bad, for a demon, considering he'd managed to at least be friends with Aziraphale.

 There it was again, that Agreement/friendship relationship. It had caused quite a lot of trouble up in heaven, and presumably down in hell as well. The only reason it was allowed to survive was because a) it helped to breach the gap between Heaven and Hell, (well, slightly. Sort of, anyway) and b) the Ineffable One thought that Aziraphale and Crowley deserved to be friends. Goodness knows why, it was against the whole principal of Heaven.

 And now, that friendship was going to develop into something more. At least, it would if the Metatron had his say in things. He just wished that Aziraphale wouldn't be so… so… so OBLIVIOUS! It was probably some sort of self-defence mechanism: "If I don't notice, then there's no WAY God will!" Well, think again buster. God noticed, all right. The Metatron noticed, too. Maybe someone should tell Aziraphale that the Ineffable One didn't care… Nah, that'd just spoil the whole thing.

 The Metatron wanted them to get together without interference. Um… Not too much interference, at any rate. A small dose of interference is healthy in any relationship, of course. He just wished that Aziraphale wouldn't go around making things so difficult…

 "Bloody HELL! Angels and their goddamn denial!" The Metatron burst out angrily.

 /I heard that…/ A voice echoed inside the angels mind. The Metatron winced.

 "Heh. Sorry, God. I didn't mean it-"

 God's tone was dry and tinged slightly with amusement. /I was going to tell you to keep out of other angel's business, and leave them to end up on their own, but now I can see that there is absolutely no point. You're not going to butt out no matter what I tell you, so I'll say this instead: Don't change anything. It will work out much better if you just watch from a distance. Only interfere as a last resort. And I mean that./

 The Metatron sighed. "Yes, God. I won't interfere. But I still don't think they'll get anywhere without me!"

 God chuckled lightly. /Just wait and see, Metatron. Wait and see./

 Aziraphale knocked on the door of Crowley's apartment gingerly, unsure of whether or not this was a good idea. Really, the answer to that question depended on where you where looking from, but he didn't know that. When there was no reply from inside the demon's very modern lair, Aziraphale frowned slightly. He was almost positive that Crowley was there; he hadn't been out and about, as Aziraphale would have noticed if that was the case. Crowley's demonic acts of evilness all had "Crowley Waz Ere" scrawled all over them for any enterprising immortal to see, or at least so Aziraphale thought. The actual truth was that the angel was the only one who could ever recognise it, and always did so almost instantly. A Crowley-radar of sorts, if you please.

 When the second knock remained unanswered, Aziraphale began to get nervous. What if something had happened to Crowley? Of course, him being a demon made the likelihood of that pretty much one to nil, but small things such as logic weren't about to get in the way of Aziraphale's paranoia. Why spoil a perfectly good chance to fret, after all?

 Aziraphale knocked for the third and final time, resolving to do something after this if nothing happened. When nothing proceeded to happen, he bit his lip. "Crowley? Crowley, are you there? Open the door, it's Aziraphale!"

 As there was no response to this either, Aziraphale reluctantly concluded that there was nothing for it but to enter uninvited. He didn't like to do this, as it was JUST so impolite, but there really was no alternative. Reflecting that being an angel had its uses sometimes, Aziraphale held a hand against the door and willed it to be unlocked. Realising that it never WAS locked, Aziraphale blushed slightly and pushed open the door, blissfully unaware of Madame Tracy standing smirking in her apartment elsewhere. As he entered the room, Aziraphale looked around and stopped dead.

 "Crowley!" Rushing over to the demon's side, Aziraphale tried to shake him awake. Crowley, however, continued to remain in his joyous state of unconsciousness. Aziraphale was ignorant of the cause of Crowley's comatose state, and so was wondering what had the power to knock out a demon. Especially such as cautious demon as Crowley, who was often described by most as a complete suspicious bastard. Not once did the angel consider that Crowley might have done this to himself. Whatever would he do that for?

 Placing a hand against Crowley's forehead, Aziraphale shook his head. Crowley would probably have a fit if he knew what Aziraphale was about to do… The angel's wings burst out the back of his suit, and he began to glow slightly. A part of his mind vaguely wondered where his flaming sword was now, but that wasn't really all that important. Then again, the Ineffable One HAD been pretty upset about the whole thing…

 Sending his power rushing through Crowley's body, Aziraphale began checking for injuries. There didn't seem to be anything wrong, except for a slight impurity in his system. Aziraphale cautiously examined the flaw, then suddenly pulled back and crossed his arms in disgust. "Crowley, you singularly foolish being- drunk?!"

 Crowley shifted slightly, but didn't do anything so civil as gain consciousness. Hey, he was a demon- that would have been WAY too polite! Aziraphale glared at him coldly, his wings retracting.

 "I see no reason why I shouldn't just leave you here. But since you can't hear me and you're probably in a state of blissful oblivion, I have a better idea." Aziraphale wasn't being vindictive, no not at all. After all, angels didn't hold with such things, especially not Aziraphale. This was just… Poetic justice.

 Crowley was soon awake, but far from alert. It was obvious that he hadn't bothered to deal with the inevitable after effects of the alcohol before getting completely and utterly pissed, which was very much unlike him. What was the point of having supernatural powers if you couldn't use them to get rid of hangovers? Or indeed, make sure that said hangovers never even occurred?

 So now Aziraphale felt slightly guilty. Not that he had done anything bad, of course. Aziraphale would NEVER do anything bad. It might have been just a bit harsh, though. And he was also wondering what had got Crowley so upset, because there was no other explanation. Crowley wouldn't go and get smashed for no reason and then forget to deal with the after-effects…

 "C… Crowley?"

 The only reply Aziraphale got was a barely audible groan. Maybe he should help… Or then again, he could just let Crowley suffer. After all the annoying things the obnoxious demon had pulled, it was only fair. And obnoxious was the best way to describe Crowley. He had it down to a fine art. Seeing Crowley's clear misery, though, Aziraphale decided to take pity. Well, he would soon, at any rate. Crowley deserved a few minutes of pain if anyone did.

 After about a minute of Crowley making noises of extreme discomfort, Aziraphale felt so bad that he couldn't stand it anymore, and so he relieved Crowley of his hangover. Crowley blinked a few times, dazedly looking around him with an expression of great bewilderment of his face. When his eyes came to rest on Aziraphale, he shook his head slightly, as if trying to focus.

 "…Angel?"

 Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. "Crowley, why on Earth did you go and get yourself drunk?"

 Crowley smirked bitterly. "For the hell of it, I'm a demon. What do you think?" He replied sarcastically.

 Aziraphale sighed. "Crowley, don't give me that. There is something wrong, and I want to know what it is!"

 Crowley shrugged half-heartedly. "How am I supposed to know? Why do you think I got smashed? I can't remember, and I don't particularly WANT to-" Suddenly he stopped, his eyes widening in shock. He roughly shoved Aziraphale away and scooted backwards across the floor hurriedly. "Shit!"

 Aziraphale staggered from the force of Crowley's touch and raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean you can remember now?"

 Crowley snarled. "Piss off, angel. I don't want to talk to you, and I don't mean to either. Leave me alone!"

 Aziraphale flinched. He was obviously upset about Crowley's reaction, but there wasn't all that much he could say in response to such an uncharacteristic reaction. "Are you sure, Crowley?"

 Crowley glared at Aziraphale with loathing clear in his eyes. "Duh, of course I'm sure. Now will you just fuck off and leave me alone already!"

 Aziraphale looked down at the floor, obviously trying to mask the pain in he was feeling and completely failing. "But, Crowley…" He pleaded. The angel looked up with hurt filling his eyes, and silently tried to implore Crowley to stop acting like this. He was worried, as Crowley never, EVER behaved like this. Never. He may have been a demon, but he wasn't illogical, and usually he didn't lose his temper. Especially not for no apparent reason.

 This was all it took for Crowley to completely snap. He was emotionally fraught, dammit, and he wasn't used to it! He also wasn't about to put up with the presence of his REASON for unbalance. Jumping up, Crowley's eyes blazed with hatred so intense that it was truly frightening. Unable to control his own reactions while enduring such intense emotion, Crowley was powerless to stop his wings bursting out and once again destroying his suit. That was yet another thing for him to get annoyed about later, but for now he was too angry to care.

 "GET OUT, you utterly stupid and useless bloody androgenous fluffy and above all hateful creature! I never want to see you again, Aziraphale! You understand me? Never! We may live for the rest of ETERNITY, and we probably WILL, but I don't want to see you ever again, no matter what happens! I HATE YOU! I wish you would die! I wish *I* would die! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO AWAY! FOREVER!" With this final outburst, Crowley totally lost it. He picked up a bottle and threw it at Aziraphale, no longer caring what happened.

 Aziraphale couldn't stay there any longer. Crowley's temper flaring up and out of control was upsetting him beyond anything else he had ever suffered, and not just because he was being yelled at. More hurtful than the tone was the fact that Crowley was saying, plainly and without tact or subtlety, that he never wanted to see Aziraphale again, not once in the whole of eternity, and the angel could tell he actually meant it. He also was saying he wanted Aziraphale to leave, and leave right NOW.

 Also, Aziraphale was more than worried now; he was completely out of his mind. This wasn't Crowley… this couldn't be. Crowley didn't do things like this! He would never say anything like that, not to Aziraphale. He may not always be tolerant or polite, but he was never THIS harsh. But… there was something else. Besides wishing Aziraphale were dead (very illogical, considering his immortality and all of that), he had actually wished for his own death. Crowley didn't usually go in for self-loathing. If he wanted to die, to stop existing, something was seriously wrong.

 Unable to listen to any more of Crowley's abuse, Aziraphale fled the room, too overwhelmed to try to stay anymore. If he said anything, Crowley would only get worse, and Aziraphale knew he wouldn't be able to survive if he heard Crowley say any more of those things. What else could he do but leave?

After Aziraphale was gone, Crowley closed his eyes. Unbeknownst to the angel, by now far away, the demon fell to his knees and suddenly began to cry harsh, bitter tears, possibly for the first time ever in 6 millennia. He couldn't help it anymore; he was angry and upset and just couldn't take it! Still crying, he thumped the floor with his fist as hard as he could, shoulders wracked with painful sobs. Although he wiped the hot tears away, they continued to stream down his face in irrepressible floods. Due to the extreme intensity of Crowley's fit of rage, the force exuding from his tortured mind began to explode the objects surrounding him. Finally, he collapsed, the broken objects and shards of glass littered around him. He was too exhausted to cry anymore. Too tired to care.

 He had just told the only being he had ever cared about to fuck off. For all eternity. He had also told him extensively how much he loathed him, and embellished on the point as much as possible. He had wished for the angel's death, illogical and impossible as it was. Never mind that he had wished for his own obliteration, he deserved it.

 Crowley had told Aziraphale all this. He could tell just how much it had hurt, could see how upset the angel was. Aziraphale would never go near him, never again.

 Wasn't that what he wanted, though? It may destroy both of them in the process, but it must have hurt Crowley more. It must have, nothing could feel as bad as this. Like his soul was being torn in two… Crowley thought that he had lost his soul a long time ago, maybe that he'd never had one. It had to show up at the worst possible time, didn't it? Same with his previously non-existent conscience. But at least this way… At least this way, Aziraphale wouldn't Fall. As long as Aziraphale was still alright…

 Somewhere else, Madame Tracy shook her head and sighed.

 The Metatron glared at God speechless with rage. Having just witnessed the scene that had taken place in Crowley's apartment, he was far from impressed.

"I- you- you said it would be better if I didn't interfere! Now look what's happened, it's all completely stuffed up! Why didn't you do anything? How could you let that happen? Argh!" The Metatron yelled, finally finding words to voice his anger with.

 The Ineffable One merely smiled slightly, a vague and omnipotent sort of smile. The kind of smile you don't want to get in the way of. The Metatron edged back somewhat. Not that it was a scary or menacing smile; not at all. It was merely… disturbing. Disturbing in the kind of way that said, "I know more than you do." Of course, the bearer of said smile WAS God, so the statement about greater knowledge didn't really apply. Nothing did, really. If anyone had the right to wear that smile, it was God. After all, God really DID know everything. Well, ostensibly at any rate.

 God continued to smile his unnerving and all-knowing smile, much to the discomfort of the Metatron. When he finally chose to speak, it took all the Metatron's will power not to just block his ears and sing loudly like a small and petty child. Of course, it wouldn't do anything anyway, considering the Ineffable One could just speak straight into his mind, but it is always at times like these that the immature urge to rebel surfaces.

 /My dear Metatron, surely you do not believe that a friendship spanning several thousand years would be destroyed by one act alone?/ God queried, actually managing to sound a bit surprised. Probably only he knew how…

 The Metatron pouted slightly. "Well, I can't see how it could survive that. That friendship was tenuous at best. Anyway, I've seen friendships break up over much less."

 God's smile grew, and became even more unsettling if that was possible. /True. But I have seen friendships survive much worse. And although you describe this relationship as tenuous, surely you must know that those two share a bond stronger than life? Such as life amongst mortals is, as I understand it. Much more powerful than any oath that could be sworn. And besides, this may yet turn out to be the best way for Aziraphale to realise his true feelings. By being shocked out of his complacency./

 The Metatron frowned. "So, what you're SAYING is that they will still somehow magically get together in the face of all odds, even AFTER Crowley just told our dear little angel that he wished never to see him again in all eternity."

 /Exactly./

 The Metatron crossed his arms. "Ok, I know that you're omnipotent, but this goes against all reason. Are you sure all this is going to take place completely devoid of any divine interference?"

 God smirked. /Yes, that's right./

 "Impossible." The Metatron replied flatly. He was really peeved now; not only was God assuming that annoying superior attitude yet again, but his entire purpose had been destroyed in one fell stroke. Stupid Crowley! Ruining his own chances… And stuffing up the Metatron's plans, too. That was unforgivable. Now how was he supposed to get those two blockheads together? It couldn't be done!

 /Not at all. It can, and will, happen./ God replied smugly.

 "I don't see how that can work. I mean, those two would be happy not to go near each other again till hell froze over and beyond." The Metatron answered, frowning sullenly.

 /I said no DIVINE interference, not no interference at all. Mortals do have their uses, I hope you realise./ God laughed.

 The Metatron's eyes widened. "What! You mean-"

 /Of course. Worthy souls, all. Even the young one…I wouldn't have expected it. Remind me to gloat to Lucifer sometime, would you? There's a good lad./ God said airily.

 The Metatron sniffed. "Gloating isn't a very divine pastime, you know. But if you say so. I just hope that it isn't completely ruined. You ARE sure they will at least become friends again, right?"

 God seemed a little put out. /REALLY, Metatron! I AM God, I do hope you realise! Of course they will. And more./

 The Metatron breathed again. "Thank God for that. Literally, I suppose. But-"

 God sighed. /Metatron, if you really want to interfere all that much, there's no point in stopping you. Just don't mess anything up will you?/

 The Metatron waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. And would you PLEASE stop interrupting? Just because you know what I'm going to say, doesn't mean you can't let me say it!"

 /Have fun, Metatron./

 "Oh, I will. I will. Just as soon as those two idiots stop hating each other, anyway…"

 Aziraphale wandered around aimlessly, not having anywhere to go in particular and not WANTING to go anywhere in particular. He wasn't really looking much where he was going, but his sheer immortality meant this wasn't really a problem. Cars mystically didn't run him over when he crossed a busy road, thugs didn't consider beating him up, brick walls didn't present themselves for being bashed into. It was one of the perks of the job.

 Since Aziraphale didn't need to eat or sleep, there was no real difficulty in that respect. He could just keep on walking forever and it wouldn't matter. Maybe he would. It wasn't like he had anything better to do anymore…

 Now that the angel was faced with the prospect of an eternity living without Crowley, the future seemed bleak and meaningless, as if everything were coloured grey. He had to admit that nothing seemed worthwhile anymore. With out Crowley, life wasn't worth living… Now he knew how much he relied on his former friend. Reason stated that this wouldn't last and that Aziraphale would survive, but the heart rules such matters, and the heart of Aziraphale was certain that Crowley would hold this irrational grudge forever and that there was no way that he himself could go on. Aziraphale was going die of a broken heart, as they say.

 Of course, this wasn't really going to happen. No matter how terrible Aziraphale might have felt, it wasn't going to change the fact that he was immortal. Not even humans REALLY died from heartache. They just stopped taking care of themselves and died from self-neglect. While it was true that Aziraphale too had stopped caring about anything, there still wasn't any way that this could kill him. Even though all he felt like doing was curling up in a corner and ceasing to be, this was one wish that could never be granted.

 Through all of this misery, Aziraphale still didn't understand the true extent of his feelings for Crowley. It was just natural, the loss he felt. The loss of a dear friend, the only person he was ever close to. But friendship didn't run this deep; only one emotion did. Eventually, Aziraphale would realise this, but not just yet.

 The angel hadn't noticed, but his feet had automatically carried him towards the house of Newt and Anathema Pulsifier-Device. Flushing, he moved as if to turn, but he was stopped in his tracks.

 "Aziraphale? Is that you?" A female voice asked disbelievingly. Aziraphale sighed. Great, now he'd have to go through the motions of conversation. He didn't know if he would be able to function enough to do something so complex. His brain had shut down from shock and pain, and if he tried to think again, the pain would just hit him twice as hard. Still, even in this semi-vegetable state, Aziraphale could never be rude or unkind. Wearily, he responded.

 "Yes, it's me. Hello, Anathema."

 Anathema scrutinised the angel closely. There seemed to be something indescribably wrong with him, something missing… She may not have the second book of prophecies, but that didn't mean she wasn't still psychic. She could tell that something about Aziraphale wasn't right at all. He was completely off balance… Could that even happen to angels? Must be possible, seeing that it already had.

 "Aziraphale, come inside and have a cup of tea. Then you can tell me what's wrong." Anathema answered finally. Aziraphale tensed up, not wanting to have to share his problem with anyone. Not wanting to think about his problem at all. But Anathema could be quite stubborn, and he couldn't just brush her off, so there didn't seem to be any alternative.

 "If you insist…"

 About ten minutes later, Aziraphale was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and wishing that it were something stronger. He did drink on occasion, generally the occasion being somehow terrible, and now was shaping up to be one of those occasions. He just didn't have any alcohol. The real irony of this was that Aziraphale was considering the same course of action that Crowley had taken for basically, when you get right down to it, the same reason.

 Newt had gone outside for a walk, still not enough used to the supernatural to deal with conversing with a distraught angel. Aziraphale only wished he could do the same.

 Anathema had been waiting patiently for the angel to speak and was now prepared to wait no longer. Carrying her own mug over to the table, she sat down opposite Aziraphale.

 "Alright, Aziraphale. I think you'd better tell me what's wrong now."

 Unable to put it off any longer, Aziraphale closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands. "It's Crowley."

 Anathema gasped. "The demon? What has he done, Aziraphale?"

 Aziraphale started to shake slightly. "He hasn't really done anything much. Except tell me how much he hates me."

 Anathema was a bit puzzled. From what she knew of the two, they were actually quite good friends, despite their differences. Aziraphale's misery seemed to prove this, but then WHY would Crowley do anything like that? Unless-

 Anathema's eyes widened. Any other may have dismissed it as impossible, but she had been a bit suspicious of the nature of the demon and the angel's feelings towards each other since she first saw them together. Obviously, they weren't really together, at least not in THAT way, but it was just as obvious to her that they SHOULD be. Maybe she'd have to take matters into her own hands. It would never work, otherwise.

 "Aziraphale-" Anathema began gently.

 Aziraphale looked up then. Anathema stopped and winced, shaken by the pure listlessness in his gaze.

 "He doesn't want to see me again, ever. We will live until the end, no matter when that is, and he doesn't want to see me again in all that time. How am I going to survive without him?"

 Anathema was speechless. If that wasn't a complete give-away, then NOTHING was! He had practically admitted it! No, screw that, he had, whether he knew it or not. And that really was a good question: How much did Aziraphale know? Did he know how attached to Crowley he really was? Probably not, from the looks of it…

 Hoo boy. This was going to take a lot of work.

 "Um… Aziraphale, what kind of relationship did you have with Crowley exactly?"

 Aziraphale put his head to one side confusedly. "Friends, of course. What else could we be?"

 Anathema bit her lip. "Well, Aziraphale, the thing is… You just seem to like Crowley a lot. More than friends."

 Aziraphale shook his head in bewilderment. "What is it that you are trying to say, Anathema? How could I like Crowley more than friends?"

 Anathema sighed. "I can't help you in this Aziraphale. You're just going to have to find out for yourself… But please, trust me. This fight with Crowley won't last. Lo- um… Fights like these never do." /Lover's spats never do…/

 Aziraphale looked down at his hands. "I hope you're right. I really, really do. Because otherwise, I might just find a way to will myself out of existence and I don't think that the Ineffable One would like that… What were you about to say, anyway? You changed sentences in the middle of a word."

 Anathema took a deep breath. "I can't tell you that, Aziraphale. That's something you're going to have to figure out alone… And soon, hopefully," she added under her breath. However, Aziraphale possessing supernatural hearing as he did (being supernatural as he was) had heard regardless and was now left to wonder at the meaning. Feeling substantially better, he smiled and bade Anathema goodbye, wandering off again but this time with a purpose. It was time to think things through.

 Newt soon crept back into the kitchen, casting Anathema a nervous glance. "Um, if I may ask, what was all that about?"

 Anathema rubbed her eyes tiredly. "As far as I can gather, Crowley pushed Aziraphale away because he's in love with him and now Aziraphale's really upset because HE loves Crowley but doesn't know it."

 Newt blinked. "Right… I'm lost. What you're saying is basically that a demon has somehow fallen in love, with an angel of all people, and so in response to this tells his object of desire that he hates him. Then the angel, who has somehow also mystically fallen in love, not to mention the fact that it's with the demon, gets really depressed and semi-suicidal, never mind the fact that he is immortal. Is that it? Because I'm afraid that I REALLY don't get it."

 Anathema shrugged. "Don't look at me, I'm only mortal. Besides, it's seems a very human way of sorting things out, if you ask me… Who knows? Love never makes sense…"

 Madame Tracy pursed her lips in extreme disapproval. Normally she ignored the whirlwind of other people's love lives, but it was her opinion that the doings of demons and angels was the business of all, a sort of free-for-all situation. And she really disapproved of what Crowley had just done. Unfortunately for him, she was going to take the trip just to tell him this.

 Having finally arrived, Madame Tracy rapped on the door to Crowley's apartment. Without waiting for the answer she knew she wouldn't get, she swept into the room with an air of self-importance. Crowley, still surrounded by the things he had broken, was now lying on the floor clutching at his head miserably. Madame Tracy cleared her throat loudly.

 Crowley looked up with bloodshot eyes. "Who are you, and what do you want?" He growled.

 Madame Tracy put her hands on her hips imperiously. "Who I am is none of your business, and what I want is to tell you to sort yourself out!"

 Crowley blinked, lost for a second, before resuming his angry expression. "Screw that, I don't CARE who you are! And my problem has got absolutely nothing to do with you, so piss off!"

 Madame Tracy stepped towards Crowley and crossed her arms. "And that, my dear, is where you are wrong. Your problem most assuredly DOES concern me, as I don't want you going around wrecking havoc while that poor angel is out of action, thanks to YOU!"

 Crowley, who had been pushing himself off the floor with his hands, suddenly went crashing back down at the oblique reference to Aziraphale. "W-what? What's wrong with him?"

 Madame Tracy shook her head gravely. "Young man, you may be a demon, but you still need to find a better way of dealing with your difficulties. Because of your actions, that Aziraphale doesn't even want to exist anymore."

 Crowley thumped his hand into his head angrily. "Oh, SHIT! I only did it to help him! Why did he have to go an be like that, the stupid idiot?"

 Madame Tracy tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, really… I do believe that you are just as blind as him in some ways. In case you didn't notice, you are the most important thing in his world, you silly little twit! Now do you understand just what you have done? You are going to go find him RIGHT NOW and you are going to APOLOGISE, you hear me? GO!"

 Crowley went white. "Huh? W-what do you mean? Anyway, I can't apologise. I'm a demon, it would destroy my image!"

 Madame Tracy glared at Crowley, exuding malice. She spoke softly but in that menacing manner that only sweet and not so innocent ladies can manage. "You will go find him. Now. That is, unless you want him to obliterate himself?"

 Crowley squeaked in shock. "But he can't! He's immortal! He can't, he can't! I won't let him!"

 Madame Tracy turned around and sniffed. "He can and he will if you don't go say sorry right this minute, demon or not. What's more important, the angel or the reputation?"

 Crowley retrained himself from thumping the wall so hard it broke, but just barely. "Oh, FUCK!"

 Madame Tracy drew herself up indignantly. "Excuse ME! I think that finding the angel is far more important at this precise moment, would you not agree? Yes? Then get moving! Thankyou, I believe I shall be going now. But if you go making a mess of your love life this bad again, then you will be definitely be seeing me! Foolish demon… good bye for now, anyway."

 This having been said, the self-righteous Madame Tracy swept out of the room like a cloud of perfume. Crowley sat there blinking, still slightly stunned. Then he shook his head, remembering what had been said.

 "Crap!" He yelped, and dashed off on an angel-hunt.

 God idly watched a cloud as it floated across the sky, Lucifer sitting beside him with an evil smirk. The two had decided not to let the mere opposing force thing get in the way of a perfectly good friendship. Well, they had after God started speaking to Lucifer again. That had taken about a millennia…

 Lucifer yawned, lying back next to the Ineffable One. Turning his head to the side, he raised an eyebrow.

 "So, how long do you think it's going to take those two to get together now?"

 God shrugged. "Who knows? A good romance takes months sometimes. At least 6 weeks, I'd say."

 Lucifer made a face. "Come ON! They're already had 6 thousand YEARS!"

 God nodded. "True, but there was the whole becoming friends thing. Then, they had to establish the whole secret liking thing. Now they hate each other, and they've got to get over that. It should move pretty much like a human relationship from here onwards."

 Lucifer snorted. "Whatever. Crowley's a demon; he isn't going to take that long. I'd say a week or two at most."

 God rolled his eyes. "No way. It's got to take longer than that!"

 Lucifer sat up. "Oh yeah? You wanna take a bet on that?"

 God crossed his arms. "Hey, I'm God! I'm against gambling, remember?"

 Lucifer grinned. "So what? I say it takes two weeks tops. It takes more, you win. Now, there's the little matter of the stakes… Let me see…" Suddenly his grin widened and he started to snigger. "If I win…"

 God looked at him suspiciously. "If you win WHAT?"

 Lucifer placed his arms behind his head and leaned back. "If I win, I get to kiss you."

 God yelped. "Lucifer! Give it a rest, you've been trying that since time began! There is no way in Heaven OR Hell that I'm going to agree to something like that!"

 Lucifer rolled over. "Exactly. And I'm just going to keep trying it until I succeed. So what do you want from me if YOU win?"

 God glared at Lucifer. "I wish you'd stop doing that. It's the main reason you got banished, you know."

 "Yeah, I know. And see where it got me? I'm running the place down there, PLUS I still get to make passes at you!"

 God frowned. "Lucifer, you are so pathetic sometimes. Quit it!"

 "Yeah well. I can try. So, what are you betting for? Or aren't you going to?"

 "Lucifer, what do you take me for? I AM God, I hope you realise?"

 Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "And just what is that ambiguous comment supposed to imply?"

 "Of course I want something. I'm not stupid!"

 Lucifer sighed. "What, then?"

 "I want you to stop hitting on me!"

 Lucifer looked away. "Well, if you're going to be like THAT, then. Fine. It's a deal! But remember, I win and that's one kiss you owe me."

 God's eyes widened. "Hey! I never agreed to that!"

 "Yes you did. Just then."

 God turned so his back to Lucifer sulkily. "Whatever. You won't win, though. Besides, I've been meaning to ask you- How did Crowley fall in love ANYWAY? I thought demons couldn't love."

 Lucifer laughed. "Are you joking? We're just like angels, but evil. We WERE angels, after all. I just tell em they can't to make them feel better. Think of it: how do you think my demons would react to knowing that the major powering emotion could touch them, mm? Exactly. So I didn't."

 God looked at him disapprovingly. "Well, REALLY Lucifer!"

 "Look who's talking, Mr Ineffability! From the way Aziraphale's acting, I wouldn't think that you've told the angels either. Hypocrite."

 The Ineffable One had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Well, I didn't want another YOU on my hands."

 "Point proved. I have my reasons too. Besides, I have a question to ask you- when did you decide in favour of angel relationships?"

 God shrugged. "I don't know. Sometime, I guess."

 Lucifer closed his eyes, frustrated. Things always ended up like this. He still didn't appreciate being kicked out of heaven, either. Ok, so he had some strange ideas. But that wasn't enough to make him Fall! He was the first one ever. Really, the real reason he'd fallen was his constant exploration into the question of why God couldn't sleep with anyone. Or, more to the point, why God couldn't sleep with HIM. There'd been that whole angel relationship thing in place though. Lucifer had the suspicion that that whole rule had been created especially to spite him. God was afraid of him for some reason…

 Deciding to take a different tact, Lucifer asked another question. "I thought you disapproved of the whole sodomy thing. What happened to that?"

 God smiled. "Please, Lucifer. That was only a negative response to you- I've stopped being so silly about it now and that's why I'm allowing angels to have relationships. Sodomy is the same sort of thing. I've gotten over that irrational opinion now."

 Lucifer scowled. "Yeah, it only took you, what? How many millennia has it been? More than 6, that's for sure. A lot, at any rate. You sure can hold a grudge for a long time."

 "Whatever. Anyway, I've got to get back to the whole Godding business now. Shouldn't you be doing evil somewhere or something? Not that I'm encouraging you. It IS your job, though. Why don't you go do some lusting or something?"

 Lucifer smirked, having had the perfect opportunity just handed to him on a silver platter. "Why? I'm already lusting!" Seemingly oblivious to the blush on the Ineffable One's face, the devil continued. "Anyone, see you round. We've got a deal, remember? I'll be expecting a kiss very shortly!"

 God glared indignantly. "You wish, Satan. You don't know you're going to win!"

 Lucifer continued to have that insufferable smirk on his face. What God didn't know couldn't hurt him. Lucifer intended to win that bet no matter what it took, even if he had to intervene to bring those two together. They really were cute. A bit like him and God, really. Well, not that much, but Lucifer didn't think about all that much else.

 He'd been trying to attract God's attention in more ways than one for a long time now. What God didn't seem to notice was that although Lucifer was the head of Hell, he didn't do any lusting. Not except for the lusting he did after the Ineffable One, that was. He got his little minions to do it for him.

"Bye, my divine hypocritical friend!"

 God shot him a dirty look. Still, that wasn't enough to deter Lucifer.

 He WAS going to get that kiss. No matter what it took.

 "-and THEN after saying that, you know what happened? They had an enormous fight and decided they hated each other! Well, not exactly, but you know what I mean. Anyway, how am I supposed to deal with that? I'm not! But I suppose if He says it will work out, it will… I'm still not happy about it though. Besides, He looked a bit angry about something today come to think of it… Right after his meeting with Lucifer. Something dodgy going on there… What do you think, Gabriel?"

 Gabriel had tuned out sometime near the beginning of the Metatron's rant. While he was very fond of his best friend, the other angel DID have a tendency to speak in an unintelligible stream of words when he got excited. Presumably, he needed to stop at some point to breathe, but Gabriel hadn't noticed that yet. Instead, he just stared at his friend with a glazed and dreamy expression.

 "Gabriel?"

 Gabriel, not listening and not comprehending, simply nodded slowly. "Yep, sure thing."

 A very nonplussed Metatron paused, not exactly knowing how to respond to that. Eventually gathering that Gabriel's answer was merely a reaction and wasn't actually in any way related, he scowled.

 "Gabriel, are you even listening?"

 Gabriel sighed and blinked. "Mmm. What?"

 The Metatron stamped his foot angrily. "Gabriel! Why aren't you listening? What is so infinitely more important than listening to me, if I may ask?"

 Gabriel mentally groaned. Figuring that the reply "staring at you" wasn't really an option, he didn't know how to react to the accusation. Thankfully, the Metatron had probably misinterpreted his look of blissful vacancy as your average spacing out. Just as well he hadn't started drooling…

 Shaking his head, Gabriel grinned. "Sorry, Metatron. I was completely off the planet."

 The Metatron scoffed, shoving Gabriel away lightly. "What planet? I didn't know Heaven had been declared it's own celestial being!"

 Gabriel mock shuddered. "Please, Metatron. No more. I don't think I could put up with any more terrible jokes…"

 The Metatron shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. You suck. But seriously, don't you agree that there is SO something dodgy going on between the Ineffable One and Satan?"

 Gabriel gave him the Look. "Metatron, you do realise that that assumption could be classed as blasphemous, right?"

 The Metatron bit his lip. "I don't know. I mean, I'm an angel, so I obviously can't blaspheme. Can I?"

 Gabriel smirked. "However it works, you still manage it. Constantly, in fact. I don't know why you haven't Fallen yet, come to think of it…"

 The Metatron slowly started to smile, one of those evil smiles he was just so good at. "Mmm. Sacrelicious…"

 Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Ok, I REALLY don't want to know."

 The Metatron pouted. "Hey, I'm not that bad! I'm still holy, right?"

 Gabriel sniggered. "Um, I'd say WRONG, actually."

 The Metatron stuck his tongue out. "Well screw you anyway, Gabriel!"

 'Yeah, I only wish.' Gabriel thought wistfully. With only a trace of lechery, too…

 "Um… What?" The Metatron asked blankly.

 Gabriel almost yelped. Oh God, what if he said that last part aloud?

 "What's wrong, Metatron?"

 The Metatron looked deliciously confused. "I don't know, I just thought you said something. Never mind."

 Gabriel let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding. "Yeah, whatever. What WERE you talking about before, come to think of it?"

 The Metatron brightened visibly. "Oh, yeah! That! Can you help me think of a way to get Crowley and Aziraphale to like each other again? I mean, something deviously cunning would be nice. Underhanded if strictly necessary. Or not even strictly, really. And a way to figure out what's going on between Lucifer and God would be good, too. Any ideas?"

 As the Metatron set down to his favourite job of playing matchmaker, Gabriel rolled his eyes. He would never understand how the Metatron could be so acute when it came to the love lives of other people, and yet so oblivious when it came to his own…

 Crowley walked purposefully in the vague direction of the angel. He hadn't really noticed when he'd been able to sense the presence of Aziraphale; it had just sort of happened gradually. Anyway, right now he was thankful for it and that was that.

 One might be tempted to ask just WHY Crowley was trying to find Aziraphale. If so, they obviously didn't expect him to stick to his word about the whole 'sorry' deal. Yes, that's right. Crowley was a man- a demon, that is- with a mission. And that mission was apologising to Aziraphale.

 Crowley had been looking for Aziraphale for about an hour now, and so had had time to come to his senses and think logically for a change. While the angel was probably very depressed, Crowley couldn't actually see him as being suicidal. Besides, there was a fundamental flaw in the whole concept of the suicidal tendencies of angels, and it was called 'immortality'. Also, Crowley got the feeling that God wouldn't stand for it…

 While he was slightly pissed that that women had exaggerated the danger to make him get his act into gear, he was still thankful that someone had taken the trouble to pull him out of his depression long enough to think about how the angel must feel. Making sure to ignore the whole problem, Crowley had figured that he could go back to treating Aziraphale just like he always did. Right? Exactly. No problem whatsoever. The only thing was getting the angel to believe him.

 Knowing Aziraphale, the angel had been worried for Crowley as well as extremely upset. Crowley knew he shouldn't have been so harsh, but he couldn't help it. Demons weren't usually required to contain their anger. Still, Aziraphale was going to want to know what went wrong. Something that Crowley was NOT intending on telling him. So somehow, Aziraphale was going to have to be distracted.

 Crowley had come to the conclusion that if he had to do this, he may as well do it right. Right from Crowley's perspective, however, could tend to be somehow twisted. Besides, he never could resist drawing attention to himself. And give up the chance to completely embarrass and humiliate his angel? You must be kidding!

 Crowley conveniently missed the fact that he'd just thought of Aziraphale being 'his' angel. After all, now he was finally in a good mood, why spoil it with such petty detail? He could psychoanalyse it later. If then. Best not to dwell on it, really.

 Although Aziraphale had walked a very long way before he had ended up at the house of the Pulsifier-Device's, he had taken a relatively short time to return to Soho. Right now, he was sitting in a crowded coffee shop wondering just what he should do. And so it was that Crowley found him.

 Aziraphale sighed, taking a sip from his tea. Looking up, he nearly spat it out again, also narrowly avoiding dropping his mug and spilling tea everywhere. Crowley had just sat down across from him, and although he himself was probably unaware of it, the grin he wore was somehow predatory. Aziraphale, still worried for his long-time enemy/friend, found that he was also worried for himself. Crowley might be dangerous in this state…

 "C-crowley?" Aziraphale stuttered, finding that he was suddenly very nervous.

 Crowley slid onto the floor and clasped his hands together pleadingly. Aziraphale swallowed and slid along the booth away from him slightly, even more scared now than he was before.

 "Crowley, what are you… what are you doing?"

 Crowley smirked and Aziraphale started shaking. The dark tinted glasses made it impossible to really tell what the demon was thinking…

 "Why, angel. I believe that I owe you an apology."

 Aziraphale blinked. "Ah, ah, ok." He replied, voice slightly hysterical and high pitched.

 "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me, please! I beg of you, Aziraphale! I mean it, really, forgive me! Oh merciful angel, have pity on a poor wretched creature such as I. I should never have lost my temper with you, for it was not your fault. If I could, I would pray, but as I am a demon I can't pray to God and I don't think you'd appreciate it if I prayed to Satan…"

 People were starting to stare. Aziraphale sank back in his seat, tomato red with mortification and wishing that this ordeal would end right now. Crowley secretly grinned again. He was enjoying this unique form of torture immensely. Deciding to see how much further he could humiliate the angel, he threw himself to the floor and latched on to Aziraphale's ankle. The angel squeaked.

 "Aziraphale, please listen to me. Why won't you forgive me?" Crowley cried out from his prostate position. Aziraphale winced, having one thought and instantly regretting it.

 /Holy shit!/

 Some teenage girls in one of the corner booths began to giggle. Aziraphale fought the urge to groan, knowing that somehow he'd have to get Crowley out of the café.

 "Crowley, get off the floor! Everyone's looking at us!" Aziraphale hissed. Crowley shook his head obstinately, continuing to hold onto the angel's ankle with a grip of steel.

 "Not until you forgive me, angel."

 Aziraphale looked around desperately, hoping to find some way out of this torture. Realising there was no escape, he bit his lip.

 "How do I know you mean it, Crowley? I thought you meant it when you said you never wanted to see me again…"

 Crowley had been having fun, but he was serious about apologising to Aziraphale, even if it didn't seem like it. So he resorted to drastic measures. He took off his glasses.

 "Angel, look at me. Now do you believe I mean it?" Aziraphale had to admit that the demon's eyes were brimming with sincerity. Glancing around furtively, he glared at Crowley again.

 "Yes, I believe you already. Put your glasses on, we're in public!"

 Crowley pouted. "Well, do you forgive me, then? Cause I'm not moving until you do, angel…"

 "I forgive you, I forgive you! Just get off the floor and stop making a scene, PLEASE Crowley!" Aziraphale pleaded.

 Crowley maintained a very self-satisfied smile as he got up from the floor and brushed the imaginary specs of dust from his clothing. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at Aziraphale and put his glasses back on.

 "All you had to do was say it, angel."

 Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand and dragged him out, leaving the price of the tea and a large tip behind him, not to mention a large group of sniggering on-lookers.

 Crowley, meanwhile, was feeling very smug. His mission had been a complete success! Aziraphale's attention seemed sufficiently diverted, not to mention the fact that the demon had been forgiven. Now that the angel had given his word, he couldn't break it. Crowley reflected that was one of the major pros about being friends with an angel.

 However, Crowley's victory was short-lived. Apparently, Aziraphale had a longer attention span than he thought…

 "Crowley, what was all that about?" Aziraphale asked, crossing his arms.

 Crowley managed not to start cursing wildly, but only just. Damn it, he'd have to come up with an excuse now, or die trying. Or maybe he could just tell the truth. He could see it now: "Well, you see angel, I've got the hots for you and that really isn't good. But it's ok now, because I'm completely ignoring it!" I think not.

 Sighing, Crowley tried to think up something believable. At least he was ahead of the angel on that count- Aziraphale couldn't lie to save his life. Well, figuratively of course. He'd never need to lie to save his life, but that was aside the point. Desperately, Crowley said the first thing that came to mind.

 "What was all what about?"

 Oh, GREAT one, Crowley. Stroke of brilliance, that one. Not even Aziraphale, naïve as he was, would buy that!

 Aziraphale confirmed this with a chill look fit to kill. "Crowley, you know perfectly well what I am talking about."

 Oh, bloody hell. How was Crowley going to get out of this one? With difficulty, obviously.

 "Um… I wanted to tell you I'm sorry?"

 Crowley was going to win an Oscar for this performance. Not.

 Aziraphale breathed deeply, trying not to get too exasperated with his frustrating opposite number.

 "Yes, Crowley. I can tell. But why did you want to say sorry, and why did you lose your temper in the first place?"

 Crowley laughed weakly. "Heh… Well. I had a hangover, I was pissed off, I got mad, and I regretted it. Get it?"

 "Crowley!" Aziraphale yelled, annoyed that Crowley could attempt to brush it off so lightly. It had SCARED him, for heaven's sake!

 Crowley cringed. "What?"

 "Why did you get drunk, you idiot? Why won't you just TELL me?" Aziraphale growled. Most uncharacteristic of him, it proved how much this conversation was getting on his temper. His almost non-existent temper, at that.

 Crowley scoffed. "I'm a demon, I like alcohol, I was bored, you decide. Now, don't we have anything better to do? I for one could do with some sushi."

 Aziraphale nodded half-heartedly, giving in for now but still determined to keep an eye on the demon. He may have been back to normal again (well, normal for Crowley at any rate), but there was still obviously something wrong. Crowley wouldn't be avoiding the question, otherwise. And Aziraphale was going to find out why.

 Lucifer smirked gleefully. His evil mastermind plot was going according to plan… God didn't stand a chance! Only one day, and already the two main subjects of his scheme were friends again. Thank… Well, definitely not God… Plus, Lucifer didn't really have much to do with this part. And Thank Mortals didn't really have that much of a ring to it… Oh well. It'd do.

 Lucifer still had about 2 weeks to make the two of them realise they loved each other. It was obviously not going to be too easy, but he had ideas… First of all, though, he was going to have to let Crowley know that loving Aziraphale was ok somehow. Maybe subliminal messages? Nah. Lucifer didn't really go for subliminal messages. He tended to prefer the blindingly obvious, really… Ah well. Lucifer had always known that technology would come in useful for SOMETHING, so there must be some way that he could use it to his advantage now. He'd think about it.

 Maybe in the meanwhile, he could attempt to seduce God… He'd tried it before, though. It never worked. Still, it was worth a try and it was better than nothing. Who knew, maybe he'd get lucky? Yeah right. Something to do to while away the time, anyway.

 Even if the attempted seduction didn't work, as it was guaranteed not to, it would still make a good chance for Lucifer to gloat. God would probably be feeling quite pissed off right now… In Lucifer's opinion, the best bit of the whole deal was that because of God's whole holier-than-thou act, he couldn't interfere, which would effectively be cheating, but Lucifer could to his heart's content. It was practically cheating for him NOT to cheat!

 Casting out his mind in search of the extraneous divinity, Lucifer grinned smugly to himself. Oh, the joys of being immortal. They never ceased… Not to mention the whole almighty ruler over an entire astral plane jazz, but he really would prefer to have God than all the legions of Hell bowing to him. Not that the bowing wasn't fun, and a great boost to his ego at that, but God took the cake every time. Yes, he was aware how sappy that sounded. No, he didn't care. Well, not much anyway. He just didn't want it spread around down Below, that's all. He didn't think his subordinates would be particularly pleased to learn that their great leader was head over heels for their archenemy, or that that was the whole reason the Rebellion had taken place…

 Lucifer hated to admit it, but the whole Rebellion thing had probably been a bad idea. It was designed to impress God, and make him realise that Lucifer was IMPORTANT, dammit! It had really just started with an argument, and gone on from there… Needless to say, the fight had been about just WHY God wouldn't sleep with Lucifer. Unfortunately, Lucifer's master comeback had kind of… well, backfired. Damn his stupid pride…

 Lucifer hadn't decided yet whether he was better off as God's right-hand angel or his main adversary. Both had their advantages, but there were negatives, too… Oh well. He was stuck as the adversary now, so he may as well learn to deal with it.

 Now, to find God… Damn, he was hiding out in Heaven somewhere. It was ALWAYS impossible to reach him when he was in Heaven; that is, if he wanted to be left alone. And Lucifer was getting the very definite impression that God DID wish to be left alone.

 Crap. Looks like Lucifer's favourite sport would have to be left to another day… What a pain. He was bored, too. And God-tempting was oh so much fun… Maybe he would do some Crowley torment instead.

 Yes, that's what he'd do… Today started out excellently with everything going according to plan. Then, all of Lucifer's activities for the day had been cut down in one fell swoop. Now, however, things were looking up again. Who knew, it might even turn out to be quite interesting…

 Lucifer's smirk this time was positively evil.

 God sat alone, staring off into space. Although it may have appeared to the untrained eye that He was sulking, this was in fact not the case. After all, He was a God, and Gods OBVIOUSLY do not sulk. He was merely- brooding. Anyway, He was almighty, and if He said He wasn't sulking, then he damn well was not sulking. Or at least, He was almost almighty. There was just one thing that spoiled this. It had a name.

 That name was Lucifer.

 God sighed, wishing for the millionth time that He could bring Himself to smite the cause of all His misery. Unfortunately, He was actually rather fond of the said cause, so that wasn't really an option. Curse Lucifer. He managed to torment God without even being in the vague vicinity.

 This led God to wonder where Lucifer actually was at the precise moment. However, the sharp pang of what certainly wasn't jealousy stopped that thought in its tracks. Stupid prat was probably out tempting someone. God bit back a growl, but only just.

 Lucifer's pure- well, not exactly EVILNESS as such, more concentrated wickedness- was a constant source of irritation to God. He tended to take it as a personal insult. Considering that it basically was, this was perfectly understandable.

 Anyway, the point was that God didn't really know why He always reacted to Lucifer so negatively. In the beginning, an eternity ago, it had only been Him and Lucifer, His first and favourite angel.

 Even then, the two had been more friends and equals than a God and his faithful servant. Of course, Lucifer never had been particularly obedient or subservient, and that probably contributed more than a little to the current situation.

 However, the main problem had arisen when Lucifer had decided he didn't feel like blindly accepting certain conditions anymore. He had come to the inescapable conclusion that he was in love with his friend and God, and that it was definitely time to do something about it. Unfortunately, God didn't quite agree with this logic. He also didn't quite appear to appreciate the extent of Lucifer's feelings, and indeed, still didn't.

 God and Lucifer had spent several millennia arguing about that particular point. Lucifer, trying to assert his independence in an effort to prove he was serious, began to object to things that before he would never have questioned. In other words, they were getting nowhere fast.

 God hated to admit it even to Himself, and generally avoided doing so quite successfully, but now He couldn't be bothered lying to Himself. The reason He'd been so adamant in the constant refusal of Lucifer had absolutely nothing to do with morals or rules or lack thereof. What it did have a lot to do with was God Himself. The truth was, He was afraid. Not of Lucifer; it's hard to be truly afraid of someone you've been friends with that long. No, the thing He was afraid of was Lucifer's feelings.

 Of course, God was still deluding Himself to some extent. Lucifer's feelings did, obviously, have some degree of connection to Lucifer himself. God just didn't like the idea that He was afraid of His closest friend and/or main adversary. It wasn't helpful.

 Yes, God was aware that this made entirely no sense. No, He did not have a good or believable excuse or reason for his being afraid. He just- was.

 Now, the healthy and normal thing to do in these circumstances is to stand up to your fear and deal with it. This also implies that running was the last thing one should ever do. However, God had absolutely no intention of confronting this particular fear, being His only fear. After all, He'd been running for a very long time and it seemed to be working perfectly well, thank you very much.

 The thing was, Lucifer often tried to make the whole running away thing as hard for God as he possibly could. Now, in particular, was one of those times. Which was exactly why God was sulking. Sorry- BROODING.

 Even as the highest-ranking angel, Lucifer had never been helpful. Which might explain why he was apparently going out of his way to go in the completely opposite direction. Right now, he was about as far from being helpful as it is possible to go. This whole issue was entirely reminiscent of the Rebellion. Just not quite so extreme.

 Unwillingly, God began to recall just how the whole Rebellion deal had taken place, anyway. He and Lucifer had just had an extremely heated argument when Lucifer finally snapped. He had yelled at God that unless He was willing to respect how Lucifer felt, said angel was going to hit the road. God could tell Lucifer meant it, but He was also too stubborn to back down. So He didn't do what He knew was right. He didn't apologise, He didn't beg Lucifer to reconsider. He just shrugged and replied that if that was Lucifer wanted it then so be it. That He didn't care either way.

 Lucifer had gone psychotic, having a full on fit. His screaming at God got gradually louder until it reached its crescendo. By this time, they had an audience. The rest of Heaven, in fact. There was an equal division of angels supporting God and Lucifer, so when Lucifer stormed out of the Holy domain, he had company. Lucifer was determined this time to force God to understand just how serious he was about this. He went into a rage and started destroying things at random. God, being quite alarmed at this point, tried to pacify him. By that time, it was already too late.

 Lucifer had been the first to ever fall. The first and foremost demon. With a bitter smirk, God reflected that falling for somebody had never had such a literal meaning before then. The other soon-to-be demons had followed, supporting their leader to the bitter end.

 Which brought things back to the present time. God was getting quite frustrated by this point. He had already wasted a lot of energy skirting around the factor that was antagonising Him most of all, and there was no way He could keep it up forever. Which, being Him, He would presumably have to do. Anyway, the skirting wasn't that great either- it was making Him think of other unpleasant things that He had put a lot of thought into forgetting. For example, the Rebellion. And His exact attitude towards Lucifer. Things that didn't really bear thinking about, to say the least.

 Which was why it might be possible to excuse Him for what happened next. No guarantees, though.

 The Metatron, bored and excited and desperately looking for someone to subject to his ranting had coincidentally discovered God. Theoretically, he was aware of the fact that God probably wasn't going to appreciate company right now. Why else would He be making it impossible for anyone to locate Him? It just didn't really register in the Metatron's brain at the time, that's all. Which was why he started asking God what was up.

 The Metatron was subconsciously right about at least one thing. God really didn't appreciate the presence of His Voice, and wasted no time informing the Metatron of this. The Metatron, however, didn't seem to want to take the hint. Pouting at being told to go away, he began to whine that God was being mean to him. God, completely losing the plot, snapped at the Metatron to either leave or suffer the fairly drastic consequences. The Metatron was a little taken aback by this, but was now determined to find out what was wrong with God. Because something obviously was.

 However, when God's annoyance reached the point when He began throwing convenient objects at the Metatron's head, the Metatron decided that maybe it was time to beat it. Something which God was extremely thankful for.

 Okay, so maybe He had overreacted just a little bit. Or to be completely frank, he had massively overreacted in a very definite fashion. Just because He was in a bad mood, there was no reason to take it out on the Metatron. Well, not too much reason, anyway. Not any acceptable reason, at any rate. Then again, the Metatron HAD interrupted his rather important train of thought.

 Whether or not it was lucky or unlucky for God, His line of thought had been derailed right when he was finally about to understand. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing from God's perspective. If He had realised certain things now, it would practically destroy Him. It wouldn't make Him very happy, anyway.

 One thing that God did know was that there was no way He could let Lucifer win the bet. This was becoming an increasingly more hopeless battle as things went on. One, the scene He had just witnessed: Crowley apologising. This sped things up enormously. Plus, there was the fact that it was LUCIFER He was betting against. It's hard to win when your opponent will always cheat no matter what. And especially when the Universe requires that you may never do so.

 This was probably the reason for God's current panicky state. Why He was really sulking. Or brooding omnipotently, whichever you prefer. If Lucifer won the bet, the barriers that God had spent all eternity building up would be utterly obliterated. Everything He had done to keep a distance between Him and Lucifer would all be for nothing. He couldn't give in now; it'd destroy Him. If Lucifer kissed Him, God would be totally decimated.

 Even though He had just as good as stated that He really did feel something towards Lucifer, God chose to ignore this minor factor. He also preferred not to question just why it was so vital that Lucifer should not be able to kiss Him. Like Crowley, He had excellent self-denial mechanisms.

 Looking at it, God lost either way. If Lucifer won, God would have to kiss him. However, even if God did win in all technicality, it was STILL a no-win situation. There were only two possibilities from that point- one, that Lucifer would be himself and live up to his nature. In other words, cheat. Meaning that he wouldn't carry out with the consequences. The other possibility was even worse. What would happen if Lucifer DID decide to for once do the honourable thing and go through with it? Because if he did… If he did, there was only one way he could. As long as Lucifer was around God, he would never stop making passes. It was part of his nature. Therefore, the only way that Lucifer would stop coming onto God was by never going near him again.

 God really didn't like that idea. He didn't like that idea at ALL. So He was starting to wonder why He even accepted the bet in the first place. For someone who knew everything, He could do some incredibly stupid things sometimes. This was by far the most stupid thing of all.

 God was not happy, to say the least. He was even LESS happy than He was before, and that was saying something. Needless to say, He blamed it all on Lucifer. Lot's of people like to blame things on Lucifer. God was one of the few who actually had the right and reason. Scowling, God snarled.

 "God damn that bastard to bloody Hell!" God burst out, instantly feeling pathetic as soon as he said it. Seeing that he WAS God, and that the bastard in question was already damned and running the show down in Hell, this comment served absolutely no point whatsoever. Not that it really mattered; it was the thought that counts.

 God closed his eyes and sank his head down into his hands. He was so stuffed. The worst thing was, He knew it.

Omnipotency really did suck sometimes.

 The Metatron was exceedingly cheerful. Very noticeably so. The only problem was, he couldn't find anyone to subject to his ranting. The scene he had just witnessed had him dancing around in glee, but he didn't know where anyone willing to put up with his excited chatter was at the precise moment. Both God and Gabriel had their tracking off, which meant they couldn't be found by any supernatural means. What a pain. Come to think of it, that was really strange.

 Whilst the Metatron did vaguely consider the fact that there may actually be a reason for this unusual occurrence, probably being that neither wanted to be found and both wished to be left alone, he didn't believe that it was really worth contemplation. After all, why would either of them desire privacy? In Heaven, no less. You must be kidding. Besides, the Metatron desperately needed to talk to someone and wasn't about to be deprived. Therefore, he set off in search of company.

 The Metatron was still feeling high about half an hour later, but a lot more frustrated. While patience is a virtue, it was one this particular angel knew very little about. A large amount of time spent futilely searching with no result had not improved this. He'd looked practically everywhere possible in Heaven, and had somehow managed to fail in finding either God or Gabriel. It was entirely illogical.

 The Metatron was too stubborn to actually give up, but he was close enough to despairing when he finally found God. The Metatron probably should have realised round about now that God didn't really feel like company, obvious as it was. But then, that would be the intelligent thing to do, wouldn't it? Seeing that God was staring off into space looking dejected and making it almost impossible for anyone to find Him and all that. It might have occurred to the Metatron at some subconscious level that bothering God now was not a good idea, but if so, the minority that made up the Metatron's sanity was quashed. Insanity rules.

 When God finally figured that the Metatron was there, helped along by the angel asking Him how He was and what was up, the look in His eyes temporarily dampened even the Metatron's high spirits. That was one scary look. Exactly the kind of look you'd get if you got a depressed, angry and extremely temperamental deity and forced them to endure the company of a hyperactive and exceptionally joyous angel with the speech patterns of a lively teenage girl. God was not a happy, to say the least. This fact has probably already been established.

 "Metatron, go away and leave me alone. Now. That is a direct order." God growled, tones low and menacing. The Metatron chose to ignore this. God wouldn't do anything bad, right? Right? He WAS God and all of that. It wouldn't be allowed. Would it?

 God was just being horrible. The Metatron had no idea what he'd done to deserve such cold and unfeeling treatment, and he wasn't about to take it lightly. Pouting, he did his best impression of a sulky child and began to whine.

 "He-ey! You're being mean to me! That's not fa-air…what did I do? How come you're being so awful to me? You never listen to me, ever! You're such a terrible God! You suck, you know that? I really hate you sometimes! Hey! Are you paying attention to me? GO-O-O-OD!" While it may remain a mystery to the rest of the population of all three astral planes, the Metatron was somehow able to add an extra three syllables to any given word. It's the true secret to whining. The Metatron had a lot of practice.

 God was rapidly reaching the end of His ostensibly inexhaustible and infinite patience. The Metatron had a great deal to do with this. He had indeed been listening to the Metatron's childish outburst, having no readily apparent escape available to him. He was starting to see red. If the Metatron didn't leave now and do so quickly, he was just going to suffer.

 "Metatron, leave me alone RIGHT NOW or I'll be forced to do something! I mean it, go away and leave me alone or I'll… I'll… You don't want to know what I'll do! Whatever it is, it will be moderately drastic and incredibly unpleasant! You have officially been warned- why are you still here?" God snapped harshly.

 The Metatron was more than a little bit shocked by this. God was serious, and He meant business. If He was this upset, then something was genuinely wrong. Really, really wrong. God didn't get upset over anything little, being all-powerful as He was. Or as He appeared to be. There must be something He had no control over, and it was putting him in an unhealthy mental state. The Metatron was determined to do something about it. Although it was apparently dangerous, he was just going to have to stick around.

 "Look, God-" The Metatron began firmly. However, he was cut off when God completely lost it.

 "I told you to leave, alright! Is there something in the wording 'leave me alone right now' that you don't understand? It's simple: leave me alone! Right now! Go away! I don't want you here!" God yelled, having had more than enough. When the Metatron, too stunned to move, still didn't scarper, God went berserk and started pegging objects at the Metatron's head. When the second one hit, the Metatron decided that it was more than past time to flee.

 Leaving God in peace, the Metatron walking off in search of Gabriel, muttering to himself. His good mood was almost completely dissipated. Rubbing his head, the Metatron reflected that the bump there would be a reminder of the lesson 'don't annoy an unbalanced deity'. A useful lesson in life if anything was. The ironic thing was, the Metatron found God's behaviour weirdly reminiscent of Crowley's earlier. Maybe it had something to do with emotionally unstable immortals.

 That had to mean there was something making God emotionally unstable, though. Curiouser and curiouser. There was a strong possibility that whatever it was involved Lucifer. Maybe Gabriel would know something- it was worth a try. Besides, the Metatron still needed to talk to someone and Gabriel, being his best friend, was the only candidate.

 There was one minor complexity with all this, though. Like God, Gabriel had his unique signal masked. Not only did it make Gabriel excruciatingly difficult to find, but it also made the Metatron feel slightly apprehensive after his experience with God. Nevertheless, he eventually reasoned that this was different. After all, Gabriel was his best friend. Even if something was wrong with Gabriel, than the other angel should appreciate being able to talk to the Metatron about it. That's what friends are for.

 Since by this time there was not really anywhere else to look, especially not in the way of secluded areas, the Metatron found Gabriel quickly. He was crumpled up on the floor with his wings shielding him, creating some sort of barrier between himself and the world.

 The Metatron instantly got a bad feeling. He could always tell to some degree what emotions Gabriel was going through, and these were strong emotions. There was nothing good about any of them. The Metatron wondered fleetingly why today was such a day for divine depression, and then left the thought. This was much more important.

 "Gabriel?" The Metatron asked in a soft, hesitant voice. Gabriel's wings bristled and his head snapped up suddenly. The Metatron noticed helplessly that there were marks running down the other angel's cheeks.

 "Metatron!" Seeing his best friend, Gabriel flinched. Hastily rubbing his face, he turned his head to the side, obviously refusing to meet the Metatron's eyes. His verbal response, when it came, was sharp and sudden.

 "Metatron, what are you doing here? I don't want to talk to right now, ok? Just leave me alone. Please." Gabriel hissed.

 The Metatron was extremely concerned. Coming from Gabriel, this behaviour worried the Metatron intensely. His friend did not act like that, nor did he say things like that. It just wasn't him.

 The Metatron took a tentative step forwards, not wanting to freak Gabriel out even more. "Gabriel, what's wrong? Have you been crying?"

 The quick intake of breath basically confirmed the Metatron's suspicions. Gabriel was a complete mess. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to admit it just like that. Glaring at the Voice of God with a gaze so concentrated it could pin a mere mortal to a wall, Gabriel spoke quietly with each word pronounced clearly.

 "No. I thought I asked you to leave me alone, Met." Although the Metatron knew Gabriel inside and out, the sinister way in which it was said had shivers running up his spine.

 "Gabriel, I mean it. I'm your best friend, and I can tell you've been crying. That is incredibly unlike you, and I want to know why. Please, why won't you just tell me?" The Metatron pleaded, his voice bordering on desperation.

 Gabriel stood up slowly, ruffling his wings and staring straight at the Metatron. After only 5 seconds, he broke eye contact, apparently unable to maintain the act of looking into the eyes of his closest friend. The Metatron was starting to panic.

 "Gabriel, what is it? Something is really wrong, I can tell! You won't answer me; you won't even look at me. You've been crying, and you won't tell me why! What's happened? Why won't you tell me? Is it something I've done? Please, Gabriel!" The Metatron begged helplessly.

 Gabriel's breathing was shaky and he still wouldn't look at the Metatron. When he started to reply, his voice was tinged with hysteria.

 "Metatron, drop it! I'm not crying, I'm perfectly fine; or at least, I would be if you'd just back off and leave me alone! Do you get the message? Quit it, just stop! You didn't DO anything until now, and I wish it had just stayed that way. Go away!" Gabriel yelled, shocking even himself. He hadn't meant for his reply to be so harsh, it had just happened that way. He didn't mean it. Well, not exactly- he was just upset, and the Metatron was making it worse. The Metatron, however, was in a state of distress. He had had more than enough. He had tried helping other immortals, and where did it get him? Yelled at with a bump on his head. He wasn't going to put up with this constant abuse of his well-meaning intentions.

 The Metatron was just fed up by this point. God going crazy, he could deal with. Pretty much, at least. But this was his oldest and closest friend, doing almost the exact same thing. That was that.

 "What IS this, everyone pick on the Metatron day? What did I do to make everyone hate me so much, huh? Is my company that detestable? Maybe I should just Fall and make life easier for everyone!" The Metatron exploded. Gabriel's eyes widened in alarm. This was the last reaction he'd been expecting.

 "M-Met? What do you mean?" Gabriel stuttered.

 The Metatron gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, turning to the door. "Just leave it. Like it matters. I'm going already, since you all seem to loathe my presence so very much. Bye." Before giving Gabriel time to respond to this cryptic comment, the Metatron was already gone.

 Today was getting progressively worse by the minute. It might even break a record for the most havoc and misery wrecked upon Heaven in the course of one day. Maybe the whole of Heaven would self-destruct from internal conflict. Who knew, anything was possible these days.

 Gabriel kicked the rock savagely, swearing profusely when the pain set in. Today was really not his day. The Metatron was nowhere to be found, and frankly, life was really starting to suck. Or afterlife, whatever you want to call it.

 Gabriel sighed, slumping against the wall. He was supposed to be moving the stupid rock to a different location, as it was apparently sacred, but the bloody thing was too damn heavy. Not to mention that Gabriel's display of rage regarding the said rock now caused him to possess a foot in severe pain. Sacred? Hah! Cursed was more like it. Maybe they should give it to Lucifer as a present- then again, God probably would not appreciate that. He'd most likely say something about not encouraging the evil bastard. He never really sounded like he meant it, though.

 Gabriel closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward into his hands. Now what? He had been given a completely and utterly impossible task to perform, which coincidentally should have been given to a lower ranking angel anyway, and his so-called best friend wasn't even there to help. Not even with moral support. For God's sake!

 Hang on, that was a thought; maybe he could complain to God and get the job delegated to someone else on the grounds that he was emotionally unstable right now? Heaven knew he was, the Metatron combined with this was not only giving him a killer headache, it was driving him insane.

 When Gabriel tried it, however, he found that God couldn't be contacted. Humph. So much for God always being there. Of course, theoretically Gabriel already knew that this was a load of bullocks and that God needed time off just like anyone else, but he was in absolutely no mood to be reasonable.

 Deep down, Gabriel knew that his current distress had amazingly little to do with the wondrous and miraculous holy rock and a helluva lot to do with the Metatron. Gabriel was on a total low, and it was times like these that he started to wonder if the Metatron even cared. He didn't appear to notice how depressed Gabriel had been the past week. In fact, half the time he didn't seem to acknowledge Gabriel's existence. He was far too excited about the whole Crowley and Aziraphale thing.

 The Metatron had barely said two words in Gabriel's direction all week. Whenever Gabriel tried to talk to him, he just made vague noises where he felt he was expected to contribute to the conversation somehow. Irrationally, Gabriel felt like blaming Aziraphale for the whole mess. If the other angel didn't have such a scintillatingly interesting love life, then the Metatron would be paying more attention to him! Of course, he knew how unfair that was. Aziraphale had hardly asked to be in his position any more than Gabriel had wanted to be in his. He never MEANT to fall in love with his oblivious best friend. It had just- happened. They had known each other forever, literally. Both of them had been around since time began. They had always been best friends. All things considered, it wasn't really that surprising that when Gabriel fell in love it was with the Metatron. It would have been nice if the Voice of God had returned the favour, though.

 Sheesh, Gabriel was such a basket case. He was in love with his ostensible best friend who didn't realise how he felt, let alone reciprocate the feeling. Whoever's fault unrequited love was in the first place, they were going to PAY. Gabriel was going to hunt the down and put them through the angelic equivalent of the fiery pits of hell for all eternity. Maybe then, they'd understand what terrible monster they'd unleashed upon all sentient beings. Maybe then, they'd feel a fraction as bad as Gabriel did.

 Silent tears trickling down his cheeks, Gabriel repeatedly bashed his head back into the hard wall behind him mindless of the pain it caused. As his breathing became shallow, Gabriel angrily wiped a hand across his face. Angels shouldn't have to feel like this, dammit! 'Why me, why me, why me, why-'

 "Fucking hell, why ME?" Gabriel burst out bitterly, a stab of guilt flashing momentarily in his conscience. He hadn't meant to put it so- so- so explicitly. God didn't tend to approve of swearing to the extreme. Then again, God wasn't listening as was made obvious by the lack of response earlier, so Gabriel decided God could go get stuffed.

 Suddenly exhausted, Gabriel slide onto his side, lying on the floor. One wing automatically closed over him, offering a token comfort that was nevertheless better than nothing.

 Still shuddering convulsively, Gabriel rested his head on his folded arms. Why he had to be in love with such a damn oblivious angel, he'd never know. He considered darkly that anyone who thought Heaven was boring obviously hadn't visited for at least a millennia. Heaven was not dull. Traumatising, yes, dull, no.

 Gabriel was analysing this particular thought when he sensed something near him. Hoping that if he ignored it, it would go away, Gabriel kept his head down and pretended not to notice its presence. His plan was foiled, though, by the significant fact that his current antagonist was none other than his reason for angsting in the first place. Why now, of all times, did the Metatron have to make an appearance? It just wasn't fair.

 Although he knew that the Metatron was there, Gabriel still held some faith that it was all just a figment of his overactive imagination and would go away very soon. When the Metatron spoke Gabriel's name, however, this possibility became null and void. Gabriel snapped his head up, wings bristling unconsciously with nervous hostility. 'Oh, SHIT.' He thought hysterically, exclaiming involuntarily. "Metatron!"

 After crying out, Gabriel hastily rubbed his face again, feverishly praying that the Metatron hadn't noticed the tear tracks. Not that God would hear, unfortunately.

 Reacting without thinking, Gabriel desperately tried to get Metatron to go away, not taking into account how suspicious that would look. Oh well. He already looked suspicious.

 The distraught angel gasped slightly as the Metatron voiced his accusation for the first time, asking if Gabriel had been crying. Damn it, the Metatron was usually so happily ignorant to things related so closely to himself. Why did he have to choose now of all times to unexpectedly become so observant? His hope that the Metatron wouldn't notice was completely obliterated, now. It was just too much to ask, apparently. Why did God have to go on strike at this precise moment, anyone? Stupid divinity.

 Gabriel had no readily available response to the Metatron's concern, so instead he glared at his friend so menacingly it might have done something seriously damaging to someone not immortal. As his brain raced, he finally spoke in a soft and sinister tone that surprised and scared him a bit. He didn't know that it was even possible for an angel to sound that threatening. The Metatron looked more than just a little freaked by it, too. However, the Voice of God still refused to back down.

 The Metatron's insistence was causing Gabriel to readily lose his patience. Standing up slowly, he ruffled his feathers and tried to look the other angel in the eye. After only a few seconds, he had to look away. The pain and confusion in Met's eyes was making him lose his simmering anger, and that was the only thing sustaining him.

 When the Metatron got too close for comfort to the truth, it was just the last straw. Why did it have to be now, like this? Why couldn't the Metatron understand? Gabriel couldn't contain his rage anymore. He started yelling whatever first came to his mind.

 After his angry ranting ceased, both the Metatron and Gabriel himself were stunned. He hadn't meant to be so fierce, it had just- happened. Even so, he wasn't expecting the Metatron's reaction.

 The Metatron completely exploded.

 Staring in shock after his friend, Gabriel blinked in confusion. What had just happened? He had expected the Metatron to get mad, sure, but that went far beyond normal anger. The Metatron really didn't sound happy. In fact, he sounded like his day had been possibly as awful as Gabriel's, which was incredible enough in itself. What was really scary, though, was the fact that it sounded like he meant what he'd just said.

 'Oh, God.'

 /What do you want? It had better be good./ A voice replied waspishly.

 'Nice of you to turn up! Where were you? There was just a catastrophe, and your not being there really did wonders. Geez, thanks.'

 /Excuse me? What do you mean, catastrophe?/ God still sounded vaguely peeved, but he was beginning to sound panicky as well.

 'The Metatron chucked a fit. I mean, it was my fault, but he reacted a bit- um, extremely. Involving comments about falling and the such-like.' Gabriel thought hesitantly.

 /What? Oh, SHIT!/ God exclaimed. Gabriel raised his eyebrows.

 /Oh, crap, this is all my fault, what am I going to do, shit!/ During this litany, Gabriel shook his head to try and clear his mind.

 'Your fault? What did you do? Aside from not helping, I mean.'

 /Um. I sort of yelled at him. And threw stuff./ God muttered.

 'You THREW stuff at him? No wonder he's so upset! First you, then me. He really is having a bad day. Maybe even as bad as mine.'

 /Yeah, likewise./ God agreed miserably.

 'Look, do you know where he is? I really got to find him. To- to apologise. And stuff.'

 There was a pause as God checked.

 /Fuck./

 'Pardon me?'

 /I can't find him./

 'WHAT? But you're God!'

 /I know that. I still can't find him. Which means-/

 'Which means he's run away, right?'

 /Exactly./

 'SHIT!'

 With that mental exchange over, Gabriel bolted for the door. The Metatron had to be found, and found now.

 Crowley was in a rather good mood. No, better make that an extremely good mood. It had been a week since his outburst, and things appeared to be back to normal. To Crowley's mind, this was a very good thing indeed. In fact, Aziraphale seemed to have completely forgotten his driving desire to find out what the cause was. Just as well, really. Come to think of it, though, it was a bit unlike Aziraphale. He usually wouldn't let go of something of that nature so easily. Oh well, Crowley was willing to overlook that minor factor. After all, it suited him right down to the ground.

 Sauntering through the crowded streets of Soho, Crowley wondered vaguely if he should do something. He hadn't performed any proper demonic acts since the Apocalypse, but that was kind of understandable. He hadn't really felt like it. Even though he was exceedingly happy now, he still didn't feel like it, actually. Maybe he should go visit Aziraphale? It'd be something to do. But from the aura, Aziraphale was busy. What a pain. Crowley would have to come up with his own amusements.

 Crowley considered having a long and meaningful conversation with himself about exactly what he was going to do with his feelings for the angel, but he dismissed the idea immediately. It was just as bad as the human equivalent- a mature and scintillating discussion about the weather. No thank you, very bloody much. The problem was, Crowley had tried to convince himself that the feelings would go away if ignored. He was doing a rather excellent job of deluding himself, currently. But no matter how much he tried to persuade himself otherwise, deep down he knew the truth. Disaster was imminent and inevitable. These feelings were one thing that just wasn't going to change. When all is said and done, love would always be eternal. Even if the bearer of that love was immortal. It was an intricate and extremely irritating part of the Ineffable Plan. Crowley half-heartedly aimed some curses at God, but it was rather pointless and he knew it.

 So, with Aziraphale busy and Crowley determinedly avoiding any thoughts in a certain direction, the demon was at a loss for things to do. Casting around for options, Crowley came up with a list of possibilities. He could a) do absolutely nothing, b) go bug Aziraphale ANYWAY or c) wander round aimlessly waiting for something to happen. He opted for the third one.

 Staring mindlessly into the sky, Crowley meandered around the park on autopilot. He was awoken from his dazed stupor, however, when his mobile went off.

 Grinning wolfishly, Crowley deftly pulled out his mobile and flicked it open. It was one of his more ingenious inventions, if he did say so himself. All those people with radiation poisoning, the class distinctions, all the people going into massive debts from phone bills. It was almost as good as the Internet. Aziraphale had had a hard time thinking of a method of retaliation for the mobile. He still hadn't come up with something to counter the Internet- that was practically asking the impossible.

 Quickly glancing at the annoyingly tiny display screen, Crowley wondered who the hell could be messaging him via SMS. As soon as he saw, he froze, blood running cold. Hell was right. Horrified and simultaneously fascinated by the lewd images that represented him and the angel as they flaunted themselves, he could do nothing but stare. Eyes widening, Crowley's pulse quickened so much that he almost suffered a heart attack. The images left little to the imagination, depicting a miniature Crowley and Aziraphale kissing and undressing. It was just as well that Crowley didn't need to breath, because he'd completely forgotten how. When his senses returned, though, Crowley yelped and chucked the phone as far as he could as if burned. He had come to the conclusion the mobile phones were awful contraptions that he most assuredly hated.

 What was really strange, though, was that he could have sworn the short message at the bottom had said, "Cheers. Happy hunting, Crawly. Lucifer." Best not to dwell upon it. He didn't really feel like walking around in the park any more, either. Back to the apartment it was.

 Slinking back to his Bentley, Crowley wondered who had sent him the stupid and disturbing message and for what reason. He had come to the logical conclusion that if the sender really WAS Lucifer, he was so screwed. And not in the sense of the message, either. It'd mean that the big boss knew how he felt towards Aziraphale, and even if Satan found it amusing now, that couldn't be a good thing. Crowley found himself wishing that he'd never gone up against Hell, and more to the point, that he hadn't continued to do so, even if it was unintentional. Just because retribution hadn't come before, it didn't mean it never would. It was probably just a prank by some malevolent and petty demon, though. Otherwise known as Hastur. Yeah, that was it. A prank. Nobody knew anything. Except for him, of course.

 Checking through the tapes, Crowley stifled a sigh. They'd all been in there for more than two weeks, evidently. Looks like he'd have to settle for Queen. Shoving the tape in and starting up the car, he began to drive back towards his apartment. What he really wasn't expecting was a message from Below. (Or Above, if you prefer. It's all relative.)

 "Oi, Crowley!" For once, the voice emanating from the tape was not that of Freddie Mercury. It had personality, which was scary in the circumstances. Crowley slammed down the brakes and almost crashed. "Who the fuck is this?" He squawked indignantly.

 "Who do you think? No duh- Lucifer! I'm the only one who can contact you through this contraption, remember? Well, me and the minions, but they'd be in deep shit if they even CONSIDERED pretending to be me. Besides, I'd be very put out if you couldn't tell me apart from them. I'm infinitely superior- those guys have absolutely NO sense of humour, they're so BORING!" Crowley blinked bewilderedly. He was not equipped to deal with this sort of thing. These things weren't supposed to happen, were they? Lucifer was supposed to be the almighty evil and threatening bastard. This guy did not fit the profile.

 "Hey, I know you're thinking I don't sound like an evil shit, but that's just propaganda. Really. God isn't the high and holy benevolent father everyone makes him out to be, either, you know. Now, about Aziraphale-" With that, Crowley's mind clicked back into focus. This was NOT a subject he wanted to go into. Stuff the consequences. Exploding the radio, he put the pedal to the metal and sped his way home at high speed. Dashing up the stairs, he slammed the door behind him and pressed back against it, panting hysterically. This was turning him completely paranoid! Sinking to the floor, he tried to even up his breathing. There was no way that that was Lucifer. As if Lucifer would give a crap about the doings of such a minor demon, anyway. It was probably all a bad dream. He was going crazy. There was no need to be so jumpy and nervous, there was no way it'd happen again. Breath back to a semblance of normality, Crowley shakily made his way over to one of the couches and flopped down onto it listlessly. He was completely drained. And he'd have to fix his radio, sometime, too. Aw, crap.

 Drifting off into a semi conscious state, Crowley decided that the world was against him. No, scratch that. Heaven, Hell and everyone on Earth were all conspiring against him. Especially God and Lucifer. Why else would all the bad stuff happen to him? There was no other logical explanation. Lazily, he turned his head and waved vaguely at the TV. He needed something to cheer him up, and daytime trash was the perfect candidate. Ah, the number of people that it frustrated and bored beyond belief was delightful.

 However, Crowley hadn't taken into account the possible results of this, and they weren't pleasant. His viewing of the latest teen-angst soapie was interrupted by an exceedingly smug looking guy with hair that was, against all the odds, most decidedly green.[2] Crowley figured that this was NOT a good sign. Any of it. He was preparing to do something particularly unpleasant to his television, obviously a great sacrifice, when Lucifer put his hands on his hips and pouted.

 "Hey, will you just listen to me? I'm not going to do anything to you! Do I LOOK like I'm about to incinerate you or something?"

 Crowley had to concede that the answer to this was most definitely no. Reluctantly, he sank back into his chair, on edge and poised to bolt at any moment like a frightened rabbit. Lucifer crossed his arms.

 "Better, I suppose. Besides, I don't know where you've got this idea that I'm a merciless bastard who'll torture someone for blinking wrong from. The sin I fell for was pride, not blood lust. And a few other things, but they weren't actually sins in the conventional sense of the word. Mr Ineffability is a hypocrite, that's all. And- why are you looking at me like that? Oh right, got sidetracked. Well, anyway, I'm not here to do unspeakably nasty things to you, if that makes you feel any better. In fact, I'm really here to encourage you."

 Crowley squeaked. Now he knew he was in a nightmare. This couldn't be Lucifer. Lucifer was all blood and flames and thunder, wasn't he? No, this wasn't Lucifer. This was even scarier.

 "That reminds me, I really am going to have to complain to God about his stupid doctrine on me. I mean, alright, so I was angry at him. But he wasn't even speaking to me! If you ask me, he was just sulking and the whole proclaiming me the doer of all evil thing was just a childish way of getting back to me for Falling in the first place. Hah. He's such an annoying git sometimes. Oh well. Holy best friends, you can't live with em, you can't live without em, don't you agree Crowley?"

 This was beyond weird. This had gone through weird and come out the other side. The way Lucifer talked about God, it was almost- endearing?

 "W-what?" Crowley stammered. He had lost the track about halfway along.

 "Holy best friends. They're impossible, but you'd be lost without them. I assumed you'd understand what I'm talking about, with Aziraphale and everything."

 "Uh. Yeah, I know what you mean- wait, you know about Aziraphale?"

 Lucifer smirked. "Well, of course. I must say, your Agreement thingy is very convenient. You have no idea the trouble it's saved me. Lots of little fights with God that never happened, that's what."

 "Er. Ok. If you say so."

 "In any case, you're probably wondering just what I'm doing here. Aside from the fact that we're both bored and God's sulking again. Presumably Aziraphale is somewhere else, too. So, getting to the point. Regarding your feelings for the angel-"

 At this, Crowley began to choke, coughing violently. "WHAT?" He spluttered. This sort of thing wasn't meant to happen, dammit!

 "Your feelings for Aziraphale," Lucifer considered reasonably. "I know you love him. Don't go blowing a gasket, it's no big deal. After all, I'm in love with God. Stubborn jerk just won't let me do anything about it, that's all. And I intend to change that. So. The thing is, you have myself, the Ineffable One, and two of the highest denizens in Heaven paying close attention to your love life, not to mention a few mortals in the bargain. But the point I'm making here is that God and I have a bet going on how long it's going to take, and I REALLY need to win."

 "A bet?" Crowley responded weakly. He was no longer comprehending anything, as his brain had shutdown from inability to cope. Later, though, when he processed all this information, his reaction was going to be highly entertaining indeed.

 "Yeah, that's right. I bet that you and the angel would get together within two weeks, and- um, that was a week ago. If I win, I get to kiss God, if He wins, I never flirt with him again. Ever. Which will, by implication, mean never going near him again. I wouldn't be able to help myself, otherwise. So you see, what I'm saying is I really need you to do something about your relationship with Aziraphale."

 "Uh, right. Are you allowed to intervene at all?" Crowley asked suspiciously.

 Lucifer smirked. "What do you think? Of course not! It's my nature, I have to cheat. Suits me fine, anyhow. So please, can you do whatever you can? I'll help whenever you need it. The Metatron probably will too, you never know."

 Crowley shook his head. "Excuse me? The Metatron? As in, the guy who got really pissed off at the Apocalypse?"

 Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, that. You were supposed to avert it, it was part of the Ineffable Plan. Metatron was just having a bad day, that's all."

 "Oh. Ok."

 "So, that's all then? Brilliant. Ciao!" With that, the television flickered off. Crowley stared at the screen blankly for a few minutes. Then suddenly, he shot up to his feet.

 "Hey, wait a minute! Who ever said anything about love?"

 Lucifer practically doubled up laughing after the connection had been broken, wiping tears from his eyes. The look on Crowley's face! The mobile phone had been a nice touch, too, even if it was his own opinion. For about 10 minutes afterwards, Lucifer couldn't stop laughing. Every time he'd try, he'd picture the expression on Crowley's face and crack up again.

 Eventually he caught his breath long enough to form a respectable smirk. He still gave the occasional giggle, but there was no helping that. There was no way God could win anymore, not now that Crowley knew how things stood. Crowley would probably take about a day to sort things out, and then hopefully would set out hunting Aziraphale. The angel stood no chance.

 Technically, Crowley wasn't really a very good demon. He'd done a great job in Eden, of course, but for the main part, he was too apathetic to be bothered with proper demonic acts. However, that didn't mean that Crowley wasn't good at what he did. It just meant that he was lazy. If, for instance, Crowley found someone who he truly wanted to tempt, for example the angel, he would have no trouble. Crowley was disturbingly talented at tempting. It appeared to be his speciality.

 This would be slightly different from normal tempting in some ways, but basically the same principal. Crowley wouldn't exactly be tempting Aziraphale, because God and Lucifer had both agreed that it wouldn't be nice to make an angel fall for love. At which Lucifer glared pointedly at God and added, "AGAIN."

 It would also be slightly different because Crowley was doing the tempting on his own behalf. So in a many ways, it was a lot more like a drawn out seduction than an actual tempting. Seduction was a form of tempting, but not of the demonic variety. Lucifer really was very attached to it. He just wished that it would work on God at least ONCE.

 God really was making himself indisposed to certain enemies that wished to gloat. Lucifer felt that this wasn't exactly fair. After all he'd been through, he was entitled to more than a little gloating. Come to think of it, what was God doing? Was He still sulking[3] or was He actually doing something productive now?

 It felt from God's mood that He HAD been sulking, and had been interrupted by something important and unpleasant. Hah, served Him right. Lucifer would save his gloating until later, anyway. He would have to start up a count of how much gloating he was owed at this rate. Oh well. It would be twice as fun in a big intensive block, anyway.

 That didn't give Lucifer any ideas about what to do next, unfortunately. Maybe he should pay Heaven a visit regardless. Possibly gossip with the Metatron, that could be interesting. But on second thoughts, that probably wasn't such a good idea. God might get quite irate. No sense in spoiling the moment.

 Lucifer had been around literally for all eternity. He could afford to wait.

 Aziraphale pushed a wisp of blonde hair out of his eyes, thoughtfully closing the book on demonology. He had bought it ages ago when Crowley had chucked a petty tantrum for no real reason, but they had made up before he had had time to consult it.

 Reading the thing had certainly been interesting, if not instructive, but it didn't help at all. Humans knew as little if not less about demons than the angel did. Besides, this wasn't about being a demon. This was about being Crowley, and Aziraphale knew more about Crowley than anyone else. Apparently that wasn't enough.

 There had to be some reason for what Crowley had done. Crowley might have been a demon, but he was usually at least marginally rational. Nothing warranted his flying off the handle like that. But then again, something must have caused it. The question was what, though. Since Aziraphale was getting nowhere quickly, he was reduced to his last choice. God knew everything, correct? And the Metatron was the voice of God. So therefore, contacting God by proxy should technically do the trick. Only problem being, the heavenly hosts probably weren't going to be very happy about certain demon-related requests.

 Still, there was nothing for it. Aziraphale simply had to know why Crowley was acting so strangely. Reluctantly, the angel began placing the candles out for the conjuring rite. He shuddered with the suppressed memory of exactly what had happened last time. Thank God that Madame Tracy was around to keep Shadwell on a leash.

 When he was done with the rite, Aziraphale almost squeaked at the peevish voice emanating in his head. It was a voice that really did not sound happy. In fact, had it been any other voice Aziraphale might have said it had been crying, or something. Unfortunately, it was also the voice of God. And the voice of the Metatron, but the two were synonymous. It didn't sound like the Metatron was very pleased with that fact, currently.

 "Who is it and what do you want?"

 Aziraphale blinked, lost for words. "Uh-"

 The Metatron sighed. "You again, is it? You should be thankful that I like you so much, otherwise I wouldn't bother. Make it quick, though. God can trace me through this stupid link, and I'd really rather that didn't happen. Sometimes I wish that the whole voice of God thing would just go and get stuffed. Well, what is it? Hurry up!"

 Aziraphale shook his head to try and clear it. This was beyond weird, but now he'd got this far, there was no point in giving up so easily. Hesitantly, he began to outline the problem.

 "Well, you know how I have this demonic counterpart here on Earth-"

 "Yeah, I know. Crowley. Get on with it."

 Nervously, Aziraphale swept his hair back from his eyes. "Um, yes. Well, anyway, he did something rather unusual, and I was sort of wondering-"

 The Metatron suddenly squealed, soundly delighted for some unknown reason. "Oh, so THAT'S what this is about! I knew it, I knew it! You want to know what's wrong with him, right?"

 Aziraphale was getting slightly disturbed by this time. This couldn't be normal, could it?

 "Er- yes, that's right."

 There was a slight pause. Then the Metatron made a noise that might have been a choked off giggle. "You know, I'm afraid I can't really tell you. Of course, I DO know, but you really do have to figure it out for yourself. It's just one of those things. Try not to worry too much about it. It'll come to you eventually, and- oh shit. Gotta run, byeeeeee!"

 That last bit having been squawked hurriedly, the connection was broken. Aziraphale was lost and completely bewildered. What had just happened? He thought that they'd averted the apocalypse, but the way things were going now, he wasn't all that sure. This was just too confusing. No one was behaving the way they should. And anyway, what did he mean, 'one of those things'?

 Aziraphale had no idea about any of these things, but he very definitely intended upon finding out. Soon.

---

[1] Of course, Adam had remedied this to some degree, but it just wasn't the same. It didn't have that old, musty, lived-in-for-centuries kind of aura permeating it. Besides, it was hard to get that kind of atmosphere when some of your books were of the kind that Adam created. The one about pirates really won the prize in that respect.

[2] God had asked him about this, once. Lucifer replied that he was the almighty ruler of hell, and that he could have any colour hair he so desired, thank you very much, and that he really was very fond of green. So deal with it. God just rolled His eyes.

[3] Being God's opposite number, Lucifer had no such compunction about informing the creator of the Universe that He was sulking. God usually chose to ignore this, or insisted that He was brooding. This usually resulted in a bigger argument than before and God sulking/brooding even more.