A/N: This fic is for Lady Wallace, who wanted to see our poor boys accidentally get caught up in a hostage situation and have to outsmart the baddies. Poor dears, sometimes they have no luck at all. Thanks Aini Nufire for beta reading!

Takes place after Armagedidn't. Rated for mild torture in later chapter, not badly graphic or anything.

And guys, you can trust me. I like happy endings. ;)

Chapter 1 - Out of the Frying Pan

Aziraphale sighed with contentment as he turned the page, eyes tracking down the old vellum. Dappled sunlight filtered in through the curtains and his cocoa was just the right temperature. No one had come in to try buying any of his books today. In short, Aziraphale was in heaven.

Well, not actual Heaven, you understand. It had been some months now since he'd left that place for good. But that was quite alright; this would do.

Somewhere in the background the phone rang. Of course it did. Aziraphale set his book down in his lap with a frown, shooting a disappointed look at the phone over on the table. It took no heed, continuing to ring as a phone will do.

"Must I?" the angel asked with a sigh but heaved himself up. It might be Crowley, after all. He hadn't heard from the demon in over two days. Odd, since they were free to interact as much as they wanted now with no one willing to try stopping them again.

Setting the book carefully down and marking his page, Aziraphale crossed to the phone and picked it up from its cradle.

"Hello?"

"Angel, it's me. Listen, there's no time to explain."

"Oh, Crowley, dear! I was wondering where you'd gone. What-"

"I'm serious, shut up and listen. Fourth alternate rendezvous, got it? Meet me."

Aziraphale's frown returned, though this time it was more confusion than impatience. Fourth alternate rendezvous? Why on earth was Crowley using those old codes?

"What-"

"Go, angel! I'll explain when you get there. Just go, quick as you can, and don't be followed."

The line went dead, and Aziraphale was suddenly not so charmed by the late daylight outside his window. If he didn't know any better, he'd think Crowley sounded scared. And that… that did not bode well. Aziraphale's brow furrowed with a hint of anxiety as he donned his coat without hesitation and slipped out the door.

Fourth alternate rendezvous… now was that down by the park or across from the bakery up the lane, or… no, he was quite certain it was the 4:27 bus from Regent Street. Aziraphale paused to pull out his pocket watch; he could just make it.

The angel hurried from the shop towards the bus stop, glancing over his shoulder occasionally. Crowley's fear had left a bad taste in his mouth. Aziraphale didn't feel any sort of malicious presence nearby, nor did he spot anyone taking too great an interest in him, but he would feel better once he got some answers.

By a stroke of luck, the bus was just pulling in as Aziraphale reached the stop. A few people occupied the bus already, most of them busy with tiny electronic devices and little doodads that went in their ears—the kind of things Warlock had always loved so much. Aziraphale squeezed through to his customary spot towards the back. Crowley wasn't there, but if he remembered their routine correctly, the demon would join him at the next stop at Piccadilly Circus.

Though it was a mere two-minute drive, Aziraphale felt himself starting to shift uneasily with the need to reach his friend. He suddenly worried what he would do if Crowley wasn't there, but as the bus pulled to a stop again, Aziraphale sighed with relief to spot the familiar red-haired figure.

"Crowley, thank heavens," Aziraphale exclaimed when the demon slithered around other riders to snag the seat behind the angel. He twisted to examine his friend carefully. "Are you alright, my dear? What's going on? Why all the secrecy?"

"We have a problem," Crowley replied tersely. He peered over his dark glasses, gaze darting over their fellow passengers.

"But why are we discussing it on a bus? Has something happened to your car? I always said you drive it far too-"

"Ngh, car's fine, too recognizable though. Runs on miracles. No use for now. Listen, someone's been following me. Hunting me."

"Hunting?" Aziraphale repeated in alarm. He straightened in the seat and clenched his hands, wishing he had his flaming sword. "Are you alright? Who-"

"Assassin," Crowley cut him off. "Demon. Hell's most feared tracker, the most ancient and powerful hunter they've got. And he's after me. Us. I only got one quick look, but it's him. It's Kevin."

"Wait." Aziraphale could tell from Crowley's panic that this was a terribly serious situation, but this point needed to be cleared up."The ancient and powerful demon assassin who's hunting us is named… Kevin?"

"What? No. Yes. No! It's Kava- Kethlg- er, Kagh- oh for someone's sake, no one can pronounce his name so we just call him Kevin!"

Crowley glanced over his shoulder again as though in expectation that this Kevin demon would suddenly appear on the bus, eyes darting this way and that in constant vigilance.

Knowing demons as he did, Aziraphale couldn't help but wrinkle his brow. "And no one teases him?"

"Once." Crowley shuddered. "No one teases Kevin anymore. Angel,focus! Do you have any idea how much trouble we're in?"

"Alright, then, alright, my dear. I suppose the best thing we can do is come up with a plan. I can hide us in the meantime, make us invisible." He snapped his fingers.

"No, DON'T-" Crowley shouted, making nearby passengers jump in alarm.

Startled, Aziraphale snapped again, restoring them to visibility. "What-"

"Damn it, angel," Crowley growled, leaping from his seat. Without stopping to explain himself, he grabbed Aziraphale's hand and dragged him along towards the front of the bus.

"Crowley, what's going on?" Aziraphale protested. "Why are we-"

"He'll have noticed that!" The demon kicked at the door impatiently, ignoring the bus driver's angry remarks. When it didn't open fast enough, he waved his hand to blow it back on its hinges and yanked both of them off the second there was room. "Run!"

"But why?" Aziraphale asked again, panting already as he was pulled along. They dashed along the crowded pavement, heedless of the people they were knocking aside. The angel gasped out hasty apologies but had to save most of his breath for running.

"Kevin," Crowley called to him over his shoulder. "Tracker. He can sense miracles, that's how he follows a trail. He'll have felt you try to hide us and be back on the scent!"

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Oh dear, I… I didn't know!"

"No time, just run!"

This was no good at all. Aziraphale was already flagging and Crowley wasn't in much better shape, for all his leaner stature. The angel chanced a look over his shoulder and gasped.

"It- it's not that fellow, is it?"

Crowley screeched to a halt and spun, harried gaze looking in the direction Aziraphale was pointing.

A good block behind them, a man-shaped being was standing on the corner, staring straight at them. Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes from that distance, but the smile on his face was full of pointed teeth and deranged delight which sent a shiver down Aziraphale's spine. As did the sight of the wicked looking blade the man-shaped being raised a second later. He pointed it at them, grinned wider, and licked the edge of the blade.

Crowley went rigid. "Yeah, that's Kevin."

"Should we-"

"RUN!"

They took off again, while deeper fear crept into Aziraphale's heart. He hated to admit it, but it was clear they weren't going to outrun him, not as soft as he'd gotten. Crowley's breaths were coming ragged and haggard as well. They weren't going to make it…

"Turn here!" Crowley snapped, jerking Aziraphale around a corner to another street where a row of businesses lined the little avenue. A gust of wind sent stray papers skittering over the pavement; it carried a whiff of brimstone.

"Crowley," Aziraphale started, but the demon shook his head.

"In here, quick," he ordered, gesturing to the first door of the row. Crowley shoved it open and pulled Aziraphale inside then slammed it closed again. Both of them whirled, watching the door with bated breath, waiting for it to open.

"Well," Aziraphale panted. "This couldn't get much worse." He clutched a stitch in his side as he took a few steps backwards, eyes glued to the door. The angel only stopped when he ran into something decidedly unpleasant.

"And who the hell are you?" a furious voice demanded. "Hands up, both of you! Turn slowly! Sis, get up here!"

Slowly, Aziraphale and Crowley turned; the thing Aziraphale had run into was a gun, and on the other side of the gun was a man in a mask. And he seemed quite peeved.

Aziraphale gulped. Half a dozen people were flat on the floor, looking up at them in dismay and terror. Beside him, Crowley tipped his head back and growled.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"

"I beg your pardon," Aziraphale spoke up politely, raising his hands. "But, is this a robbery?"

The man stared at him. "Boy, you're quick, ain't ya?"

"Ah, I thought as much. I do apologize, but I believe we've got the wrong building, so we'll just-"

"Don't move!" the man shouted, raising the gun to point at the angel's face instead.

"Right, we'll not move," Aziraphale decided. "But really, this is just a simple misunderstanding."

"What's going on?" a woman demanded, coming from a staircase nearby. Her face was also masked and she came to a halt as she saw them. "What is this?"

"They came through the door!"

Without a word, the woman turned towards the group of people huddled on the floor and kicked one of them heavily in the stomach. The man cried out and tried to wriggle away from her but his hands seemed to be zip-tied behind him, leaving little room for escape as the robber kicked him over and over again.

"What are you trying to pull?" she raged. "We told you to lock that door! Thought you'd play cute, did you? Thought someone would come swooping in to your rescue?"

"No!" the poor man cried out as Crowley shifted in discomfort beside Aziraphale. "I did, I swear, I locked it just like you asked! Please!"

"Crowley?" Aziraphale hissed out of the side of his mouth.

The demon shrugged miserably. "I assumed it was open…"

Aziraphale closed his eyes and groaned. "So of course it was." He gulped. "Is that enough of a miracle for…?"

"I don't know! I didn't do it on purpose! We gotta get out of here before-"

"You're not going anywhere!" the man with the gun snarled. He lashed out and grabbed Aziraphale by the front of the coat, wrenching him around and flinging him hard to the floor.

Aziraphale hit with a grunt and instinctively rolled over with the intention of getting back up, only to find the gun pressing against his forehead. The angel froze. It took everything in him not to miracle the guns away, the robbers into handcuffs, and the people to safety. But with Kevin so close, and their hiding spot so tenuous, he didn't dare use any miracles at all that would draw the assassin's attention. So he held very still, hoping the robber didn't get twitchy.

"What should we do with 'em?" the man asked the other robber, voice full of menace.

"I can't help but think your best bet would be to let us walk out of here-" Aziraphale cut off with a cry as the robber used the gun to pistol-whip him across the face. The angel tumbled back, clutching his stinging cheek.

"OY!" Crowley lunged forward.

He didn't make it far. The movement and the sudden noise startled the robber, who whirled reflexively… and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed against the bare tile of the floor and unadorned walls, leaving the hostages to scream and cower on the floor. Crowley's mouth opened in a small gasp; the demon stumbled backwards, then collapsed, clutching his stomach.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale cried. He scrambled to all fours and clambered over to the demon, heedless of the gun pointed his direction once again. No, no, no… The angel instinctively reached out a hand to heal the wound before remembering that one, demons couldn't be healed by angels, and two, if he tried it would only use miraculous power that Kevin would be drawn to.

"No, you can't!" Crowley hissed, twitching away from him in case the angel forgot these two important things.

"Oh… darn it all!" Aziraphale half-sobbed. "Is it bad? Let me see, dear."

"Ngh. I'm fine. Right as rain. Tip-top condition as you would say- oh bless it, that looks bad," Crowley groaned as he pulled his hands away from his stomach, coated in red. "Alright, alright, we'll just have to make do…"

From the back, the female robber stormed towards them. "What did you do that for?" she snapped at her counterpart. She gestured outside. "Someone will have heard that! If they call the police… Damn it, you always gotta screw things up."

"He was coming at me!" the other shouted back. "It's fine. Put that one with the others, I'll lock the door."

"For real this time," she sneered, shooting a baleful look over her shoulder at the man she'd been attacking. "You, bow-tie! Get over here, on the ground!"

"No, wait, I have to help him-"

"I said, on the ground!" She grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and yanked him away from Crowley. He let her pull him over to the cluster of hostages, knowing that without miracles there was nothing he could do for the moment. With a warning growl, the woman kicked him onto his stomach.

"Hands behind you," she ordered. "Now. Put… your hands… behind you!"

"Alright, alright," Aziraphale snapped back, short on temper when he was so distracted with worry for Crowley. Reluctantly, he held his hands behind his back, allowing her to slip the plastic loops of zip-ties over his wrists and cinch them tight enough to make him wince.

At the front of the bank, the other robber was jiggling the door handle to satisfy himself that it was locked again. With the door firmly closed, he turned back to the others and stormed their direction. Crowley raised an arm weakly to hold him at bay but it was altogether ineffective; the robber merely grabbed him and dragged him bodily across the floor.

Aziraphale winced, both at the sound of Crowley's choked gasp of pain and the sight of the crimson trail of blood streaking behind him on the tiles. Though the angel glowered at the robber, he was ignored.

"There," the man snapped as he tossed the wounded demon uncaringly beside Aziraphale. "Cover them, I'll check for weapons or wires."

Aziraphale, who had immediately tried to sit up so he could check on Crowley again, found himself kicked back down with a heavy boot planted firmly on his back to hold him in place. The angel wriggled with dismay.

"Do be careful!" he protested. "Mind the coat, won't you?"

"Really?" Crowley snorted, turning his head to meet Aziraphale's gaze. "The coat? That's your concern?"

"Well, it's clean!"

"Shut up, both of you," the woman robber snapped, standing over them while the man roughly ran his hands over their torsos and legs in search of whatever they might find, which was nothing.

"Of all places to hide," Crowley grumbled. "How did we end up in the middle of a bank robbery?"

Aziraphale shot a disapproving look at the robbers once they'd satisfied themselves the two newcomers weren't hiding anything. While they moved towards the back to hold a quick whispered conference, he turned his attention back to Crowley.

"Now listen, dear," he murmured. "Whatever you do, don't you dare discorporate on me. Tell me the truth, is it bad?"

Crowley wriggled, then stilled with a gasp. The robbers hadn't even bothered tying him up, but his hands were occupied with trying to keep as much of his blood inside his body as possible. "Well, it isn't good," he replied. "I'll manage. Can't discorporate, I'd end up in…"

He didn't finish. He didn't need to. They both knew what it would mean: Crowley would be returned to Hell, and the demons would never let him leave or have another body. If he was lucky, they would finish killing him outright. If he was unlucky, which he must be in order to have ended up here, they would keep him prisoner and spend the rest of eternity punishing him for his rebellion. No, discorporation was unthinkable.

"Maybe," Aziraphale started hesitantly. "Maybe if you heal yourself just a little, just a small miracle, maybe Kevin won't notice."

"Can't," Crowley grunted with palpable regret. "He was right behind us, and he might have felt me open the door. He'd find us in a second. I can't heal that fast and besides…"

He tilted his head, and even though Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes behind the dark glasses, he could imagine the snake-ish gaze roving over the other hostages. The angel sighed and slumped, prone on the floor.

"Too many innocent people in here to risk it," he agreed, rather hopelessly. For now, their only choice was to lie low and hope the robbers got what they came for quickly… before Crowley bled to death.

Before Hell's most feared assassin realized where they were and came in for the kill while they were vulnerable and helpless.

Before everything went from worse to even worser.