Hello, everyone reading this! This is the first chapter of Dark Trails, my first foray into horror writing.

First up, I want to say that I blame everything on Hekateras. She's the one who put up a plotbunny on Tumblr and then allowed me to do something with it. The plotbunny was:

"Guys, guys! You know how the Slender Man is actually a creation of some bored people with Photoshop on the Something Awful forums?

…And you know how there's this generally pervading theme in fiction, and Good Omens especially, that Belief can change reality (all those milli-Alps pile up quickly), up to and including sustaining and creating gods and such?

…What if Crowley helped start the Slender Man mythos for kicks…

…And then it actually became real, because so many people THOUGHT he was real?

…And then Az and Crowley had to go and check it out and stuff, only their powers didn't work on him, because there's no element in the mythos that says angelic or demonic powers can work on him…

…Someone needs to write this. If nobody does, I might, but I have literally zero experience in horror, unless you count that disturbing Order of the Stick fanfic I wrote once, and I don't know when I'll get around to it even if I do."

And then I took over. So this is entirely her fault.

As the bunny says, this is a Good Omens/Slender Man crossover. If you are unfamiliar with Slender Man, or would like to know more about the thing, please visit the Wiki here: slenderman . wikia wiki/ The_Slender-Man_Wiki

If you'd like some mood music, there's a bit of soundtrack on my profile page.

For cover art, please go here: sister-to-the-queen . deviantart #/ d5bgajd

Warnings: extreme blood and gore, body horror, macabre concepts, language. Rating may be subject to change.

Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. The Slender Man Mythos belongs to the strange, strange internet people who came up with it. No copyright infringement or personal profit was intended with the writing of this story.

Dedicated, with the utmost respect, to Junji Itou, master of Japanese horror.

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Dark Trails

Chapter One

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Aziraphale came back in from the kitchen, and set another bottle of wine down on the table. "Now then, dear," he said as he worked out the cork, "tell me again what happened, a bit more coherently this time, please."

"'Sssss like I sssaid," Crowley hissed, staring gloomily at his half-empty glass. "Kidsss dissssappearing, parentssss going bonkerssss with fear, whole country in a ssstate of panic. You know all that already, you've sssseen the paperssss." He tossed back the rest of his wine. "I've sssscrewed it all up. More," he added, setting the glass down hard.

Aziraphale put the cork back in the bottle, set it aside, then reached out and patted Crowley's hand. "Now, dear boy, calm down, do. I haven't heard you hiss like that in years. Whatever is happening, I'm sure it can be set right again. Now then: from the beginning?"

At this, Crowley looked up and met Aziraphale's eyes. After a brief pause, he said, "You're just as scared as I am, angel, don't try to deny it. Well, you should be!" he continued before Aziraphale could reply. "It was just a joke, for Somebody's sake! A joke! I thought, start up a new urban legend, target it towards children, scare the daylights out of them so they'll whine and whine at their parents to let them stay up late and, and leave the lights on and so they'll wake up their parents in the middle of the night! I wanted general low-grade annoyance, not... not something killing kids!"

Aziraphale started violently. "Crowley!"

"Don't Crowley me, Aziraphale, you know I'm right!" Crowley sprang up from his chair and started pacing up and down the little back room. "Over a dozen children gone missing in under a fortnight, no-one's seen or heard anything, police can't find a trace, they're just gone! They're gone, and they're dead, because that's what urban legends do! They kill things!"

"But this makes no sense!" Aziraphale exclaimed, standing up so fast his chair almost fell over. "Humans have been crafting urban legends ever since they built their very first cities, in Mesopotamia! You and I both know that, we were there! And that's all they've ever been: legends, stories, figments of the imagination! Why would this one be any different?"

Crowley had stopped pacing during Aziraphale's tirade. "Maybe..." he began. He slowly turned towards Aziraphale with a decidedly pained look on his face. "You know how, for every wile, I use a little demonic energy, right?"

Aziraphale nodded, frowning; he didn't like the direction this was taking.

"Well then, there you are!" Crowley said, smiling now in a way Aziraphale couldn't bear to see. "My fault. I did it. I charged it up and then I set it loose, zow, like a bullet from a gun. It's like the M25 all over again, only about a hundred times w-"

Aziraphale caught Crowley by the shoulders and gave him a sound shake. "Crowley, stop it! Look at me!" When Crowley did, stunned, Aziraphale continued more quietly, "Dear, I don't know what's going on here, but I do know that none of the blame is at your door. How could you have possibly foreseen any of this happening? You couldn't have, obviously, else you'd never have done it. I know you. Now," and he let go of Crowley, "do you have any idea where the... the creature might be?"

Crowley didn't immediately answer, but a slow grin spread over his face. "Aziraphale, I swear you're -"

Aziraphale smiled for a moment. "Never mind that right now, my dear. The creature?"

"Well..." Crowley pulled a brand-new map from his pocket and went to spread it open on the table. He pointed at the south-west of England, between the South-West Peninsula and Wales. "All the disappearances've been in this area. I've put a dot for each one. Look at what's at the centre of the dots."

Aziraphale did so, and blinked. "Gwaed Forest? There's... There's no such place in England."

"There is now."

They looked at each other.

"When do we leave?"

"Right now."