Blessed Omens

TW: pseudo-deadnaming

Chapter 1

"That went down like a lead balloon."

The demon tilted his head. The angel was staring out at the desert with a wide-eyed curiosity.

"Sorry, what?"

They nodded toward the humans. "A lead balloon. Lead is rather heavy."

"I'm aware. And yes, I suppose it rather did."

The angel crossed their arms. "Do you wanna know a secret? I think it's an overreaction. I don't understand what's so wrong about knowing the difference between good and evil anyways. And why not put it somewhere they couldn't get to it, if it was so important they didn't have it? Like..." they gestured off into the distance. "Out on some high mountain, or on the moon. Makes me wonder what She's really got planned."

"An angel asking questions like that? You're going to get yourself in trouble..."

"R..." the angel visibly cringed. "Cadfael."

"Rcadfael?"

"Just Cadfael."

He held out a hand. "Azazel. A pleasure."

They shook it. Off in the distance, there was a rumbling sound.

"Ooh, that'll be a thunderstorm. They said they're going to be beautiful. There are these things called electrons, see, and—"

"How did he get a sword?"

"Wh-what?"

"He has a sword. Looks like it's flaming too."

"...that's where that went."

"That's yours? Awh, angel, you're making more trouble than I am."

"I... I am?"

He looked over. Worry was etched into their face, replacing any semblance of excitement.

"I saw you give her the fruit. And now they have your sword."

"You're right. Stars, I'm going to be in so much trouble..."

"Well... I could take credit for it. After all, my bosses want me causing havoc. I'll take credit for the tree."

"What do you get out of it?"

"I don't get yelled at by my boss."

"That's... That's all?"

"I suppose so."

"Deal," they said quickly.

He couldn't help but smile when that bright grin reappeared. A feathered wing covered his head as the first raindrops fell.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

It wasn't a stormy night. Azazel was thankful, really. He sat on the bench in the graveyard, glaring through the fog. A cigar hung from his mouth.

"All hail Satan." "All hail Satan." Came the two gravelly voices. He rolled his eyes.

"Finally. You two are late."

"Now that we are all here, we must recount the Deeds of the Day."

"Mhm, yeah. Deeds." He blew smoke at the two.

"I have tempted a priest as he walked down the street and saw the pretty girls in the sun," said Hastur. "I put doubt into his mind. He would have been a saint, but within a decade, we shall have him."

"I have corrupted a politician," said Ligur. "I let him think a tiny bribe would not hurt. Within a year, we shall have him."

"Horrible job," he said, completely disinterested. "Here, you'll like this. I brought down every London area mobile phone network tonight."

The others exchanged baffled looks. "What... What does that do to secure souls for our master?" asked Hastur.

"Fifteen million furious people taking it all out on each other, each of whom taking it out on others. Everyone is ruining everyone's days and nights."

"That's not exactly... craftsmanship," Ligur commented.

"Head office doesn't care. They love me down there. Times are changing." He smiled, showing off his fangs. "So, what's this all about?"

Hastur held out a basket. "This."

Ligur grinned widely. Azazel's cocky smile vanished. "No."

"Yes."

"Already?"

"Yes."

Azazel stared at the basket. "And... It's up to me?"

"Yes."

"But... This isn't really my scene..."

"Your scene," Ligur said. "Your starring role."

"Like you said: times are changing."

"They're coming to an end for a start."

He furrowed his brow. "Why me?"

"They love you down there," Hastur echoed the words in a condescending tone. "And what an opportunity! Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight."

"Somebody’s right arm, anyway."

Hastur produced a clipboard from nowhere. "Sign here."

Azazel signed with both his human and demon names. He knew the other two demons were speaking, but he couldn't hear them. He picked up the basket and disappeared back to the car, leaving the others to growl complaints at the empty space he'd occupied.

"Call the bookshop, if you would," he asked the car as they drove out.

The words 'Calling My Angel...' flashed on the screen before the line disconnected. Azazel swore several times.

"Shit! Why did it have to be me?!"

"Because you earned it, Azazel," said the voice on the radio. "What you did with the M-25 was a stroke of demonic genius, darling."

"Yes, thank you. I'm glad it went down well."

"This is the big one. Here are your instructions."

"My lord—" he tried to warn. But the information was already being transferred.

He sharply turned the wheel when he heard a horn blast through the fog. The child in the back wailed.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Raphael hummed softly to himself as he looked through the records. Maggie had popped out for a moment, so he was keeping an eye on things for her. He glanced up when the bell dinged.

"Sorry, the— Gabriel! What an unexpected pleasure. It's been..."

"Quite a while, yes." He looked around for a moment. "Strange place."

"Oh, I'm just helping out the owner for a moment. She needed to deal with something."

"Always so generous," he said, a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

"I try." He placed a record on the player, sighing happily when the song started. "Don't you love it?"

"Music? It's alright, I suppose."

"Humans are fascinating. They create so many things, like... like music! And books, and the clothing!"

"Yes, I like the clothes. Pity they won't be around much longer."

Any semblance of a smile vanished from Raphael's face. "What do you mean?"

"We have reliable information that things are afoot."

"If you want me to stop asking questions, you need to stop being so vague."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "I was getting to that. My informant suggests that the demon Azazel may be involved. You need to keep him under observation without, of course, letting him know that's what you're doing."

"I'll have to find him, then."

"You know, it's a miracle he hasn't spotted you yet."

"Miracles are what we do."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When Azazel made it back to the shop, he couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight. His partner was yet again cooing over some of the houseplants.

"Hello, darling," the demon greeted.

"Evening, dove." Raphael planted a kiss on his temple. "How was your meeting?"

"Actually, we might need to talk about that."

They sat down their spraybottle. "I think we might. I assume this is about..."

"Armageddon."

"Gabriel filled me in."

He noticably tensed. "Gabriel? Did he..."

"No, no. I was over at the record shop. He thinks we haven't met. Wants me to keep an eye on you."

He laughed at that. "I suppose I'll have to sleep with one eye open, or else Heaven's most terrifying angel might smite me in my sleep," he teased.

"As if you even sleep."

He leaned their head down to kiss their forehead. "Did he hurt you at all?"

"No, no. I'm okay. He told me off a bit, but what else is new?"

"You are a terrible angel," he teased.

"And you're a wonderful demon. Drinks?"

"I'd love to."

He locked the door and headed into the back of the shop. Raphael followed after a few minutes. They grabbed the glasses and wine while Azazel put a record on.

Four bottles in, the two of them were giggling and snuggled up on the sofa.

"What exactly is... is your point?" Azazel slurred.

"My point is... My point is..." they hummed. "The point I'm trying to make is dolphins. That's my point."

"'s a kinda fish, isn't it?"

"Mh, noo, 's a mammal. Difference is, um..." They leaned their head back, trying to think. Azazel hummed.

"Mate out of water?"

"No, no. Don't think so. Something about the, um, their young. Whatever, that's not the point. Their brains. Damn big brains. Not to mention whales! Brain city, whales."

"Kraken," Azazel added. "Great big bugger. Supposed to rise to the surface right at the end, when the sea boils."

"That's my point!" they cried. "The whole sea bubbling, dolphins, whales, everybody turning into bouillab... bouillab..."

"Bouuiilab..."

"Whatever, fish stew! Not their fault. Same with gorillas. Whoop, they say, sky gone all red, stars crashing to ground, what are they putting in the bananas these days? And while the stars comin' down, big ol' hydrogen bombs! Everything wiped out... and you know what makes it worse? When it’s all gone, we're gonna have to deal with eternatayyyyyy!" They fell into a fit of laughter.

Azazel groaned. "What are we going to do though? One angel and one demon, against the damn Apocalypse..." He dug the balls of his hands into his eyes.

"M' not sure," Raphael admitted.

"I can't cope with this while 'm drunk. I'm going to sober up."

"Mhhm, me too," the angel hummed.

The bottles slowly began filling back up. Raphael got to their feet and began recorking the bottles while Azazel cleaned up.

"I know we should stop it. But there's nothing I can do. You know what happened last time I interfered with the Divine Plan."

"What about diabolical ones?" Azazel suggested. "We have a baby in play now, you can interfere with that."

"We tried that back at the flood. If I interfere, I'll get in trouble. It's all part of the Divine Plan."

"Then you can't be certain that thwarting me isn't part of the Divine Plan, angel. You're supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren't you?" He placed a hand on each side of their face. "The Antichrist is here, but this is just the start. It's the upbringing that's important. The Influences. The evil influencers are all me, that's something you can thwart."

Raphael hesitated. "If you put it that way..."

"We can stop this."

"We'll be godfathers, sort of. Overseeing his upbringing. He won't be good. He won't be evil. He'll be normal." They grinned. "Well, I'll be damned."

He kissed them softly. "It's not that bad, once you get used to it."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The years leading to the Apocalypse were grueling. Warlock was growing up to be a menace (which Azazel was very proud of). Even if she wouldn't readily admit it, Raphael was proud too.

Each of the duo were headed to their respective head offices. Azazel picked at the chipped nail polish on his fingernails while he waited for the elevator doors to open. He pushed through the crowded halls of Hell on the way to the designated office, snarling back at any demons who gave him so much as a rude look.

The Council sat in one of the smaller throne rooms.

"Evening."

"Azazel," Dagon's voice drifted from the shadows. "Tell us about the boy."

"Oh, he's wonderful. Well, terrible."

"But is he evil?" Hastur prodded.

"Oh, horribly."

"Killed anyone yet?" asked Ligur.

"No. But there's far more to evil than murder."

There was a pause. Murmurs came from the shadows.

"Yeah. But it's fun."

Meanwhile, Raphael paced a vacant room in Heaven. She tangled her fingers through her hair as she walked.

"Cadfael," came a voice.

"Raphael," she corrected automatically. At Michael's annoyed expression, she added, "She gave me this name, I ought to use it."

Her sister rolled her eyes. "Yes, whatever. You're late."

"I've been waiting for you lot for ten minutes."

"In the wrong place."

She frowned. "A memo would've been nice."

"Follow me."

The two walked through the halls in silence. Raphael prepared herself for the passive aggressive comments as they entered the room.

"Took you long enough," Uriel sighed.

"I wasn't informed of a location change."

"We'll see to it that you're kept more in the loop."

At least you're taking responsibility for your inability to manage. "It's fine," she dismissed through a forced smile.

"Well. How is the child?"

"Oh, he's lovely," she half-lied. "I think that, deep down, he's being influenced to the light."

"Very commendable," Gabriel said. That massive grin spread over his face. "But I'm sure you know, we'll understand completely when you fail."

"But I won't fail."

"Wars are meant to be won, Cadfael. Not avoided."

"But... but we're the good guys. We're supposed to avoid war, to protect the humans. That's what's right."

"It's not in the Plan to avoid this war."

"Zadkiel would agree with me."

"They know that we are doing what is necessary. Even if they're a traitor. If you intend to follow in their footsteps..." Michael left her to come to the conclusion of what they would do on her own. Angels didn't make threats, not toward one another.

"That's... No, I— I don't. I'm sorry."

"Still. As She likes to say. Climb every mountain."

"Ford every stream."