A commission fic For Cafelatte100 I hope you enjoy this one and that it's what you were looking for ^_^

(Part two will be posted Sunday)

Forgotten Lullaby

A Good Omens Fanfic

Part One

Crowley stared at the wreckage, hands in his pockets. He shivered against something that wasn't a physical chill, but instead was a feeling that went a lot deeper.

This one had been close. In fact, he and Aziraphale had barely heard about the hit going down in time, but when Heaven was this serious about something, they didn't mess around.

Things had been stirring up lately, and Crowley didn't like where any of it was going. It had been a few decades now since he and Aziraphale had stopped the apocalypse from happening, and for the most part, things had been quiet. After the initial tremors had passed, Heaven had Hell had seemed to retreat back to their respective corners and mostly stayed out of everyone's business.

Until recently.

Crowley shivered again, hunching his back against the feeling. No, he didn't like what he smelled on the horizon at all.

He caught sight of the angel who was over by an ambulance, his hand on a woman's shoulder, a young girl sitting on the back of the ambulance cradled in her arms.

Just looking at the girl make the hairs on the back of Crowley's neck stand up for inexplicable reasons. He just had this feeling…of course they would have stopped a school bus from getting into a terrible accident anyway, he and Aziraphale always tried to save as many kids as they could, but he couldn't help but feel that this time, it had all been for more than just the usual reasons, and for this girl, Emily Carlisle, in particular.

He still vividly recalled her face looking out the window as if she knew what was coming. Before the semi that was supposed to hit the bus was diverted by Crowley's own demonic miracle and the bus only suffered minor damage compared to what could have happened, all the kids making it out alive with nothing but a few cuts and bruises.

He shook himself and straightened as Aziraphale returned to his side. The angel's face was oddly pale, and Crowley gave him a double look.

"What is it?" he asked.

Aziraphale shook his head slightly. "I can't tell for certain. I just feel that there's something…different about this entire situation. That girl…"

"I felt it too," Crowley said quickly and Aziraphale glanced up at him in surprise. "What do you think it means?"

"I haven't the foggiest," Aziraphale murmured. "But I think we need to try and figure it out."

They left the scene, walking shoulder to shoulder as they did, both of them abnormally quiet.

As they got to the Bentley, Aziraphale opened the passenger side door but didn't get inside. Instead, he looked up toward the gathering clouds that foretold of an inevitable storm. "Can you feel it too?" he asked quietly as if in answer to Crowley's inquiring look. "Stirrings in Heaven, I'm sure of it."

Crowley felt his stomach twist, but couldn't deny it. Even now, under his feet, he could feel an almost psychic rumbling from the depths of Hell. Even years of being away hadn't changed that subconscious connection in him.

"Yeah," he muttered darkly. "I feel it." He got into the car and Aziraphale reluctantly got in as well, shutting the door. "This is very bad, angel."

"I fear it is," Aziraphale said. "You know, I have this feeling that stopping that bus today messed about with something…cosmic. That girl…there's just something about her that I can't quite put my finger on."

Crowley started the engine with a snap of his fingers and pulled into the traffic, eyeing the gathering storm. "That's what was worrying me too."

"You don't think this is…er…It, do you?" Aziraphale asked cautiously.

Crowley shot him a look. "It? What do you mean 'It'?"

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"But we…"

"We both know that wasn't really IT," Aziraphale emphasized and sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "You've seen everything that's been happening lately, there are stirrings again. Perhaps not strictly apocalyptic, but definitely some precursors. War is on the horizon, regardless of whether it's between humans or Heaven and Hell."

"So, I suppose the question is: did we manage to stop it by saving that bus today, or start it?" Crowley asked, hating himself as he bit out the last query.

"I don't know," Aziraphale said softly. "And I truly shudder to find out the truth."

Crowley sighed and slapped the wheel angrily. "Just when things were starting to work out for the better too. Why is that always my luck?"

Gabriel landed in the park and, frowning, instantly miracled a barrier around himself so that the rain didn't fall on him. His expression darkened as the second party to this meeting appeared, pushing out of the ground like some terrible root.

"Duke Hastur," Gabriel sniffed.

"Gabriel," the demon returned with a sneer. "You called me."

"Yes, it's about the plan. I thought you said it was to be finished today?"

"The bus was scheduled to crash an hour ago," Hastur snipped. "Check your watch."

Gabriel glowered. "It did, but the children are still alive."

"Impossible!" Hastur snapped. "You told me the deaths were destined! We both made sure of it!"

"Then what happened?" Gabriel demanded.

Hastur opened his mouth, then bared his teeth in fury, hands clenching into fists. Gabriel took a small step back in disgust, afraid the fiend would start spewing fluids.

"Damn him!" Hastur growled. "If this was stopped, I think we both have an idea of who would be so stupid as to do such a thing."

Gabriel thought for a second before the answer became clear. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it already. "Of course," he murmured darkly. "You think this was Crowley and Aziraphale's work."

"It could only be those two meddling bastards!" Hastur snapped. "We should have done away with them long ago."

"We should have," Gabriel had to agree. "But it's not too late for that. There's still time to rectify this entire situation before the future is irreparably damaged."

Hastur looked at him with evil curiosity as Gabriel said, "Help me set a trap for them and we can do away with all our problems all at once."

A wicked grin spread across Hastur's face.

Aziraphale jumped from a clap of thunder, the teacup he was carrying rattling against the saucer threateningly.

Crowley eyed him from where he was sitting on the couch in the bookshop's back room. "Bit jumpy?" the demon asked, but he too was abnormally tense, his back straight and his fist clenched instead of effecting his usual comfortable sprawl.

Aziraphale huffed and sat in his favorite chair, trying to calm himself. "I just still have this bad feeling. And this storm hasn't let up for three days now."

"Ngk," Crowley grunted. "It rains all the time in London, angel. You should be used to it."

The phone rang and both angel and demon were nearly startled out of their seats. Aziraphale huffed, annoyed at himself as he got up and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Mr. Fell, it's Linda Carlisle—I'm Emily's mother."

"Oh, Mrs. Carlisle, yes, and how is she doing?" Aziraphale asked with a small smile, recognizing the women whose daughter he and Crowley had saved the other day.

Crowley got up at the mention of the name and edged around, leaning in to listen to the call with Aziraphale as the angel tilted the receiver away from his ear slightly so they could both hear.

"Well…" her voice wavered, putting Aziraphale instantly on the alert. "Um…she's been k-kidnapped."

"What?!" Crowley demanded, snatching the phone from Aziraphale as the angel's heart fell into his stomach. "This is Crowley, Mrs. Carlisle. When did this happen? Who took her?"

"Calm down, Crowley," Aziraphale chided as he took the phone back. "Please, Mrs. Carlisle, if you can tell us anything?"

"I don't know," she sobbed. "She was gone when I woke up this morning. The police think she ran away, because some of her classmates have also gone missing…"

"Wait, more of the children who were on the bus?" Crowley queried, meeting Aziraphale's eyes meaningfully.

Mrs. Carlisle sniffed. "Yes. It's just awful. This might sound silly but… it's made me wonder if it wasn't an accident. I…we're just all so worried, and the police won't do anything useful. I know about you two, Mr. Fell, Mr. Crowley, that you help people. Please, find my daughter and the other children. I know they didn't just all run away. You have to believe me!"

"Of course, a mother's intuition is always to be trusted," Aziraphale said gently. "I too fear that this was no accident, but I do promise that we will bring Emily and the others back. Wherever they have been taken.

"Oh, thank you," Mrs. Carlisle breathed in relief. "Both of you."

"We'll keep you up to date," Aziraphale assured her, then carefully placed the receiver back in its cradle.

Crowley was already pacing, agitation practically wafting off of him. "This is very bad," he muttered.

"Indeed," Aziraphale said and went over to his desk, plucking his sword from its rack on the wall above it. "And we need to get to the bottom of this now. If these are the same forces responsible for the crash, then we may have very little time to find those children alive."

Crowley gritted his teeth and grabbed his coat, slinging it on before grabbing his keys and following Aziraphale out of the shop.

"Where?" he demanded.

Aziraphale didn't really hear him, instead, he had halted just outside the door, feeling a strange prickling sensation on his skin, and in his currently invisible feathers. A slight static, that had nothing to do with the lightning from the storm. A shiver went down his spine. The power that he had felt collecting the last few days seemed to be culminated in one spot now.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley cried as if he had already said his name several times without response.

Aziraphale shook himself. "Do you have a map in your car?"

"Yeah, but…"

Aziraphale was already heading to where the Bentley was parked, snapping his fingers to get inside and throwing his sword into the backseat before he reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a driving atlas of London and surrounding areas.

Crowley watched him with curiosity as Aziraphale set the book on the car's bonnet and hovered his hand over it, closing his eyes.

"Let's see," he murmured and the pages began to shuffle, the book flipping through itself, before it stopped on one page in particular.

Aziraphale stabbed it with a finger and opened his eyes, glancing down at the spot his finger rested.

"There," he said decisively. "There's a huge amount of energy concentrated here."

Crowley nodded, obviously also having noticed it. "Get in, angel."

Aziraphale ran around the car with the atlas in his hand and slid in. Crowley pulled out onto the road and slammed his foot into the gas pedal, driving off into the direction Aziraphale's senses had pointed them.

They drove in tense silence, Aziraphale watching the wipers dash raindrops across the windscreen in front of him.

It was a long time before Crowley inhaled and started to speak hesitantly. "Aziraphale?"

"Hm?" the angel murmured, slightly distracted.

Crowley glanced over at him, and the seriousness pouring off of him brought Aziraphale around, turning to his friend. "What is it Crowley?"

The demon's face was pale and his lips were pressed into a thin, bloodless line. "What if…" He stopped and then started again. "Have you considered that maybe this time it really is God calling the shots? That this actually is the Ineffable Plan coming to fruition?"

Aziraphale stared at him, breath catching in his throat. "I…I…" he didn't know what to say, completely speechless.

Crowley didn't say anything else either, simply turned back to the road and Aziraphale snapped his mouth shut.

The thought didn't really bear thinking about.

They finally reached the location Aziraphale had named, parking on the street at the end of the walkway and as they stared at their destination, there was no doubt this was the place.

"It's practically oozing energy," Crowley said, raising a hand as if to shield his eyes. "Just can't seem to tell whether it's Heavenly or Infernal."

"Does it matter?" Aziraphale asked a bit sharply. "We're saving those children either way, Crowley."

"I'm not arguing with that," Crowley agreed. "Just wondering if we're going to have a better plan than simply barging in the front door?"

"Do you have one?" Aziraphale inquired, genuinely curious.

Crowley wrinkled his nose. "Not really." He leaned across Aziraphale to open his glove compartment and pull out a pistol he usually carried when they went on cases just in case. "Frankly, I don't think it's really going to matter what we do in this case."

"So you're thinking the same thing I am," Aziraphale said grimly.

"That it's a trap? Come on, angel, of course it is," Crowley said, tucking the gun into his coat and getting out of the car. "Hasn't stopped us before."

Aziraphale nodded, feeling better that at least he had Crowley at his side. He grabbed his sword and got out of the car, the two of them standing at the edge of the walkway, staring at the seemingly unassuming house in front of them.

"There's really only one way to beat a trap," Crowley said.

"Walk right in," Aziraphale added with resignation and they proceeded up the walkway, shoulder to shoulder.

Aziraphale drew his sword and Crowley had his gun in hand as they made it to the door. They glanced at each other, and with a nod, Crowley stepped forward to kick in the door.

They stepped inside.

The door swung shut behind them with an ominous clunk.

They both stared in awe and horror at what appeared in front of them.

"It's…it's like an M. C. Escher painting," Aziraphale said, swallowing hard as he glanced at the incomprehensible vastness that spread out in front of them. Vast, vaulted ceilings of multiple floors, seemingly hundreds of flights of stairs, and dark passages, and mirrored halls, like some labyrinthine maze.

"But…how?" Crowley demanded. "You saw the outside, no way could any of this fit in here. It's…it's bigger here on the inside."

"Yes, and I think it's possibly some sort of pocket dimension, an illusion. But I can't seem to see through it. Whoever made this is very powerful."

"How are we doing this?" Crowley asked, looking overwhelmed.

"Staying together for one," Aziraphale said firmly. "We have no idea what awaits us here or how long it will take us to find the children, but we need to stay alert."

Crowley nodded a little shakily and looked around. "Where do we start?"

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. "Anywhere. I can't sense the children past the energy this place is putting off. We'll be blind, but there's nothing else for it."

Crowley cursed under his breath but they started off, choosing one of the staircases that seemed closest. Once they started up it, however, it seemed to be far longer than they had anticipated, and it opened into a long corridor that had multiple off-shoots.

Every passage and turn was like that in this place. By the tenth direction change, Aziraphale and Crowley were already completely turned around, unsure if they would ever be able to find their way back to the entrance—providing that same rout even still existed. It seemed to Aziraphale that a lot of the paths changed the instant he and Crowley stepped off of them, a hallway turning into a flight of stairs, a staircase pointing up instead of down, or vice versa. This was a complex illusion that had been tailored almost obsessively. Whoever had set this up had known what they were doing and the thought put a pit in Aziraphale's stomach.

He tried not to think of Crowley's words from earlier. Was it possible all of this truly was part of the Ineffable Plan? And that getting in the way now was not only going against Heaven but against God? Aziraphale wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with that thought, but still. Until he knew differently, he was going to save the children. It was always better to err on the side of caution, especially when lives were at stake.

His dark thoughts nearly cost him as Crowley stopped in front of him, staring into a new portion of the labyrinth.

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked, gazing past his shoulder.

He inhaled sharply. The way ahead of them was all mirrors. Thousands and thousands of them, all different shapes and sizes, set in all different angles, reflecting back on themselves infinite times.

"Let's turn around, find another…" Crowley trailed off as he turned.

Aziraphale glanced around to see what he was looking at and, to his horror, the way they had just come through had turned into a dead end, nothing but a solid wall where a passage used to be.

"Fantastic," Crowley growled.

"There's nothing for it, then," Aziraphale said and turned back around toward the hall of mirrors.

Crowley grabbed his arm. "Angel, we're just getting funneled to the spot they want us, you know that, right?"

"And yet I don't think we can do anything about it," Aziraphale replied, feeling his friend's helplessness, but knowing it was more important than ever to keep their heads right now. "We'll stay together, and make it through this, Crowley."

The demon's jaw tightened, but he nodded.

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders and they stepped into the hall together.

They were instantly greeted by thousands of reflections of themselves. Now that they were fully in the room, the effect was almost dizzying, the images seeming to swirl like a kaleidoscope.

Crowley grunted, ripping his sunglasses off of his face. "This is insane! We have to get out of here! There's no way we'll ever get through this."

But the passage they had come through was already gone, swallowed by only more mirrors.

Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley's hand, ignoring the demon's confused inquiry.

"Just stay with me," Aziraphale told him, trying to reassure his friend. "We need to try and not get separated."

"Easier said than done," Crowley muttered as they stepped forward.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and for a while they were fine, aside from running into a few mirrors and feeling the dizziness and sense of vertigo that spread from the thousands of angles the room created, angles that should have been impossible by any natural law of physics.

It wasn't until Aziraphale felt Crowley's fingers slip from his, almost as if they had turned to smoke, that he began to feel true panic though.

"Aziraphale!" Crowley called in shock, and Aziraphale realized he hadn't let go on purpose.

"Crowley!" he cried, trying to regain his grip on his friend's hand, reaching out for Crowley's flailing hand.

All he felt was his hand striking a cold surface.

To his horror, the Crowley he was looking at was only a reflection. Aziraphale spun around to the spot Crowley should be reflecting from, but saw only himself. When he spun back around, Crowley's reflection was no longer there.

"Crowley!" he cried.

"Aziraphale!" Crowley's reflection flickered briefly before disappearing again.

"Where are you?" Aziraphale cried, then closed his eyes, trying to listen for his friend instead, knowing his eyes would only betray him here.

"I'm here!"

But to his growing terror, even sound was distorted in this wretched place, echoing all over, bouncing around like the reflections on the mirrors. Aziraphale tore his eyes open again, spinning around, but his brief moment of blindness had caused Crowley to disappear completely.

"Crowley!" he screamed.

No answer but his own echo this time.

Aziraphale started running, smashing into a mirror and nearly collapsing, tasting blood on his lip. He got up and continued. "Crowley! Please answer me! Where are you?"

But it seemed fruitless. Aziraphale began to feel the despair creep into him as he fought back the panic. He slammed into another mirror and cursed, this time simply pulling out his sword and using the hilt to smash though the glass barring his way

It shattered in thousands of tinkling shards, forcing him to cover his face. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the mountains, delayed and deafening.

Instead of stopping he turned with a desperate cry and smashed another mirror and another and another until the sounds of shattering glass thundered in his ears, and a thousand broken reflections of himself danced around him as they fell to the ground.

Then finally behind one mirror, there was nothing.

Aziraphale stopped, panting, as he looked through the spot he had broken and saw darkness behind it.

He kicked more of the glass away and stepped inside, raising his sword as he went.

The passage was pitch black and he used the light of his halo so he could see. His breathing seemed extremely loud in his own ears, and he had no idea where he was going or what might be ahead of him, but he felt like, somehow, he was breaking through the illusion.

"Well, well, well, look at this. A little birdy has flown into our trap."

Aziraphale spun around and brandished his sword at the leering figure.

"Hastur," he breathed.

"That's right," the demon grinned.

"So, it was you who took the children," Aziraphale said, thrusting his sword close to the demon.

"Oh, there's so much more to it than that," Hastur chuckled, the sound nasty and grating in the darkness. "But you'll see soon enough."

"Not if I kill you," Aziraphale growled, and was quite ready to do it too, quite finished with these games, when an iron grip latched around his wrist, staying his hand.

"I'm not working alone," Hastur smirked. "Perhaps you know Kushiel?"

Aziraphale spun around and saw the hard-featured angel who was gripping his wrist tightly, glowering darkly at him. Aziraphale swallowed hard. Kushiel was one of the angels who doled out punishment in Heaven, and he knew he was not to be messed with.

Aziraphale gasped as Kushiel twisted his wrist and forced the sword from his hand. It clattered to the ground and Hastur reached to pick it up.

"We have lots of plans for you, little pigeon. Lots of plans."

Kushiel slammed Aziraphale face-first into the wall and wrenched his arms behind his back before cuffing them with manacles that could hold an angel. Aziraphale struggled, but it did little good in the torturer's iron grip.

"Let's go, it's almost time," Hastur said.

Aziraphale was dragged along and all the time he hoped that Crowley was still free and would be able to find the children before whatever plan that could have brought Heaven and Hell together was enacted.

The only comfort he had so far was that, with the inclusion of Hell, he was pretty sure that God was not involved. But that was a small comfort indeed when he had no idea what was coming.

Aziraphale expected it to take long enough to get him somewhere that he would have time to figure out what to do, but instead, Kushiel and Hastur simply marched him down the dark hallway and through a door to their destination, only lending evidence to the theory that this whole place was obviously just a very elaborate illusion.

Aziraphale's heart fluttered in his chest as he saw where they had taken him.

It was a large, dimly lit room, with two cages. One sat on the far side of the room and contained the children, the other, was the one they pushed Aziraphale into.

Aziraphale stumbled as he was shoved into the small cell, falling hard to his knees, but he scrambled to his feet again and pressed against the far side of the cage. There were all the missing children, including Emily, sitting huddled together, frightened, in the cell, and on the door…

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed as he saw the contraption with a timer on it, steadily counting down. "Oh, dear, oh my. Listen!" he called out to the children. "Don't worry about anything! We'll have you out of there, I promise!"

The kids didn't react and Hastur gave a cold chuckle.

"They can't see or hear you while you're in here. But as you can see, you got here just in time."

"What is the meaning of this?" Aziraphale demanded, clenching his fists. "Please, just let them go! They've done nothing!"

Kushiel punched him hard in the stomach and Aziraphale folded with a soft cry. The angel and Hastur then both grabbed him and shoved him back against a post in the middle of the cell. His hands were yanked above his head and the manacles hooked over something there. Aziraphale was purposefully faced toward the rest of the room and the cell the children were in and he could only feel like everything about this situation had just gone from bad to worse.

Kushiel reached up to grab his hand, and to Aziraphale's annoyance, started to work the small gold ring that he always wore off of his pinky.

"Excuse me! What are you doing with that?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Good job, it looks like everything is running to plan."

Aziraphale whipped his head around and saw Gabriel and Sandalphon walking into the cell.

"You," Aziraphale huffed. "I should have known you were behind this."

Gabriel gave him a baleful look. "Don't act coy, Aziraphale, you're not the hero here. In fact, you've interfered for the last time."

"But why? What is the meaning of all this?" Aziraphale demanded. "At least tell me that much if you're going to kill me anyway."

Sandalphon scoffed at that, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"You mean you really didn't know? You expect me to believe that?"

Aziraphale stared at him. "Why the children, Gabriel? Why do you want them dead?"

"Because they're destined to stop the next world war," the archangel snapped. "And certain things need to happen to get the next, true Armageddon underway."

Aziraphale felt himself go white, a cold sweat breaking out over his back. He had no answer to this, only that it was what he and Crowley had feared all along. Still, knowing it for certain made it only a thousand times worse.

"It's time, Sandalphon," Gabriel spoke to the other angel. "He'll be here soon."

Sandalphon smirked nastily. "This is the only time it would please me to take this form."

Aziraphale watched in mounting horror as Sandalphon's form changed, until the captive angel was looking at a mirror of…himself!

His breath caught in his throat, considering the implications of this—all of which were very, very bad.

Kushiel handed him the ring he'd stolen from Aziraphale.

"Ah," Sandalphon said, working it onto his finger. "The final touch to make this the most convincing fake I possibly can."

"It is all in the details, as they say," Gabriel agreed.

Hearing his own voice out of Sandalphon's mouth made Aziraphale shudder.

"Details indeed." Sandalphon stepped back and held up a finger. "And on that topic, I almost forgot the finishing touches." He snapped his fingers and he was suddenly covered in blood, his clothing disheveled, with multiple horrific injuries visible.

"Oh, very good, Sandalphon, that is quite convincing," Gabriel praised.

Hastur snickered, delighted. "I don't think our little snake will be able to resist this, will he?"

Aziraphale felt cold as he watched all of this. Crowley…they were setting a trap for Crowley! But, surely, he would know…even with the admittedly rather convincing disguise. Aziraphale was sure Crowley would know it wasn't really him.

Gabriel turned to the shuddering, captive angel, and tilted his head back until he was looking down his nose at Aziraphale. "You're finally going to get what's coming to you, Aziraphale. You and your demon pal."

Then he strode out of the cell with Hastur and Kushiel leading Sandalphon in his disguise.

Aziraphale took a shuddering breath as they left, and strained against his restraints. But it was no use. He was held fast.

"Please, please, be okay, Crowley," he pleaded, and then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He started to pray hesitantly instead.

"Please…if…if this truly is Your will then I will stand down. But please let Crowley get out of here alive. That's all I ask. And if it's not Your will, then, well, give me the strength to do what has to be done."

He felt a little better after that. At least it was all he could do now.

He just had to have faith, but frankly, he'd never been more terrified with that thought in his life.

Crowley panicked the instant he felt Aziraphale's hand slipping from his. He'd thought he had been holding on, but it seemed like one minute he was and the next he was inexplicably letting go. He could hear the angel for a few seconds after, and the panic in his voice made Crowley even more desperate, but soon he echoed away and Crowley was alone.

"Aziraphale!" he screamed, tearing through the mirrored passages willy-nilly, paying no attention to which way he was turning when. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, this whole place was incomprehensible, playing by no ordinary rules.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Crowley snarled as he found himself trapped at a dead end, images of himself magnified and swirling around him. With a roar, he finally reached into his coat for his gun and emptied the entire clip into the mirrors in front of him.

Glass shattered, and fell all around him like rain, and along with it, part of the illusion. He quickly sheltered his eyes from the falling glass, and when he looked back around he saw darkness beyond the shattered mirrors.

Curious, Crowley edged forward, ducking his head through a hole and slamming the butt of the gun against the rest of the glass to open the way further. He slipped inside, and slipped his sunglasses down his nose to better see.

It was a long hallway, but this one already seemed different than all the others he and Aziraphale had crossed through. There was no underlying feeling of confusion here. It seemed he was back through the looking glass, and the irony of where he'd just come from didn't escape him.

He smirked. He seemed to have just found the weakness to this illusion. Now that he had, he hoped it would be easier to find Aziraphale. Perhaps the angel had also found this, or a similar passage.

He continued on until he saw a door up ahead. He pressed his ear to it first, listening, then cautiously opened it and stepped out into another room.

Two things caught his eye simultaneously. First a cage at the far side, where he could see the children, huddled inside, and what looked to be some sort of timed detonation device on the door to the cell.

And then not too far away, was a very familiar figure sagging and chained to a pillar, seemingly unconscious, blood covering his torn clothing.

"Angel," Crowley croaked, and rushed forward.

Aziraphale could only watch, helpless, as Crowley appeared out of a side door and instantly spotted Sandalphon in his disguise where he had been undoubtedly strategically placed for that very reason.

"Crowley! Don't! It's not me! It's a trap! Please!" he screamed to no avail.

He could only witness what was happening now as Crowley ran to what he assumed was his friend, and thus stepped right into Heaven and Hell's trap.