#just because i was mildly offended by itz

[iqmmir]

I am an okay person i think

[joddit-y]

Gabriel and Beelzebub's Divintively Terrible Plan (a Good Omens fanfiction)

if you’d rather read it A03, click here

chapter one is here, three is here , four is here

CHAPTER TWO

Purgatory, as the middle ground between Heaven and Hell, was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It resembled the generic waiting room of a dentist office. The chairs were plasticy and boring, but with just enough upholstery to be acceptably comfortable. The floor was covered in clean, ugly tile that didn’t squeak when shoes scuffed it. The walls were painted, though a rather sickly looking yellow-green colour. The place was kept an appropriate temperature by a swamp cooler, which occasionally broke down, making the room smell of fish. 

When the contraption found it convenient to function, the air was inexplicably humid and sharp to the nose at the same time. The domain generally smelled of vanilla, which was this close from being sickeningly sweet. Two windows let in some natural light (residual light from heaven above), but the glass panels provided no view to gaze at, merely showing off a dirt plane with increasingly pathetic patches of glass the closer to Hell it got.

Purgatory was empty, as per usual (most humans commit some deed that makes them immediately eligible for Hell or Heaven and never even make it to Purgatory’s nondescript doorstep. This place was reserved for those who, like Purgatory itself, were remarkably insipid.) when Gabriel alighted on its white-and-blue speckled flooring. Electric purple eyes sweeping over the deserted waiting room, the archangel straightened his coat. He didn’t want to seem ruffled in front of the adversary. It wasn’t because he was a bit nervous, heavens no- he simply wanted to represent the very best upstairs had to offer. He ran a hand through his hair, and checked a watch he didn’t have that wouldn’t have functioned anyway because Purgatory was just a smidgen to the left of time. He strode to a small plastic table coupled with two chairs whose fabric vaguely resembled confetti, coat rustling as he turned on his heel to stand straight-backed beside it. Sitting could only be interpreted as a sign of submission to his… confidant, and he refused to show any sign of weakness, especially when discussing such a troubling matter.

The swamp cooler stuttered from where it was squeezed into a window frame, exhaling recycled air into the space. The fluorescent lights had grown considerably brighter when the angel arrived, and they flickered as the ground began to boil ominously, heralding Beelzeub’s arrival. Small burps of acrid smelling gas popped from the floor, the molten ceramic oozing aside to make way for a shaggy, dark haired head emerging from the glop. The angel’s nose hair burned as he stood resolutely with his arms stiffly at his side. He watched the ground give way to a scrawny, suited form with a mildly condescending look on her face.

The fly-ridden Prince of Hell emerged from the warped patch of flooring with a demeanour that closely resembled Gabriel’s expression. The two beings stared at each other for a moment as the lights righted themselves. They seemed to have engaged in an unofficial staring contest, and the only thing in existence that could end it were the final, shuddering wheezes of a dying swamp cooler.

The angel’s lip formed an involuntary sneer. The demon quirked a brow disapprovingly. An angelic glance was spared for the abused tiles, which were found to be completely unblemished, as they always had been. Clearing his throat, Gabriel gestured to the table he was standing next to.

“Would you… like to sit down?”

Beelzebub’s face was pure bratty defiance.

“No.”

Gabriel sighed. He had expected this much he probably would have done the same if she’d been the one asking, time to compromise like the higher being he was.

“How about we both sit? At the same time.”

He ventured, patting the chair nearest him invitingly, internally cringing at the childish methods he had been reduced to. Beelzebub stared coldly at him for a good ten seconds before pulling out the chair opposite him. As they lowered themselves into their seats, Gabriel noted the messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“Beelzebub, we agreed that the only things attending this meeting would be ourselves.”

When his comment provoked no response, he tried again.

“Sorry, but the bag’s gotta go.”

He smiled, with just enough forced cheer to be threatening. Beelzebub’s blue orbs rolled.

“Relaxxzz, you uptight feather duzter. The bag’zz not dangerouz, not to uzz anyway.”

She snarked, her voice vibrating, its buzzy quality worming its way into Gabriel’s ears. He almost felt violated by it, hethought, eye twitching. The angel raised his immaculately shaped eyebrows, smiling disbelievingly.

“Uh huh. Elaborate please.”

The demon countered with discussing it later in favour of moving on to the matter at hand, and knowing that he would have to be complacent to get anywhere with the stubborn creature he was forced to work with Gabriel reluctantly agreed, keeping a skeptical eye on the bag all the same.

“So. I’ve, ah, heard that recently Hell’s attempt to punish the demon...what was his name again?”

“Crowley. The traitorouzzz zzznake had a hand in averting the apocalypze.”

Gabriel nodded, remembering the arrogant tempter who had conspired with Aziraphale.

“Right. So I heard that that holy water delivered from Heaven itself, from the hands of the archangel Michael. That had no effect?”

Beelzebub scowled, confirming his suspicions.

“And when Heaven attempted to deliver divine justice unto the Principality Aziraphale for-”

Beelzebub interrupted.

“Zzcrewing up what we’ve been working towardz for zixz thouzand yearzz?!”

Her hands clenched white on the table, flies buzzing in a furious frenzy around her head. Gabriel privately agreed with her (although he would have used stronger language).

“That is certainly one way to put it, yes. We were given the most devastating hellfire your realm possessed, and yet Aziraphale not only survived, but was able to control the fire. He nearly burnt us!”

He exclaimed, hoping to impress upon the demon how dire the situation had become. The Prince looked genuinely surprised for a moment before the apathetic frown concealed her emotions again. A few strands of oily black hair swung into her eyes as her head lowered.

Gabriel clasped his hands on the table, waiting for the demon to speak. When she didn’t, he was once again faced with the task of starting conversation again.

“I wanted this meeting because we cannot allow two rogues to exist. Who knows what ridiculous ideas our troops will get if they continue to spread their...delusions? And it’s not as if we can...well. Our courses of action are limited.”

He muttered uneasily, fingers reaching up to tug at his sweater collar. The air had acquired a damp, sticky quality to it as the effects of the cooler wore off.

Neither of them would openly admit it, but both were very afraid of the angel and demon who could withstand the things that irrevocably, unquestionably, killed angels and demons. It was something that hadn’t occurred in over six thousand years, it was unheard of. And if they were resistant to their species’ only surefire methods of execution, what else were they capable of? And did they want to find out?

Beelzebub swiped her tongue over her bottom lip nervously, attempting a confident facade.

“Zo what if we can’t kill them.”

Gabriel looked up curiously.

“Excuse me?”

“Zzo what if we can’t kill them! They don’t need to be dead, juzt incapazitated.”

Gabriel rolled the idea around in his head for a moment. The logic was there, but there was still the problem of Aziraphale spreading his delusions of peace among other angels.

“Sounds like a nice idea, but how do we get rid of them in a way that they can’t pass on their misguided ideas to others?”

Beelzebub grinned. A demon grinning isn’t a particularly pleasant sight, especially when that demon has flies coming in and out of her mouth like some sick kind of revolving door. Several had already pushed their way out the corners of her grimy mouth. The angel’s placating smile tightened in disgust. The Prince paid him no mind, bringing his attention to the messenger bag once more.

“See- that’zz what thiz izz for.”

She plopped the old leather bag onto the tabletop, the object inside landing with a heavy sounding clunk. Lifting the flap, she proceeded to carefully pull out a small, deteriorating black velvet ring box. She presented it before him as if it were God’s Great Plan all wrapped up for them to read. Gabriel drew himself up straight, leaning in closer in case what made the box so special was very small. He studied it, trying to understand why the demon sitting at his table was so proud of it.

“What exactly do human coupling traditions have to do with any of this.”

He said haughtily, masking his confoundment with contempt. The Prince frowned and rolled her eyes even further back, if that was possible, then placed the box in the center of the table. The bag fell back at her side.

“I expected you to recognizze it-”

Gabriel frowned, irritated by her audacity to insult his knowledge of… wherever this thing came from.

“But God had nothing to do with itz creation, so I suppoze that makezz zenzze. Zo to make a long ztory short, a long time ago there waz thizz witch who propozed to her ye old boyfriend or whatever, but back then it waz improper for women to do such a thing. Her boyfriend waz zzo offended that he left her, and she got zo upzzet that she curzzed the ringbox. She enchanted it to capture the memoriezz her boyfriend had of the event, becauze she waz afraid he’d tell people what had happened, and that she would be zcorned for doing zuch a thing. But the thing izz, she wazn’t a very good witch, and the box took all hiz memoriezz.”

Beelzebub paused for breath, and Gabriel jumped in.

“So was it a one time deal?”

“No. Zomeone found it after she died and opened it. The ztolen memoriezz ezcaped and returned to their owner, even though he wazz long dead. Hell commandeered it after that incident, and it hazzn’t been uzed zince.”

The archangel leaned back in his chair, the plastic groaning slightly from lack of use.

“...So what you’re saying is that this memory box is empty, and we can use it on Aziraphale and Crowley?”

The demon nodded. Gabriel tapped his chin contemplatively.

“Hang on, can the box hold two minds worth of memories at once? Because we wouldn’t be able to open it a second time after dealing with one of them, it’d just release the first one’s memories.” He observed thoughtfully, glancing at the inconspicuously powerful object sitting between them. The hair on his forearms were standing on end. The magic woven into the velvet was albeit sloppy, but the passion with which it had been created made it all the more powerful.

“All we have to izz aim it at both of them and they’ll be taken zimultaneouzzly.”

Gabriel huffed a small chuckle, rapped his fingers on the table and stood, the chair squeaking in protest. Beelzebub was upright soon after, dusting off her coat. Vibrant purple eyes crinkled with amusement as the angel extended a hand towards the Prince of Hell. His chilly hand was grasped by a feverish one, and Gabriel leaned forward ever so slightly to ask a question he felt ought to be whispered, even though they were alone.

“Think you can spare some weaker demons for the job?” He whispered conspiringly, suppressing the urge to swat one of the demon’s insects that was exploring his neck into divine oblivion.

“I’ll zee to it.” Beelzebub leered, giving the holy being’s hand a firm shake.

With the lingering smell of roadkill in the air, the ground opened its roiling maw to swallow up the Lord of the Flies as blinding divine light spilled over the plane, making it almost impossible to see the faint outline of towering lavender wings thrusting upwards towards Heaven.

Purgatory was deserted once more, not a single molecule indicating that two immortals had ever occupied it. It was a bit disappointed honestly, this had been the most action the realm had seen in decades, and it had nothing to show for it but faint elevator music as the swamp cooler heaved itself back into miserable life.

~thanks for reading!~