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Bad Idea

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Good Omens/Supernatural – Bad Idea

Author: The Magic Rat
Rating: PG
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale.
Warnings: Angry angels.
Word Count: 402

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Disclaimer: All Good Omens characters, places and situations are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and are used without permission and without intent of plagiarism or profit. Copyright for all stories and original characters is with the author, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

Summary: Crowley has demon hunters on his snaky tail.

Author’s notes: Just a drabble inspired by some GO/Supernatural crossover art.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a lovely day – after all the heat, there was a pleasantly cool rain. The shop was quiet, save for Anathema reading through some very old books, and Aziraphale was sorting books and dusting, humming to himself, utterly at peace with the world.

The peace was shattered when the shop door slammed open, and Crowley streaked in as if all the archangels were after him. He leapt into Aziraphale’s arms, wrapping his arms and legs around him, and screamed at a sort of pitch that can only come with blind terror.

“THEY’RE GOING TO KILL ME!”

Aziraphale heard two sets of footsteps, running hard, approaching very fast. He set Crowley down and positioned himself before him, just as the door flew open again, and two men ran into the shop. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, scruffy and unshaven, carrying a bag that positively glowed with holy items. They stopped abruptly, and stared at the little chubby bookseller, a demon hiding behind him.

“Sir,” said one, his accent definitely American, “we’re going to need you to step aside.”

Aziraphale did not step aside. He burst into a brilliant light, wings and eyes and holy fire manifesting, clutching a flaming sword. As the pair gaped, Aziraphale loomed over them and shouted with the full holy force of his voice for the first time ever.

“YOU WILL NOT HARM HIM!”

The pair stared, jaws hanging, just as a third figure wandered into the room; an angel, clad in a trench coat, gazing at the two who had come for Crowley.

“Dean? Sam? Next time I tell you something is a bad idea, you need to listen to me.”