You wake up in your bed under the blankets still in the black T-shirt. Crowley is pacing at the foot of your bed, Aziraphale nowhere to be found. Your neck feels much better. It's throbbing, but it doesn't hurt as bad as it had before Aziraphale healed you.

"Hey. I'm awake now." Crowley stops pacing.

"Do you want anything? Tea, food?" His face is solemn and serious, traced with concern.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though." You sit up. "Where's Aziraphale? What happened after I passed out? How long have I been out?"

"Aziraphale went back to his bookshop and said he had urgent business. After you passed out, I carried you to your bed, where you've been sleeping for around two hours." You consider going back to Aziraphale's and trying again. But that sounds like an awful idea.

"I have something for you. Do you know how to shoot a gun?" Your dad sometimes took you to a shooting range. You're not too good of a shot, but you're half-decent at actually pulling the trigger.

"I can."

"Okay, good. Knowing you, you probably want to head back to Aziraphale because you still haven't done what you wanted to. I'm not going to stop you. Instead, I'm giving you this."

He pulls a small pistol and a matching holster out of his jacket. He then pulls out a few bullets.

"You'll be able to defend yourself with this. Here." He hands the whole kit to you. "Just don't go around shooting people for no good reason. Okay?"

"Of course. Thank you!" You get up.

"When you get back, how about we discuss this prophecy you wrote down?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Okay, see you. I'll be in the study. Please don't die again." He leaves the room and you get dressed. You find some clothes hanging in the closet. They're just like the ones you messed up and you assume that Crowley cleaned and teleported them back into the closet.

You leave again, and this time, you're on high alert. No time for thinking when someone else can try to kill you. Although, what are the odds you'll get stabbed twice on the same day by different people?

Thankfully, no one passing by comments on the holster around your hip. It would be good to avoid being arrested.

After fifteen minutes of walking, you're there. You enter, and Aziraphale's waiting with two cups of tea in the back room. He's hunched over the large book you saw in the Bentley that Aziraphale borrowed.

"Hey. Crowley probably told you I was coming?" He sits up and smiles at you.

"Yes, he did. You were wondering about this book?" He gestures to the green-covered book in front of him that he'd been reading.

"Yeah. What's the deal with it?"

"It's called 'The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch'. I can't believe I have my hands on a copy of it."

"Wow. It must be really rare."

"It is. It's like the holy grail of prophecy books."

"That's cool! Are all of them right? Like they happened or will happen?"

"Yes. Take a look at this one: 'In December 1980 an Apple will arise no man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes's machine and good fortune will tend thy days.' That really happened."

"Steve Jobs and Apple!"

"Uh-huh. And this one: 'When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne's books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open thine eyes to understand. Open thine eyes and rede, I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth grow cold.' And Armageddon is coming!"

"Whoa..." You glance to a small, open notebook next to the book. You can just barely make out something that looks like a phone number. "What's that?"

"Oh, uh... Nothing. Nothing at all. I promise, it means nothing!" He grabs it quickly and puts it in his breast pocket.

"Right... So, what is it?" He looks away.

"Uh."

"Can I see it?" He slowly pulls the notebook out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

"Very well..." You grab it and flip to the page Aziraphale was at. And you were right-- it's a phone number.

"Who's number is this?"

"... The antichrist's home number." You stand.

"You-you're kidding. You found him?"

"... Yes. Now, Y/N, is that all?"

"I guess..."

"Alright. Not to be rude, but I still have work to do, and..."

"Yeah. I understand. See you later!"

"Goodbye." You leave, glancing back at Aziraphale. He's already hunched over the book again. Oh well.

You walk back to Crowley's. Thankfully, no one tries to rape you again. As soon as you enter the apartment, you hear a voice coming from the plant room.

"Uh, hi...? Y/N says being nice is best, so... uh... good job...?" You enter and find Crowley squatting by the smallest plant. A tiny spot is visible on its leaves.

"Is this difficult for you?" He jumps up. There's a faint blush on his cheeks and he looks like a guilty little kid.

"A bit..."

"Why don't you imagine you're talking to yourself from right after you fell? Like you're going back in time?" He considers this.

"Alright..." He squats again. This time, instead of looking away from the plant, he stares at it with his brows slightly furrowed.

"Hey." A beat. "I know you're scared. But you're going to do fine. You just have to be stronger than everyone else and keep trying to be good, because in the end, it'll be worth it. You might not be forgiven, but you will keep growing. Defying everything that defines nature and sense, you will keep growing. I promise you." He stands. "But last chance, okay?"

He turns back to you. "Was... that okay?"

"That was perfect. Amazing job." The faintest trace of a smile tugs at his lips.

"Okay, cool." A short awkward silence. "Didn't you have a prophecy you wanted my help with?"

"Oh, I did."

"Alright, let's go check it out." He leaves and you follow.

When you arrive back in your room, you see Crowley already flipping through the notebook even though the prophecy is on the first page.

"Just checking to see if you've written anything else."

"No, just the prophecy."

"Alright." He flips back to the first page. "This is what it says: 'The broken one torn between two worlds shall has't restor'd faith. A sore decision shall arise between one f'r two 'r two f'r one. An ultimate sacrifice shall beest madeth and affection shalt beest forgotten. But doth not fret, all shalt blow with the wind in time.' That's... worrying."

"Yeah. Could I have it for a minute?"

"Sure." He hands you the notebook and you rewrite it in more modern terms.

"I just rewrote it," you say after a moment. " 'The broken one torn between torn worlds will have their faith restored. There will be a difficult decision that will be one for two or two for one. A huge sacrifice will be made and affection will be forgotten. But don't worry, everything will blow away with time.' "

"Sounds like someone's going to die. Probably as a sacrifice." Your stomach churns. He seems so calm about this.

"What if it's me, you, or Aziraphale? I don't want either of you to die!" He sighs in response.

"It also said everything will be okay in time. So don't worry too much. Now-- let's focus on who's going to die."

"The broken one torn between two worlds..."

"It's probably me, then. I'm broken, and I'm a demon. But..."

"You feel as though you really shouldn't have fallen?"

"Right."

"So that's it? You're going to get hurt and then it will be okay again?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm going to go call Aziraphale. Talk to you soon."

He leaves and you stare at the prophecy.

And hope beyond hope that no one gets hurt.