My Dearest Warlock

Poem of Death

I could crush you,
Like a bug beneath a shoe.
You stand no chance,
For a coward never does.

This time,
Stay out of my way.
Or else, next time,
You'll have no body to walk away with.

Aziraphale was still trying to work out who had left the vague, yet sinister note on his counter. He'd been there all morning, working out all sorts of biblical revelations in hopes of ignoring Crowley- sexy bastard knew it to, strutting around in those platform heels with a low-cut shirt. Had he really gotten much done? No, but he had attempted to, so he thought that was what should count rather than what he didn't complete. The point was that no one could have snuck in or out.

Of course, Aziraphale could think and come up with some possible suspects. There was Crowley, a literal demon. There was Warlock, who adorned his demon nanny baby-sitter figure. Oh yeah, there was also the Antichrist who was currently in lounging on his couch. Now, it was time to narrow down the suspects,

Crowley was an utter failure of demon. The most devious thing that he did was glue coins to the pavement and try to pick them up later. Or maybe the most devious thing he'd done was that inspiring that painting of Aphrodite... Either way, Crowley wouldn't write a vaguely threatening poem. His eyes crossed and his handwriting overlapped. It wasn't him- the letter just didn't give off Crowley vibes.

Then, there was Warlock. He was a child, and he acted like a child, which wasn't really any convicting evidence. Except it was! Children acted like demons gone rogue, and that had to mean something! Aziraphale knew that it just had to mean something. It just had to!

Oh yeah, there was also the Antichrist. Eh, that was all kinda whatever.

Aziraphale just wasn't sure what exactly was the purpose of an anonymous letter. Well, technically, it was a poem, but the difference didn't matter to Aziraphale at the moment. Aziraphale was known for making poor choice at the heat of the moment, so it wouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who'd known him for more than ten days.

A fine example of Aziraphale's poor decisions included a demon in a pair of skinny jeans with platform heels that was running around the living room. He'd barely met the demon at Eden, and by rights, Aziraphale should have killed him. But Aziraphale, stricken by curiosity and something that wasn't quite so innocent, couldn't help but be drawn in to the fascinating mystery that was Anthony J. Crowley. It was that moment in Eden, as a matter of fact, that Aziraphale was damned.

Of course, many of the angels had varying opinions on the subject. Some angels thought that Aziraphale had been damned long before Eden, just like Gadreel. They'd pushed to have Aziraphale cast down with Gadreel, but oddly enough, an angel by the name of Cassiel- better known by the name Castiel since the humans had changed the 's' to a 't'. Of course, other angels had spoken up for Aziraphale, but major remained silent. And God, well, never kicked Aziraphale out for Eden. Maybe God punished him by making Hozier write that emotional song "From Eden."

But regardless, Aziraphale realized that he needed to crack the meaning. It was fairly simple, Aziraphale noted dully. The poem was very plain, just getting the simple message of "stay out of my way" out in the open. But who needed Aziraphale out of the way?

Mysterious ethereal beings or damned demons, that was likely who. Although what was Aziraphale going to do about it? Interrogate a demon and angel? Ah yes, great evil demon temptress, did you leave a vaguely threatening note for me to find?

Even for Aziraphale, this was a low. Telling Crowley would likely cause the demon to snicker and act all big and brave while offering to cuddle. Actually, did demons like cuddling? None of the biblical content that Aziraphale read ever mentioned demons liking to cuddle. How horrible to deprive the demons of something that they needed so greatly?