Summary: These things really shouldn't be left to humans, no matter how experienced they are... Zorc is back, and an angel and a demon come to Domino to find someone who can stop him
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh/Good Omens crossover
Pairings: Undecided
Warnings: None…yet
Disclaimer: All belongs to Terry Pratchett, Neilan Gaiman, or Kazuki Takahashi. Close as I have come to worshipping Pterry, I still own nothing
Author's Note: I dedicate this fic to Reecey-boy, whose random insanity and obsession with GO and YGO slash are wholly responsible for this fic (I accept all of the praise but none of the blame)

Chapter 1

The scene is a park, much like any other park. Birds twitter in the branches of trees shorn of leaves by autumn, and ducks quack insistently for scraps of bread on the waters of a murky brown pond. This park is, in fact, St James' Park in London, and in these early morning hours it is almost deserted, save for two figures leaning on a railing by the pond.

"I can't believe we didn't know about this," one of them says, shaking his head incredulously as he tosses a chunk of bread to a duck floating nearby. The duck glares at him with one beady eye as the bread sinks before diving to retrieve it.

The speaker is a young man, tall but slightly built, with long-ish black hair. Even in the dim pre-dawn light he is wearing sunglasses, with a comfortable ease which suggests he is wearing them more from habit than anything else. Despite looking like a successful businessman or something of that ilk, he is in fact in a very different line of work.

The second figure appears older. He has slightly untidy blonde hair and very blue eyes, combining with soft features to create a rather angelic outward appearance. No casual observer could know just how appropriate this comparison is. He is dressed a little shabbily in clothes that were long out of fashion thirty years ago. He has a worried expression himself, but he spares a smile for his harassed-looking companion:

"We can't be everywhere at once, Crowley. That's His job."
"But why us? Why do we always get involved in these things?"
"Well, it-"
"Don't even think of using the word 'ineffable', angel."
"I wouldn't dream of it."

Our hypothetical observer could draw a great many conclusions from this snatch of conversation, not least that the two were in serious need of psychiatric help. But perhaps it would lead to a more accurate conclusion if said observer knew a little more about the two observées.

It starts with a child.
In fact, it starts with three children.

Of course the story doesn't start there, but it is as good a place as any to start the explanation. On a dark and decidedly not stormy – sometimes the weather has absolutely no sense of occasion – night almost eighteen years ago, two children were born in a remote country hospital run by an order of nuns. Their parents were very happy with this turn of events, and the story should have ended there. But it didn't…because of a third child, born somewhere very different. Certain higher powers had decided that this child had to be switched with one of the two mentioned above, and they needed someone to do the deed for them. Enter Crowley.

Who was this child, the child unaware that it was taking the place of another, to be raised by people who were not his parents? This child was the Antichrist. And at the age of eleven, this became horribly clear. Nightmares became reality as the end of the world drew nigh.

And who is Crowley, the deceptively charming young man currently deep in a worried discussion with his opposite number in St James' Park? As it happens, he's a demon. The very serpent responsible for the Fall of Man. The light glints on just a hint of fang as he speaks, the sunglasses hiding slitted yellow eyes. But even by demonic standards, he is far from normal. As a matter of fact, he rather likes earth and the people that populate it, and as such he was rather fundamentally opposed to the idea of Armageddon. As was his opposite number and closest friend, Aziraphale, minor angel and field agent for the heavenly powers.

So the two conspired to prevent the end of the world. And to their own surprise as much as anyone else's, they succeeded.

That was seven years ago.

"There's no way we could have known," Aziraphale says, in what is probably meant to be a comforting tone of voice.
"I know," Crowley sighs, receiving another death glare from the duck as a stray chunk of bread hits it in the side of the head.
"But still, these things really shouldn't be left to humans, no matter how experienced they are…"
"I know."
"He's already breaking free."
"I know, angel."

There is an endless moment of silence until, with a despairing little moan, Crowley buries his head in his hands.

"This is the third time in five thousand years, and we're only just hearing about it. How in the name of heav- hel- Manchester are we supposed to deal with it?"
The angel sighs and rests a consoling hand on the demon's shoulder; "How does anyone deal with the return of Zorc?"


I really, sincerely apologise for not having updated Stolen Innocence yet. I'm trying, but that damn lemon still defeats me. Seriously, it's all written apart from that, and I'll have to rewrite the whole thing if I cut the lemon out. But I'll have it up as soon as possible, I promise!