The worst part, Crowley thought wretchedly, was how nobody seemed to remember it was HIM anymore who'd done it. Sure, Aziraphale's similar displacement was an issue, but it made more sense; he'd lost his bloody flaming sword, after all, of course his successor would be the one everybody remembered.

"Ophis," Crowley muttered. "Who the he- who is this 'Ophis'? And why-"

"Er," Aziraphale said awkwardly.

"I'm thinking here, angel, you mind? WHY are the lower downs telling me my name's 'Ophis'? And serving the War! I thought we'd both be in trouble for, well, NOT serving the War!"

Aziraphale tried again. "Well, you see-"

"And WHY am I convinced that Beelzebub is dead?! I saw him just last week, walking and - and, well, buzzing! AND the Metatron - not a sight I'd forget any time soon - but she's dead, isn't she? He. It, I don't know, God da... gosh dar-" No, he thought sourly. There were depths he wouldn't stoop to. "...Fuck," he finished lamely.

Silence.

"Well?" he demanded of Aziraphale. "Aren't you going to say something, angel? Don't you find this a little odd? That before the apocalypse we'd all rember one thing, but after, we'd... well, still remember it. Only. Not."

"Are you quite finished?" Aziraphale asked wearily. "Because I - er. I believe I might have found the answer."

That shut Crowley up and he removed his sunglasses in order to eye the angel. "Have you now."

"Er. Perhaps." Aziraphale cleared his throat uncomfortably before reaching down behind the counter. "Well, ah. You are aware of how Adam ... restocked my bookstore?"

"Yeah. So?"

"It, well, appears that he was something of a roleplayer."

Crowley stared at the books Aziraphale had placed in front of him. They all had 'In Nomine' written on the front in white letters. The largest of the books was black and had a burning feather on the cover.*

"I, ah, fear it rather affected Adam's decisions as to what angels and demons are," Aziraphale said, almost apologetic.

Crowley read through the core rules with superhuman speed. After a while, he said, "What are you, then? Some kind of... Mercurian of..."

"Destiny," the kindly old man browsing the nearby shelves provided helpfully.

"Yes, yes," Crowley muttered. "So what am I?"

"You seem to be a... well. A Balseraph of the Media, nee War. It could be worse!" Aziraphale added quickly.

Snarling, Crowley took hold of Aziraphale's shirtfront. "How could it be worse than - this??"

"The Media doesn't seem to be that ba-"

"The reordering of Heaven and Hell!"

"Well," Aziraphale said. "Ah. He seems to also have been a fan of some game, 'Call of Cthulhu...'"

Elsewhere, the Mi Go hurtled through space...

* Adam had the reprinting himself, but figured Aziraphale would like the colour version. It was all dark and mysterious.