Chapter Text
Now
She is spherical, like a globe. I could find out countries in her.
The vicious potshot had been drifting aimlessly through Crowley's head for weeks now. Anathema Device-Pulsifer had grown so large, the demon found himself constantly checking to make certain she wasn't also carrying twins.
The answer was always a resounding 'no'. Only one baby in this womb right now, thank you very much.
"Rude," he muttered under his breath, glowering pointedly at the large swell of the witch's belly. As often as he checked in on the little thing, he got that sort of sense from her just as often.
"Sorry, what?" Anathema asked, looking up at him from where she was ensconced in the guest bed. At two weeks overdue, her mother had confined her to bedrest, and the young witch had become restless within the first two days of the confinement.
"Nothing much," Crowley returned as he came to sit beside her. "Just checking in again. Your girl's a stubborn one, I'll tell you that right now."
"Good," the witch said with a satisfied nod. "She'll need to be stubborn if she's going to make it in a man's world."
"Well, you're not wrong," the serpent conceded, remembering only too well the treatment he'd received whenever he had been passing as female. Honestly, human men didn't need Satan's help to be complete asses. A goodly portion of them did that on their own.
"Have you...gotten anything else from her?" Anathema asked, her voice dropping to a shade of shyness he was unused to from her.
"Not really, no," he admitted, draping the full length of his still mostly lanky body along the foot of the bed. As he spoke, he let his hand drift to rest over the small swell of his own belly. "Checking in with her's a little different from- checking in with Silver and Gold here."
At three months, they were properly twins now. Two separate wellsprings of light and power contained within his own. For what had felt like a long time, he hadn't been able to distinguish them from each other. His son and daughter had simply been 'they'. Now they were Thing 2 and Thing 1.
"How's that?"
"Well...I guess it could be because these two are more closely aligned with celestial energy and more than human consciousness, or it could just be because they're mine, but I get more distinct thoughts from them. Sometimes I even get complete sentences. What I get from your tenacious little flat-sharer there is more...vague. Just impressions. She adores her mum, but...I get the feeling the fact I check in so much is starting to really annoy her. She'll come when she's good and ready."
When he told her that her daughter loved her, an absolutely besotted look spread across the young witch's normally discerning face. But even with that, she managed a small laugh at the demon's words, her hand rubbing absently at her baby bump. "Flat sharer's right, though. We're getting to a point where I'm wondering if I ought to start charging her rent or something."
Newt and Gabriella had actually begun to low key argue over whether it was time to seek out a proper doctor. For all his experience with Heaven and Hell, the former witchfinder private still would've preferred to put his faith in modern medical science. Gabriella, on the other hand, was constantly insisting that this was to be expected, that no Device had ever arrived where or when they were supposed to. Apparently some of the ancestors had hypothesized that it was some sort of cosmic response to every other aspect of their lives already being heavily prophesied. With everything else laid out neatly for them, damned if these professional descendants weren't going to decide just how and when they came into the world. Anathema herself had come a full month early and had been just fine. And while Newton Pulsifer had never been a confrontational sort, the subject of his wife and daughter tended to draw it out of him; but Anathema could usually talk him down from an argument by reminding him just what sort of catastrophes he could bring about just by accidentally coming into contact with a computer in a hospital.
"Well, like I said, she'll come when she's ready."
"Sure hope so," she said, reaching for the jar of olives that had taken up more or less permanent residence on her nightstand. "I both love and hate this damn jar."
"Are olives the only wonky craving you've had this whole time?" he asked her.
"Well...not the only one. Just the most prominent one," the young witch recounted. "Back around the start of the second trimester, there was a week or so where I was inhaling bowls of pistachio ice cream with crushed Doritos sprinkled on top. Had to be those two, too. She would accept no substitutes. If I even looked at a carton of chocolate or a bag of Cheetos, she'd make sure I didn't sleep for days."
Crowley chuckled at that one. "Like I said, tenacious little bugger."
"What about you? Any new cravings this time around?"
"What you've seen's been pretty much the same. Strawberries. Strawberries morning, noon, and night. Sad thing is I was one hundred percent joking the first time I brought up strawberries to Aziraphale. He's probably just happy I'm not eating them with dill sauce."
Anathema's face went through a very odd progression of expressions at this. Her initial reaction was disgust, but then she actually seemed to consider the idea and a look of interest moved in, but this was instantly followed by a look that was all self-disgust.
"No. No! That's where I put my foot down. It's not happening. Sweetheart, you better be born, like, right this second. I am not stooping to that."
"Good luck," the demon crooned with a nasty, teasing smirk. "Perhaps we ought to send a note to the shoppers. Tell them to add some dill sauce to the list."
"Don't you dare. Newt will actually do it. Besides, there probably won't be room next to your bushel of strawberries."
"Don't forget your drum of olives," Crowley fired back sweetly. "Actually...wonder what those would taste like together."
"Stop it. If we give into demands now, she's never going to be born. Honestly, I think maybe I insisted they go out just to make the labor start. This thing's never going to get going while my husband nervously paces the floor for days on end," she said, practically deflating into the pillows.
"Oh? And here I thought you sent them out to spare me your mother's prying. At least I know where I stand," the demon made a great show of lamenting.
WAKE UP!
Crowley immediately snapped straight up on the bed, eyes darting around the room in search of a threat. It took him several panicked moments to realize it was one of the twins he was hearing.
"What? What is it?" Anathema pressed, her own features twisted with worry.
"It- I don't know," he said, still looking around as he got to his feet. It was the boy who had spoken. He knew that much, though he wasn't sure how he knew. Their voices were not so much sound in his head as they were energies. This energy, this knowledge, was the signature he most closely aligned with his son. "He said...'wake up'."
"Well, if he thinks he can-"
The witch's sentence was cut off by a sharp hiss of pain. Once the fit had passed, she glanced from her belly up to Crowley with a flicker of worry in her eyes.
"Okay, that's- uh...that's interesting. Second contraction I've had today...and the first was only fifteen minutes ago."
"Been havin' 'em a couple weeks now, haven't you?" he asked her.
"I have, but it's just been false ones. I guess...if another one shows up in the next ten or fifteen minutes...we'll know," she concluded with a helpless shrug.
Crowley sighed, starting to flit nervously about the space. "Y'know, part of me really wishes this little trick of yours hadn't worked."
"Hey, I was getting desperate here. I know you're not going to tell me you weren't starting to get antsy yourself."
The demon groaned in response, fingers twitching to reach for his phone. "Maybe I should just call them now."
"And I repeat, don't you dare," she fired back with a glare. "You'll jinx it somehow and we'll be stuck waiting even longer. Nobody wants that."
"Hrgh! Okay, fine. You're right," he conceded, running a hand through his hair. Part of him knew how ridiculous it was to give into something so petty as the idea of jinxing in this situation, but the other part was equally aware that they were both at the end of their nerves right now. Anathema from never having gone through this before, and he for being legitimately terrified he couldn't watch this happen without panicking...that he wouldn't be able to help her if she needed it. The next thirteen minutes of waiting were distinctly harder than the last two weeks had been. But sure enough, between the ten and fifteen minute mark, the young witch winced in pain, another little hiss escaping her mouth.
"Yeah, I- you can go ahead and make your calls," she finally conceded. "This is actually happening."
The demon wasted no time in pulling out his phone. Likely, he would've done better to call Newt but, almost without his permission, his fingers automatically went through the motions of calling Aziraphale as he headed out into the main living space.
"Angel," he started just as soon as he heard the line connect, "it's on. It's happening. Anathema's little bugger's coming."
"Well, Mrs. Device should know what to do. She's there now, isn't she?" his husband's voice came over the line.
"Not- exactly, no," Crowley admitted with a nervous swallow.
"What? Why not?" Aziraphale pressed.
"We were out of strawberries. So Anathema sent them out on a shopping trip...because her mum was starting to get on my nerves."
He heard Aziraphale sigh in frustration all the way over in Soho. "Crowley-"
"I know, I know, I know. Stupid of me to let her but, to be fair, neither one of us is strictly speaking capable of rational thought right now. That's on the pair of them for listening to her."
"Have you called them yet?"
"No. Sort of just- called you without thinking about it," he admitted.
"Oh...darling..." the angel twittered softly, and Crowley could just picture the smile on his face at the admission. "Flattered though I may be, you really had best let Newton know what's going on. Are- are you all right?" Aziraphale asked him. They had both known this might be an issue for him, given the circumstances the last time he'd been involved in a birth, but...at this point, he was almost desperate not to let it affect him. He didn't want his own traumas to prevent him from being there when their friends needed him.
Still...even so...
"Haven't freaked out yet. That's pretty much all I've got for you."
"Oh...oh, my dear. Would- would you like me to try your phone trick?"
"Nah. You don't need to do that. Just get home your usual way. We'll let you know if anything happens."
"You had better, though I'm almost certain the Bentley might actually tell me if something's wrong with you," Aziraphale scolded him.
"Just might."
"I love you," the angel reminded him. "I'll see you tonight."
"Love you, too," Crowley returned, his voice only somewhat faint as he let go the line. His next step was to call Newt. He got so far as to learn the husband and mother pair were just about to head home, but he didn't get much more from the ex-witchfinder private once he came right out with, "Your wife's having a baby."
That left him with nothing to do but head back to Anathema, whom he actually helped to climb out of the bed. He knew things were done differently in modern hospitals, but for the births he'd attended on back in the day, the first step had been to help things along by simply allowing gravity to do its work. So, supporting her as they walked, the two of them walked slowly around the room, cracking terrible jokes all the while and just generally trying to keep things lighthearted.
"Anathema?" the demon suddenly found himself starting to ask after a time, knowing it would be foolish, but unable to stop the words from coming. "Did...did Aziraphale know about any of the other prophecies?"
"The Final Five?" the witch asked with clear reticence. The subject hadn't been brought up in the weeks the human pair had been staying with them and now probably wasn't the best time for it, but the serpent was about half a step from outright meltdown, so he wanted something besides the present moment to focus on.
"Yup. Those ones."
"Well...he didn't really stick around after seeing the first one. And I don't think you'll much want to see it right now, either. He learned where to find you, but...he also learned he likely wouldn't be in time to save her," she admitted, another long hiss escaping her as a fresh contraction seized her body. Crowley waited it out with her before continuing their slow, steady circling.
"Right...and we know the third one now."
"Uh-huh. I can't make much sense of four or five. It's probably better not to look too much into them until after the twins come. But the second one...I'm pretty sure the second one's about you."
Something inside of the demon twinged in pain at hearing that, but he didn't allow his reaction to show on the surface. He just kept up their even pace as they talked.
"What makes you say that?"
"The way Agnes referred to you in the first prophecy...she repeats the phrasing in the second. I'm not- really sure what it could mean, but...it definitely refers to you."
"What is it?" he asked, the words a whisper in his throat, but a roar in his ears. He didn't think he wanted to know, but at the same time, he couldn't not know.
Anathema remained silent for what felt like a long while before answering, and when she did, it was in a heavy, agonized voice. "They saye...the Sonne didst bestride the waves for his Father, but ne'er for faith were such an act accomplished, but for love. Take hart, Fallen Sonne! For when the waters divide thy Love and thee, naught- naugh-aagh!"
A tiny cry escaped the witch's mouth this time as she doubled over in pain. But then Crowley felt her freeze in his grip. Then she whispered just one word.
"Fuck."
"What? What is it?" he pressed.
"Think- think my water just broke."
"Eooh," he muttered in concern as he glanced down at her feet. It didn't take him long to see the fluid rushing down her ankles, gathering in a puddle at her feet. "Yeah, let's- let's get you lying back down," he said, miracling the slick amniotic fluid away before walking the laboring young woman back to her bed. He didn't trouble her further with their previous line of conversation, the subject already far and away from both of their minds as the labor began in earnest.
The next sound to escape Anathema's lips was a proper scream. And as her grip on Crowley's hand grew painfully tight, as he had feared, memory and nightmare began to sink their venomous fangs into his waking mind.
...the sounds of his own screams...
"Be ready. We'll only get one shot at this."
...the abject agony as his very being split open, spilling radiance and blasphemy onto the black of the cosmos...
"Give her up. Isn't it better to end this now, rather than prolong her suffering?"
"Fuck. You. Angel."
...empty...lost- empty...he'd felt so drained without her...
"Let me hold her. Let me hold her just once! "
...the devastation in Aziraphale's eyes as he collapsed beside them...
"NAAAAGHH!"
The scream...that scream was neither distant nor imagined. It was coming from him, scraping his throat raw as he clutched his head in his hands, on his knees beside Anathema's bed.
"Crowley!" the young witch cried out, both in pain and worry. "God- Crowley!"
"Crowley!"
When he heard the new voice, the demon instinctively lifted a hand, ready to attack whoever it was that came at him. He barely managed to stop himself from lashing out when he saw the utter terror in Newt Device-Pulsifer's eyes, but that look would stay with him. When he was to have his appearance described to him by the horror-struck human several hours later, it was a vision straight from the darkest nightmare – sunglasses shattered to reveal the molten horror in his golden eyes, red hair flaring out from his head like a corona of fire and blood.
And with Aziraphale not there to stop him, he honestly might've killed the human were it not for the brief flicker of recognition somewhere in the back of his mind. Blinking furiously, he drew in on himself, pulling back from the humans.
"I...I..."
"Crowley..." Newt tried again, visibly shaken by what he'd seen, "it...it's all right now."
"I...right. Of course," he mumbled distantly as he got to his feet, summoning himself up a new pair of sunglasses. "I...s- ssssorry," he finished, briefly losing control of the human facade.
"I've got this handled," Gabriella told him gently as she appeared in the doorway. "Why don't you go sit down."
"Sure," he said, shaking his head in an effort to clear it as he moved past the humans, back out into the living area. Falling onto one of the couches, he just sat, staring vaguely at nothing as the daytime hours shifted steadily toward night. He couldn't say how long it was exactly that he sat there before he noticed his angel settling on the couch beside him.
"Are you all right, my love?" Aziraphale asked as he drew him into his arms, and the fact that Crowley didn't resist the embrace in any way was rather telling in and of itself.
"Fine. Lovely. Just about tore Newt's head off," he muttered in defeat. "But that's just how it goes."
"I felt it, you know," his husband said, pressing a tender kiss to the mark on his temple. "When you lost yourself. I almost tried something drastic to get back here. But you did manage to get hold of yourself again."
"You felt it?" the serpent repeated dully, a fresh shiver of guilt moving through him. What his angel must have felt... "Did you...could you...feel it...what they did to me...to us?"
"Not- physically, no," Aziraphale rushed to reassure him. "But I could feel...your distress. I could feel your sorrow and your terror...and I could feel your faith."
"Faith?" Crowley bit the word out like an ugly curse. "What faith, Angel? What sort of god allows this sort of behavior from her emissaries?"
"Not that sort of faith, beloved," the angel returned, the hollowness of his tone speaking louder than the words themselves. "I meant your faith in me...that- no matter what happened...I would find you...I would save you. I tried...so hard...to be worthy of that faith."
"You never let me down," the demon returned, turning further into the embrace. "Never will."
He knew Aziraphale didn't agree with him. He could feel that much from him. Even so, the angel responded kindly with, "Let's hope not."
"Heh, now who's lacking faith?" Crowley managed to tease lightly.
"Well, we'll tally that up as another argument we'll still be having in another hundred years," Aziraphale said, sighing as he pressed his forehead against Crowley's. But the melancholy attitude began to brighten when he lifted his fingers to tangle them in the demon's hair. "You know, we really ought to do something with your hair. I'm sure it's been missing its usual pampering these last few months."
Crowley wasn't at all sure why, but that one drew a small laugh from him. "What? You saying my hair looks bad, Angel?"
"Nothing of the kind, dearest. Merely that I've missed some of the things you used to do with your hair back when it was still this long."
"Well, if you're in want of something to do, be my guest," he invited, lips quirking upward just a little as he shifted on the couch, offering his long red hair to his husband.
"Mm, don't mind if I do," the angel said in his typical tone of twittering excitement as he called a brush to his hand. Crowley couldn't quite help the little sigh of relief that escaped his throat as his husband began to run the brush through his hair. With Aziraphale's gentle, steady fingers working with his locks, it was almost possible to ignore the occasional shouts of pain coming from the guestroom.
He had never had Aziraphale do his hair like this before. Back when it had been long enough to properly style, they hadn't quite been at this stage yet. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was just something soothing about the whole business...about the angel brushing out his frazzled hair and running his fingers through it as he gathered up this strand or that for a braid.
He tried several different things, allowing Crowley to languish pleasantly in his attention, and when he finally declared himself done, he traded the brush for a mirror.
"Here we are. What do you think?" the angel asked as he passed him the mirror.
The demon turned his head from side to side, admiring his husband's work. From what he could see, Aziraphale had gone with a sort of waterfall braid around the back of his head, his hair pulled back from his face, but still allowed to cascade down his back.
"Brilliant," he said with a little smile as he leaned back into the angel, sighing once again as he set the mirror aside, allowing Aziraphale to wrap his arms around him. And as they sat, gradually becoming more and more tangled up in each other, Crowley felt his husband rest a protective hand over his middle, fingers splaying over the tiny swell of their own children.
"We'll get there this time," the angel reassured him. "We will get there."
And as Aziraphale ran his hand in gentle circles around the little bump, the demon felt a profound sense of peace was over him. It wasn't just his own he was feeling, but the twins', as well – their reassurance and their love.
Maybe we really will.
Then, almost as he thought it, a new sound echoed from the guestroom.
A baby crying.
"Ah," Aziraphale started softly, his hold on Crowley tightening just a little. "There she is."
Crowley raised his own hand to Aziraphale's at that, gripping it tightly. For a moment, just a moment, he heard a different cry beneath the little human's plaintive wailing...a cry of terror...
"Let me hold her..."
It's not her, he told himself as he collapsed into his husband's embrace. She's dead. She's gone. This one is alive...and we'll make sure she stays that way.
He knew the fact that he'd begun to relax had relieved Aziraphale immensely, but neither of them had much time to enjoy the brief moment of relief, because the newborn's cries were quickly followed by a knocking at the door.
"Oh," the angel started once more, only half in surprise. "That will be Madam Tracy and the sergeant."
Silently asking permission to go to the door, Aziraphale waited until Crowley had actually nodded his consent for him to let go before he did, going to usher the two humans into their home.
"Sorry we're a bit late," Tracy apologized as the angel led her and Shadwell into the living area. "Gabriella called me and we- well...we'd just been in the middle of-"
"No need to apologize," Aziraphale rushed to reassure her, and Crowley couldn't quite help chuckling at the thought of just what it was that might've been interrupted. "The little one's only just come along. You haven't missed much of anything. Oh, dear. Look at me. Haven't put on anything to eat or drink. I'll get a kettle going."
"Crowley? Aziraphale?"
The pair looked to the sound of Gabriella's voice, seeing her standing in the doorway to the guestroom with a faint smile on her face.
"Would you like to come see your godchild?"
Crowley felt Aziraphale's surprise as surely as his own at the elder witch's statement. For a moment, they glanced at each other, neither quite knowing how to respond.
"Go on, you two," Tracy encouraged them. "I think I know my way around this kitchen well enough by now."
"Right," Aziraphale agreed faintly, coming back to the couch and offering Crowley a hand up, which the demon accepted just as faintly. They then followed Anathema's mother back into their guestroom, beholding what was likely one of the most precious sights either of them had ever seen.
Anathema was laid out on the bed, the top buttons of her nightgown popped open to bare her breasts to the air, and against her breast rested a tiny head covered with dark, fuzzy hair. The little thing's yowling had lessened a great deal, but her father looked like he might take it up himself, standing beside them. He looked both enchanted and almost...lost. As if he weren't certain he was allowed to touch.
"Hey, boys," the new mother greeted, plainly exhausted. "We thought- you might want to meet her...before she starts feeding."
"And you- want us to be godfathers?" Crowley asked, still feeling a little faint at the thought. Not that they'd done a horrible job the first time around, but...yeah.
"Of course," Anathema responded with a tired smile. Newt also smiled when he looked up at them, picking up the explanation when his wife couldn't seem to.
"When you choose godparents for your child, it...it's in the event that something happens to you...that you can't raise them yourself. You choose somebody who can protect them."
"Someone who'd love them...like you would," Anathema said, smiling down at her little girl.
"And that's us?" Aziraphale asked in amazement.
"That's you," the two new parents answered together.
"Well...don't know about our current track record for keeping children safe," Crowley found himself mumbling, but Aziraphale quickly countered the statement with one of his own.
"You know, I can think of several lines of descent from Mesopotamia, fourteenth century Europe, and twentieth century Africa and Germany who would argue differently."
"You knew about that?" the demon hissed sideways at his husband, to which the angel merely shrugged and smiled obliquely.
Anathema laughed at the exchange, shifting the baby girl a bit. "Well, don't be shy. Come say hello."
For a moment, Crowley really did find himself stricken with a kind of shyness as he regarded the tiny baby. Ultimately, Aziraphale had to coax him forward. Somewhere in his own haze of thoughts, he was vaguely aware of the angel asking, "What's her name?"
"Her name is Cassinian Agnes Device-Pulsifer," the witch supplied with a proud smile.
"Cassinian?" Aziraphale repeated quizzically. "Well, that's...certainly novel. I suppose there's a bit of her father in that. And yet...at the same time..."
"'t's all Anathema," Crowley finished, managing to make a bit of a drawl of it. But then, almost before he was aware of it, Cassinian was being passed into his arms. Without even having to think about it, he formed them into a cradle for her, holding the tiny, delicate thing against his chest. "Ah- hello there," he started awkwardly before trying out, "Cass?"
Almost immediately, he got the sense the nickname was not appreciated. He would find something better or he would call her by her full name, thank you very much.
"All right, all right. Message received. Yeah, I'm the one who's been nosing about all month. So hello to you, too, little bleeder," he said, shaking off his earlier attempt at any kind of formality. This was the child he had come to know, and she would have them all know she was not in any way delicate. Had best wash your hands of that notion straight away. No dolls or pink tutus for this little spitfire.
Then, as if she'd understood that he'd understood, she gurgled and bumped her little head against his chest – a queen to her subject.
"Heh, yeah. We're gonna get on great, you'n me."
"Do you think...maybe he was telling her to wake up?"
He looked up at Anathema with a thoughtful frown, recalling the events from several hours ago. Then he tilted his head to the side and shrugged, looking back down at the infant in his arms. "Could've been, yeah."
Crowley couldn't say how long he held the wrinkly little human before she began to fuss again, but when she did, he passed her back to her mother with a small laugh. "Don't think she's gonna put off that first meal any longer."
"Doesn't look like it," Anathema agreed as she laid Cassinian back against her breast, at which point the baby latched onto her and immediately began to nurse.
"Well, we'll just leave you to it," Aziraphale said. "Tracy and her young man are here as well. Shall we send them along, or...?"
"Yes. Definitely. We'll see which one of us passes out first," Anathema said, though, with the very slight nodding of her head, none of them doubted it would be her, rather than her daughter.
When the angel and the demon emerged, though, they were surprised to find that the number of guests in their home had grown just in the little span of time they'd been in with the little family. Deirdre Young had arrived with the Them in tow.
"So sorry for the hour," Adam's mother apologized around the cup of cocoa Madam Tracy had gotten for her. "But Adam got a text from Anathema and this lot just love her so much. They're certainly in need of something to occupy them with the summer holiday on now. Though I do have to say, I don't recall the drive out from Tadfield ever going by quite so fast."
"I wouldn't doubt it," Aziraphale said, aiming a pointed look in Adam's direction. The one time Antichrist child shrugged and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Everything's so much faster with this generation. Mother and child are both doing fine, though I don't know how much excitement either can take right now. So had best handle this in small batches. As Tracy and her sergeant arrived first-"
"Oh, don't trouble about us, dear," Tracy shushed him. "Let the children go in. I was just getting a little supper put together. This will give me time to get everything ready."
"All right. Go on in," Deirdre told her son with a tired smile of her own. Plainly motherhood was catching. "But mind you don't tire them out."
"Sure," Adam said with a giddy grin, leading the way into the guestroom. Once the children had all slipped inside, Mrs. Young half-collapsed onto the other couch with the retired witchfinder sergeant.
"I hope Anathema has at least some idea of what she's getting into. It's no easy turn, this."
"Perhaps not, but women go on having babies anyway," the madam said as she puttered about the kitchen.
"They do, that," Crowley said absently, fingers drifting furtively along the hem of his shirt, wanting that small bit of comfort, but also not wanting to draw Deirdre's attention.
"Deirdre, dear, would you like any bacon on your sandwich?" Tracy asked the oblivious mother.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself about me," Deirdre tried to argue. "We really ought to be heading home before it gets too late."
"I won't hear any such talk," Aziraphale scolded her, moving to assist Tracy while Crowley returned to the couch. "You all just arrived. We have plenty of room for everyone to stay the night."
Mrs. Young laughed at that one. "Honestly, how you two fit so many people in this little cottage escapes me. It's some kind of miracle."
"It really is," Crowley couldn't quite help putting in.
"Anthony, what is that you've done with your hair?" Tracy asked, glancing over from the little kitchen. "I didn't get a chance to ask before."
"Waterfall braid," the demon answered, looking more toward Aziraphale as he spoke. "We needed a distraction earlier. Suppose the husband was getting tired of seeing it just hanging in knots."
"Well, it's lovely. It's so nice to see you doing something with it."
Crowley felt a small smile begin to twist the corners of his own mouth as he watched the beaming smile spread across Aziraphale's face.
"Yeah," he said softly, feeling the same beaming joy and warmth from within himself. "It was time for a change."
XxX
Then
"Well, it finally happened."
Aziraphale sighed into the phone in his hand. He supposed he had known it would have to happen at some point. Perhaps he was just wondering why they had taken this long. "Are you at the flat now?"
"Yup. Wankers completely trashed the place."
"I- just wait for me, will you? Don't go anywhere. I'll be there soon. The two of you are all right, yes?" the angel pressed, his grip on the old phone briefly tightening.
"Course. Weren't even anywhere nearby. Honestly, this damage could even be a few days old. I'll do some digging."
"Just- don't do anything foolish," he reiterated. "I'm on my way."
Aziraphale had the shop closed almost the moment he'd hung up the phone. He was on his way to the flat inside of five minutes. Things had been...interesting...in the month since their wedding. And that really was to say the least.
Emissaries from both sides had been trying to get a hold of both of them in the weeks since their open defiance of the world order. Trying to get a hold of them, trying to intimidate them, trying to kill them, even. Aziraphale supposed that, once, such a notion might have scared him. Now he found he was just angry – angered at the thought of these small timers even daring to lift a feather against his family. Not that that anger moved him to open warfare, mind, but it still rather made him long for the old flaming sword every now and then.
Heaven, at the very least, knew about the baby. The Guf Records, an etherial accounting of each soul conceived on Earth, were kept there. So it was simply a matter of course that they knew. What the renegade pair was uncertain of was just how much Hell knew about the situation. As evidenced by the sham that had been their trials, there was a degree of cooperation between the two planes, but they didn't know exactly what that degree was. So until such a time as they had a better handle on the situation, both above and below, it was better to just avoid both realms. This they did by never staying in either of their places for long or in a predictable pattern. They'd been preparing for another stint at the Mayfair flat, but this newest development rather called into question whether that was still a safe option.
Aziraphale arrived at the flat to find Crowley amidst the ruins of his little garden, miracling away smeared dirt and broken pots bit by bit, getting things back in their proper position.
"Find anything?" the angel asked his husband, beginning to help with the cleanup. Given the mess he'd walked through to get back here, he didn't see how Crowley could have.
"The only thing I've found here today is something I already knew. Demons are complete pricks," he growled. "But did I figure out what they were looking for? No. Part of me's inclined to think they're just trying to scare us. Something's happening, Heaven won't talk, so they're just trying to bully us. Obviously they wanted us to know they'd been here," he said, gesturing around at the mess, which would have been only too easy to erase in the event Hell had wanted to throw them off.
"Well, that does sound like them. Sounds like all of them, really. Although...I suppose another possibility is that they're trying to find a reason for the trial," the angel speculated, retrieving the two pieces of the throne from Crowley's desk and miracling them back into one.
"Reason?" his husband repeated in bemusement. "Since when do they need a reason to do anything?"
"Not that they required one for that. More I meant...a reason why. Why it happened the way it happened. Why they failed to execute us."
"Okay, that I'll buy," Crowley grumbled, but then he stopped stark still in the middle of the room, a hand drifting to his middle. "Oh..."
"What is it?" Aziraphale asked, taking a few steps toward him. "Is everything all right?"
"I- I think...that was her...kicking."
"Oh!" the angel then mirrored his partner's initial eloquent statement, moving the rest of the way to him. "I- may I-"
Crowley's only response was to reach for his hand, drawing it in next to his on his belly. Even partway through the fourth month, he didn't have all that much of a bump, but it was there if you knew what you were looking at. And there, through the layers of the demon's clothing, beneath the human layer of him, Aziraphale felt it – the tiny flutter of movement.
"That's...oh, my..."
The little one hadn't moved all that much so far, which was unusual according to all the reading he'd done. But then there wasn't exactly anything usual about this pregnancy to begin with. His mind was just about to go off on some sort of not entirely related tangent when it registered what it was that Crowley had actually said.
"Her?" he repeated, amazed.
Crowley looked away from him, the faintest tinge of a blush painting his cheeks beneath his glasses. "It- yeah. I mean, I'm...not sure she's completely decided one way or the other, but...she...feels right."
"That's...oh, my dear..." was all he could manage to give voice to. Unable to properly express what he was feeling, he drew the demon's face back toward him, drawing him into a kiss, which he melted into all too gladly.
Darling...this...you... she ...we- we're going to have a daughter...
Neither of them stepped back from the other when they broke the kiss. They remained like that, foreheads pressed together as they both smiled like fools.
"Dearest," Aziraphale started in, finally knowing what it was he needed to say, "we can't keep doing this."
"What- what do you mean?"
"I mean they know where we both live. We can't keep risking her safety like this, flitting between the two and hoping we'll be lucky."
"So...what are you thinking then?" Crowley asked him, taking a step back to look him properly in the face.
"I'm thinking that, because they can't trace us anymore, we ought to use that to our advantage."
"You mean like- getting a new place together?" he pressed, eyebrows knitting together.
"Something of that nature, yes."
"But- you shouldn't have to give up the shop, Angel. You love the shop," his husband tried to argue.
"Oh! Oh, I'm not saying that, darling. Far from it. In fact, it seems to me the more places we maintain, the better off we will be. Anything we can do to confound them, really."
The demon considered this a long moment before beginning to nod. "Definitely makes sense."
"Besides, on- on a less practical level...more a personal one...it would be nice to have a place that's more ours. After all, the- the flat is yours and the bookshop is mine. Oughtn't we to create a space that's more yours and mine?" he asked, feeling a similar blush rise in his own face.
"No arguments here. Plus we also oughta...be thinking about space for her," Crowley pointed out, his own blush reigniting with a vengeance. "Like...y'know...nursery space."
"Oh, yes, yes," the angel agreed with excitement, actually feeling the strain in his cheeks from how brightly he was smiling. "I wonder that we hadn't thought of that before."
"Well...I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it. Just...from time to time, though," Crowley admitted. "Nothing really concrete. I know you'll want this little rugrat to have her own library."
"And what's wrong with that? I'd like to know," Aziraphale started in only partly serious indignance. "Any child of ours must have unencumbered access to the full sum of human and etheric knowledge."
Crowley quirked an eyebrow at him in mild rebuke, but his lips still twisted in a smile. "You're not reading Chaucer and Milton to our newborn, Angel."
"Tish tosh, dearest. Don't be silly," Aziraphale responded with a casual brush of his hand. "If anything, it will be Aristotle and de Troyes."
The angel caught a glimpse of his husband rolling his eyes just at the rims of his sunglasses. "Well, can't argue with de Troyes, but seriously? You're still hung up on that bastard? I'll give him logic, but he should've left poetics well enough alone."
"Agree to disagree," the angel returned primly.
"Well, while you wax philosophic, I believe your daughter's hungry, so I'm going to feed her," the demon snapped in a teasing voice before heading toward the kitchen, a place that had previously served no purpose in his flat, but that had been taking center stage more and more to satisfy Crowley's growing need for food.
Aziraphale, meanwhile, would have to say he'd be ashamed to admit he hadn't much thought about a nursery for their little one. Whenever he daydreamed, he tended to just picture Crowley walking about his little garden room with a swaddled bundle in his arms, singing quietly as he rocked it (because his husband had a wonderful voice, despite what he wanted the rest of the world to believe).
But...a proper nursery? What might that consist of? A cradle, obviously, plus a rocking chair. A bookcase, naturally. A changing table? Would they need one? After all, they didn't yet know if their daughter was going to be like other babies in that regard. Probably best just to be prepared. Maybe they ought to-
"Ach! Bloody Heaven. Angel!" Crowley's voice was suddenly lancing back into his thoughts.
"What? What is it?" Aziraphale asked, uncertain if he needed to panic as he headed toward the kitchen himself.
"Those bleeders went through my fridge, too. There's strawberry everywhere. Why would they even need to-"
"Because they're demons," the angel pointed out pragmatically as he entered the room, seeing the sticky red mess that had once been the interior of a refrigerator. "Somehow I very much doubt anything was actually consumed."
"Yeah. Probably right," his husband conceded with a long-suffering sigh.
Aziraphale shook his head as he stepped up to the refrigerator, laying a hand on it and restoring it to rights. Even so, the sight of the Great Strawberry Massacre of 2019 had rather put both of them off of anything currently in the fridge.
"Well...lunch?" the angel asked after a time, offering an arm to his demon.
"Absolutely," Crowley agreed, quickly falling in with him.
"What's she feeling like today?"
"Anything with curry on it. Though we do have to track down some chocolate-dipped strawberries afterward."
"Divine."
XxX
It took several weeks and more than a few miracles, but at the end of it all, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves standing in front of a cottage in the South Downs – a quaint little thing just far enough away from any of the resort towns or any of the small villages.
It was a place that would be perfect for raising a little half angel, half demon who had no earthly idea how any abilities she may or may not have might work. Their little girl could test out her strength and make as many mistakes as she needed to without the intrusive gaze of people who could never truly understand what she was.
In some strange way, the cottage was both a place of retirement and a place to begin anew. It was something of a reward for their six thousand years of service on this planet, but also a place to start the next stage of their lives.
There was plenty of gardening space surrounding the little home. Aziraphale had seen to that on his husband's behalf. And he couldn't pretend not to see the way the demon looked around appreciatively as they headed through the front gate.
"Perfect place to start a little green army, this," Crowley said with a devilish smirk.
"Yes, I thought you would approve," Aziraphale said as he led the way through the front door. "Though I do hope you've no plans to conquer the world with that army."
"Well, that'll depend on little bean here," he answered, patting the bump beneath his clothing. Even entering the fifth month, it still wasn't very big, but they could both sense just how much she was growing where she existed in the etherial plane. Hers was a fire unlike anything either of them had ever seen before. And that was, of course, saying something. "If I've finally got myself a little captain in this one, General Anthony J. Crowley's just going to have to march on the world and make it green again. Nobody else is gonna do it."
"Well...you might not be wrong about that," the angel said, feeling a small twinge of sorrow for what the humans were doing to their own planet without even the literal Apocalypse to worry on. "Though the notion will please Adam and Anathema, I have little doubt."
"True."
The main floor of the cottage was a largely open design, with the main living area and the kitchen not all that different from one another, really only divided from each other by a kitchen table. Further on, there was closet space and a guestroom with a little bathroom attached, more for the sake of any human guests they might have. Apart from the little staircase that led up to the loft, there was one other room, which Aziraphale hadn't had much of a hand in. And when he saw what was inside, he immediately understood why Crowley had kept it for a surprise.
"Oh," the angel breathed as he stepped into the little office, complete with a desk and more bookshelf space than one would ever think could possibly fit into such a little space.
"Thought you could use a little book space of your own," his husband said with a casual shrug when Aziraphale turned to him, beaming.
"And it was a good thought, my dear. Thank you," he said, drawing the serpent into a lingering kiss. They might've kept at it were it not for the last few surprises the cottage still had for them.
Theres were two rooms in the upper loft of their new home. The first being their bedroom, decorated more to Crowley's tastes, as it was largely his domain. Though Aziraphale imagined he would be seeing a good deal more of it once his husband was no longer expecting.
The second was the nursery.
"Yellow, Angel?" Crowley asked as he looked around the space, his tone an odd mix of emotions. It wasn't quite incredulity. More like he was going for his typical casual disdain and falling short...falling into quiet amazement.
"You did mention you weren't certain she'd settled, so I didn't want to go with the typical blue or pink. Yellow's a nice color. It's the color of your eyes, after all."
"My eyes are gold, thank you very much," was the demon's reply as he moved further into the room, but despite the curt words, Aziraphale could still sense the fluttering of emotion from him at the comparison.
What he'd been able to sense from his husband in the past month had been...uneven, at best. The moments of sensing tended to only be when the emotion was particularly strong. To feel even that flicker from him told Aziraphale just how deeply this little nursery had moved him. The angel couldn't deny the tightening in his own throat as he watched Crowley walk to the crib, running a hand along the white wood.
"Do you think...she'll like it?" the demon asked softly, reaching down into the crib to pick up the little star and moon patterned blanket lying there.
"I think she will adore it," he said as he came to stand beside his husband, pressing a kiss to the serpent's cheek as he draped his arms around him. It was then that he noticed Crowley's sunglasses had disappeared since they'd entered the room. He hadn't seen him remove them, so they'd simply...vanished.
"What...what about...me?"
"What about you?" Aziraphale asked, though he had a feeling he knew what his partner meant.
"Will she like me?" the demon asked in an almost helpless voice as he lifted the blanket in his hands. "Or is it bad that this little thing's gonna be stuck with a demon for a dad. Satan, I just...I really don't want to mess her up."
"She will love you," the angel reassured his husband in a firm voice as he rested his head against his. "She will love you because you are her father and you will love her more than anything in the world. What you are and what she is will have nothing to do with it."
At these words, the angel felt an outpouring of wonder and warmth from the demon as he stilled in his arms. Then, from beneath that, a beautiful welling of pure love.
"Crowley?" he whispered, somewhat thunderstruck in the wave of the pure emotions. Some of it was the demon, but...
"I...I think she loves us," the serpent whispered back.
"Oh," he practically sang in response, embracing his little family for all he was worth.
This. This moment. He knew. If ever he found himself doubting anything that had come before it, and whatever might come after it, he would always be able to come back to this moment and know that this was right.
That he and Crowley...that they...that she...all of them...it was worth it. This was worth any pain he could ever experience.