Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Angels and demons are not supposed to dream. But Crowley is not a typical demon. Typical demons don’t love, bed, and wed Angels. Typical demons don’t marry their angels in front of the Demonic Mother, and dance with them to disco and pop . Typical demons don’t let Angels push cake into their face at a reception. 

Crowley is not a typical demon, which is honestly preferable because life would have far more boring otherwise. Were he a typical demon he would not have been a very good - dare he think it - nice husband. Well. 

For his husband, he can let himself be nice. A little. 

For all of his insistence that angels don’t dance, unless that dance happens to be the gavotte, Aziraphale can be tempted to wiggle and jump at his own reception if the music is cheerful enough. Down Stairs likes to take credit for modern day pop, but Crowley is well aware that Up Stairs does as well. The songs manage to be bright and cheerful and positive (which are things Up Stairs likes) yet also get stuck in the heads of humans, lead to corporate consumerism, and stratify friends and family members (all important things to Down Stairs.)

Crowley and Aziraphale are both aware neither side caused it, and it was all the humans. 

But Crowley will be blessed before he has to give up the sight of Aziraphale enjoying a Carly Rae Jepson song. The angel is the only person in creation that can pull him into dancing, and get him to smile all the while. Because they are all immortal, it’s tough to say how long they spend dancing and partying. Keeping track of time had never been Crowley’s strong suit - see his century long nap. 

Demons come in and out as the night goes on, but Hastur, Ligur, Beezlebub, Dagon, Stolas, Legion, and others from Aziraphale’s posse stay most consistently. It’s when they start slow-dancing to “Cold Little Heart,” that Crowley realizes Aziraphale is all but dozing from where his head is resting on her shoulder, and that Crowley has been supporting his body weight for at least half of the song. 

“You should have told me,” He admonishes, and the Angel gives him a sleepy grumble. “Can you walk or am I carrying you?” 

Crowley can’t see his face, but he knows that the angel is blushing. Aziraphale loves being carried. Ever since Armageddon he’s been self-conscious about his own shape, and everytime he remembers Crowley just wants to stab Gabriel all over again. Maybe he will after he can pull himself away from the marriage bed, though that will be a while. But he’s always loved Aziraphale. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t the ‘perfect shape’ he’s the shape Crowley wants. But there’s people around and Aziraphale has hang-ups on getting carried in public, and Crowley understands that if he doesn’t understand why.  

“Just… just give me a moment,” Aziraphale whispers back, and tries to put himself in a state of mind to walk. Crowley is still planning to support most of his weight anyway and Aziraphale doesn’t think he’s carrying him over the threshold then he married a very silly angel. He’s all the stronger for being in Hell that it would require very little of his power, and he can’t wait to show him , but the thoughts are interrupted with a tap on the shoulder. 

Crowley turns and Aziraphale lifts his head to find Beezlebub and Ligur looking at them both, their faces are serious. 

“What is it?” Crowley asks, adjusting his voice to sound a little more like the Prince of Hell that he is. Aziraphale does not whine, but it’s close. 

“Tell them,” Beezlebub directs to Ligur, who face the newlyweds. 

“My Princes,” And that title seems to snap Aziraphale right awake, “I noticed Lord Bane acting... suspicious during the ceremony.”

The prince is standing at attention, but were he not he would be groaning and cursing that stupid lord’s name. Neither wanted Bane there, it wasn’t a secret that he didn’t support the fact that there is an Angel in Hell. But their marriage is a political affair, and certain people had to be invited. Lord Bane being one of them.

“He disappeared during the ceremony, only to reappear an hour later. His whole demeanor changed ‘nd I don’ trust it.” Ligur reports. 

Demons by nature are suspicious and untrustworthy, but Ligur has an uncanny sense to know when a demon is being a normal amount of untrustworthy and when it’s an abnormal amount. 

“Thank you, Lord Ligur,” Beezlebub says, and he takes it for the dismissal that it is. Crowley sees him approach Hastur, and whisper something. Presumably, it’s similar to what he told them, because Hastur gives a solemn nod and they leave. Rarely will Hastur leave an event without trying to say goodbye to Aziraphale, and rarely does Hastur leave without saying goodbye to Aziraphale and it taking at least an hour . 

(Though that is as much Aziraphale’s fault, not that Crowley likes to admit it. The moment they start to say goodbye is when more topics of conversation come up, and it annoys him but it’s also nice, which is just disgusting .)

 Beezlebub pulls Crowley’s attention back to them. He looks back at the other prince, and so does Aziraphale. “I’m going to keep an eye on what Ligur and Hastur report over the next couple of days… and I’m going to cover for you in Court for the next month.”

Aziraphale and Crowley both gape at them. “That-Thank you,” Aziraphale says, giving a smile so sweet Beelzebub can’t physically look at him. 

Crowley smirks. “How… positively nice ,” He teases, and laughs at the hiss he gets and the disapproving tut from Aziraphale. 

“ Shut it, ” Beelzebub snaps, giving him a glare. “It’s my wedding gift to you both, so I don’t have to see your stupid face for a while. If it were safe for you to go back Up There I’d be pushing you up the stairs.”

“Of course, of course,” Crowley says agreeably, “But come visit at some point, alright?”

“You should join the book club!” Aziraphale adds on, and starts to lean more heavily on Crowley again. 

Beezlebub snorts, but their gaze softens when Crowley narrows his eyes warningly. “Look, he’s a lot to handle when he’s mooning,” The Prince explains, “It’s nothing against you , but I’ve had to put up with moping for a long bloody time.”

“ Goodbye Bee !” Crowley is saying, hurriedly pushing Aziraphale away before he can start asking his sibling what that is supposed to mean. 

------

The walk back to their home isn’t far, but it takes all the longer for Aziraphale’s growing exhaustion, and his refusal to let Crowley carry him until it’s time to go over the threshold - the angel has standards still, and he is a romantic at heart. 

“You burned up too much energy dancing,” Crowley chastises, but the angel can hear the fondness underneath the exasperation. 

“I’ll make it up to you in the - ah - morning,” Aziraphale says, interrupting himself to yawn. 

“You will,” Crowley agrees, and Aziraphale gives a pleasant shiver at the promise in his voice.

The demon sets him down on the bed, and they both shift, pulling the blankets up and over themselves. Aziraphale turns to his side, and Crowley spoons behind him, getting to feel like a serpant as he constricts around the angel. 

“Goodnight, my dear,” Aziraphale yawns, drifting off quickly. 

Crowley places a kiss to his temple, leaning down to gently nose at him. 

“Goodnight husband ,” Crowley cooes, and Aziraphale drifts off to sleep with a smile. 

-----

Demons are not supposed to dream, but Crowley has made it a habit to do things that a demon is not supposed to do. 

Sometimes, in Crowley’s thousands of years of continued existence, he has slept. Sometimes, he has dreamed. Sometimes, he is able to remember those dreams when he awakens - can recall them in as vivid detail as Aziraphale can the plot to nearly every book he reads. 

This is not one of those times. 

Crowley dreams that night in sensation, rather then sight. He feels Aziraphale’s hands in his as the angel shrieks in pain, with encouraging voices around them. He hears more screaming, much higher-pitched that leaves him breathless . He tastes the lovely skin of his angel, as he places kisses to Aziraphale’s sweat-soaked face. He smells something so wonderful , so indescribable , as tiny feathers tickle his nose in a way he has never felt before. 

In the morning, as Crowley awakens, he remembers none of it, except for a strange yearning he cannot describe. 

And when he is more fully awake and present, he has forgotten it entirely. 

Chapter Text

Rarely does Crowley wake before Aziraphale, but sometimes he gets lucky. Most days, even Down Here, the angel is already up and moving about in the kitchen, or getting ready in their closet, or in the shower. The better mornings are when he’s in the shower, because Crowley will always rush in. But their reception to their wedding was last night, and they had spent the whole night partying away, and it shows in how Aziraphale is still asleep. 

Crowley can’t help his own soppy smile. Married. Finally. He presses a kiss to his husband’s shoulder, and then another one, because he can . More kisses get places on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek, anywhere he can reach. The demon can hear the instinctual moans his angel makes, still asleep, but then they slowly become more defined as Aziraphale wakes up more fully. 

“Good morning my love,” The angel sighs happily, and Crowley leans up, shifting so Aziraphale is on his back looking up at him. 

“Good morning husband ,” The demon purrs, giving a devilish smirk and a quirk of an eyebrow for emphasis. 

Aziraphale gives a delightful little laugh, surging up to kiss him. When they break apart, his eyes are sparkling. “We did it, we’re married now.”

“That’s right, married.” Crowley pushes him back down, giving him a deeper kiss this time, one he intentionally curves his body for to give the feeling of towering over him, despite their horizontal position. Aziraphale gives an appreciative whimper when they break apart, his eyes growing wide as Crowley looks down at him. 

“We didn’t get a wedding night angel,” Crowley says, in a tone that would make Aziraphale nervous if it weren’t accompanied by his soft smile. His hand slowly slides up his chest, before gently, firmly, grabbing his blond curls and forcing his head to tilt back. 

“Oh dear , you’re right,” Aziraphale answers, moaning appreciatively and arching his back, to follow the way Crowley is positioning him. “It’s a good thing we have a month to compensate.”

“My thoughts exactly angel,” Crowley agrees, leaning down to enjoy the beautiful neck under him. Aziraphale groans appreciatively as the demon luxuriates in him, taking his time to go down to his shoulder. ****

“Dearest, would you - oh - mind terribly if-” Aziraphale tries to speak, moaning all the while, and Crowley frowns against his chest. 

“I’m not doing this right if you’re still speaking in full sentences.” He mused, looking rather put out. It’s adorable, and the angel can’t resist a small chuckle. 

“No not at all, you’re wonderful ,” Aziraphale reassures, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck. “I was just hoping, for this time, that is, oh - if you didn’t mind- ”

“ -Yes ?” And Crowley doesn’t mean to be curt, but when Aziraphale is nervous he rambles, and he would continue to ramble for hours and he has to have him-

“ I’d like to ride you !” 

Oh.

“Dearest?” Aziraphale peers at him, furrowing his brows. 

Crowley needs to make a reply. “ Nkf .” That was a poor reply. 

Nevertheless, Aziraphale understands what he can’t communicate, and gives him a little smirk. The tart. The Angel leans up to kiss him, and suddenly Crowley feels his clothes disappear. His angel’s gotten more bold at vanishing their clothing, and he approves wholeheartedly. 

Crowley pulls back, and Aziraphale shifts up his leg to help give the demon access. A quick miracle coats his fingers, and he slowly pushes one in. Aziraphale gives an appreciative moan, and angels his hips back to meet him. The angel is pulling him in for another kiss, and Crowley obliges, pushing another one and curling until Aziraphale is shuddering beneath him. Crowley pulls back and Aziraphale buries his head into his neck, and Crowley adds a third. He enjoys the slide of opening him up, but Aziraphale is trying to push him back. 

He’s eager , and Crowley excitedly adjusts accordingly, helping settle the angel on top of him. There’s a little bit of shifting, but Aziraphale is slowly sliding on top of him, smiling as he’s fully enveloped. 

Aziraphale shifts a little, moving his hips in small circles to adjust himself to the position. They don’t do this one so often - Crowley doesn’t like being on his back, but it’s nice enough on occasion, and their Wedding Morning is a perfectly respectable occasion. 

But just because Crowley’s on his back doesn’t mean he can’t do more. His hands caress the angel’s hips, and he grips the Angel’s waist, eagerly moving him. Aziraphale cries out, losing his balance and finding purchase by taking hold of Crowley’s shoulders. 

“You feel incredible,” Aziraphale whispers, giving him a kiss. Crowley smirks up at him. “You’re pretty good yourself,” He replies, “Now, why don’t you hop to it?” He says, punctuating hop with a thrust of his hips. 

Aziraphale moans, and begins to pick up the pace. Crowley lets himself selfishly enjoy the view for a moment, before letting his hands roamed his beautiful, soft skin.  He adjusts himself a little, Aziraphale moaning as he jostles inside of him, and moves his hands up to have at his chest, his shoulders, his nipples. Crowley leans in to suck at him with his mouth, and Aziraphale shakes above him. The angel refuses to let up the pace, but Crowley knows Aziraphale has come at least twice, and seems to be nearing a third. Which is perfect timing, as he can feel himself drawing close. Crowley moves one hand down to teasingly fondle the angel, and it works. Aziraphale lets himself go faster and Crowley finds himself groaning as his own orgasm takes over him. It leaves him panting, and in awe as Aziraphale keeps going until he crying out. The angel moves down, laying on top of Crowley. He makes no move to separate, and Crowley grins. 

“That was very good, ” He cooes, and because there is nothing separating them, he can feel the way that Aziraphale shivers in a way he normally never can. The angel gives out a whimper when he can feel the demon hardening again inside him, “But now I think I want you on your back Angel, can you be good for me?” 

-------

Prince Beezlebub prides themselves at being good at their job. At instilling fear in the hearts, minds, and souls in the rest of the demons of the pit. At conveying the word of King Lucifer. At strategically using a miracle to save their favorite television show from being canceled (they don’t get television in Hell, it’s still Hell , but they used to use Crowley’s when they’d visit him Up Stairs.) 

Beelzebub is good at their job because they started out by trusting no one - demons aren’t supposed to trust, and this made Beelzebub a model demon. Slowly this expanded to include trusting the Demon Crawly - later Crowley. It expanded later to include Dagon, Hastur, Ligur, and Andras. Now, of all beings, it included Aziraphale, who was by all intents and purposes Beelzebub’s Brother in Law. 

Beelzebub trusted Ligur, and Ligur had seen something that threatened that circle of people Beelzebub could count on. This was decidedly not okay. Which is why they took Ligur straight to the king and queen, determined not to waste time on anything. 

No demon has quarters quite like Crowley. At most, many will have a single room to lurk quietly in. A few keep random odds and ends, but demons have no reason to hold kitchen, or libraries, or dining rooms. Crowley really had gone native .

It's for that reason that the four of them, plus Dagon, meet in the Throne Room. It feels vast and empty without the swarm of demonic nobility. But needs must. 

"Hastur and I have uncovered that the archangels, and most of the other prisoners have been set free." Ligur reported, his usual growl much harsher then usual. 

"Do we know who has done this?" Lilith asked. Her eyes are narrowed. In all her preparations for the wedding, she had not been able to visit the Pits. She regrets that now. 

"I have theories. The demon Lord Bane went missing during the party. He came back later but no one has seen him since." 

"He could just be lurking," Dagon frowned. "Causing temptations, doing what a demon should be doing."

"I've had no reports of such a thing," Lucifer mused, frowning. "Besides, no one has been permitted to do their supernatural work on humanity during the war, part of the nonaggression agreement."

The nonaggression agreement had been a draw between both sides: focus on fighting, don't focus on humanity. They'd had enough attention for 6,000 years anyway. 

"But now the ward's over, with everyone back where they belong?" Dagon pressed. 

The Queen shook her head. "No stalemate treaty was signed. That was supposed to be negotiated with Michael and Gabriel, Lucifer and I. But we cannot guarantee our existence to continue as before. Prince Crowley will have to remain here."

Privately, Beelzebub wonders what it means for Aziraphale, but doesn't say anything out loud because their persona is meant to be cold and unfeeling. 

"For now, we assume Bane is under suspicion," Lucifer decided. He is not amused, he is not the wry jokester that annoys Crowley and Beelzebub. He is the king. "I'm entrusting you and Duke Hastur to investigate Up Stairs. Prince Beezlebub, you will continue to hold Court while the Queen and I see what is to be learned down here."

Lilith seems lost in her own thoughts, and turns to the king. "My love, I believe I am more needed elsewhere. There is something I must do before I join you."

Lucifer nods in kind. "Very well. We shall not repeat this to the court. It is for my inner circle only."

All agree, and adjourn. 

-------

Gabriel has an "American Accent" but very quickly discovers how much he hates America . Or maybe just Las Vegas. But once you've seen one American city, haven't you seen them all? 

After miracling him and Uriel away, Lord Bane brings them to a run-down motel, a few miles west of the famous strip. It's filthy, run-down, and so dark . But after that time in Hell, neither he nor Uriel feel up to any miracling for at least a little while. And Bane promised them that the desolation of their surroundings will keep them hidden for as long as they need. 

Bane had vanished, off on some reconnaissance mission. He’d been away for… so indeterminate amount of time. Earth time didn’t make sense. So Gabriel had never really bothered to keep up. One time he and Sandalphon had gone down to give that traitor a medal (and he wanted to laugh for the irony there ), only to go down the next and find everything had changed! 

He and Uriel were able to pass along a phone call to Michael, who was trying to gather their weakened forces. With no peace treaty reached, or stalemate signed, there was still a chance - but morale was low, and many of the angels at large apparently were not interested in a re-match. But some were , and that was what counted. 

Finally, Bane opened the door, and they both rose to meet him. 

“Where have you been?” Uriel demanded, narrowing his eyes. 

“Learning,” Bane sneered back. “You two are still here, and I’m still here, so they don’t know where we are.”

“You still haven’t really explained why you brought us here,” Gabriel said, “You’re side was doing well, you won that last fight.” 

Bane sneered. “We won a pathetic skirmish. This isn’t a fight! This is playacting. Don’t you want the chance to really go at each other, to meet on a real war ground as the earth burns and find out which side is more deserving?”

“But Armageddon wasn’t in the Ineffable Plan,” Uriel say, and Bane roared with laughed. 

“Armageddon was always supposed to happen - that stupid Angel and Demon ruined it for everyone! You know how ridiculous it was? At least you were ready to put your traitor to justice - we gave him a warning, a show trial, and a slap on the wrist!

“And then what do we do? We welcome that idiot Prince and his pet angel, and now they’re bloody taming us away from our nature. It’s not right - they’re not right - they don’t belong.” 

Gabriel lifts his hands in a ‘surrender’ gesture, well aware that when particularly emotive, sometimes demons will set fires. “And we agree! But I’ve tried to get rid of the traitor Aziraphale, and it didn’t exactly work!” 

Bane stills, and looks back at them. “It didn’t work,” he said, “Because you didn’t go after Crowley as well. He’ll always be there to take care of the angel, and vice versa. You have to lead them away from each other at the same time.”

“But we did that.” Uriel deadpanned, and Bane shook his head. 

“Crowley knew we were coming,” He scowled. “The trial was for show - to put the fear in other demons. He got advance notice to make sure he was prepared.” 

Both angels gaped at him. 

“He’s the Queen’s favorite,” Bane scoffs. “And we all take our orders from a Human Queen! But one thing at a time.” 

“So, lure them away, then what? Stabbing doesn’t work, Hellfire doesn’t work…” Gabriel wondered. 

Bane grinned. “No, those things cause commotion, and pain to cry out. But I know a better way.” 

Uriel and Gabriel exchange a glance. 

“Well, go on!” Gabriel snaps, “What is it?”

Throughout the night, Bane explains his plan. And Uriel and Gabriel are both grinning by the end of it. 

Chapter Text

That night, Crowley dreams again. It’s been many nights since the wedding, and each dream is different. 

There is something tiny that is pressed to his chest. It’s so small that it leaves him afraid. He’s alone, just him and this thing that fits in one hand. There are feathers that tickle his nose, and one of his hands is feeling them for any that need to be removed. This causes irritation and squirming in this tiny thing, and he soothes any whimpers that arise. “I have you, it’s okay, I’m going to protect you,” He repeats like a mantra, “I have you. I got you. You’re safe with me.”

Crowley wakes up, once again unable to remember the dream, only the vague recollection that he’d had one. It leaves him feeling unsettled, but also with a need for something he cannot put a name towards. It’s not unpleasant, but he doesn’t enjoy the fact that there isn’t a name for whatever is happening. The demon decides to try and put it from his mind, and focus on more important matters. 

The most important matter is the fact that Aziraphale isn’t currently in bed with him. It’s been over a week, and he and his husband have done nothing but enjoy food, sleep, and each other. It’s been glorious . 

It has him all the more unreasonably grumpy that Aziraphale is currently out of bed, out and about. He shouldn’t be able to use his legs - has Crowley been a bad husband already? 

He starts to emerge from the bed, because he is not above picking the angel up and bringing him back , when he hears the additional voice with his husband, and he immediately pales. 

The Queen is here. 

Crowley quickly miracles himself into clothes, and does a quick once-over to make sure they look presentable. Satisfied, he makes his way into their kitchen where Lilith is enjoying tea with Aziraphale. 

“Good afternoon,” She says, eyeing him in such a way that Crowley regrets the clothing he settled on. It’s uncanny. He loves her for it. 

“Afternoon already?” He asks, trying to sound casual. He’s not interested in the pretense of food, so he just sits next to Aziraphale, wrapping an arm around him. The angel gives him a smile and offers what’s on his plate, but Crowley waves him off. 

“Lilith stopped by a little while ago, and helped me prepare this,” Aziraphale says, sipping some of his tea.

“I never cook when down here, it is a pleasant change of pace for me.” The queen smiles at him. 

“We appreciate you visiting,” Aziraphale adds, “Is there anything we can do to help you with?” 

The queen shakes her head. “Unfortunately, this is not a social call.” Lilith purses her lips, and her eyes look almost… regretful. It’s something that immediately has Crowley on edge. 

“What’s happened?” His mind is constantly planning. Is Hell no longer safe for them? Do he and Aziraphale need to leave? Crowley instantly begins projecting how long it would take for them to get to Alpha Centauri when Lilith begins to speak. 

“The night of your reception, the demon Ligur noticed unusual activity - further investigation revealed that Gabriel and Uriel are no longer in the Pits.” 

Both Crowley and Aziraphale pale. “No. That should not be possible,” Crowley snaps, tightening his arm around Aziraphale. He can move just fine now, but Crowley remembers only too well the sight of his angel pale, bleeding everywhere, and needing to Stay Alive-

“Dear, dear please stop squeezing,” Aziraphale begs, and Crowley quickly lets go, apologizing. 

“The King and I were planning on negotiating a ceasefire with Michael and Gabriel, using his captivity as a bargaining chip. Unfortunately that is no longer an option,” Lilith continues. “Were we able to sign a peace treaty, you two would have been able to safely return Up Stairs. Without it…”

“We can’t leave.” Crowley says, dully. 

“Not safely,” Lilith agrees, looking sympathetic. 

Aziraphale looks back and forth, confused. “But, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, right?” He asks, and can’t help but give a little chuckle. The irony of an angel defending their residence in Hell… 

“I mean, yes, it is rather dark and gloomy, but this hasn’t been completly unpleasent.” He continues, trying to keep Crowley and Lilith from their morose looks. Goodness, they even sulk in the same way. “You have your princely duties, and I… well. I have my bookclub, and…. Do I have...princely duties here?” He asks Lilith. There’s never been an Angel Prince before, he thinks. 

“It’s not for lack of activity, Angel,” Crowley says, finally turning to look at him, and Aziraphale is unprepared to see him looking so sad. 

“You and Crowley have been able to protect your being here with food, and sleep,” Lilith says, “And that willpower has truly been incredible. But it isn’t sustainable in the long term, and we do not know how long this war will last now.”

“The plan was always to hit hard, hit fast, and end it as soon as possible,” Crowley explained. “Demons don’t have patience for the long haul, we wanted to play to our strengths.”

“Now we are forced to think of something long-term, and that goes for you too. Your powers will weaken - you will weaken, and you will ultimately be unable to survive here.”

Aziraphale swallows audibly. “I… well…. It’s not like I can go back to heaven, or, my old bookshop.”

“I’m so sorry ,” and oh, Crowley just sounds so dreadful that Aziraphale can’t help but kiss him. 

“Oh darling, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t set those two angels free. I imagine we will just have to fight, and fight well.”

“There is something else we can do.” They both snap to look at Lilith. She takes a steadying breath. 

“I was created by Her, to be subservient to Adam, the First Man, and to be the Mother for Humanity. When I disavowed my destiny, I Fell, and fell to Lucifer. When he Raised me as Queen, it gave me certain… abilities, that were tied to my original purpose. 

“I can handle Hell Fire and Holy Water, for I am not an Angel or Demon. I am a manifestation of a woman, and the Mother of Darkness. I claim the spirits, creatures, and the newly fledged demons. I will never birth a child, but when I give my blessing, children are born.” 

Aziraphale finds himself speechless. “You… you poor dear.” It is unmistakable to him, the pain in her face. Just because Lilith didn’t want to carry Adam’s children, it could not have meant she didn’t she didn’t want to carry any children. To have to bless those around her with a miracle she could not receive seemed… it seemed cruel. 

In return, Lilith bestows a pained smile. “It is something I have made my peace with,” She says soothingly. “But this works to your benefit.”

“How come?” The angel asks. He looks to Crowley, expecting him to be just as confused, but instead the demon looks as if he’s seen a ghost. 

“Dear?”

Lilith narrows her eyes at Crowley, and then seems to understand. “You’ve been having visions my dear.” 

“Visions? Is that what this - this - unk . This bloody weird feeling has been?” He stammers. 

“What ‘weird feeling’?” Aziraphale asks. 

“I’ve been. Well. I think I’ve been having these. Weird dreams. I wake up feeling like - like I’ve lost something, and I got to get it back.” Crowley admits, and the angel narrows his eyes. 

“Why am I just hearing about this now ?”

“Because I haven’t been remembering ! But now I am,” He looks at her desperately, and Lilith sighs. 

“Then it must be ineffable,” She intones, and ignores Crowley’s groan and subsequent thump as his head hits the table. 

“What would happen is that I would bless you,” Lilith says to Aziraphale, “To carry a child to term. You would conceive here, carry for the majority of your term here, and give birth here. Crowley, of course, would be the father. The bond this would generate would be able to help sustain you down here, as it would help strengthen a physical bond with your mate and a child. Already your marriage has helped, as you were able to miracle yourself earlier today.”

“When’d you do that?” Crowley asks, and Aziraphale’s jaw drops. 

“That’s incredible !” He gasps. The angel then blushes, looking away from them both. “When Lilith was coming… I … well . I miracled away any aches so I could answer the door for her.” 

He knew he’d done a good job. Crowley gives a smirk that Aziraphale refuses to look at. 

The Queen clears her throat, and they both turn to her. “This is not a decision to take lightly.” She says sternly, “So think long and hard about this.” 

Aziraphale looks at Crowley. Crowley looks at Aziraphale. 

“We’d… we’d be more than Godfathers,” He says cautiously, and Aziraphale gives him a sweet smile. They’re both remembering their old agreement to try and raise the Incorrect Antichrist. Warlock. Their first child. He wrote to them, in the years after they’d had to leave their respective posts, and after a heated debate on whether or not it was a good idea, they wrote him back. He was in a British Boarding school, currently, but it wasn’t too far from where he was born in Tadfield, and wrote about making the oddest group of friends. 

When a pair has existed together for as long as Aziraphale and Crowley have, there is a certain ability to think without the exchanging of too many words. 

What they think is this - both have lived for a very long time. They have spent much of it apart and together, but it’s only been the two of them. And that has been lovely, they love each other. But looking after Warlock had brought a fulfillment to their lives, even knowing full well he couldn’t really be theirs and they’d been forced to leave. This was a chance for them to bring someone new into their little family, which had already grown since the Start of the Rest of Their Lives. Both are thinking about the other as a parent, and both are thinking how the other would do so well .  

“You were a wonderful nanny,” Aziraphale says, holding Crowley’s hands in his. “You would make a wonderful father.” 

Crowley tries to glare at the angel for such language, but he can’t keep up with the act. Not for a conversation like this . “You have all the patience in the world with that book club. With Hastur. I feel like that’s harder to manage than any child that we’d make.”

Aziraphale laughs. “I believe we would accept any blessing from you, with love.” He says to Lilith, who looks approving. 

“I am still the Queen of Hell. Let us go easy on such language,” She gently admonishes, and Aziraphale laughs. Lilith rises, staring them down with a new intensity. 

“Within my domain, within my power, I grant you this blessing. Angel from Her Will, I bless you with the ability to conceive and carry a child. Made with joy, made with consent, you shall Know your partner and from you shall a child come forth.” 

“Do… you feel any different?” Crowley asks him. Aziraphale shakes his head. 

“You will feel different soon,” Lilith says, “And you will know when it has worked.” 

She then gives them a ruthless smirk. “Now what is the expression… go be fruitful? Go multiply?”

Crowley groans loudly, and the Queen of Hell laughs, leaving them both. 

Aziraphale looks at him, and starts to chuckle. He then broke out into laughter. Crowley tries to glare, but finds himself laughing as well. The angel slides out of their nook, offering a coy look. 

“Well, husband, I believe we have been given a command.” 

Crowley’s eyes go predatory, and he lets himself stalk languidly as Aziraphale beckons him to their bedroom. “Well, who am I to refuse ?” He purrs rhetorically, and that’s the last coherent thing either says for a very long time. 

Chapter Text

In terms of how they spend their time, Lilith’s blessing does not really change anything for them. They’re still celebrating their marriage, and they still have a week left in Beelzebub’s gift to them. 

It only encourages Crowley to make the most of it. 

They start in their bedroom, Aziraphale welcoming Crowley on their bed. The demon settles between his legs, finding the Angel already ready for him. ****

“You’re ready for this,” He hisses excitedly, reaching down with his fingers and already finding Aziraphale dripping for him. “My wonderful pet, how welcoming you are.” 

Aziraphale moans when Crowley enters him, clutching at him tightly. 

“I love you,” The angel moans, shifting his hips to move with Crowley’s, “And I always want you.”

“Yes but now there’s a goal for you,” Crowley goads, leaning down to bite at his neck. “You want me to get you with child - you want to carry me in you.” 

The angel gives another moan, and Crowley grins wickedly. He’s always loved dirty talk, usually when Crowley is doling out compliments intermittently, but with Lilith’s blessing it’s taken a decidedly different turn. That didn’t take long at all . 

“It’s alright,” Crowley sooths, when Aziraphale lets out a whimper. “I’ve got you, you know I’ve got you. And I want this too - I want to see this for us .” 

He leans down to nibble on his husband’s ear.

“I won’t stop until we feel it take , my angel.”

Aziraphale moaned appreciatively. 

-------

Before the beginning of the Not End Times, Hastur and Ligur Lurked together. 

Other couples took strolls on pathways, in parks, and forests. Hastur and Ligur both despised such places in favor of more appropriately demonic ones, such as Graveyards, run down buildings, drugstores in the twilight hour, other suitable demonic places. They are both typical demons in this aspect.

Their lurk tonight brings them to Vegas. They had spent the last few weeks lurking about in Austria, London, and other cities in Europe and Asia, going to places that they knew the angels enjoyed exploring. Fancy restaurants, running trails, even modern art galleries. Anything to give some sort of clue as to where the prisoners had escaped to, or what Bane could possibly be up to.

But there had been no luck. Out of options, they decide to go back to Las Vegas, where the other battle had taken place. It’s as good an idea as any they’ve already had. 

Ligur is intelligent and a damned good investigator. He is not particularly creative. He doesn’t know it yet, but that will be an advantage to him. Ligur also does not trust demons - a very smart move. He does trust Hastur. It is not an intelligent decision, but it is an important one. Thankfully, Hastur deserves this trust. 

Where Ligur is adept at reading situations , motivations, and investigations, Hastur is much more profound at reading locations for demonic magic and otherwise non-human intervention. He was not previously aware of such an ability, because Hastur is not a smart as Ligur, or Crowley. It was more of an instinctual gift, one that let him to evade being dissolved by Holy Water. Something had been telling him not to enter the door, but he hadn’t been cognizant enough to send a warning to Ligur. Hastur is also not in tune with his emotions, otherwise he would know that he still felt guilt over such a thing. And if he were human, another human would tell him that he is highly perceptive. If Ligur knew, Ligur would have told him not to care, both about the perceptive skills and about feeling guilt. But Ligur didn’t know, so Ligur didn’t tell him. 

Instead, the two are uniquely suited in what they did know to know that there was something sinister happening close to them. And it wasn’t the type of sinister that they were supposed to encourage . 

“There’s something angelic near us,” Hastur whispers at him. Ligur agrees. It’s an unpleasant feeling - and not one that they are used to from Crowley’s angel. It’s not right. 

They are near a motel that most Vegas-based demons will stay at. But it doesn’t feel quite right. It’s that angelic influence that Hastur is intoning. 

“It could only be the angels.” Ligur answers, and they slowly head towards the source of that creepy feeling. 

“But why would they come here?” Hastur wonders, “This isn’t a place for angels.”

A new voice answers from behind them. “It’s not. It’s a place for us though.” 

Both whirl around, and Ligur snarls at seeing Bane in front of them. The demon looks amused. 

“What is this?” He demands, “Why are there angels here ?”

The demon laughs. It’s a cruel sound. 

“They are here to help me. We are returning our existence to the way it belongs, by getting rid of those who are forcing us into something disgusting .” 

“That’s not what the King would say,” Hastur growls, “He would say you’re a traitor!”

Bane roars at them. “I am not the traitor!” He bellows furiously, “It’s the Prince who betrayed us! He abandoned us Below for a fucking Angel, and you act like he’s some sort of hero! But it’s not too late!” He looks imploringly at Ligur, “You never liked Crowley’s stories - you thought they couldn’t be real. You didn’t like that angel bitch - you can help me!”

The lark of it all is that Bane was right. Was. Ligur didn’t like Crowley’s stories. Ligur had not liked the angel. Ligur had been so steadfast in not liking the angel, and so careful not to. But then he’d saved them both from a run-in with Holy Water, and nearly gave his life fighting with Stolas and Andras, and even mourned for Andras. It’s more then any demon has ever gotten, more then any demon has ever deserved. 

Ligur is a smart demon. He knows when he’s wrong, and when his opinion needs to change. That angel earned it from him. 

And Ligur has heard enough out of this crazy fucker. “I think the fuck not ,” And he lunges forward to attack. 

Hastur goes to join, because he trusts Ligur, but then feels a pull . It’s the same pull he felt when he and Ligur tried to attack Crowley, those years ago. A pull that tells him not to stay, not to linger. 

This time he knows what to do. In a flash he’s grabbed Ligur, and the two are rapidly descending back Down Below, hearing the sound of Bane laughing all the while. 

They will not know how fortunate they were to act, for Gabriel had been ready with newly anointed Holy Water that they did not protect themselves for. It lands where they had been standing moments before, splashing about. 

Bane’s laughing stops as he leaps back, annoyed. 

“That could’ve gotten me!” He snarls, and Gabriel rolls his eyes. 

“Then I would be doing my job.” He snaps, and Bane gives him a smirk. 

“If you kill me, you lose your chance at getting to the Demon you really want,” He teases, and Gabriel growls. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Bane grins, “Do we have a deal? Just say the word. I am ready to go as soon as you’re ready.” 

Gabriel takes a breath. It’s for the greater good. It’s for the Great Plan. 

“Just fucking do it.” He snaps.

Bane disappears to make out a message, returning moments later. 

“It’s done.” 

----------

Some time has passed for Aziraphale and Crowley, but they are finding it harder to know just how much. They’ve been in Hell for a very long time. 

Nevertheless, they have now tried in their bed, twice in the shower, and more than that in their bath. Both are feeling worn out, and are taking this opportunity to lie together. 

Aziraphale’s head is pillowed on Crowley’s chest, while the demon runs his fingers through his hair. He can’t help but wonder how long they’ll be able to lay like this - soon Aziraphale physically won’t be able to. The thought sends a twitch to his member, which has Aziraphale snickering. 

“Being down here has made you all the more insatiable - and I didn’t think such a thing possible.” The angel muses. He doesn’t look irritated, however. He sounds pleased . 

Crowley shrugs. “I don’t think it’s my nature getting stronger, I think it’s just that I’m with you .” He feels proud of the way Aziraphale blushes at that. They lay there in a comfortable silence, and Crowley begins to contemplate a nap when Aziraphale speaks again. 

“There’s something I don’t quite understand.” 

“Oh?”

Aziraphale shifts, so he’s looking back at him again. “You are important here. You’re a prince. You’re on the same level as Beelzebub.”

“And you’re wondering why I’m not more important than them, yeah I wonder that too,” Crowley agrees, and laughs when the angel playfully swats at him.

“You know that is not my question, and you are not more important,” Aziraphale scoffs, “But I’ve been wondering something for a while now.”

“So what is the question, angel?”

“I’m wondering why they put you on trial like that. After the failed Armageddon.” 

Ah . Crowley gives a wince. Sooner or later, he’s known that he would have to explain this to his love, but had wanted to put it off. He’s already cognizant of the fact that Aziraphale did not even have a trial, and he’s scared of what his explanation will do. Aziraphale’s been doing so well being away from heaven. 

“Crowley? Dearest?” Aziraphale looks concerned. “Is it.. Maybe I shouldn’t have-”

“No, no you should ,” Crowley cuts him off. He shifts a little, trying to pull Aziraphale closer. 

“So, what I did,” Crowley begins to explain, “it was an impressive act of rebellion. Normally, that’s commended here, but there’s limits, even for us. Doing what I did was only okay because I did it - but the King couldn’t let me get away with it because others would try something. 

"My trial… it was never meant to be anything too serious. It was meant to be a show trial.” 

Aziraphale’s face is very carefully blank. Nervously, Crowley continues, 

“We took the bus back to my apartment that night. You were trying to understand that Last Prophecy. I had a message, on my desk, from Bee. It told me that I was getting dipped in Holy Water, and that I better cover myself in Holy Oil before tomorrow. That prophecy… the fire warning was for you . And I realized that you were in trouble. So-”

“So when we switched,” Aziraphale breathed, slowly, “That was for my benefit.” 

“I’m so so sorry angel,” Crowley said. He looked so sympathetic, and Aziraphale had to look away. His eyes felt like burning, and he squeezed them to prevent tears. He failed. 

“Oh, don’t . No. fuck ,” Crowley hissed, turning them over. He snarled protectively, leaning over the angel on all fours. The demon knew this was what would happen. The complete dichotomy of their trials only outlined what they Did Not Talk About. Crowley was Important in Hell - he was a Prince, and his time and effort was valued and praised. Any scoffing Beelzebub did was out of sibling rivalry, and it was coupled with a fierce protectiveness that Crowley returned in equal measure. Aziraphale did not have the same connection to Heaven. He was sent to Earth to be kept out of the way. Angels regularly disregarded him and devalued his opinion. His every miracle and effort was scrutinized and found lacking, it’s why his quotas were always stingy. And realizing how different the intended outcomes of their trials only highlighted the fact for them both. It made Crowley’s not-heart hurt at how much Aziraphale was mistreated. 

“This is so stupid - I’m being so stupid ,” Aziraphale gasped. “I-I knew they wanted me gone - but - but”

“I’ll not have you talk about my husband like that ,” Crowley snapped, “ They were the assholes that didn’t deserve you. You deserve everything .” He pulls him into a searing kiss, as if he can undo years of condescension by sheer will. Thankfully, Crowley has been known for his willpower. 

Crowley kisses his way down his loves’ body. He settles between his thighs, taking a quick look up to see how Aziraphale’s face looks. Any sign that he’s uncomfortable, and he won’t press it. But the angel is looking at him, desperately. He’s hoping that in the next few minutes he can feel like someone wants him, that someone loves him. 

And that’s easy. Crowley always wants Aziraphale. 

“I love you,” He vows. “I vowed to love you in front of every demon down here. I’ll vow to you as many times as you need. To as many people as you need. As many times as you need.”

Aziraphale shifts, and shakes his head. “I don’t need that… I just… I would like you to love me now , if you please.” He looks so lost, and Crowley can’t say no. He never can. 

“Of course.” ****

Crowley parts his thighs, and Aziraphale spreads his legs helpfully. The demon wasted no time pressing kisses to the angels stomach, dipping lower to kiss at his center. Aziraphale let out a small gasp, and his hips moved instinctively. Crowley kept going, nuzzling and licking into him. The noises that came out of his angel were desperate, he moaned in a way that the demon wasn’t used to. Not since they had first started to be intimate with each other, and Aziraphale had been so shy about sex as a concept. He hadn’t had anyone else, had never wanted to. Never thought he was worthy of it. 

It made Crowley incredulous. Aziraphale represented the best of heaven. The best of what was good. And for him to be made to feel this way made him burn with rage . 

He pulled off, kissing his way up his angel’s body to settle again between his legs. 

“ I love you ,” He said, forcing Aziraphale to look him in the eye. Crowley holds Aziraphale’s head between his hands, and repeats it. 

“I love you too, my dear.” Aziraphale answers.The demon places another kiss, urging for him to wrap his legs around his waist. 

“It doesn’t matter what anyone Up There does,” Crowley whispers, sliding into him. Aziraphale gives out a whimper, trying to hide his face from the intensity. Crowley growls, pinning his wrists next to his head. He moves his hips, building up a steady rhythm. It’s unhurried, a contrast to the last few rounds they’d had while they were trying . Aziraphale moans, shifting to meet his thrusts but in no real hurry to force him to go faster. 

“It doesn’t matter what they say,” He continues, “Because you are the best any of them had to offer. You are the best thing in Her Creation, and you are the one that can have enough goodness to be kind to beings that are literally damned. You are the one that I love , and will love for the rest of eternity.”

Aziraphale takes a gasping breath that has nothing to do with the building pace Crowley has set. Tears begin to leak from his eyes, and he leans forward to bury his face in Crowley’s neck. The demon lets him, starting to increase the pace until Aziraphale starts gasping for a new reason. Finally he can feel his angel shudder around him, and he lets himself go . Crowley leans down to kiss away whatever tears he can reach while his angel - his angel - catches his breath. For a moment, the only movement is Aziraphale's breathing slowly returning to normal, and Crowley kissing his forehead, his temple, anywhere on his face where his lips can reach. 

“I’m going to remind you everyday.” He vows, “That you are my everything. I never need you to be anything but you.” 

----

Aziraphale has woken up and Crowley is treated to the sight of the angel cradling what is theirs against his chest. He leans his forehead down to rest on top of their little miracle, tears slowly leaking from his eyes. Crowley has never seen him cry like this, but Crowley has also never seen him so happy before. And it’s understandable. For he has never felt a joy quite like this in his existence. The Demon Prince sits next to him - to them - and curls up. They are a family.  

Crowley cannot remember this dream when he awakens, is only left with the same yearning that the others have left. But this time, he doesn’t let it annoy him. Rather, he smiles and presses a kiss to Aziraphale’s shoulder. It’s alright. 

He has a rather strong feeling that it will be alright. 

---------

A short while later, Crowley is in the kitchen, working on a roast. Aziraphale is reading The Hunger Games in their kitchen nook , and pondering Lucifer’s suggestion to incorporate Young Adult Novels into his Book Club, when he suddenly hears a Voice. A woman's voice.

But it isn't Her. Despite his belief in her, She has not spoken with him directly since the moment just outside the garden, when she asked about the sword. 

Crowley had told him, when he had been desperate and Aziraphale had been dying, Lilith had Spoken to him. She could speak with All Of Her Subjects, because what was Lucifer's was hers. Lilith had the ability to send messages to all of them, to relay instructions, and convey information. 

She was speaking to him, and Aziraphale didn't know how such a thing was possible. 

Congratulations.

It made him jump, but it was unnoticed by Crowley. How in the Heaven? Or, rather, Hell, was this possible?

This is possible because you are with child now, Lilith says, and although her voice is echoing in his mind, she seems amused.

Yes, Aziraphale, I can sense what you are thinking. And I say congratulations, because you are now pregnant. 

Aziraphale's eyes widen, and he begins to feel light-headed. There's a fullness in his belly that is not something that is caused by food. There's a sensation that he cannot give human words to, and all the words in all the languages he has ever read fail to capture the essence of this moment. And Aziraphale understands that Lilith is right. 

“ Crowley !” 

The demon drops the spatula he was using to stir at the urgency in Aziraphale’s voice. He looks over at his husband, and the look on his face makes him stop dead. 

Aziraphale is looking at him, and his eyes are holding such wonder . Crowley is gaping at him. There’s not much else the angel can really be communicating to him. Not like this. 

“ Ngf - Wha-already ?” Is the best the prince can muster. 

Aziraphale snorts at him. 

“My dear, we’ve been at this for a while .” He walks over, and pulls him closer. “I can feel it. I can feel it happened .” 

They have both lived for all of human existence. They have seen every moment of history. Their lives are eternal, and they have witnessed the greatest triumphs and tragedies that humanity hath wrought. But Crowley knows not one compares to what he feels right now. None of the stars he spend eons crafting into existence matter - not in the wake of knowing that he is going to have a family with Aziraphale. That the most precious Angel in human creation will have a child - his child. 

He pulls Aziraphale into his arms, and they’re both laughing. Maybe crying? It’s tough to tell. Without thinking about it, he’s picked him up, only to suddenly put him back in a sudden fear. 

“I’m hardly going to break!” Aziraphale admonishes, settling on delighted laughter. “We’ve seen people in far worse conditions! Eve had marched across the desert with Adam before baring her children!”

Crowley shakes his head. Eve wasn’t pregnant with his child. It’s a completely different situation. 

Aziraphale rolls his eyes when Crowley informs him of that. 

“You’re ridiculous,” The Angel decides, deciding to go and resume the cooking that Crowley has abandoned in light of the revelation. 

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, that becomes uncomfortable for Crowley pretty quickly. 

“That had to mean last night was what did it,” He says cautiously, going to stand with his husband. “After… after what I told you.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Aziraphale says non-committedly. After a moment, he looks up and notices the look on Crowley’s face. 

“Oh, my dear,” and he sets down the spatula to wrap his arms around Crowley. “My darling husband - I’m not upset, well, anymore .” He amends. “If anything, I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?” The demon repeats, doubtfully. Aziraphale smiles at him. 

“You don’t understand,” He leans up to give him a kiss. “It’s alright . I was honestly scared of what it would mean to have a child and raise them in hell - old prejudices, I’m afraid, which I am very sorry about.”

“Gng, no it’s fine,” Crowley waives him off, “A sane person would be concerned, this place is Not Safe - it’s bloody Hell .”

“But that’s the thing!” Aziraphale says, and he gives a small laugh. “This whole time, I’ve been led to believe how horrible everything is, but Hell gave me you! And you’ve given, well,” He gestures around to the room, but Crowley knows him well enough to know that he’s indicating their entire situation in Hell. The demons who fought with them. The Prince that looked after them. The Queen that Blessed them. He looks up at Crowley and smiles, not a trace of sadness or irony. 

“Crowley, I can’t think of a better place to raise and have this baby.” 

In that moment, there’s not much else that Crowley can do except pounce on him. 

Their roast ends up burning.

Chapter Text

Beelzebub can hardly believe their ears once they are done hearing Hastur and Ligur recount what they’ve found. 

“What is that idiot thinking ?” They seeth. Bane is dead . Bane is going face-first into a Holy Water Bath that they will force Aziraphale into making. Angelic pacifist their ass. This is betrayal of the highest order. A direct middle finger to the King and Queen. To Crowley. No. This will not stand. 

“He’s plotting something with those angels, and he was angry at Prince Crowley,” Ligur informs them. “And you know Heaven isn’t done with Prince Aziraphale.” 

No, Ligur is not wrong. Ligur is never wrong. 

Beelzebub feels a migraine coming, and wills it away. It’s not the time for that . 

It’s the time for next steps. For action items. For them to go on offensive. 

“I’ll warn the other princes.” Beelzebub decides, “For now, I want you two to keep snooping around Vegas - don’t let Bane catch you again. I don’t think he’ll move, Bane isn’t smart enough to move places or know where else to go.” 

They all nod. Bane is not a smart demon, just a vindictive. Until now, that’s all he’s needed to be. And it’s been good enough. His work had earned him a lordship, and a place in Satan’s inner circle. But apparently that has not been enough. Hastur and Ligur begin to take a different path. They are not going directly up, but this time they are going to arm themselves appropriately.  

Beelzub lets out a frustrated sigh. Slowley, they begin walking to where Crowley and Aziraphale live. They’ve been the one time, so far, but that was just a social visit. There hadn’t been news to report yet, though Beelzebub had made sure to tell them both about what had been reported at the last council meeting. 

Both were acting edgy, but Beelzebub had just assumed it came from being cooped up with nothing to do but each other. It wouldn’t kill them to get out more, but there admittedly wasn’t much to do that wasn’t going to the Pits. Maybe they should all work together to bring the internet down - Beelzebub missed Brooklyn 99 , from when they would visit Crowley and hog his television. And Crowley had promised to show Beelzebub other comedies, but that got put on hold with the stupid war . 

Lost in thought, they don’t notice when Dagon began to walk with them. But the Prince allowed their stride to slow for their friend.  

“Bad news,” They intone, but Dagon already nods. “I’ve already heard.” She responds. 

Beelzbub gives a measured sigh. “It’s fucking dreadful. He’s betrayed us. I’m going to hunt Bane down and feed him to the wolves,” They growl. 

Dagon sounds resigned. “I know.”

The tone is odd, and it rises Beelzebub’s suspicions. But this is Dagon, their trusted right-hand - and one of the first in Beelzebub’s circle after Crowley and the King and Queen. 

What happens next is too quick. 

In a flash, Dagon has back-handed them into a wall. Beelzebub hits their head, stunned, and slumps to the ground. The move is too quick for them to take action. It’s too quick to feel the betrayal. They barely even hear Dagon’s next words: 

“It’s not personal. I just don’t trust you.”

And one well-placed punch later, Beelzebub can’t hear anything anymore. 

-------------

They’re back in their bed, Crowley spooning his husband from behind. There’s nothing for him to really feel yet, but his hand is still lying on top of his belly. 

“How about Scorpious?” 

Aziraphale laughs. He rests his hand on top of his demon’s. “You can’t give all your creations the same names,” He teases good naturedly. Crowley gives his temple a kiss to mask the grin that breaks across his face. 

“Besides, it’s too similar to the Harry Potter names.” Crowley growls, and the proximity of it makes Aziraphale shiver. 

“I came up with it first,” He says petulantly, and Aziraphale gives a soft sigh. 

“I know, my love, I know.” It’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation. He knows it won’t be the last. 

“I did have a name in mind,” Aziraphale preambles, and Crowley settles down again behind him in an encouragement to go on. “I was actually thinking-”

They get interrupted by a loud pounding on their door. It’s the measured knock Beelzebub will give. It’s not the excited flair they’ve come to expect from Hastur. 

It’s not the King or Queen. They would have sent a notice and expected the door to open. Because the door knows better, it usually does. 

“What… what in the world?” The Angel muses, but Crowley is already up, miracling his clothing on as he goes to answer. Aziraphale goes to pull his own clothing on, wondering idly how much longer this will still fit him. What does maternity wear even look like for angel’s pregnant with a demon princes’ child? 

He shakes himself out of the train of thought, only to see that Crowley has answered the door with Dagon on the other side. She looks panicked. 

“You need to come with me,” She gasps, “It’s Beelzebub - they need you.” 

Crowley’s eyes widen, and he looks back at Aziraphale. He’s torn between loyalty to his sibling, and loyalty to his husband, but Aziraphale makes the choice for him.

“Go, go my dear,” Aziraphale says soothingly. “I’ll be alright.”

Crowley walks back over to give a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back,” He promises, and leaves with the other demon. 

When the Angel turns back to look for something to eat, he is surprised to see a missive on their table from the Queen. It’s two different letters, with very different writing. He frowns, picking up the first letter. 

It merely says, “Congratulations.” And brings a smile to his face. It would seem that the Demon Mother could keep track of when her blessings worked. He sets the letter down, fully intending to show his husband later. Crowley will be shocked, but mostly embarrassed that his mother would know already. Aziraphale can’t wait to tell him. The second letter has a very different scrawl, one the angel does not recognize. 

When he reads it, he gasps, realizing at once the danger he didn’t realize he was in.

But it’s too late, he can feel his body dissolving in a way that an Angels body is not meant to. 

He is being summoned. 

It should not be possible. 

As his body vanishes, the letter in his hand flutters to the ground. 

On it, the text reads, “You’ve both been played for suckers. ” 

-------

Crowley groans, clutching at his head. He opens his eyes, immediantly closing them and cursing furiously. It’s so fucking bright around him. 

A tutting noise can be heard once he is done swearing. 

“How undignified.”

He freezes in horror. 

He’s not in Hell anymore. 

The Demon’s eyes instantly widen, and he whirls around him in horror. Bright walls. Bright lights. Sterile white all around. 

He’s in fucking heaven. 

Instantly, the memories return. He remembers Dagon leading him down the hallway, but then she led him in a hallway away from Beelzebub’s room. Before he could ask what was happening, Dagon had attacked him and made quick work of knocking him unconscious. 

And has apparently sent him gift-wrapped to heaven. 

He stares Michael in the face, and gives a sneer. “Didn’t think I’d have to see you again,” Crowley snaps. Quickly, he remembers what Aziraphale had told him about his own not-trial. 

“Any chance I could get another towel? Maybe a damp one, perhaps?” 

Michael does not rise to the bait, instead she gestures about. From where Crowley is standing - trapped inside a summoning circle - he realizes that they are surrounded by angels. Many of them he does not know. A few he’d rather forget. All look angry. 

“I’m afraid I’m fresh out,” She smirks, “And besides, you were never the one that I met in Hell, Crowley.” 

His metaphorical insides plummet. 

Michael laughs. It’s a high, cruel sound, and she revels in this moment. “Did you know,” She calls out to heaven, “What this foolish demon did? He dared to come here, to take the punishment of the Traitor! He stood in a plume of HellFire out of a delusion of love!” 

Many make shocked, goading noises. Many more seem angry. Crowley shifts his stance to narrow his eyes. He refuses to show fear in front of these fuckers . 

“But don’t let it be said that we are cruel hosts,” Michael taunts, “We certainly know how to host a Prince .” 

Crowley readies himself to fight, though the circle has not left him with much room. Michael gives another tut. 

“Oh no, we’re not going to do anything. We’re just… going to let you stay. Here. If you wanted to take his punishment so badly, we’ll just keep you here. Forever.” 

Michael waves away the crowd, turning to leave herself. Crowley is left standing there, in a fighting stance that no one is watching. 

“ Bastards !” He screams to Michael’s retreating back. To all of them. “ Bastards !” 

Crowley does not know how long he screams it. He throws himself against the wall, ignoring the burning sensation it causes. 

He doesn’t stop. 

-------

Aziraphale doesn’t have to wait to see where he winds up, but he can’t for the life of him place where he was. 

The room is damp, and hot. The walls are filthy, and he feels immediately on edge. It’s like he’s in Hell, but the angel is well aware that he’s on Earth. 

“So glad you could join me.” A smarmy voice calls out. Aziraphale whirls around, shocked to find Bane standing before him. 

“Lord Bane? What is going on here?” He asks, desperately trying to keep his hands at his sides. He still feels the sensation that told him he still had the baby - but was very carefully resisting the temptation to place his hands on his stomach. Crowley - and Lilith - were the only ones to know. Lord Bane was not going to be the next. 

“What’s going on? I finally did it. I did it!!” The demon screeches, laughing to the ceiling. Aziraphale winces, shying away from him instinctively. 

“I got you out! I got you away from my home - my kingdom. You never belonged there! Angels and demons are hereditary enemies!” Bane rages, pacing about wildly. “It’s why I had to get you out!”

“And how did you do that?” Aziraphale asks, “I thought that my home was protected?”

“ It is not your home !” Bane bellows, and he lunges toward the barrier of the circle. He stops, just shy of the markings. Aziraphale takes a few steps back, bumping against the side with his back and crying out. He falls to the found, feeling his back burn . Carefully, the angel moves to the middle on his knees, not willing to touch the sides for what it will do to the baby. 

There’s a moment where Bane collects himself, and then sneers down at him. “Dagon helped me, plant that message in your home when she got there. It teleported you to me the moment you touched it.” 

Aziraphale winces. Dagon had been - he thought - their friend. She had been Beelzebub’s friend, at the very least. And Beelzebub didn’t do friends. 

“And what do you want with me now?” Aziraphale asks, not looking up. He wasn’t going to give that traitor the satisfaction. 

“ We don’t want anything. ” 

Aziraphale looks up at that, horrified. Gabriel and Uriel come into view behind Bane, and he instantly knows that they know . 

They look disgusted with him. Vaguely, Aziraphale realizes that after the revelations from Crowley, he is numb to their disgust. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing. 

“We’re going to leave you here.” Gabriel says, the dislike so palpable on his face. 

“You like this planet so much,” Uriel sneers, “You’ll linger here, alone, for eternity.” 

“Let us carry on our business, and just stay out of the way,” Bane seeths. 

Not long ago, Aziraphale would have begged for a second chance. He would have pleaded for them to see reason. He would have tried to make them understand. 

But now he knows better. 

He stays silent, and lets them walk away. 

Instead, he prays that Crowley is alright. 

------------

It’s important to know who Aziraphale is praying to. 

It isn’t Lilith.

It’s Her.

When Aziraphale told King Lucifer he still believed in Her and Her Will, that was not lip service, or sass for the sake of sass. Deep in the core of his being, Aziraphale is an Angel of Hers, and he will always think of Her first. It’s the very reason he remains an Angel, given his status of royalty in Hell. 

She hears his prayer, and She listens. 

She does not feel emotions the way that humans can perceive them, but she feels displeased. 

But She is not able to intervene, so She forwards the prayer, much like how a human boss will forward an email to a subordinate. 

And in this case, she forwards to Lilith. 

It’s almost redundant, because the moment Aziraphale was taken from Hell Lilith knew instantly that something was wrong. 

And Lilith is not happy.

Chapter Text

King Lucifer knows the moment Beelzebub is attacked in his domain. Beelzebub has been his choice to be the one to convey his Messages. It has been that way for the past 6,000 years, when he sent his serpent Up Stairs to Make Some Trouble. Satan has a bond with this Prince, as Lilith carries a bond with Crowley. And a bond is not cultivated for 6,000 years without being aware of a thing or two. He can feel the attack, but not the feeling of complete destruction that would normally accompany such an emotion - which is a mistake. Who would attack his prince and leave them alive? This will be a mistake they will regret later. 

It’s thanks to that bond that he knows to find the storage closet that his prince was unceremoniously shoved into. Beelzebub is unconscious, but Lucifer carries an unnecessary amount of power and strength. This allows him to carry Beelzebub into his throne room. He unceremoniously pushes the prince into their throne, because he is still the King of Hell. He has a reputation to maintain. 

Lilith is already waiting for him, and she looks furious. He goes to her, giving her a gentle kiss. 

“What has happened?” He asks. 

“My Blessing took fruit.” She answers, “Prince Crowley and Prince Consort to-be Aziraphale are expecting.” 

“And it’s to your power my love,” Lucifer whispers, adoration creeping into his voice, and she waves him off. 

“We have been betrayed,” Lilith replies, “And Aziraphale has been taken to a place I cannot reach him.”

“It was Dagon.” Both turn to see Beelzebub awake. 

“How are you?” Lilith asks, concern shining in her eyes. The Prince avoids their stares, looking sullenly at the ground. Lilith knows that Beelzebub will not come to them with anything approaching vulnerability - especially when pressed. They are more of the type to hide away with Crowley and get fantastically drunk. 

“But I don’t understand why she left me alive,” Beelzebub presses. “It is unlike her. We all know when you attack someone in a double-cross, you attack to kill . We learned that from you!” They look up at Lucifer, who gives a nod. 

“Dagon has been a loyal subject of mine since the Great Rebellion,” Lucifer muses, “And has been a particularly adept executioner. You are right. This does not align with what we know of her.”

“And it was too sudden , and Dagon likes to draw out an attack like that,” Beelzebub is on a roll now, “Dagon overpowered me with a force that I know she does not have - even when we fight I’ve always been stronger physically . One punch should not have been enough to incapacitate me.” They can never repeat this to anyone else. 

“Then it seems the betrayal is two-fold,” Lilith said. “Both in the abduction of our angel and in the enslavement of our demon.” 

Enslavement ? Beelzebub thinks, unprepared for the shock that statement gives them. “You think she got mind controlled?” 

“If Bane is working with Angels,” Lilith explained, “Some of them have the power for… Angelic Influence. Aziraphale has used it to give mortals pleasant dreams, but he has told me that others have been able to use it to Suggest Actions that humans are not aware of taking.” 

The thought fills Beelzebub with rage. For Bane to conspire with angels to attack them is one thing. To have him subject her first friend to an Angelic Suggestion like this meant that they were going to drag Aziraphale kicking and screaming to bless - hang on. 

“Abduction?” Now Beelzebub looks alarmed, “What’s that fool got himself into now?”

“Aziraphale has been taken from us,” The Queen says, a steel tone entering her voice that matches the anger the Prince is feeling. Not after the attack. Not after everything . “I felt him leave us.”

There is a part of Beelzebub that wants to know how a Demonic Queen can sense an angel leaving her domain, but decides to focus instead on other matters. 

“I don’t know how he can be taken with Crowley there,” They say. “He would never let that happen.”

Lilith looks to Lucifer, who concentrates for a moment, and frowns. He looks to them both. “I cannot sense Crowley either. Neither here… nor on Earth.” 

Many centuries ago, Beelzebub had once been an angel. It is a time they do not like to think about - but this is important to mention to understand the way they are feeling now. Because when they and Crowley joined Lucifer in the Rebellion, all three fell in a burning inferno, colliding with no stopping to the earth below. It’s that feeling of falling and collusion that Beelzebub feels now, knowing that their sibling is unreachable. 

“Then we must get Aziraphale back,” Lilith decides, “And he will help us find our demon.”

Beelzebub does not like the idea that Aziraphale would be able to know where their sibling is, if their King does not. But that is another thing they cannot think about right now, along with what could be happening to Dagon. 

“Thankfully,” Lilith says, “Because I can sense Aziraphale’s presence , I know where he is. Unfortunately for me, he is kept within a Demonic Circle.”

A Demonic circle is imposed by a demon - it’s like a reverse summoning circle. When done properly, a demon can trap an angel in the circle, and only a demon can release the circle. It came in handy, in the old days during the Great War. They haven’t been used since, because no Angel has gotten close enough to a demon, for only one very famous exception. And it wasn’t as if Crowley was going to go using such a thing on Aziraphale. 

“If you know where he is,” Beelzebub says, “Then we can get him.” There’s hope still. 

“We need not worthy,” Lilith smirks. “We already have two demons there, they just need to be pointed in the right direction.”

With that, she lets a message go to two of her other demons, knowing full well that they are deserving of the trust this message involves. 

-----------

Crowley has screamed himself hoarse, finally collapsing onto the floor of the circle in a heap. He lay there, seething and so lost . 

The demon couldn’t be there. Everything was just so bright. So wrong. So… awful . He hated it here. It was a hell of his own. Every instinct within him was screaming at him to go be with his Angel. The poprocks feeling came to him moments after he’d started trying to free himself, and it just made him so desperate with rage. Because that meant it wasn’t just Aziraphale in danger. It was Aziraphale and that little miracle that the Queen Mother had blessed them with! 

He body shook with the effort it was taking him to keep it together. He couldn’t lose control. He wanted to rage . But it was no use. There was no breaking the circle, not from the inside out. 

Crowley took a few deep breaths, and lifted his head to examine the sigils trapping him. He had to find a weakness, a moment where he could insert his own magic. There had to be a way. 

He would not allow another option. 

Distantly, he could hear footsteps, and his eyes flickered up to see three angels making their way towards him. 

Crowley pushed himself up, unwilling to be seen as weak before the angels. 

“What do you want?” He hissed, trying to make himself as threatening as possible. 

The three of them exchanged glances. 

“Are you the Demon Prince Crowley?” One of them whispered. “Is it really you? Or… is it Aziraphale?” 

He stared at them. There was an odd tone to their voices. It took a moment for him to place, before realizing that it reminded him of the way that they demons at the Book Club used to speak to Aziraphale, before they started to feel more comfortable around him. The one was cautious… and …. Awe?

“What’s it to you?” He asked, not willing to let himself get lulled into a false sense of security. It was hard not to. They had youthful faces, and looked incredibly nervous to be there. Crowley tried really hard to not let them remind him of a certain angel who currently needed him, and that thought had him giving them one of his best glares. 

“It has to be him,” The second one hissed, and the third one nodded. 

“I recognize him from the last Fight.” 

The first one gave him a smile. 

“My name is Mayim, I like to be a she,” She said, “And my friends and I, well…”

“My name is Ezra,” The second one says, “I don’t use the pronouns.”

“And I’m Laila,” The third says, “I’m not sure about genders yet.”

Crowley is trapped in a circle in Heaven, at the mercy of Angels, and realizes that he is having a conversation with three very young, very newly made Angels. They must be post-garden. The newer brood tended to get very caught up with ideas of gender and identity. Crowley had never cared much - he’d always picked based on what his task required, or what was most fashionable at the time. Aziraphale liked to keep his face the same, but was prone to going back and forth between mens and women’s fashion. He knew the angel missed the Victorian era, when ruffles were encouraged ( see the cravat at the wedding ) but thinking about that too long just made his not-heart hurt. 

“You come to gloat at the demon?” He snaps, and all three instantly look chagrined. 

“No!” Mayim declares, looking horrified. 

“We think you’re very brave.” Ezra adds, “Coming up to heaven, to take a punishment meant for - for the angel. It’s very romantic .” They sound wistful.

“I didn’t think demons could feel romance?” Laila asked him. 

“Don’t believe everything you’re told.” Crowley says dryly, and they all gape, taking him very seriously. 

What is this? Crowley can barely believe the moment that he is in. 

“If you’re not here to gloat,” He asks, “Then what do you want?” 

The three exchange glances, and then nod at each other. 

“If you came here to help an angel, then there’s something to the Ineffable Plan.” Ezra says. 

Mayim points her toe, and before Crowley can realize what she’s doing, she very deliberately smudges her foot on the barrier of the circle. 

The barrier breaks instantly. And Crowley can move . 

The demon looks at them all, the three young, stupid , incredible angels that just freed him. 

“We Love Her,” Laila says, “But it doesn’t seem angelic to hold you here, like this.” 

Crowley gapes at them. “ Nsk ” Is all he can bring himself to say.  

“You need to knock us out,” Mayim says, when he doesn’t move. “We need to pretend you overpowered us when we came to attack you.”

“It’s only a little bit of lying,” Ezra adds consolingly, when Crowley’s bewildered look doesn’t change. “Because we meant to attack you! Mayim is just very clumsy.”

“They’re always saying so,” Mayim agrees. “I’m hoping they send us to Earth as punishment for this.” 

The other two nod. 

“We used to catalogue and file the reports Aziraphale would send up,” Laila said, “And we guess that he stopped believing anyone would read them, so he started slipping in phrases about a wily demon and,” they give a little sigh, “It was so sweet!”

“I hope we get to try food,” Ezra says dreamily. The other two nod. 

“I hope they send you to Earth too,” Crowley finds himself saying. He’s feeling an emotion here.  It must be like what Aziraphale felt when he met his little posse for the first time. It’s…. adorable . But unsettling. He doesn’t like it much. Having one angel to love and protect is enough for him. These three seem entirely too young and he suddenly feels very old. The prince takes a deep breath, and snaps his fingers. 

All three angels collapse to the ground. Another snap gives them realistic enough bruises, and that should be enough to fool the rest. As Crowley turned to leave, he sent a prayer to his Demonic Mother that they be exiled to Earth for their trouble. It was the least he could do, afterall.

--------

In Hell, Lilith received the oddest request from her favorite Demon. Normally she did not forward prayers. That was not her style. 

But for him, she would make an exception. 

She does not normally receive a forwarded blessing. But Lilith has always been different. 

She listens to the message, and for the first time in a very long time, she laughs. 

------

The nausea begins to settle into Aziraphale, and it's barely distinguishable from the anxiety attack that he is currently having. 

His entire body is on fire - metaphorically speaking. The angel can feel it in his arms, his chest, the back of his neck. It’s the worst he has felt in a long time, and it is precisely because he has no idea what to expect next. Too many thoughts are piling up in an effort he cannot sort through, and the overwhelming pressure to pick something only makes the burning feeling worse. Every effort to try and get his breathing under control only makes him shudder and gasp more. What he wouldn’t give for Crowley’s arms around him, to squeeze him until he’s smiling and laughing again, and he can kiss his love to his heart’s content. But now he’s remembering how Crowley is not there with him, and he has no idea if the demon is safe, or if he’s in a similar fate. 

Is he going to be trapped here, forever? 

Will he have to carry the child to term, alone, in a space he cannot even lay down in? 

Would that be possible? 

Would the angels come back?

Would Bane come back?

Will the angels tell Bane about the child?

What would happen if he had to give birth, and the angels had the child? 

In the midst of this panic, a growl emits from his stomach, and he gasps as he feels the conflict between hunger and nausea to not eat. 

Breathing is becoming difficult as well, and he can barely put one thought before the next. 

He has to get out of this circle. But he cannot touch the walls - they’ll burn him with Hellfire if he tries to run. And he can’t risk something happening to the baby - not the baby he and Crowley had been so happy to welcome just that morning. A sob threatens to escape his chest, and he shakes with the effort to hold it in. If there is even the slightest chance that they will come back Aziraphale refuses to allow to see them crying. It would destroy him. 

Already he can hear approaching footsteps, and he curled further into himself. On one hand, it’s an incredibly weak position to take, but a very primal part of him cannot bare the idea that these horrible angels and demon would see his stomach and have such access. And he will do whatever it takes to protect this little thing that can’t protect itself yet. 

“ Aziraphale ? Why the fuck are you here?”

The angel gives a shocked gasp, already looking up. He knows that voice. 

“Hastur?” 

It’s him. It’s Hastur and Ligur, both poised before him, looking like he’s the one out of place. 

The crushing relief that spreads through him makes him want to cry very loudly. It’s the most beautiful feeling he has felt, and it leaves him exhausted from the intensity.

And how funny it is that the sight of angels is enough to work him into his worst panic attack yet, while seeing these two demons gives him such hope . 

“Queen Lilith told us to come get you,” Ligur said, looking angry. Aziraphale isn’t sure if it’s anger at him, the situation, or being given too many commands in a row. Knowing Ligur, which he admittedly does not very well, he guesses incorrectly that it is all three. 

Aziraphale is wrong here. Ligur is angry that he has been given so many commands in a row - he likes simple, direct orders, not overlapping ones. Ligur is angry that a Prince is trapped in a circle that by rights his subject had put him in - when that Lord should be following his Prince’s orders. Ligur believes in a chain of command and some sense of fucking normalcy. Which none of this is.

Ligur is not mad at Aziraphale. 

Hastur is much easier for the angel to read. The other demon looks relieved to see him, and angry that he’s there in the first place. His friend comes forward and kneels down to scatter at the symbols locking him in place. 

Before Aziraphale can fully realize what he’s doing, he lunged into Hastur. The demon makes an ‘oof’ noise, and grabs him on instinct to keep from toppling over. It creates the oddest hug that has ever happened in history. Aziraphale is shaking with the effort to reign his emotions in and not cry from relief or stress - the intensity of the baby coupled with the situation have his moods all over the place. Hastur has never once been a source for someone to find comfort, and does not know if he likes it. It’s unsettling. 

“ Please, let’s not stay ,” Aziraphale whispers. The other two are in agreement, and they sink below. 

--------

They bring Aziraphale back to the home he shares with Crowley, and the angel gasps when he sees the state his demon is in. 

“Oh my dear, you look dreadful ,” Azriphale gasps, running straight to him. And part of Ligur wants to laugh, because he does look awful and the angel was funny for pointing it out, but a larger part of him is left wondering what could have done such a thing to their prince. He doesn’t like the options. 

Crowley pulls him close, and doesn’t say anything. There’s no sarcastic comment, no joke or sass to return. They stay that way for a long moment, not moving. 

Hastur turns to Ligur, with a look indicating that they should not be there. After a quick nod of agreement, the two demons begin to lurk towards their door, only for Beelzebub to push it open. The King and Queen are behind them. Stolas is there too. 

Lilith surveys the room, seeing Aziraphale and Crowley looking over at the rest of them. They are not alright, but they are where they belong. That will have to suffice. 

“We have much to go over.” She says. 

Aziraphale sighs. He knows that she is right - Lilith always is. “I’ll put on some tea,” He decides, already knowing that by tea, he really means brandy because a drink would certainly take the edge off -

Well . 

Fuck. 

No brandy for him. 

Well, for the others anyway.

Chapter Text

There is nothing Crowley wants more then to drink himself into a stupor and sleep for one hundred years. But he has made it recent point to exclusively drink with his Angel over their years together, and the idea of getting drunk when his husband can't seems demonic in a way that's just cruel. So when Aziraphale goes to put the kettle on, and Beelzebub goes to offer him a handle of the whiskey they both enjoy, he waves them off in favor of helping Aziraphale. 

Undeterred, Beelzebub takes a long drink from the bottle. They offer some to Ligur and Hastur, who also partake. 

"This is unacceptable." Stolas seethes. She paces about, not partaking in neither food nor drink. After a few rounds of pacing, she turns to the king and queen.

"I request that I be given leave to search for the traitors," Stolas requested, kneeling down before them. 

" Traitor ," Beelzebub corrects, but Stolas only has eyes for the king. 

King Lucifer gives a nod. "I do allow. And when you find him, discorporate him. Actually, discorporate Dagon too,"

Beelzebub makes an alarmed noise, and makes quick work of finishing the handle. 

“Not for that,” The King reassures. “Any mind control will be wiped when she gets sent down, and I’ll have a chance to fix whatever is wrong.” 

“Mind control?” Crowley speaks up. He’s not alone - all who are not Beelzebub or Lilith are expressing similar shock. The demon continues, “Is that how she was able to knock me out? And not kill me? Everyone knows you murder when you double-cross!”

“Exactly!” Beelzebub cries out, giving a hiccup. 

"Maybe we think through a plan of action first ," Lilith says dryly, and all of them fall silent, cowed for the moment. It amuses Aziraphale that she can halt a room with just one statement. Certainly has its uses. 

"Why don't we all sit?" He asks, cutting into the tense silence. 

Lilith agrees with him. "A sound plan. All you, in the other room." 

Crowley gives a soft snicker as the rest of the demons listen to their Queen. Lilith casts a glance over at the two of them, and Crowley's amusement dies down. 

" Wha- us too?" He says, in a way that Aziraphale would call petulant on anyone else. 

"I would think you wouldn't want him to carry anything, in his state," She says, sounding amused. 

"Well I wasn't going to," Crowley defends, and Aziraphale splutters indignantly at him. 

"I'm not fragile- " He snaps, but Crowley is talking over him. 

"But I didn't want to take anything away from him either, and hosting is important to him and I'm not a complete monster-"

"Oh dear ," he beams, and Crowley scowls at him. Aziraphale knows better than to take it seriously. 

They do listen to the Queen, because neither wishes for death, and join the rest of the group. There is a moment of silence as everyone looks about. Finally, King Lucifer breaks the pause. 

"Starting with Prince Beezlebub," Lucifer orders, "I want to know everything that has happened."

Beelzebub began to speak. "Ligur and Hastur told me that Bane was conspiring with Angels- our enemies ," they corrected themselves, casting an apologetic look to Aziraphale, who smiled reassuringly. "I made to come here, to warn the other Princes, when Dagon intercepted and attacked me. They locked me away, but did not kill me. And we all know that when you double cross, you double cross to kill." This was met with nods around the table, while Aziraphale gapes. 

"Obviously Dagon has been taken over," Lucifer agrees, "Presumably by Angels who wouldn't know any better about our code. And they only have Bane's orders to go off of for mannerisms, and he is not a smart demon." More agreeing nods take place. 

"Dagon came here," Crowley interjected, "She claimed that you, Bee, were in trouble, and needed me. When I left with her she attacked me too." Here he grimaced, and looked away. It wasn't like Crowley to be caught unawares - and he was a powerful demon. Aziraphale squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

Crowley took a breath and continued. "When I came to, I was in Heaven."

" No ," Aziraphale whispered, horrified. He wasn't alone. Beelzebub looked equally horrified. 

Lilith looked murderous. 

"They had me trapped in a summoning circle - that I couldn't break out of. Then the archangels revealed," and here he looks at Aziraphale. In a moment, the angel realizes what Crowley is about to say. 

"They knew about the switch." Aziraphale said, and Crowley nodded. 

"What switch?" Stolas asked. 

"After Armageddon didn't happen," Aziraphale said, "Heaven wasn't… well. They weren't very happy with me, I dare say. They wanted to execute me. In Hellfire."

"So Aziraphale and I decided to switch places," Crowley said, taking a moment to revel in the shocked looks around the table. If ever the angel needed affirmation that he was welcome here, this had to be it. They all looked horrified. The Hellfire had been sent up to heaven by them, but they had always assumed it was meant to be a scare tactic. Not an execution . 

"I came here, to take the holy water bath, and Crowley went Up There to stand in hellfire for me." Aziraphale finished. 

Around the table, no one moved. Everyone in that room had known Crowley was always meant to live. But they didn't realize how he had pulled it off. And that the Angel at their table had actually been meant to die.

Hastur looks like he's going to be sick. "So, when we dragged you Down Here-"

"Yes, that was me you hit with the crowbar," Aziraphale said with a wry grin. "Good arm." 

Later, Crowley will relish in the look on the Duke's face when he realized how he had once acted with his future best friend. But now, he continues, "So they bragged a bit, and left me up there to rot." 

"But you're not there, so what happened?" Beelzebub asked. 

"It turns out I got some fans Up Stairs," Crowley said with a grin. "They thought it was romantic that I went up there to face hellfire for an angel. A couple of the younger ones set me free."

"Did you catch who they were?" Aziraphale asked, shocked. He hadn't known any angels that would regard a demon with anything less than scorn and disgust. 

"I did, I think you and I should look for them," Crowley said. They could be allies, potentially. What a world to exist in.

"I do not know if it is a wise decision for you, Aziraphale." Lilith reproaches. 

Aziraphale gives an exasperated huff , but Crowley agrees. "You should research here and I'll go out."

"Why isn't it a good idea for you?" Hastur asks, but Crowley waves him off. 

"What happened to you, after I left?" 

"There was a message Dagon managed to sneak in here, and it transported me to where Bane was hiding out." 

Several emotions cross Crowley's face, growing more and more horrified. He casts a glance down , and flicks his eyes up to Aziraphale. The angel squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

"I'm fine, we are fine," he whispers. 

"I knew where you were, when my blessing took hold," The Queen continues, and it seems to finally sink in for Crowley that Lilith knew , and had known since the angel had known, and Aziraphale is treated to a delightful flush on the serpent. "And I sent, well, your guards , as they probably should be at this point." 

Ligur snorts, but doesn't seem to disagree. Hastur still looks mortified at the earlier revelation.

"This is what we know," the Queen surmises. "Lord Bane has taken Dagon and officially betrayed us. There is no reason to suspect any others have followed. A few renegade angels from Up Stairs do not seem to believe in the war continuing."

"How did you know where Aziraphale was?" Beelzebub asked the Queen. 

Rather than responding, Lilith looked toward Aziraphale and Crowley. The angel gave her an appreciative smile. 

"You should tell them," Crowley murmured, giving him a soft smile. 

"Tell us what?" Ligur growls, exasperated. He is not a patient demon, and the subterfuge is only making him more annoyed. Their circle of trust is all the smaller now, they can't afford to keep anything from each other. All the trust has him nauseated. 

"The Queen," Aziraphale began, "Gave a blessing to Crowley and I. As a way to protect my being down here. And, well. It, erm, took hold ."

Crowley snorted. "Try telling them with actual words."

"Oh you," Aziraphale hissed. He stammers for a moment, and Crowley half-wonders if he's going to try starting from the beginning again. Finally, the angel just says, "I'm pregnant. Crowley and I, we are going to have a baby!"

There is dead silence in the air. From across Crowley, Beelzebub reaches out to grasp for him. They are used to speaking in sharp insults. They do not share what they are really thinking. Sass has been their language. 

"I'm happy for you," they whisper, in a rare moment of sincerity, and Crowley wills his eyes not to burn. 

"Thank you," Aziraphale replies for them. 

Stolas offers similar sentiments, and Crowley finds his voice to thank her. They are interrupted by a loud thump, and Ligur laughs loudly upon the realization that Hastur had fainted. 

---------

"I thought I had lost you ." 

Their odd little makeshift family had left, leaving both Crowley and Aziraphale alone with each other. In moment they were both on each other once again, Aziraphale grabbing at his demon desperately while he returned the favor. 

"You were in heaven ," Aziraphale whispers so dejectedly, that neither consider the irony of how devastated he sounds to say that. "And I didn't even know- "

"It's alright," Crowley pulled Aziraphale into a fierce kiss, only letting go when the angel needed to gasp for air. It must be a symptom of the pregnancy - they used to be able to kiss for whole minutes without needing to breathe. 

Aziraphale burrows as far into his husband as he can, realizing that the demon making soothing noises, kissing every bit of his face and neck he can reach, and stroking his back. It takes a moment for him to realize that he's crying. Really, they both are but he's much uglier at it. Crowley's face knows better than to let him be an ugly crier. 

"I love you," The angel whispered, kissing every part of Crowley that he could reach. 

Crowley leads him back into their room, not once breaking contact with him. Aziraphale is grateful. They are both feeling unsettled and too raw to be far from each other. Slowly, they undress each other, and their movements go from rushed to unhurried. 

Aziraphale goes to pull off his robe, that he has been in since that fateful summoning, but a wave of lightheadedness stops him - making him sway on his feet. Crowley finds himself supporting a lot more of his angel’s weight in an instant, and gently carries him to their bed. 

“Angel? You alright?” He asks, brushing through his curls. Aziraphale gives a nod. 

“I’m- I’m terribly sorry my dear,” His husband says, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m afraid I feel rather faint at the moment.”

“Don’t apologize, not to me,” Is his response. Crowley makes quick work of pulling back the covers, and pulling him close. “I just want you close.” 

“I love you,” Aziraphale repeats, and cuddles as close as he can possibly get. 

---------

A plan is decided as thus: 

Stolas, Hastur, Ligur, and Crowley continue to carry out investigations Up There. 

Aziraphale splits his time three-fold. The first is to help Crowley learn more about his - and the pun is quite clever no matter what his husband says - guardian angels. The second is to assist Beelzebub on occasion in Court, in Crowley's stead. The third is for his book club. 

This causes the first fight in his marriage to the demon. Crowley is convinced that he is going to overwork himself, while Aziraphale refuses to listen. In his mind, each of the tasks is equally important, and now more than ever it is important to keep up appearances and build allies that they can rely on. And any demon that goes to a demonic book club isn't likely to turn on them - no demon with ill-intent has the patience to learn Macbeth . 

Which is a shame, because Aziraphale felt that demons in general would really enjoy it. 

But it turns out that an eternity's work of torment means that most demons, like Crowley, prefer comedies. They all still read with him, but the angel resolves to let another demon pick the next novel. He decides Hastur should get to, because ever since the revelations came to light the demon seems scared to be near him, and he misses having a friend that didn't treat him like something fragile. 

"So what I don't get," Legion is saying - successfully drawing Aziraphale back to the present - "Is how people are telling Macbeth that they trust him when we literally just read how he and Lady Macbeth are plotting to murder!"

"And why's it 'Lady Macbeth' ?" Ligur growls, "She doesn't have a name ?"

Aziraphale gives a weak chuckle. For a demon who had acted so reluctant to be in his library, Ligur has quite the opinions of a story if it's too demeaning to minority characters. 

"William was in rather a rush to write a great many sonnets and plays, and sometimes let certain important details slide," He explains first to Ligur. Maybe later they will learn more about the evolution of feminism in literature, but one literary moment at a time. "It's not an excuse, and you're right, she should have a name. We can find flaws in a story but still like the story."

"Sounds like a lot of work to find a good story," Morningstar muses. She is a newer demon to the book club, but eager. Apparently she had been inspired by Game Of Thrones to bring Handmaid's Tale to television, but, like Crowley, was unprepared in how far humans were willing to take a Temptation. Aziraphale hoped she wasn't using this club for her next work. 

"It is, but I have found it worth it," is how he decides to reply. Aziraphale then turns to Legion. "So what is important to understand is that the characters don't know what is going on unless they are told. We know information that the characters don't. That's called dramatic irony ."

A few make speculative noises. Aziraphale bites down an unexpected wave of nausea and fatigue, taking careful sips of tea. Crowley and Stolas are Up Stairs, following a potential lead about demons in New Orleans, hoping to find Bane or Dagon. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Hastur staring at him. 

His gaze was measured, and the angel found he couldn't quite tell just what the demon was thinking. Aziraphale gave a small sigh. He wasn't in the mood for a deep conversation about feelings. Usually Hastur was the same. "Do I have something on my face?" He asked good-naturally, recalling his first conversation with the demon. 

The Duke of Hell gave a snort, also recalling that same moment, and flashed him a grin. "Just wondering how long that Prince will be able to crowd you on there. Before you get bigger." He teased back. Aziraphale gives a laugh, and he can feel the demon become more relaxed once again. 

"Have you thought of names?" Morningstar rushed to ask, and several put their copies of Hamlet down. Aziraphale snorted. 

" This is what you'd rather talk about?" He asked. 

They all give him very serious nods, and the angel gives a speculative sigh. "Well, alright," He acquiesces. "Just this once."

Deep down, Aziraphale knows it will be more then just once. He suspects, and he is correct, that this will be how most of his book clubs will be ending from now until the inevitable birth. But it doesn't leave him nearly as exasperated as he had expected. It's rather nice. The angels Up There had looked at him in that circle where he was crouched, vulnerable and defenseless, and regarded him with such palpable scorn it hurt. The utter disgust in their voice and dismissiveness contrasts so drastically with the excitement and unwavering support he has found in this Kingdom. Already Legion has poured more hot water in his cup, and Hastur has already wandered into the kitchen to grab more of the biscuits Aziraphale usually goes to put out at this moment. 

It's nice. These demons are all being wonderfully nice. Of course, the Angel knows better then to say such a thing. So instead he pretends to be annoyed when they start suggesting names, and rolls his eyes dramatically when Hastur suggests his own name. 

Ligur looked at him very seriously. "Don't name it Macbeth." 

Aziraphale laughs. 

Yes. This is much better. 

Chapter Text

The next eight months continue in a similar fashion. 

Aziraphale and Crowley pour over old copies of reports that the angel used to send to heaven. They both theorize that if those Angel's did get sent to Heaven, they would first explore the places he used to recount in his reports out of a need for familiarity. When the time comes for court to begin, Crowley will walk Aziraphale to the Throne room and make sure he is situated in the throne they are used to sharing before leaving. The demon Prince then Goes Upstairs to join Ligur, Hastur, and Stolas. They trade off in pairs, going between places Aziraphale had traveled in his six thousand years of work, and spots Bane had been placed on the rare occasion he Went Upstairs to Make Trouble. Bane is not a smart demon - they do not expect him to know to branch beyond what he knows. None of them go off alone - they do not want to risk another being taken, like Dagon had been. 

The four will Lurk for hours at a time, searching for clues before making a point to rejoin Aziraphale and Beelzebub in time for Book Club. 

For Aziraphale's part, he tried to maintain the integrity of actually reading, but soon his book club befell the same fate as every other dedicated book club. Which is to say that it became a social club that demons occasionally flip through books during. They had started reading A Midsummer Night's Dream , which was a more popular choice as it was a comedy. Hastur had picked it, particularly liking the fact that one of the characters was named Bottom . 

The angel will keep discussion about the book for a good half hour, but then Crowley will appear with his dinner and successfully change the conversation. To the demon’s logic, he had seen every play performed live for hundreds of years, and having to sit through questions about it was his literal torture. Crowley instead uses the beginning of book club to let his husband have his moment and make whatever food Aziraphale happens to crave that day. Most of it happens to be apple related, because of course it is. It's usually always something sweet, like an apple pie or waffle or crepe. He'll then bring the food in, and sit as close to the angel as he can. In the earlier months they were still able to share their couch as they always did, but as time passed and the baby started to grow, that was no longer a possibility. Now he'll either perch on the arm of the chair so he can still stroke his hair or back, or just kick the closest demon out of their seat. Usually that means Hastur relocates to another perch. 

Crowley will then successfully derail the conversation, and more often than not they begin to start suggesting baby names. 

"We should consider Andromeda. Or maybe Sirius,” He has brought up, after shooting down several names inspired by the play. He will not consider Titania. Or Oberon. 

"At this point you know what you are doing," Aziraphale deadpans, not bothering to bring up Harry Potter. He’s considering introducing it soon. 

Crowley offers him a smirk. 

"How about Legion ?" Legion offers, and Aziraphale can’t tell if she is serious or not. He suspects correctly that she is serious, and that begins a chorus of members offering up their own names. Again. 

Aziraphale politely declined those suggestions, resting the plate on top of his stomach as a perch. The baby is not particularly active today, making this a safe move. 

(He did this once before, then they placed a very strong kick , the force of which knocked the plate off his belly and making everyone laugh. It had been embarrassing and he had been so devastated , which made Crowley force everyone to leave for making him cry. Normally he too would have laughed, but his emotions have been all over the place with the pregnancy and he was much more liable than not to burst into tears.) 

(Hastur had made another joke once Crowley could no longer fit with him in their seat, about how Aziraphale had gotten just so large. Before, Aziraphale had laughed with him. But then it just made him upset , because without his permission he remembered how Gabriel had wanted him to lose the gut , which made him cry , and Crowley had gotten so mad . They had made up pretty quickly after - Aziraphale couldn't stand to not be on good terms with his best friend. But he had felt so guilty because they had built a foundation of trading barbs with no filter required and saying exactly what was on their minds. He didn't want to lose that friendship because of his inability to laugh and emotional sensitivity - Hastur was not known for being a sensitive person. He was a mean demon. Aziraphale had known and never cared before, because he could be a bastard when he was in the mood. But now that he’d changed, he wouldn’t have blamed the demon for not wanting anything to do with him anymore. The anxiety it gave him made him too nervous to eat, which then made him lightheaded. 

Ligur had decided enough was enough, and dragged Hastur to their home after a week of that to force them to make up. That was when Aziraphale learned that the demon had been reading 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' to be more helpful in the future. Hastur had even apologized . This brought on an appreciative wave of tears and the second most awkward hug to exist. All was forgiven soon after.)

Maybe it was the apple-flavored waffle, but Aziraphale finally felt like playing along. "I wouldn't mind Juliet ," he mused, only to laugh at the expression on Crowley's face. 

"Or maybe Daenerys ," He continued to tease, but only Crowley was appropriately distressed. Maybe Beelzebub was right and they did need to bring the Internet Downstairs. It didn’t stop him from suggesting most of the names from Game of Thrones, and it made the rest of the club laugh to see the look on Crowley’s face. 

They all took turns trading in names, getting more and more ridiculous ( Pasta would never be an acceptable name for a child) until Ligur and Stolas come rushing in. 

"My princes, we have a lead ." Stolas says this, sounding winded, but excited . Finally. 

Crowley leaps to his feet. Unable to do that, Aziraphale gives a dramatic gasp to show his own shock. 

From Beelzebub's perch, where they had been alternating between suggesting their own name and reading The Hobbit (They liked reading at Book Club, but usually a book they picked rather then what Aziraphale would suggest). They look up at the sudden intrusion. At the announcement of a lead, they too rise to their feet. 

"I'm joining you." They inform the others. 

It isn't a request. No one treats it like one. 

------

Aziraphale had had a hand in creating Portland. 

Stolas and Ligur had taken a chance to visit the city, in the hopes that they would find the mysterious Angels that had freed their Prince. It's when they finally visit Powell's City of Books that they find them. 

At first the three of them are reasonably terrified - and that is a smart choice. Ligur approves. Unfortunately, they have never fought in any sort of war, and are very easy to surround and place in a demonic circle until Ligur and Stolas can calm them down and make them stay still . Of this he does not approve, and is mentally planning lessons before he realizes the irony of planning to teach angels how to fight. 

What a fucking world. 

They have to go into quite a lot of details about Aziraphale and Crowley’s Earth Exploits before the angels can understand that they bear no ill will, and release the circle the moment they say they understand no harm is really meant. From there, the angels are quick to explain that Bane, Gabriel, and Uriel are in Tel Aviv, hiding out in the ancient Jaffa Port ruins. They know this because they’ve been forced to catalogue reports on earth as punishment for the Demon Crowley escaping under their watch. 

Privately, Ligur doesn’t think he’s seen a group of angels so happy to talk about a punishment before. 

All this to explain why Ligur, Stolas, Crowley, and Beelzebub where they are now - the old ruins. Aziraphale has taken care to anoint them all in Holy Oil, which should be enough to repel Holy Water. 

( He had pulled Crowley into a deep kiss, the demon lowering his head to place a kiss on his belly to their baby. He gives a soft smile at the kick he gets in return.

“Stab them for me,” His Angel whispers, and Crowley snickers and promises. It’s a good look for his husband, to be pregnant and malicious. Crowley makes a promise to have him later. ) 

They creep through the tunnels, all attuning to the dark with their natural abilities. 

“We discorporate Dagon immediately, send her to Lucifer,” Stolas reminds them all. They all nod, except for one.

Beelzebub interrupts her. “Leave Dagon to me .” Is their response. 

The other demons exchange glances. In a rare moment of hesitation, Crowley is the one to uncharacteristically interject. “Bee, you know the King said-”

“ I’m the one who speaks for the king,” They snap, “And I will fix her.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion, it wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t permission. Crowley knows better than to push, and so he does not. 

They continue further down, further along the path. Finally, in the distance, they can hear voices. Angry voices. Voices that are fighting. 

Bane is yelling at Gabriel for his inability to adequately brainwash Dagon, it seems, and the demon in question is standing perfectly still, face expressionless. 

“Your Angelic Suggestion didn’t do shit!” The former Lord is raging, “‘ Attack your friends?’ ‘Lure the traitors to the Surface?’ Those are weak! When that stupid Angel used suggestion-”

“ Do not dare compare me to the traitor!” Gabriel roars. Crowley has never seen him lose his cool like this. It’s wonderful. “I’m the Arch Angel Fucking Gabriel!”

“You ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?” Crowley drawls. He emerges from behind his hiding place, flanked by Ligur and Stolas. Beelzebub doesn’t give up their own position. 

The three approach, and Bane gives them a maniacal grin. 

“Prince Crowley,” He cows, giving a mocking bow, “Did you enjoy your stay with the Angels ? They’re your in-laws right?” 

“You are a mad, stupid demon,” Stolas growls, and Ligur gives an agreeing grunt. 

“Now now,” Bane says, and his grin begins to take a rather frightening show. None of the demons watch horror movies, but any human would liken this grin to a certain red-ballon-loving clown. “There’s no need for rudeness! All I want is to let Heaven and Hell have the rightful war we have been deprived! ” 

Ligur does not watch films, and does not understand that this is the moment where there is meant to be a dramatic standoff and a chance to hear a monologue. He has been impatiently waiting for this since he and his Partner had rescued Prince Aziraphale and his unborn child from that summoning circle. Therefore, he can be forgiven by lunging to attack first. 

Bane is not a smart demon. But he can predict predictive behavior, so he is ready for this. 

“Dagon!” He commands. 

Eyes blank, moves robotic, the brain-washed demon lunges and rushes at them, only for Beelzebub to leap into the fray, blocking her blow. She rears back and moves to attack again while Ligur moves on Bane, Stolas goes for Uriel, and Crowley, well.

“Miss me?” He jeers, lashing at Gabriel. 

The angel’s time on Earth has left him rusty, and weak. Gabriel is a very powerful Angel, but not a creative one. His time away from the Heavenly Host, coupled with his reluctance to consume ‘gross matter’ have left him weakened. It’s an advantage Crowley presses. He is not fighting to disarm, and his husband is not there to achieve an emotional balance for telling him off. Aziraphale is also the majority of the demon’s impulse control. All this to say that he is not aiming to disarm, he is aiming to kill. 

And Gabriel is not a match for him, and the angel begins to realize that all too quickly. 

Beelzebub fights like a demon possessed - only much better, because Dagon is possessed and not fighting well at all. Her lack of finesse and strategy only enrage the Prince, because they know she is so much better than the role she is being reduced to. So Beelzebub allows themselves to fight dirty, to use their legs and not pull any punches. 

Dagon lunges forward, and Beelzebub uses the opportunity to disarm her. They pull Dagon’s arm forward and channel that momentum to flip the demon over their head, forcing them on the ground in a harsh thump . 

The demon begins to groan, in a way that feels very real to the Prince. 

Slowly, Beelzebub lowers to their knees, and watches Dagon’s face very carefully. She groans again, and when she blinks, her eyes are beginning to look more normal.

“ Beelzebub ?” She asks, her voice confused and groaning. 

It’s the relief they’ve needed for over eight months. 

But they did not become the Prince of Hell and Voice of Satan for relying solely on relief. 

Which is why they slam Dagon’s head into the ground for good measure, and she falls unconscious. 

Beelzebub leaps to their feat to assist Stolas, knowing that Crowley is more than able to hold his own, and that he needs to be able to discorporate the ArchAngel. 

Not able to rely on his strength, Gabriel instead decides to employ a very different tactic. 

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw it,” He jeers, dodging a blow and counter-attacking in kind, “How the traitor could be defiled with your spawn . Was that the goal? Make him carry your seed ?” 

Crowley grits his teeth, but Gabriel can see he has an advantage to press. 

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Gabriel goads, “Whore him out? Let the other demons have at him until he breeds for all of you? Make him your little bit-”

He is cut off by a fierce cry from Crowley, who now begins to attack with a newfound energy that hadn’t been known before. 

“ You don’t get to talk about him! ” The Demon Prince roars. There is a volume that none in the room have ever heard. A power that The Serpent of Eden has never had to use before. It’s been held back to display a very subtle demonic energy. That is gone. What is left is his raw power . 

“You do not get to think about him! ” An impressive blow separates his sword from his hand, and Gabriel howls in pain as Crowley takes a successful swipe at him. 

“ You will never touch him again! ” And the blade has swiped at him again, and Gabriel feels white hot agony. He sways, but Crowley has a firm hand on his shoulder, blade pointed straight at his heart. 

“And now,” Crowley, Demon Prince of Hell, Serpent of Eden, The Original Sinner, pushes his blade forward, “I want you to shut your stupid mouth and die already!” 

And it’s the last thing that Gabriel hears. 

Uriel fights valiantly against Stolas, but when Beelzebub starts on her she loses her ground quickly. She is a powerful angel, but when faced two-to-one there is no chance for her to keep her ground. And watching her colleague discorporate in front of her is too distracting, and she lets out a cry of anguish. It is not a smart decision, because Stolas uses that moment to send her back Upstairs. 

Ligur has been fighting with Bane in this time, but the betrayer has spent most of his time dodging attack after attack, not staying still enough to fight, or let a blow land on him. When Crowley finishes Gabriel, he rounds on Bane, who is still dodging but having a much harder time of it. But through it all, he begins to laugh. 

He doesn’t stop laughing. And finally, when Beelzebub and Uriel help surround him, he gives up, still laughing maniacally. 

Bane they don’t bother discorporating. Crowley steps forward to grab by the throat. He hoists the demon up as he struggles for breath. Beelzebub reaches down to lift Dagon, and put one of her arms over their shoulders. Stolas goes to do the same for the other arm. 

All six sink Below. 

They arrive straight to the same isolated Pit that once held Gabriel and Uriel. 

Lilith stands in front of it, where she has been awaiting their arrival. 

Crowley moves forward, throwing Bane into the pit, and the Demonic Mother gives them an approving smile. It sends chills down all their metaphorical smiles, but they are also proud. 

“Leave him to me, until his trial.” Is their Queen’s command. 

And so they all leave, letting their Queen have at him. 

Chapter Text

The Throne room is prepared for an execution. 

King Lucifer sits tall and proud on his throne, looking every bit the King of Hell that mortals expect to tremble before. It is a look Crowley has seen time and time again, but he hates it every time. Normally. Not this time. This time it is a power he relishes is on his side. Their side - his and Aziraphale’s. None are foolish enough to look directly at him, and all are appropriately afraid. 

Beelzebub is sitting in their usual throne, looking fierce and intimidating in a way that makes Crowley proud, despite having no real reason to be. It is the demeanor that has made them the Voice of Satan, the Day-to-Day Ruler of Hell that Crowley has long denied is his sibling until very recently. He doesn’t deny it any longer. Neither does Beelzebub. And he feels a sense of pride in knowing that he can trust this demon. That is not something a demon is supposed to do. But he has made it a habit of doing what demons normally do not do. More shocking is that Beelzebub trusts him , and Beelzebub is a model of a demon.

As for Crowley, he is sprawled on his throne, much like how he used to confidently sprawl, before a certain angel came to live with him. More and more demons gather in a throne room that has been miracled to fit as many of Hell's subjects as possible, and if it looks like a certain room that would hold a certain Iron Throne, that is his business and his alone. As they pile in and stand in the perimeter, they eye him. He is the most unfamiliar to the Lords and Nobility, so he must look his own brand of menacing. And he does. Crowley begins to slowly push himself up. He does this slowly, deliberately. Like how he would approach his plants. It has a similar effect on the demons, who shrink back from him. His eyes - which had not been shielded behind sunglasses since he came down that first day - bore into any demon unfortunate enough to make eye contact with him. They shrink back even moreso. 

Power has always been a good look for him. And he needs to look particularly menacing right now. 

There is a loud banging sound, as Dagon, back in her rightful place, her mind her own and her vengeance her own, calls for the attention of the Court. The King stands, and everyone follows suit to rise with him. 

“We have had a traitor in our midst,” King Lucifer growls, inflecting his voice so that the sheer volume of it bounces off of the walls. “Bane, once a Lord of this Court, has betrayed us to enemy forces. He bound your Prince Consort in a Prison of Demonic Energy, betrayed your Serpent Prince to our enemy , attacked Your Prince, My Voice, and enslaved the mind of our trusted Lord of the Flies!” 

Many demons cry out in anger, calling for all sorts of tortures and acts of revenge. Their hatred, their rage, breathes an emotion of euphoria that Crowley has spent thousands of years learning to quell Up There. It’s a demonic power that he is so used to holding back, never really letting consume him - the potential it wields is much too dangerous. Tonight though, he lets it settle within him, and it is glorious . 

King Lucifer waves his hand, and the room falls silent in an instant. 

“We enact vengeance tonight!” He roars, and the room erupts in a thunderous cheer, which he silences quickly. “We enact a punishment to show the power we now hold.”

At this que, Beelzebub gives a theatrical wave of their hand, and a large porcelain bathtub appears in front of the thrones. Immediately, the surrounding demons hiss at it, and many try to shift away. They all know what it means, even if they were not there for Crowley’s show trial. 

The doors open at the far side of the room, and Crowley’s heart swells to see the Queen and Aziraphale walk down, side by side. They are flanked by Hastur and Ligur, and no demon who sees the Prince consort can mistake him as anything but very visibly pregnant. Aziraphale is wearing a cape similar to what Crowley wears, but the coloring is white. They are not hiding his angelic nature, not now. His clothing has been adapted to accommodate for his rounder size, but the coloring has remained the navy Lilith has put him in since he came down with Crowley to Hell. Crowley feels so much pride as Aziraphale walks, slowly, trying to taper down on the waddle, but determined. His head is held high, and he looks unflinching for what is to come. And Crowley knows how much he so desperately did not want to do this, how much convincing it took, but the Angel knew it was the right move. For Crowley’s future. For Aziraphale’s future. For the future of their baby . 

Lilith helps Aziraphale towards the tub with one arm. With the other, she is holding a pitcher of water. It is a normal pitcher, if normal pitchers can hold massive quantities of water contrary to the size of their containers. They reach the tub, standing side by side. She tips it, and pours, and pours, and pours until it is just below the rim. Aziraphale looks behind him, needing to shift his entire body to do so, and makes a motion for Hastur and Ligur to step back. They do.

Crowley watches as his angel, his husband, his soldier, stoically raise his hand over the water. His voice is too low for anyone to hear what he says, but everyone can see the results . The water immediately gives a bright glow, so brief , and it fades. But the water gives off an intensity that was not there prior, and everyone in that moment is aware of how deadly this angel really is. Aziraphale has just created Holy Water in front of the entire Demonic Kingdom. The room is completely still. 

Never has Crowley felt so in awe of him before - or turned on. 

Dagon stalks to the back of the room, the same path that Aziraphale and Lilith had come down, head held high. She is greeted by Stolas, who is dragging a bound figure behind her, sack over his head. This is merely a demoralizing piece, everyone knows who it is. Together, the two demons drag their prisoner down the aisle. 

“We are presenting the traitor,” Dagon calls out, thrusting the prisoner to Lilith. Dagon lifts the sack, although everyone knows to expect Bane’s face underneath. He’s face has been miracled away from the horrors of what Lilith had done, but only so that the demons could know without a shadow of a doubt that it really was him they were seeing. The demons hissed at him, jeering with rage. 

Lilith says nothing, and lifts Bane with one hand by the back of his shirt. He dangles, limp and sneering. 

Slowly, Lilith makes a gesture with her free arm for everyone around the tub to take several steps back. Hastur is quick to help Aziraphale, who is not able to move quickly. He shifts, and Crowley can see how hard he is trying to not let his face contort with pain. The angel doesn’t believe in murder, even to someone like Bane. 

He’s sympathetic, but he cannot interfere and make Aziraphale look weak. 

Lilith approaches the tub, effortlessly raising Bane all the more. She glances up at the King.

“What say you?” Her voice is cold, authoritative, in a harsh way Crowley is not used to hearing from the Demonic Mother. Too quickly does he forget what it means for her to be the Demonic Mother. 

King Lucifer gives a pause that is drawn out. No one moves - the air is thick with tension. 

Finally, he gives an intentionally careless gesture with his hand. 

As a general rule, time does not make sense, particularly in Heaven or Hell. But in this moment, somehow, time slows to single moments. 

In one moment, Lilith has released her hand, and Bane begins to fall.

In another, Dagon lets out a small, relieved , breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

In another moment, Aziraphale clutches as his stomach as another contraction hits.

A moment right after, Hastur narrows his eyes as the angel does nothing but grit his teeth. Their backs are to the thrones, and no one is looking at them. 

Bane falls.

Bane hits the water. 

It only takes an instant, but the scream seems to last a lifetime. 

But what’s more haunting, is that Bane’s last cry isn’t one of pain. 

It’s laughter . 

The water, thankfully, does not spill over the sides, but it is a near miss.  

Several demons begin to awkwardly cheer, and more join in. Their voices chorus louder until all that can be heard is thunderous applause. The traitor is dead. Their Kingdom is secure. 

During the noise, Crowley can make out Hastur and Aziraphale whispering furiously to each other. He cannot hear them. But he can make out a stubborn tilt on his husband’s face, and an exasperated one on the Duke of Hell. 

From where they are, though Crowley cannot hear, the conversation is as follows: 

Once the roar of the crowd is loud enough, Hastur growls in Aziraphale’s ear, “You need to leave now .”

The angel replies, in a low voice, “My contractions are nine minutes apart, there is still plenty of time before I have to do anything.”

“If I’m going to be your guard, I get a say in what you think you have to do” Hastur is starting to get angry, but it’s an anger that Aziraphale is growing used to, “It’s going to be my head your husband has when he learned you came here in labor.”  

“You are being - oh - dramatic!” is Aziraphale’s response, even as he winces through it. 

The uproar slowly dies down, and Hastur reluctantly does not press the issue. He does help Aziraphale make his way up the stairs to Crowley, muttering passive-aggressively all the while. He also helps Aziraphale sit next to Crowley, who has already miracled the throne to fit them both. The demon prince also added more cushions, in the hopes that he would be able to sit comfortably. It’s a futile hope, but appreciated nonetheless. 

Before Hastur goes to his own station, he looks at Crowley and hisses, “ Keep time ,” before leaving them. Aziraphale gives a huff and pouts. 

“What is that about?” Crowley whispers to him. 

Aziraphale looks towards Lucifer, who begins to inform the rest of the population about new security measures and policy changes that will be going into effect. He doesn’t look back at Crowley, but replies in a low murmur, “You are not allowed to freak out.”

“You are guaranteeing I am going to freak out,” The demon hisses, and the angel gives a sigh.

“My contractions are nine minutes apart at the moment,” Is his answer. 

Once again, time has stopped working for Crowley. Only for Crowley.

Here’s the thing:

He is well aware that Aziraphale is pregnant. He was very involved in the conception. For every craving, ache, and kick he has been there. When Aziraphale needed anything that involved a waffle. He was there when Aziraphale realized he couldn’t have wine or sushi - and very graciously did not fight back when the angel pouted at him as if it were his fault. 

There was that scary moment when they learned about Braxton Hicks contractions, and again, Crowley was very supportive that night even though Aziraphale yelled at him for being the reason that pregnant people experienced pain as punishment for his original sin. 

(He didn’t even point out that that was referenced in the Bible , not something from Her , and it wasn’t even correct, because he was a smart husband.)

And then he was there when Aziraphale cried and apologized for being so terrible to him. 

It was a precious science, to know when he needed to nod along and not talk back, and when to hold his angel close and reassure him that everything would be okay. Crowley liked to think that he had become something of a master at it. 

(He had.) 

But it’s beginning to set in for him in a very real way that Aziraphale is pregnant , and that in a matter of hours (he hopes hours, hopes it’s going to be a quick delivery even though a demon as smart as he is should know better ) he is going to meet the baby they have spent so long thinking about. That they’ve talked to quietly, in the moments they had been resting in their bed before getting up or going to sleep. That he would press his lips to on occasion, and speak to when Aziraphale had been lucky enough to fall asleep in couple-hour increments. 

They really were going to have a baby . 

Aziraphale then gives a very noticeable wince, and gasps quietly. Instinctively, Crowley grabs his hand and wills it to withstand the grip that his husband returns. The angel tries to hush his own breathing through his nose. 

“We are at eight now,” He whispers, leaning against Crowley. The demon wonders how no one else is noticing this, but very quickly realizes that they have been. 

Hastur has been keeping watch, and Crowley realizes he has been keeping watch since it started. Suddenly their angry conversation he saw earlier makes sense, as do the pained looks that Aziraphale had during the execution. (He tries very hard not to think about how Aziraphale went through the execution in labor. He does not succeed.) 

Beelzebub looks alarmed, and is trying to send an eyebrow to Crowley that seems to say, ‘Can you ask him to hold it?’

‘Fuck off,’ Is his reply. 

Lucifer is still detailing his next series of plans. The King has stood, attracting attention for doing so. He begins to move about the room, and Crowley realizes, experiencing a rush of fondness he never thought he would feel towards Satan, that he is providing a distraction for them. Lilith has turned her head towards them both, and gives a dismissive gesture. 

In his mind, a message is planted. 

Go. I will join you later, when the time draws near. Walk slowly, and be ready. 

---------

They move at an agonizing pace. Never in all of his existence has Crowley wanted so badly to miracle them straight to their bedroom, but at this point they don’t know how safe such a move is. As they walk, they are forced to stop so Aziraphale can lean against a wall and moan in pain. It’s a horrible sound, and Crowley wishes more than anything he can take that pain away. 

He does what he can, which is to help his angel breathe and keep time - they’ve gone from nine minutes from the start of Court to eight now. The intensity of the countdown is so much that Crowley feels like crawling the walls - he can only imagine how his angel feels. Aziraphale feels the exertion of their walk - which is already strenuous for him - plus the contractions. 

Finally, finally they arrive to their quarters. Crowley gave into the urge to use his powers to miracle their bed away, and lean it against their wall. It was replaced with something of his own design. It looked like one of the hospital beds women would use, but it was much nicer. More comfortable, for starters. The memory foam would help support his angel, and the cushions may be able to help. At least he has that fantasy. 

Aziraphale is taking slow, deep breaths as Crowley helps him onto the bed. Crowley makes quick work of miracling the Court attire off them both, placing Aziraphale in the maternity nightgown he’d been using - it was soft, and he’d be able to keep it on during the delivery. He was wearing his usual silk pajamas, guessing correctly that later he would be holding the angel, and that he would like to lean back on silk. The Demon takes his hand, holding it between his two, offering him a smile. 

"You were incredible out there," He says, remembering the pride in watching Aziraphale enact justice. "My very own avenging Angel. It was hot as fuck ." 

Weakly, Aziraphale starts to laugh but then gasps as another contraction takes hold. He moans, trying to regulate his breathing the way Lilith had instructed him. The angel forms an 'O' shape with his mouth, but he breaks off to groan at the effort. Crowley encourages him to breathe through it - feeling very stupid all the while. What else would he be doing? But there’s not much else he can do except offer encouragement and a reminder to breathe. 

Finally - finally - it passes and Crowley tries to remember how many minutes that could have been. They seem to be speeding up, but Aziraphale shakes his head when he supposes it. 

"Still eight," Aziraphale gasps, regaining his breath. "This will last for hours yet my love. It always does when it’s your first." 

Hours . Logically, Crowley knew that would be the case, but it didn't exactly make this easy . His husband should never be in pain. Not like this. It wasn’t fair how one-sided this was, when Crowley had been just as involved in the creation . 

Also, he really wants to bring up what Aziraphale means by ‘first’ , because it sounds an awful lot like his is implying the first of more . But he doesn’t think this is the right time. 

"You are brooding very loudly," His angel reproached. Sheepishly, Crowley gave an apology, bringing his hand up to his lips and keeping it against his chest. 

"Just don't like you in pain Angel," is his response. 

"Well, it's not all bad," Aziraphale is a very poor liar, but Crowley is a smart husband and doesn't mention the fact. "Do we still have popsicles?" 

Crowley wants to laugh. Of course. 

" 'Course we do," He says, placing a kiss on the Angel's temple. He’ll bring all the popsicles in the world if it’ll help. 

----

They spend the next several hours this way. For the first three hours, they both try to keep things light. Aziraphale will eat a popsicle, and suggest more and more ridiculous names that Crowley will reject. 

Most of them are characters from Game of Thrones. Humans, dragons, any creature, even locations just too keep listing things. Nothing was off limits, and it’s quite clear Aziraphale kept up with it more then Crowley because the demon didn’t even remember most of these names. 

"You told me you didn't watch it!" He teasingly accused over his own popsicle. Crowley wasn't really eating it, but Aziraphale had been really sensitive over the last few months about eating alone. So he would pretend to eat and ultimately give Aziraphale his food when the angel had finished his. The same was true now. 

“I couldn’t - I didn’t want to see it without you, and we had been preoccupied with raising the wrong Antichrist when it came out initially,” Aziraphale defended. 

They were laying side by side, still holding hands, and Crowley had miracled the bed so they could both stretch out. The contractions were at seven minutes now, and Crowley had miracled a little stop-watch. It helped them both to watch the seconds count down while the angel rode them out. 

The Angel continued, “But I figured the books were a safe way to-”

“Not the books!” Crowley groaned. Well of course. That was how the Angel knew more than he did - and he was really very pleased that he had kept up so well with the demon’s work. It made him feel loved, especially because it was before they had confessed their feelings towards each other. 

“ Yes the books,” Aziraphale snickered, finishing his popsicle. Crowley motioned with his, and Aziraphale waved him off in favor of holding his hand to breathe through another contraction. This one was sooner then they’d anticipated. 

“That was either five or six,” He said when it ended. Aziraphale gave a few more measured breaths, still looking pained. Guiltily, Crowley offered his popsicle, and Aziraphale reluctantly took it. 

“ This , I think, is the last popsicle for now my dear,” The Angel said, wincing as he tried to resettle.

----

Despite all the walking the angel had to do for the execution and to get back to their home, Aziraphale gets taken with the urge to walk around because he’s a few feathers short of a full angel. But Crowley can never say no to him, so they walk around the perimeter of the room, shifting their conversation to other matters. This is how they spend the next three hours.

“I don’t know how we’re ending the war,” Crowley admits, once Aziraphale has breathed through the last contraction. They are at the six minute mark. The angel nods. 

“I suspect we will have to stay down here,” Is what the Angel surmises. He is correct. 

Crowley startles when Aziraphale gives a weak chuckle. “Something amusing?” He asks, helping the Angel back on the bed. 

“I was just thinking about irony,” Aziraphale said, slowly shifting, with Crowley’s help, to get comfortable. 

“Go on,” He prompts, glaring at the pillows to be more comfortable for his husband. They obey, knowing what is good for them. 

“Well, Bane set the archangels free because he wanted everything to go back to the way it was ,” Aziraphale explained, leaning back. He starts to grin, and begins laughing during the next words he says. “But by doing that, he prevented us from ending the war, and you and I couldn’t go back Up Stairs. So we received a Blessing, one that ties us here. One that solidifies our - my - belonging here. Nothing could ever go back to the way it was. Had Bane really wanted everything to go back, and for us to leave, he should have just done nothing! He would have had everything he wanted.” 

The angel is now laughing, much like when Bane had put him on the spot at his first Full Court Session, and Crowley is shaking his head, amused.

"Is this what you spend your time thinking about?" He asks. Without realizing it, he's begun stroking Aziraphale's stomach.

"Just reflecting," was the reply. 

Crowley gives a snort, very gently resting his head on the bump. 

“You’re the one that married me,” Aziraphale teased, “After 6,000 years you were perfectly aware of what you were getting yourself into my dear.” 

Aziraphale wasn’t prepared - he never was - for the intensity of Crowley's unconditional love . It shone through his eyes and bore right into the angel. 

"I did, you're right." Crowley's tone was completely serious - not an ounce playful. The angel had to look away from him, and conveniently - the only time it could be considered convenient - a contraction came through that he had to work through. It left him not nearly as breathless as Crowley did. 

----

"You can do this Angel," Crowley whispered fiercely. "You're the strongest being I know."

Four Hours have passed from their walking around, and Aziraphale is no longer joking and laughing at the situational irony their lives had become. 

Contractions are down to four minutes apart, and the force of them has his angel shrieking in pain. In between them he’s taking shuddering breaths. Exhaustion is beginning to set into his face, and he is in no more of a mood to get up and walk around. Crowley isn’t sure that he can . After a contraction after which his body trembles from the force, the Angel is relying completely on the pillows to keep him in place. 

Crowley hates it. Hates the fact that he can only glare at the pillows so much for them to help. Hates that all he can really do is hold his hand, miracle it to not be crushed from the force in which the angel grips his hand. Hates that all he can do is offer words of encouragement, and pat his forehead down with cold towels to help relieve pressure. 

But it's all that he can do, and it's better to do something than nothing. 

The Queen comes to them at this time. She does not bother knocking - the door knows better than to keep her away. Lilith enters their bedroom, surveying them both before her. She gives an approving nod as Crowley gently dabs at Aziraphale's forehead. 

"How far apart?" She asks as the angel begins to scream. 

"Four- three minutes," Crowley corrects himself, struggling not to wince when Aziraphale grips his hand. The angel is bloody strong.  

"We are close, maybe another hour," Lilith informs them, settling in between his legs. 

Aziraphale gives a cry when the latest contraction ends. He shakes his head, desperately. 

"Please, please , I can't do this another hour ," He gasps. His voice is hoarse from screaming and Crowley's heart is breaking at the devastation in his voice.

Lilith is like steel, looking completely unsympathetic. 

"You can , and you will ," She commands. "Since the beginning women have been continuing this cycle to further the humans you have spent your life protecting and influencing. You risked your life to betray the Angel's of your Host because you Believed in them. You allied with a demon for them. You carry his child because you two pledged that you would defend your side and this is the fruit your union hath wrought. You will bare this child Aziraphale, Angel Prince of Hell."

"I'm not going anywhere," Crowley adds, "You are the strongest being in the universe. I've known that from the beginning. You're the best part of the Angel's, the kindest and most loyal to Her. No one else could do what you do. I've had six thousand years to know this, that you are the best person to be having our baby. And they are going to love you as much as I do. As much as everyone here loves you."

Aziraphale gives another sob, only this time it's mixed with pain and emotion . Crowley knows he's feeling overwhelmed, so he leans over to kiss his temple. 

"I have you, I'm with you," he repeats. He doesn’t stop. 

"Get behind him, and brace him," Queen Lilith orders, and Crowley is quick to obey. He quickly miracles the pillows to move accordingly, and slides in to brace Aziraphale before he falls back from his own weight. The angel really isn't able to hold himself up anymore. But he can lean on Crowley, who is determined to stay here with him no matter what. 

True to the Queen's word, Aziraphale is not ready to deliver for another hour. Crowley holds him, keeping Aziraphale's hands in his. In between he's still alternating between placing kisses to his hair and placing towels when the angel gets too heated. Aziraphale cries and moans in between, but is careful not to say that he can’t do it anymore. Crowley doesn’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want retribution, or if it’s that he’s started believing in himself. He knows what he prefers, but guesses it’s not the reason. But it doesn’t matter, because he believes in his angel, and so does Lilith. That will be enough for now. 

Lilith is an excellent coach. The Demonic Mother has overseen many births in her tenure as the The Fallen Women, and her experience comes through now. Her role allows for Crowley to play more of a supportive role, and there's no time for him to feel bereft because Aziraphale is relying on him so much. He keeps Azirphale propped in his arms, letting the angel focus on bearing down on each contraction. 

Which is fortuitous, because soon Lilith is placing straps to position his legs, and informing them that it’s time . 

“I love you,” Crowley whispers, gripping back at Aziraphale’s hands. “You can do this.” 

The angel doesn’t reply, but steels himself with a newfound strength. 

Lilith orders for him to begin pushing at the next contraction, and Aziraphale screams louder then Crowley had ever heard before. Were he mortal, his hands would most certainly be broken at this point, but Crowley has decided they wouldn’t be, so they are not. The Queen continues to coach, and this pattern repeats. She orders him to push, Aziraphale shrieks in pain, and Crowley continues to tell him how amazing he is. 

In the pauses, Aziraphale seems to list, unable to keep himself upright. Crowley does not let him sway too far one way or another, and keeps him steady. They are doing to do this together. Just as they do everything. 

She begins to tell them that she can see a head, and then begins to update that its through. Finally, they get to one last push for the shoulders. For this last push, Aziraphale finds another unforseen burst of energy. With one last scream, the angel lurches forward with the force of this contraction, and time stops again for Crowley. 

In one moment, Aziraphale falls, limp, back onto Crowley, who is quick to secure him. 

In another moment, Lilith has let out a small gasp.

And in the next moment, Crowley hears the most wonderful sound in all his millenia of existence. 

It’s a scream . A baby’s scream. 

Their baby’s scream. 

Crowley is gasping, suddenly so aware that they’ve gone from a hypothetical baby that lived in Aziraphale to a very real baby that is existing on its own. There are no words for him, or syllables to utter unintelligently. Not now. 

Aziraphale was still panting for air, shaking with the aftershocks of what he had just been through. His eyes fluttered, desperate to stay awake through sheer will. 

Distantly, Crowley could hear himself whispering, “You were amazing , you were incredible Angel,” and placing kisses to his face. But his focus was also on that screaming limp thing in Lilith’s hands, unable to make any part of the baby out. Lilith whispered a few words, and Crowley watched as blood and viscera cleared away, both from the baby and at the foot of the bed they were using, and his Demonic Mother went to place the baby down on Aziraphale’s chest. 

“Congratulations,” Lilith said, her voice gentler than Crowley had ever heard it. 

“It’s a girl .” 

A girl. They had a daughter . 

She was so tiny . So impossibly small against the angel’s chest. 

Aziraphale cried, and Crowley had never seen him so overcome with emotion. He was also aware that he was crying, but that came in second behind observing everything he could about this baby that existed . Everything was going to come in second to the family in his arms now.

The demon helped raise Aziraphale’s arms around her - the angel was too weak to really move. Crowley took that moment to gently place a hand on her back, her very small back that his hand was larger then, when his hand felt something odd . It was a casing of some sort. An instinctual part of him yelled no , and that it needed to come off. 

He placed one last kiss to Aziraphale’s temple, before maneuvering around him to get a better look at his little girl. A quick miracle had pillows appearing under his angel, so Aziraphale didn’t need to shift quite so much from the movement. And the angel moved as the pillows did - he officially wasn’t able to move on his own accord. 

Her eyes were closed, and her body was curled on top of the angel. Instinctively, she must have recognized him as a safe space to rest, considering that was where she had spent the last several months. Because she was fast asleep, no longer wailing about from the effort it took for her to be in the world. Crowley had never considered how exhausting it must be to be brought into the world, but it took all the energy right out of the little thing. His little girl. 

From below Aziraphale’s waist, Lilith made another miracle before placing a sheet over him, to cover him again. “Your body will mend very soon,” She promised. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered, and Crowley began wiping away the new tears that fell, from both of them. Lilith stood, leaning over to kiss his forehead. She placed another one to Crowley’s temple, making more tears fall. 

“You did well,” She said, “You are strong. I am proud of you both.” 

Crowley struggled in that moment to tell her everything he wanted, everything he wanted to be able to convey to her. How she had helped him, throughout his existence. How she had protected him. How she had saved Aziraphale - more then once now. How through her, they were able to stay together in this world. 

He had no words. But Lilith looked him deep in the eyes, and he knew it was not necessary. 

She knew. 

“Spend time with your daughter,” The Queen ordered them both. “See to her back, make sure you preen.” With that ambiguous message, she turns to leave them. Not far - Crowley was distantly aware of her settling in their kitchen. Nearby and ready to help. 

Crowley’s eyes shift to his baby , to her back, and he saw that odd casing that his very core had rebelled against. With a good look at it, he slowly started to clear it away. But carefully, as her back could fit under his entire hand. She was so fragile . Aziraphale murmured a protest at what he was doing, but couldn’t really interfere. Crowley shushed him and batted his hands away. 

“What is it?” Aziraphale whispered tiredly. 

“Just a moment,” Was his answer, and sure enough, he was able to clear off that odd sac to reveal - 

Oh. 

She had wings . 

Aziraphale gave a trembling gasp as Crowley slowly smoothed them out. They, like she, were so very little, but somehow managed to envelope her. 

“Crowley she’s beautiful ,” Aziraphale sobbed, one of his shaking hands stroking a tiny feather. 

They were a light gray, with lighter spots in the center, and darker spots further away. But that wasn’t accurate. The lighter and darker spots were everywhere. A perfect blend of them on her . The white feathers from Aziraphale that reminded him of doves, and his own dark feathers that the Angel liked to say were like a raven. This gray coloring reminded him of-

“Our little pigeon,” He cooed, pressing his lips to her head. They were little birds that could coo. Analogies were not his specialty, but it seemed perfect to him, just adorable enough, in the moment. Aziraphale gave a weak laugh. 

“That’s not cute,” The angel said, his own fondness betraying the words. He loved the nickname, Crowley could tell. Crowley flicked his eyes up to him, raising his eyebrows with a smile. 

“This is our little pigeon,” The demon repeated, “What else could she be? You see these little wings?” 

“We can’t name her pigeon ,” Aziraphale protested, but he was smiling. So was Crowley. Neither had ever been more happy. Or more exhausted, as Aziraphale gave a rather loud yawn and struggled to open his eyes after. 

“We’ll name her soon enough,” Crowley whispered, not wanting to press the matter with him as exhausted as he was. Justifiably so. “Get some rest now, I’ll hold her.” 

Without much further encouragement, Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut, and he was asleep within moments. Crowley didn’t go to take her immediately, just let himself watch the two of them breath together. He didn’t think about the sequence of events that brought them there. He didn’t think about the names they still needed to plan and reject before picking the perfect one. He didn’t think about the work that lay ahead. 

He looked at his husband. 

He looked at his daughter. 

And it was good. 

Chapter Text

Like her mother, Crowley’s baby was already putting up a fuss to being preened. 

Crowley held her against his chest, marvelling at how impossibly small she was at just a few hours old. He had watched her rest on top of Aziraphale, contented, before realizing that he did at some point need to pick her up. What followed next was the most terrifying action of his life. Just as delicately as he had handled the Holy Water thermos years ago (but not with gloves this time) he very carefully picked her up to bring her against his chest. 

He had no words to describe how it felt to just hold her. 

His eyes burned, but he couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face. It was a genuine one -  the kind he would only give to Aziraphale, or Beelzebub on the rare occasion. And now to his little girl. 

Carefully he supported her head with his elbow, holding her as close as he could. Just as Lilith had instructed them both, weeks before when they had talked over labor. There were no words for the sensation this gave him. Gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead, marveling at the fact that she was existing in his arms. 

But he remembered Lilith’s orders about seeing to her back, and reluctantly, slowly , he repositioned her so he could do that. 

With one hand he was able to support her, letting his other hand lightly ghost over her little wings. He was reclining against a chair next to the bed, and all he had to do was lean back and she could just settle on top of him. It was too overwhelming . Breathing was not a necessity to him, so he didn’t. She took his breath away anyway. There was no way he was going to accidentally raise or lower his chest too dramatically and risk waking her. That would be the worst thing he could do. He also had no idea if he would ever be able to put her down again. That just seemed like an impossible task. 

But she seemed to have been born with too many feathers, and he needed to preen them. 

He kept one arm around her, very gently bracing her with his hand. With the other, he gently felt her wings. Instinctively he seemed to know which feathers did not belong. More carefully than he had ever done anything , he delicately took the feather between his thumb and finger, and pulled. 

Immediately the baby gave a small hiccup and squirmed in discomfort. Crowley felt his eyes burn and had to take a moment to recover. He then went to pluck another feather and nearly cried at the whimper she gave. 

“Shhh,” He whispered, taking a break to smooth at her hair. Her hair . That she had . He hadn’t noticed it before - it was too light. With any luck she would have Aziraphale’s hair, and it would grow in thick curls everywhere - just like his . It would be beautiful . 

“I have you, I got you,” He continued to whisper to her, gently moving his hand to take another feather. She gave another little cry, but he could sense he was almost done. In between removing the extraneous feathers he stroked her back, wanting her to get familiar with the sensation, for this would be the first of many times he and Aziraphale would have to do this. It worked gradually, and she began dozing against him once more as he finished plucking the last of the offending feathers. 

Crowley let himself hum a melody, overcome with the need for her to hear a soft lullaby. Any maybe it was a little similar to the ones he had sung for Warlock, all those years ago. But she was going to grow up as a Princess of Hell. It was fitting . Aziraphale would just have counterbalance him when he woke up. 

And nothing could compare to the sensation of his baby on his chest, it was the most soothing experience he’d ever had, not that he admittedly had many to compare it with. But he could easily exist in this moment forever, never needing to move again.  

“I have you,” Crowley whispered to their baby, “I’m always going to be here to look after you, protect you, love you. Your mother and I,” He looked over to the angel. Aziraphale was still asleep, a testament to how exhausted he was after the delivery. “We’ve been waiting for you for a very long time. Longer then we had realized. We didn’t know we could have you until very recently. But in a way we’ve always wanted you. You’re proof for us - proof that maybe we have every right to be together.” 

The truth of it hits him as he says it, and he tries not to let his eyes tear up. He doesn’t succeed, but no one is there to call him out. Both of them are asleep. 

“I can't wait for him to wake up and really hold you. You know, you got to live in the best Angel of Her Host. Rent free even.” 

The baby does not reply, because she is asleep. Also she probably has no real idea as to who he and Aziraphale are. He's also pretty sure that she can't speak words just yet. The vulnerability of it all cuts into him. 

“He’ll read to you, of course. He’s a book nerd,” He lovingly informs her. She doesn’t respond to any of this. “He’ll make you one too, or he’ll try to anyway. You also got some of me in you, and I’m not much of a reader, me. Music is more my thing. I’ll bring out my albums later, show you some music. None of those Kid Songs I created Up There - you’ll be a Queen fan for sure. I've got some other tunes, Velvet Underground, Black Sabbath, They Might Be Giants. You'll be the coolest one Down Here, which isn't much competition but it matters in our family. You’re a natural listener by the way. That’ll be good when your mother’s up. He's more talkative, for certain. Yap your ear off, he will. You think I’m chatty? I’m nothing .” 

-----

A few hours later, Aziraphale feels himself beginning to come to. He feels drowsy and sore, having used muscles he is unused to using and does not want to use for at least a few more years. But shockingly, and thanks to a certain Queen of Hell, he’s sure, he overall feels fine. 

Still, he lets himself move slowly, gradually letting himself open his eyes. He can hear a voice, and it only takes but a moment for him to place that voice. 

Crowley . He wakes up smiling. 

Aziraphale lets his head loll in the direction of his voice, and when his eyes open more fully, he is treated to the beautiful sight of Crowley, stretched out on a chair with their baby atop his chest. The angels’ heart swells at the sight. They must have been chatting for quite some time. 

“Once you’re not so small,” He’s saying to her, “Your mother and I will take you to St. James Park. We used to go all the time. He can show you how to feed the ducks. I’ll get us ice cream - I think you’ll like it. I bet you’ll like all sorts of food, just as we do. Or maybe you’ll be the exact opposite, and you’ll be the pickiest eater of all. That would be hilarious. I don’t know how we’d cope. I wonder how old you need to be before we show you the world Up Stairs - can babies fly on planes? Wait, I remember this one. Your mom and I flew once, and a baby was there, and he cried for an hour until your mom felt bad and went to calm him down. It was impressive, his mom nearly cried at that. So maybe not for a bit. But he’ll want to send you to school up there, or just teach you everything. Imagine you, in a public school.” He gives a snort, and Aziraphale can’t help the joy he feels. 

“How is she sleeping with you keeping up such a monologue?” The Angel asks, and Crowley’s head snaps over to him with a smile. 

“Look who’s awake!” This Crowley says half to him, and half to their baby, who is decidedly not awake. “Pigeon and I were just making small talk.” The Angel snorts at the nickname, knowing they will need to name her soon before it sticks . 

“How are you, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, beaming at the way Crowley very slowly shifts so he can hold their baby and sit next to Aziraphale on the bed. 

“Pretty sure I’m supposed to be asking you that,” The Demon replies, carefully walking over to sit next to him and stretch his legs out so they are side by side. It reminds the angel of how they had laid next to each other during the labor, only now the baby is much more present . 

The new position gives Aziraphale a chance to shift himself up a little more so he can get a better look at her. 

“She’s so beautiful,” He whispers reverently. Crowley agrees. Any third party would say nothing, because objectively she still has a few more hours to go before looking a little more presentable. At the moment, she is squished, still a little colored from the ordeal of being brought into the world. But to her parents, that does not matter, because she is beautiful. And any third party, if they valued their life, would say nothing to the contrary. 

Crowley nods, leaning his head on top Aziraphale’s. They look down at her, not needing to exchange any words right away.  

“We did this,” Crowley finally says, after a pause, still looking at her. 

“I’m so very glad you are here,” Aziraphale says to her. “It took a very long time for you to want to arrive. You also picked a rather inopportune moment, my young lady.” 

“Wouldn’t be our kid otherwise,” Crowley shrugs, and Aziraphale laughs. 

“Quite right,” The angel agrees.

“Can’t wait to teach her how to miracle, how to fly,” The Demon beams. Aziraphale looks at him adoringly. 

“You’re besotted,” He says, amused. Crowley snorts. 

“Of course I am,” He doesn’t bother denying. “I’ve got the most perfect little pigeon in the world, and you gave her to me.”

Aziraphale blushes, gently knocking his head against Crowley’s shoulder, who laughs. 

“I believe,” The Angel says, once he gets his blush under more control, “That it’s time we had a more serious discussion about her name, and I will not consider pigeon.” 

“It could work ,” Crowley teases, and laughs at the look the Angel gives him. “No Angel, I don’t mean it,” He soothes, “It’ll just be my little name for her.” 

Aziraphale pretends to look very put-upon, but Crowley knows that the idea of him giving her a little nickname, like how he’ll call Aziraphale angel , makes his husband very happy . 

“I had a few names in mind,” Aziraphale said. “And, I’ll admit, for all my joking, Sansa really would be a darling name.”

Crowley stops laughing to feel appropriately horrified. “Angel no .”

“But,” Aziraphale continues, pretending not to be smug about getting one even with Crowley because Sansa is better then pigeon, “I don’t think that’s what her name should be. I’ve been thinking about this a lot.” 

“So what do you think?” The Demon asks. 

Aziraphale tilts his head up at him, and tells him. 

And well, Crowley can’t help but agree. 

------

They have a day of rest before Lilith can no longer hold back the rest of their inner circle. 

Aziraphale sits in his chair in their library, and Crowley and Lilith put out different trays with food. The Angel is holding their daughter, and every couple of moments Crowley will come over and place a kiss to both their foreheads. 

The baby intermittently opens her eyes, and Aziraphale would like to think that she knows him on some instinctive level, can recognize his voice because he carried her for so long, but knows logically that’s not the case. Instead he feeds her, thanking Crowley for placing a soft towel over them for comfort. She’s easy enough to burp, and then she dozes quietly. He can’t help but marvel over every part of it - how it’s just up to him and his husband to look after her. 

He loves seeing her open her little eyes. They're blue, as most infant's eyes are, but there is something distinctive that makes him think that will be her color. She has the same pupil shape as her father, and it just looks so lovely. Aziraphale wonders if that means she will have similar serpent tendencies that he does, or if there is another animal she will take after. When will they know? He can't wait to find out. 

Beelzebub is the first demon to arrive, and they are cautious of the baby immediately . Aziraphale greets them with a smile, which Beelzebub returns, uncomfortably. They are accompanied by Dagon - the two have not been far apart from each other since Dagon’s mind was cleared. 

“Would you like to hold her?” Aziraphale asks, shifting to give them an optimal view of the baby. 

Crowley laughs at the terrified look Beelzebub gets at the question - nevermind how frightened he had been when he’d lifted her off of the angel. Beelzebub begins to feebly protest, but Crowley merely picks her up from Aziraphale’s arms and places her in his sibling’s. 

He has to coach them on how to hold her, but eventually they manage on their own. They have a look of wonder on their face, and give Crowley a sincere enough smile. For once, he’s able to look them in the eye and return that smile. 

“She’s beautiful,” Beelzebub says, regarding her. “Probably because she looks nothing like you.” 

Dagon and Aziraphale both laugh at the look Crowley gives them. 

Hastur and Ligur arrive, and Hastur reacts much in the same way that Beelzebub did, not even softening when he does hold her. The entire time he seems to think that she will turn into a Hellhound and tear him to pieces. Ligur doesn’t seem as afraid, and manages to hold her with more ease. 

Eventually, Crowley is quick to take her back, and that is when the King arrives. 

They all rise to greet him, and he first turns to embrace his Queen. 

“You are radiant as ever,” He says, and she gives a similar compliment. 

Lucifer turns to Crowley and Aziraphale, and moves to them. 

“An auspicious moment for her to arrive,” He notes. Satan makes no move to take the baby, and Crowley debates whether he should offer. It’s the proper thing to do, this is his King, but it’s still The Devil Himself. Is that who he really wants to hold his child? 

Although; he’s held her, Beelzebub has, and so have Ligur and Hastur. He offers her, and Lucifer expertly cradles her without prompting. Belatedly, Crowley remembers that Satan had been a father too, once. Only a rather absent one. 

“It’s fitting,” The King continues. “I have one member of my Demonic Kingdom die, only for a new member to arrive so quickly.”

Something awful settles in Crowley’s stomach. It must be that dreaded sinking feeling that Aziraphale has always told him about. He’s struck with an urge to grab her, grab his Angel, and flee straight to Alpha Centauri. Lucifer has been a proper Demonic King, defending The Host, and he looks after Beelzebub, but he’s still Satan . He’s driven by a need to seek power over the dominion of Hell, and for Lilith’s desire. He doesn’t feel kindness, or altruism. He’s motivated by how others can be used for him, and he’s terrified of what it may mean for his baby. 

“Ah, My King,” And here comes Aziraphale, going to stand next to Crowley. “I am glad you weren’t too, upset , by the timing for everything. I know how much you wanted the execution to be about your might, and I was rather afraid of, em, stealing the limelight, as it were.” 

For his part, Lucifer gives a half-hearted shrug. He almost looks amused, and Crowley wants to seethe . 

“But,” Aziraphale continues, his tone managing to be impressively light yet firm for all the fact that an Angel is allowing Satan to hold his infant, “I believe that technically , she holds dual citizenship , as it were. I am still an Angel, as you saw yesterday.” 

He’s referencing the Holy Water he had made, in front of the whole of the Demonic Court. It had been performed as a favor to them for their hospitality, but it also served as a subtle reminder to anyone who doubted his belonging in Hell. It had also been a clever way of sending several very important messages to everyone.  

Do not underestimate me, Aziraphale had silently said. 

If you doubt my affection for Crowley, remember I have the power to destroy you all.

If you think my pregnancy makes me weak, if you think my impending motherhood is a hindrance, I want you to look at this.

If you even think about harming myself, or Crowley, or our child, I want you to see the fate that would befall you. 

Crowley feels all the more conflicted. Aziraphale had just not-so-subtly threatened Satan , and he’s torn between how turned on he is at that moment and how terrified he is for his Angel. 

“Dual-citizenship?” Lucifer mocks, but there is an undercurrent of respect in his voice that Crowley can pick out. 

“I’m her mother, Crowley is her father,” Aziraphale replies, not breaking eye contact with The Devil. “She is both of us. She’ll be neither completely evil, or completely good. She will be her own self, representing something new .”  

Lucifer gives a smirk, and hands her to Aziraphale. Using great restraint, the angel takes her with a casual motion, gently pulling her close. In all this posturing, she hadn’t even opened her eyes, still sound asleep. 

“Sounds like it’ll be fun,” He grins. “Though you’ll have to work twice as hard, given how outnumbered your influence is down here.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Is Aziraphale’s steely reply. 

Crowley wants to laugh. He’s so proud of the way his Angel can hold his own, and he is so sure that deep down the Angel is panicking . But also, he’s wondering if Lucifer is aware just how many demons clamber to join them in this exact library to read Shakespeare. Aziraphale gets treated with an odd sort of reverence by the book club, and Crowley would bet anything that the same likeness will be passed down to the baby. 

“I think,” Lilith says, successfully shifting the conversation, “We would like to know how you will present her when you both are back in Court next week.” 

Aziraphale looks back and Crowley, who gives him a nod. 

“Well,” The Angel begins, smiling down at her. “We have heard many lovely suggestions - mostly from demons in this very room, and this was not an easy decision to make.”

“I’m sure Hastur is still good for a girl’s name,” Hastur hisses to Ligur, who punches his shoulder. 

Aziraphale gives a chuckle. “But Crowley and I wanted to give her a name that would honor Lilith.”

The Queen narrows her eyes at them both, but still manages to look proud. 

“You were the First Fallen Woman,” Aziraphale says to her, “You protect the Fallen, the downtrodden. You help Demons and the Damned. And you help people find their purpose. Crowley and I, we thought about what that meant. About how you owe no one anything , but you extended a hand to the First Woman After You. She listened to you. She made the choice,” And he casts a smile at Crowley, who is still smiling at him, “To learn about the ability to make choices, and understand the difference between Good and Evil. Just like you, she suffered for that, but she didn’t leave her duty. She learned from you and became the first of her kind, just like this baby will be the first of her kind. We want that for our little girl.”

Aziraphale looked down at their little girl. “For that,” He said, “We want to name her Eve .” 

Crowley wraps an arm around Aziraphale, resting his hand on her shoulder blades. The other is around Aziraphale’s arm, gently framing the baby. 

“Princess Eve,” Lilith coos, giving them a smile. “I think that fits rather nicely.” 

-----

They present her to the Demonic Court, one week later, as planned. Crowley, much like when he had asked the King and Queen for permission to marry, kneels before them to ask to present his daughter. Aziraphale stands behind him, holding the baby. They announce her name formally, and Lucifer anoints her Princess Eve to the cheers of the Demonic Host. 

Lilith also takes care to tell them, later, just to the two of them, that her Blessing does not expire, and to do with that information what they wish. 

Crowley feels like fainting, and Aziraphale laughs at him. 

Eve slowly grows into her wings, and then her wings grow with her, and the nickname pigeon spreads to the rest of their little circle. Aziraphale frets that she’ll soon think that’s her name, but Crowley knows that Aziraphale just likes to fret. He also thinks it would be funny if that did happen. But he doesn’t say that out loud, because he is a smart husband. 

Aziraphale still hosts his little book club, only now with a very new small addition. Crowley doesn’t like it when too many demons hold Eve, who is liable to get overwhelmed when crowded and cry. She spends most of her time with him, with his Angel, or with Beelzebub, who will pick up her up a few minutes into any book club meeting and refuse to relinquish her. It doesn’t help that they are very good with the baby, and Eve loves spending time with them. 

On the rare moment that Beelzebub isn’t holding her, Aziraphale will let Dagon, Hastur, Stolas, and Ligur take care of her. Stolas appreciates Eve as a Princess of the Demonic Court, and respects her because of who her parents are, but babies are not for her. Dagon prefers to let Beelzebub hold her, and admire her that way. Hastur is still terrified of her, and it reminds Ligur and Crowley of the way he acted with Aziraphale when he first came down to heaven. Aziraphale is sure that he will ease up when she becomes more of her own person, and less fragile altogether. Crowley finds it hilarious . Ligur is still a Proper Demon, and will not allow himself to be scared of an infant, even if that infant’s mother is terrifying. He will take her, feigning reluctance, but Eve settles easily enough for him. 

There is still fighting Up Stairs, and it settles into a detente that becomes something of a New Normal. Humanity is left alone, and carries on much as it had before. 

One night, when they settle Eve down, both Angel and Demon share their bed - just to sleep. 

And Crowley dreams . 

-------

"You know how to miracle clothing, no need to keep stealing mine." 

Crowley sounds annoyed, but he does a good job of managing to sound both annoyed and proud. He was worried Eve would take after Aziraphale in choice of daywear. 

For her part, Eve leaned back on her elbows. It was crowded that day at St. James Park, but people knew better then to crowd them. So she sat side by side with her father, and they managed to look mirror images of Cool and Aloof. The image is helped by the matching leather jackets and shades. 

Eve let out a breath, intentionally blowing a few rebellious strands of her blonde curls out of her face. They fall back regardless, and she gives an irritated hiss. 

It's important to note that Crowley and Eve do not hiss the same way. When Crowley hisses, the 's' is more pronounced, as he is part snake. When Eve hisses, the 'h' is more pronounced. This is because Eve is part cat, or, more accurately, part kitten because she is still young. 

"Why would I steal when you already have The Look? Retro is in anyway."

She snickers at the gawk he makes in response, making a mental note to tell BeeBee they were right about the reaction. 

From several feet in front of them, Aziraphale is showing a smaller boy how to throw seeds to feed the ducks in the park. The child is too little to get much of an arc, but a subtle hidden miracle from the Angel gives him the distance needed. Each time he looks up, delighted, and Aziraphale is quick to fawn over what a wonderful job he's doing. 

The boy makes a motion, and Aziraphale gives a nod. He then takes off, running as fast as he can towards the bench. 

"Eve!!" The boy yells, and Crowley is quick to move and catch him before any unfortunate collisions happen. 

"Andras!" Crowley scolds, as the boy looks at him apologetically. 

"Sorry daddy," He mumbles, and Crowley forces himself not to soften. It doesn't work. 

"What is it?" She asks. 

"Will you feed the ducks with me and mom?" Andras asks, giving her his best pleading eyes. He wiggles, and Crowley sets him down. 

Eve tries to play it very cool. "Yeah, sure, I can," she said, slithering off the bench in an impressive imitation of her father, sauntering after her brother as he ran back to the lake. 

Crowley watches them for a moment, giving a soft smile as Eve takes some the seeds offered by Aziraphale. She throws them, managing a farther arc, but the Angel still sends a slight gust out of habit. She shoots him a look, knowing what he's doing, but Andras is so excited to see the distance that she ends up playing along.

They won't get many of these moments, with Eve starting school in a couple of weeks. That's the excuse he makes for himself to go down and join them. He wraps his arms around Aziraphale as Andras pulls Eve into a game of tag, and she forgets to try and be cool as she laughs, running after him.

"Thank you," He whispers to the Angel. It's not clear if he means for the idea they spend the day here, or for having such wonderful children, or for going along with him all those years ago when they heard the horns of war. 

Aziraphale guesses, correctly, that it's a combination of all three. 

"Thank you," He returns. It's not clear if he means for taking a chance on him all those years ago - and consistently taking a chance on him, for telling the demons Downstairs about their arrangement, or for always looking out for him. 

Crowley guesses, correctly, that it's a combination of all three. 

They stay in that moment, enjoying the temporary safety before deciding to return Downstairs, and to their home.

This will all happen, but it is, at the moment, a dream in the mind of one demon Crowley. He does not remember this dream when he wakes up, but is instead consumed with a specific longing. It bothers him slightly. 

But when he felt like this before, it resulted in Eve. He reasons that this can't be bad. And he's right, though he doesn't know it yet. 

And that's alright.