Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was late December, with the London streets cascading in white snow, that the Ritz was being illuminated in a golden light from the inside. To anyone out in the cold, it would seem an inviting escape from the outside world. However, across the block, men and women with differing attire all continued to strut themselves along the pavement, without taking even a single note of the restaurant. Almost as if the entire place had been lost to mystery, and all who had entered had forgotten it existed.

All except two, however, who had been busying themselves looking through the front door of the restaurant, staring intently inside for the time being. Although people were passing around them, their presence was left completely ignored; but both of their reactions remained the same.

One of the men, who was a taller man, kept his eyes sharp on the inside; his thin frame cascading a great shadow on the sidewalk below as he stood. He wore nothing but a full black trench coat and matching undersuit with golden buttons, and coattails going all the way down to his knees. He also had a matching long-brimmed hat with a strip of black snakeskin going all around it. But despite this, his skin shone with a fair complexion, and his eyes, behind a pair of shaded spectacles, had a particularly golden hue. Perhaps it was from looking at the establishment?

Suddenly, the man turned to the left of him, towards the other gentlemen. His hair, slightly falling out of his chapeau, as he did. On this side, there stood, although shorter and more stout, a man with the most finest features imaginable, softer and more delicately comparable to those of a woman’s, and eyes open to the light; which shone with a brilliant blue through the glass of the shop. Upon him he wore a completely white trench coat and white hat, with a dark beige strap going around it, and brown undergarments with golden button furnishings. As he breathed a sigh, he too turned to gaze at his side, where his eyes naturally met the man beside him. For a second, the reflection of the other man's glasses seemed to be lit up in pure angelic light, before dimming down to a simple reflection, and on the other side, so did the other's eyes in their ocean hue.

But once again, they turned towards the building, and then with a sound and action, much like a finger snap, as if by magic, the once-empty building became occupied as a waiter miraculously appeared before the front room. At first, he confusedly looked around, but upon seeing two people standing outside the inn. He quickly raised his hand in apologies and went to unlock the door.

As he opened it, he explained. “I'm sorry, but because of the breeze, we have to keep it closed.” He welcomed them in with an inward motion of his hand.
“Thank you!” Said the man in white, while the other simply followed behind quietly. They stood in the reception entrance for a little bit longer before turning to the man behind them as he closed the door.

“Anything I can get you, sirs?” At this point, the man in black stepped forward and took the waiter's arm, so he would lean closer, and he demanded in a low voice. “Get us a private dining room, one table, two seats, and bring up a mixture of appetizers and delicacies, and for a starter drink, we’ll do two glasses of Château Latour.” The waiter looked at him slightly wide-eyed. “You understand?”

“Yes, I -I do… Uh… -if I may ask, how do you gentlemen expect to pay?” All of a sudden, the sound of a crashing bag of coins landed on the counter by the register, which he could swear was not there before.

“We are an expected guests, therefore we paid in advance, and extra, of course.” The man in black said.

“I -I see,” He looked over at the bag and then back to them. “Well, right this way, gentlemen.” From the lobby, they went through a short hallway to the dining room, where they were met with two adjoining private rooms that accompanied it. “Your room will be the left one, and yes, of course, it still retains the charming elegance of the Louis XVI room prior.” He then turned around to them as they came up closer to the room. “If you do excuse me, gentlemen, I must tell the rest of the staff that you have arrived.” With that, he quickly went past them to a far back room, where he eagerly went inside.

From within, there were sounds of crashing, and names being thrown around for the rest of the workers, but then the man calmly exited the door and then walked back up plainly to the expectant pair. “Right this way, gentlemen.” As they walked up to the entrance to the private room, the waiter swung the door open, revealing, as the man requested, two dining chairs with a table, and laid out cutlery for the reserved duo. The waiter seemed slightly surprised by this, but still led them in; and then, shifting the chairs for both, and letting each sit down, he left with a simple apprehensive bow.

Now alone, both took a moment to admire the private chamber by themselves. Although both were no strangers to the Ritz itself, this had been their first time using one of the secluded rooms, as inherently most of the time they sat at the public tables in the dining pavilion. But now in seclusion, the red and beige seats, illuminated by a chandelier of yellow lighting, and the walls fitted with drifting curtains, it caused a scene of inspection to the left, the foremost mirror that sat in the back of the space, like a curtain from the past. They both turned to each other from the glass.

Then, without explanation, Crowley, the one in black, turned out his pockets; where kept hidden in the left compartment was nothing but a rolled-up newspaper. Fishing it out and placing it upon the table, he used his hand to smooth it out before reading it. The paper was opened to the front page, and in multiple bold letters across the paper, multiple stories were being told.

Issue Dated: December 24th, 2019

HEADLINE
COMPLETE CHAOS!

In the northern ports of our seas and trademarks, ships are seeing an unusual fluctuation of abnormal behavior from sea creatures and animals alike-

Crowley's eyes drifted lower.

HEADLINE
UNUSUAL WEATHER MARKINGS!

For the past few days, there have been repeated signs of never-before-seen weather phenomena across the world. Snowfall has officially been seen in Florida! Extreme heat waves rise in Alaska! Dazzling light shows during meteorological occurrences continue! Rare cloud formation across cities and towns! And catastrophic storms in the Eastern continent of Europe only get worse! These newfound conditions-

The other man leaned over to also see what he was looking at.

HEADLINE
ORPHANGES & ADOPTION AGENCIES SCRAMBLED!
After a computer software system breakdown caused a worldwide outage. Many adoption agencies are having to re-fill out forms for currently kept children, and tabs on those previously adopted out. This is causing a great deal of problems-

Both their eyes traveled to the next story.

HEADLINE
YOUNG MAN FOUND DEAD OUTSIDE ON ABBEY STREET NEAR CRICKLEWOOD
After a recent murder was found, it has been argued that the apparent reason of death for-

Crowley quickly backed away from the newspaper but let his hand slide back and forth on the picture shown on the front page.

Aziraphale, the one in white, reached for his hand and grabbed it, but just when he was about to console him, the waiter came bustling in with a trolley, where a bottle, a bucket of ice, glasses, and a cake stand filled with various appetizers and delectables sat upon. Aziraphale, surprised by this, quickly backed away and took his hand off of Crowley’s. The waiter, oblivious to this, simply rolled over to the side of the table and started placing the numerous items on it, and then also filled and placed their glasses accordingly. Once done, he clasped his hands together in front of him and quietly asked. “Would either of you know what you would like?” He faced Crowley when he asked this, who merely held his mouth open aloft, but Azira answered for him.

“We’ll take the seven-course experience, and we'll pick our wine as the dishes come correspondingly…” The waiter looked up at him while straightening his posture and separating his hands silently.

“Wonderful! We will get started on that right away for you!” He quickly turned around and left the room appropriately. Crowley then turned to Azirpahale in silent disparity.

“Thanks for that, I don't think I could have answered even if I wanted to...” Aziraphale once again leaned closer to him.

“You're welcome, but…Do you really think they managed to do it?

“I don’t know, but it's what the facts show, Angel.” He said, tapping the photo with his middle finger. “Besides, you and I couldn't feel him; the absence was there for both of us…”

“You're right, you're right. But-” Azira swallowed and then looked around solemnly. “-Did we have to do what we did?”

“Aziraphale- “

“Stop it, Crowley! Please! just stop…” The angel quickly gathered himself again and looked back up to his partner. “Think about this!” He clasped his hands together and brought them in front of his mouth by his chin. “Are you sure this was the right idea?” He looked down towards the floor, his eyes growing clearer. “I, -I mean, what if this proves to be a false alarm?”

“Crowley shook his head from side to side. “No, no way. You can’t fake this, Azira.” He said, once again tapping at the photo. “You can’t fake that at all, not even the feeling.” The angel, growing more solemn, stared completely at the ground, where you could only hear puffs of choked air. Crowley looked at him through the mirror, and looked down towards the ground himself. “Listen, this was for the best, I mean- if Heaven or Hell do get us, they would kill us -and them!” He pointed to him harshly from the opposite side of the table. “-And you know it!”

“But did we have to be rid of them?” Cried softly, Azira.

Crowley simply melted down into his chair and leaned back. “I -I don’t know Angel, but it’s the safest choice, at least now there's a chance…especially after what happened…” While he spoke, Aziraphale simply turned away, facing the outskirts of the room.

“-And what if we never come back, will they be better off then?” Crowley opened his mouth but then closed it, not knowing how to answer.

“They may not, but they’ll find out what they are, and live to prove it.” The answer barely lifted the angel's spirits. “They’ll be alright, Azira, we’ve done everything we can… Besides, it’s only a matter of minutes now before we’re gone, I’ll say.” He looked around once more. “They’ll probably drag you to hell and me to heaven…” Said the demon. With that, Crowley made a motion of slamming the table and snapping back to the angel. “Listen, I know it’s broken your heart and destroyed mine, but we can’t live to do it!” The angel simply sucked in a gasp and continued to cry silently.

“But there our-” But before he could finish, Aziraphale once again stared at the ground and broke down. The demon went to grab his hand, but the angel simply moved it back.

“I know he is, they all are…” Crowley looked up to the ceiling, his eyes feeling heavier than usual. “We, -we can't risk it, Azira, we can’t!” He kept looking up at the painted ceiling. “If they die, no matter of life will matter after that…” With this, he looked outside the window, the one not covered by a layer of curtain, to see if any sign of light was about, but it was only the crescent-shaped moon, a poor start to life. He sighed and turned to Azira.

“You know, the sun was broken down today…” He looked down at the paper on the table. “Everything was in a way…” Aziraphale looked up at him.

“What did it look like?”

”Like a cracked egg…” Aziraphale simply snorted.

“Yolk running through it?”

Crowley turned to him and slightly nodded. “Yeah… and it was golden like you.” As the angel put his head down, the demon spoke up again. “We can't let them know nothing, okay? Know anything!” He leaned closer to the table. “No matter what they do to us, silence, nothing!” He waved his hand across the table for emphasis. “You understand?” All Aziraphale did was a single nod. Crowley shakily breathed out as he leaned back in his chair.

“They were so alone at one point, weren't they? Wasn't that why we were drawn to them?” Said Azira

“Yeah, they were…”

“-And now they'll be even more alone…”

The demon simply looked down at the floor dejectedly. Then, angrily crunching his teeth, he cried. “Now they’ll be gone for both of us, and we’ll be gone from them…” Crowley started to cover his eyes now, as he finally broke down. “God, what’s worse!!??!” As he wept, Azira simply watched him sadly as he, too, remembered all they had been through.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, with tears in his eyes.

“Yes…” The demon said silently, tilting his head up towards him.

“Can’t we remember them just for a little while?” Crowley then looked at him hopelessly, but then breathed a silent breath as he finally gave up.

“Sure, angel… Yeah, we can.”

Chapter Text

“Sure, angel… Yeah, we can.” He then fixed Aziraphale with a nervous smile as he propped his foot on his other leg. “Yeah, we can talk about them.”

At the answer, Aziraphale breathed a pleased sigh and then gave Crowley a small smile too. But just as he was about to talk, the door to the private room opened, and in came the same waiter, holding a tray of their next meal. Quietly. he came over to the table and laid down the plates before situating himself before the pair.

“For our first entree, we have the Dorset Crab with a Crème Fraiche and Imperial Caviar, and for your wine, sirs, which shall it be?” They both looked at each other to see the other's answer, but Crowley simply nodded to Aziraphale, telling him to go ahead.

“For our wine, I believe we'll have two glasses of the Château Belá, and if we could have a pot of tea for later on, that would be absolutely wonderful.” The waiter, mindlessly smiling at Aziraphale's kindness, merely nodded to his request.

“Absolutely, sir, we will get that right away for you!” Then, retrieving their two empty wine wear -and then positioning himself at the back of the room, still eyeing the angel, he left quietly out the door, taking his platter, the old bottle, and the two empty glasses with him.

Aziraphale watched as the older man went, but Crowley, in particular, eyed him carefully. but then, turning back to each other, while the sound of steps silently retreated, they noticed, looking down, the dish that had been prepared for them. At first, both were hesitant to take a bite, but Aziraphale, eventually deciding to try it, found it rather good and started eating in earnest. Crowley, on the other hand, merely pecked at it, but then, scooping a bit of the meat out and sliding it onto his fork, he made the motion of holding it aloft, and intoned.

“In a way, memory is like food; something to chew…” -And with that, he took his first official bite.

As they were eating, the waiter returned with their two new glasses, a bucket of ice, and a new bottle of Château Belá. Then opening it, and dispersing the contents with each glass accordingly before setting them down, he then placed the bottle within the bucket of ice, leaving them be until the next entree.

However, perhaps for the desire of an easier ride, they both also picked up the wine and, upon inspection, immediately noticed the bitter scent of the specific brand; and, after tasting, they both concluded it was extremely dry.
So, setting the glass down, Crowley then turned to Aziraphale and asked. “Anything specific?”

“Everything,” he said. “I want to know everything!” He moved closer to the table. “I want to know how you found them, how you loved them, and even how I know, they loved you…” He then leaned upon the table with his chin upon his hand. “Tell me everything…”

At first, Crowley looked at him with a shy but sincere smile, but then he grinned, a full demonic grin. “Which one should I tell about first?” Aziraphale's' eyes paused downward, his eyes turning slightly opaque as he thought, before reaching up and then staring directly at Crowley.

“Tell me about the first one, your first.” He said quietly. The demon looked up at him, surprised.

“Anthony?”

“Yes, Anthony.” Crowley looked softly downward towards the table, his eyes getting a hazy rembrandt glow, as he softly smiled.
“I didn’t think you'd want to talk about him…”

“I didn't either, but we have too…” Then Azira simply waved his hand forward as permission for the tale to begin.

“Well,” Crowley started. “I believe it happened around the year 1814, in Edinburgh. You see, I thought a visit to the country would refresh me.” He then glanced upward brightly. “-And it did, -Oh, it very much did.”

In the bleak morning of some late spring day, a man in full black was walking through the rough streets of Canongate town. With him, he had a cane and carried a black haversack around his shoulder to the side of him. His breeches, waistcoat, and underclothes all had the same shade of midnight, whilst the lovely inter-lining had a dark interwoven red. Crowley had come to the small village as he needed to perform a few malicious miracles upon the townsfolk in the area. However, he found himself an early arrival, being the only one out during the particular hours; so he waited outside the bar end of one particular road for the sun to rise higher. But as he did this, his eye caught upon a young boy, no more than the age of twelve, sitting bored by one of the morning shop carts. Curious, he started walking over to the lad, and when he stood only a few feet away, quietly, staring intently in front of him, the child noticed that someone was standing close, so he looked up at him. Crowley, without touching his glasses, then took off his high-hat and let his arm fall to his side.

“Lost your job, have you?”

“Shut up!” The kid said. Crowley lightly laughed at him.

“Well, hey…” He said, putting his hat back on, and reaching for his pocket. “Not all of us are cut out for it…” He tossed the kid a shilling on the ground, and the child, quickly realizing what it was, grabbed it.

“Twelve pence?!!” Crowley grinned at him.

“Oh, so you can count, lucky that.” He gestured his pointer finger side-to-side and then started to walk away.

“Wait-” The demon turned back around to look at him. The child opened and closed his mouth a few times before standing up straight and responding with a simple. “Thank you…” Upon hearing the sentiment, Crowley flinched as if in pain.

“Don’t mention it.” -And with that, he walked away.

Aziraphale shook his head upward as if confused with the whole exchange so far.
“So it wasn't immediate then?” Crowley shook his head.

“No, but at the same time it was.” He stretched his back with a minor movement towards his chair before straightening. “Didn't see him for a while, actually, after that…” Aziraphale nodded slowly, but then remembered.

“You said you had demonic business in the local area; what did you end up doing?” Crowley looked at him suddenly.

It was later, midday to evening, when the local tavern was bustling with noise and people hurrying about inside. Crowley, with his bag, made way into the building and sat at an unoccupied table in the back, where light was sparse. Looking around, he gathered the social crowd mentally. To the right, a few rugged servicemen at the sphere tables had bar-maidens on their arms as they talked to them of their military deeds. To the left, there were the roundsmen, petty old drinkers, who took shot after shot from the resentful bartender. Near the open doors, the old piano had played a classical tune, but it turned ruddy as drunken hands played the keys harshly. Still, the sound gathered the eyes of the tranquil but decent crowd.

Crowley, seeing his chance, made his way to the bar, where he stood between the corner piece and the open server entrance. He then reached into his haversack and brought out a small glass bottle with a wooden cork and rag tied to it, which he had gotten from one of Hell’s apothecaries. Carefully, he set it by his bag so it was still concealed from the other participants in the pub, and then, with a sleight of hand, he reached into the back of the bar, where the shelf was, and brought out a bottle of brandy kept there. Hidden by the wood, and unlocking the top of the bottle with his other hand, he grabbed the other flask and tipped it accordingly into the other bottle. Then, once again, waiting for the bartender to look the other way, he quickly placed the bottle back where it was, putting the other flask back in his bag. He then leaned accordingly on the bar and called the barman over, with a raise of his hand. As he came over, he raised an eyebrow at Crowley in silent questioning.

“What’ll you have?”

“A glass of Brandy for me and-” He made a show of looking around at the other people in the bar. “-And why not a glass for everyone here, too!” He said the last part loudly, causing multiple people in the bar to start cheering him on in thanks. Crowley then took out a bag of bawbees and placed them for the bartender to get. The server, taking a look at the coins, saw them at a glance, before giving Crowley the okay symbol.

He took out the closest bottle of Brandy to him, the one Crowley spiked, and proceeded to start pouring it for anyone who wanted a glass, but not before serving our demon first. Crowley, having taken the glass in hand, made a cheer motion before downing the entire glass in one gulp. Then, having had his work done, he went back to the same table he had sat at, bringing his bag and stuff over, deciding to watch some of the chaos start to unfold.

Like alcohol, the effects of the potion takes time as well, but as minutes passed and more drinks had been downed. Some bar fellas started to get a little handsy with the barmaids, and instead of shutting it down, they leaned into the touch and gasped loudly. Men who were at the gaming tables, losing their hands, started clenching their fists and gritting their teeth. Depressed poets and musicians sitting idly by in the stands started sinking down into themselves or the books that they were writing in. Even Crowley himself started to feel the potion's effects, but there was only one thing that he wanted.

“Azira-”

“Why you!!!” Crowley looked up as he heard the sound of a punch. One of the husbands of the barmaids working there had found another man kissing his wife. Angrily, he punched him to the ground, choking him on the floor; then other men wanting to join in on the fun started not only beating him but the other guy as well, eventually causing everyone in the bar to be fighting each other. Crowley, watching this, realized the job was done. “Time to go.” He said, getting up and discreetly walking past the door and leaving unscathed.

As he continued to walk, he went past the morning food carts, where the boy had once been. However, as he passed, the child was nowhere to be found. He stopped to look at the spot where he once sat and cocked his head to the side as he remembered the day more clearly. He then straightened and started walking towards home, quicker than he usually had.

“Oh, so that's what you had been doing in Edinburgh earlier those years…” Aziraphale realized, “Was that the only thing you were asked to do?” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Of course it wasn't.” He propped his arm on the top of the chair and the other on the table. “They asked me to start multiple drunken brawls, a temptation, and try to get the local priest to fall into the pit of divine earthly pleasure.” Azira looked at him sternly. “Hey! He hit the bird angel, I just pushed the stone.” Aziraphale nodded to the side as he realized that was probably true before letting out a sigh.

“Having heaven so high, and hell so low? It’s almost like we were meant to fall.” At the end of the expression, Crowley cocked his head questioningly.

“And we were meant to rise?”

“Possibly…”

“Hmm…” Azira then looked up to him as he thought of something.

“-And what do you think was happening with Anthony?” Crowley looked at him once again, oddly. “I mean, you said you didn’t see him for a few days after that… So what do you think he had been doing?” the demon looked up, confusedly, eyes hidden by the glasses' glare.
“I don’t know…”

Upon getting twelve pence, Anthony was ecstatic. He ran immediately as fast as he could back to the workhouse, and although it was a few blocks away, with his adrenaline so high, he could have gone miles. So as he continued ahead of him and saw the great iron gate drawn back to the courtyard, he ran through it to the building, where other children were outside playing or lying down on the steps. He then went through the big door and let himself in, running past the other boys sitting there. Inside, the hallway connected to the master dining room, and it was filled with other boys eating down the rough gruel given for breakfast. At the sight, Anthony sneered. He then turned left to see the great staircase leading to the dormitories, quickly running up it, as he ran towards his room. When he got there, he saw his other flatmates playing marbles with a bunch of loose stones. He came bustling in.

“You're not gonna believe what I got!” The others looked at him with wide eyes.

“Well, out with it!”

“What yo- got?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shining twelve-pence shilling.
“How on earth did you get that?” The oldest child said, George, nearly 14.

“A man gave it to me!” Anthony replied.

“Did he seem like a kook? Another child, Henry, around the age of nine, asked.

“No! He seemed alright, -a little harsh maybe, but still a fine man.” He turned the coin closer to him to make sure it was real. “A nasty trick that would be, if it’s fake.” He turned it over again and again in his hands. “-But it looks too good to be fake!”

“What are you going to spend it on? Anthony looked back at him from the coin.

“I don’t know, that's why I brought it here.” He then looked at all his mates. “What would you guys spend it on?” George took the coin carefully from him as he set his eyes upon the glistening silver.

“I know what I'd spend this on, a piece of god damn bread!” He handed it back to Anthony.

“With that, you can buy more than just bread!” Said Henry.

“Better not let the constable see that!” George replied. “Off to the butchers he’d take that.” He then turned to Henry and laughed. “Maybe this time the butcher will see him for what he is, and chop off a piece of the pig's fat ass.”

“Oh, come on, men!” Anthony said, looking exasperated between the two. “We could have a day in!” He then put the coin back in his pocket and looked out the window at the yard. “Have at least one day of fun before we die here soon.” George snorted at that.

“Any day now…” At the reply, Henry's face then lit up.

“Hey, why don't we go to Liled’s?”

“The bread and pastry shop?” George asked.

“Yeah! Then afterwards, we pick out some new drawers for Anthony, his ripped years ago.”

“I told you not to talk about that!” He looked at Henry annoyingly.

“Shall we get on our way then?” Said George.

“Absolutely, if we sleep with the coin here, it won't last the bloody night!” Then all three of them got up to go outside. “Besides, we have work tonight…”

Crowley then gave up trying to think what the boy could have done with the coin, face turning neutral as he glanced back towards the table. “I never asked him…”

Aziraphale then also gave up trying to think what the kid may have been doing, but in doing so then became extremely sad, sinking towards the floor.

“Hey, it's alright,” Crowley said, noticing. “It’s alright…” He then decided to continue the story to distract from reality. “Want to hear about the second time I met him?” Aziraphale relaxed, but still looked depressed. “I swear more happens this time!”

“Yes, please…Yeah, I'd like to hear it… I have to hear it!” He said as he raised his hands upward. Crowley then started his story.

“I had been walking through streets close to the one I saw him in, in hopes that we would see each other again.” He then placed his hands crossly on the table. “For the first two days it didn't work, but on the third day, it finally had...”

Crowley walked the street, nonchalantly, as he noticed a figure sitting once again on the side of the street. It was the same boy, but his eyes were sunken in, and a lot thinner and dirtier than he had been. He had his gaze focused on the stone ground, and his chin sitting atop his two hands upon his knees.

“What happened to you?” He asked the boy.

“Life.” Crowley clicked his jaw.

“I can see that!” He then walked up closer to the boy. “What happened to the shilling I gave you?” He then analyzed his appearance before looking around at the surroundings. “-And why the hell are you on the street?” Anthony looked at him unexpectedly.

“For the shilling, ‘used’ for the question about the street…” He leaned back, placing his hands curtly to the side of him. “Welcome to my humble abode.” Crowley did not seem impressed.

“Parents kicked you out?”

“Nope, workhouse.” Crowley tipped his head.

“You're an orphan then?” Anthony shrugged.

“Guess so.” He looked down at the ground and started grabbing rocks and throwing them. Perhaps it was by accident, or intention, but they all started to hit Crowley's leg, slowly hitting up higher and higher on him.

“Well, I take it you don't want me to be her…” Anthony looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Nope,” Crowley just kept gazing at him as he said that, before giving up.

“Well, I can’t blame you..” But as he started walking away, he went over the exchange in his head, before ultimately returning back to him. “I don't suppose you're any good with horses, are you?” Anthony looked up at him, confused.

“Why?”

“I’m looking for a stable hand, someone who's good with them.” He then turned to look around the town. “You'll get free housing and a weekly paycheck every Sunday.” He looked right at him. “Will that work for you?” Anthony only looked at him before looking to the ground and nodding.

“Fantastic!” Crowley smiled. “Well! Mr.…. Uh?” Crowley leaned in as an inquiry about his name. The child's eyes seemed to grow bigger at the realization.

“Oh! Anthony! Sir.” Crowley nodded in appreciation.

“Well, Mr. Anthony, consider yourself hired!” The kid's eyes lit up as he heard the words, but still remained nonchalant about it.

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.” He then spun around, starting to walk. “Come along then!” He said. And so, they walked side by side on the street, following the signs back to the open fields. But before he could truly start, he felt a light tapping on his arm.

“Um, sir?” Crowley looked at him and then nodded. “What's your name?” The man then turned to face him completely and extended his arm.

“Crowley.” The boy then took his hand and gave him a firm handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley.”

“So that's how he got to your house…” Crowley nodded. “How did he react to it? How did he enjoy it? Was he excited?” Aziraphale blared one question after another to get more information out of him, and Crowley only lightly chuckled in response.

“Well, for one.” He said, as he paused for reaction. “We didn't get back to the house till very late, and by the time we did, we both had been exhausted by the journey. For him physically, and I mentally, as I couldn't just apparate them like I usually do.” He then brought his hands up towards his chin. “But when we did get there, his reaction was inconceivable.

When Crowley and the young boy finally got to the place, he was quickly shocked to hear that this was his new employer's house. He originally wanted to ask what Mr Crowley wanted to work as, but not wanting to come off as rude, he kept it to himself. When they reached closer to the summit and the house it stood on, they took a slight detour to where the stables were. This then led to a very spacious building which held a very deep wood color, and blue and gold details and furnishings.

“This will be where you will work, Mr. Anthony.” He then raised his hand to show off the two unique horses that stood in the only two occupied stables, while the rest rested unoccupied. The closest horse on the left was a radiant gold-eyed black stallion. “His name is Démoniaque.” He then pointed to the other in the first stall on the right side, a beautiful blue-eyed white mare. “Her name is “Angélique.” He then turned, showing their harnesses and saddles hanging on the wall. “They are a riding pair, and have been riding with each other for a very long time… However.” He spun, looking directly at Anthony. “They could, emphasize on could, be a breeding pair, so best to keep them separated.” He spun around back to his position and proceeded to walk forward.

“Uh, Mr. Crowley, sir?” He looked at him. “What will I be expected to do with them?”

“Oh well, if ever there is a day I need to go into town or perhaps for a ride, I will call for you to harness them and get them ready for riding. However, I barely go out, so it should be on very rare occasions, if that.”

“Ah, I see…”

“Now!’ He said as he started walking out of the stables. “Let me show you to your quarters.” Anthony, following him, looked back at the horses, who were some of the most beautiful he had ever seen. Then, as he left, the white one whinnied at him and scratched her hoof as she watched him walk away. Turning around, he saw that he and Mr. Crowley were walking towards the house. He saw that between a miniature garden and a side gate; there was a back door leading to the house. Crowley, opening the gate, stepped through the miniature garden and then opened the door to the house for him. The hallway itself seemed dark with hints of red and black and lit candles on the walls, but still carried a level of elegance he was unused to. Crowley then turned to the first door on the right and opened it, revealing an extremely furnished room with a four-poster bed and writing desks, and rugs on the floor. Anthony stepped in, silent as he looked around. He then turned to Crowley, who was looking at him expectantly. “Is it not to your liking?”

No… No, I mean! It is, I meant no as in yes. It's wonderful…” Crowley chuckled slightly as he understood what he meant.
“Well then, Anthony, this will be your new home. I hope you enjoy it.” He started to draw back towards the entryway of the door. “Anyway, I'll leave you for the rest of the night till tomorrow to get some much-needed rest and unpacking. Goodnight…” With that, he quietly left the room.
“Wait-” Anthony called, but it was already too late, as he was alone. He looked up and around the room before his eyes once again fell upon the door.

“I was just going to say thank you…”

Chapter Text

Crowley raised his eyes to look at the angel in front of him, but Aziraphale just continued to smile sadly as he looked downwards, recalling the story himself.

“You loved him so dearly, my dear, and almost immediately too…” Crowley smiled at that.

“Perhaps I did.” Azira then looked upward at him and smiled harder.

“Tell me, how was he the next morning? What did you do for him? What did he say? You must tell me everything!” There was only the faint sound of chuckling coming from the opposite side of him.

The next morning, Anthony woke up feeling better than he had in the past seven years. He looked up and, instead of the dull workhouse ceiling, cracked with paint and chipped wood, he saw velvet cloth, black as the night. He then looked to the side of him, noticing the rest of the room; seeing beside him on the floor were his things placed on a delicately made rug. When he looked towards the bedside table on his left side, he saw a crumbled bit of parchment lying on a rusted but intricately decorated lamp. He grabbed it with his right hand and brought it closer to him to read.

“Dear Mr. Anthony,
I have made the appropriate instructions on what you should do for today listed below; I should also add that I had asked the courtesy of the rest of the staff to prepare a breakfast for you, which will be sitting for you on the table in the left quarter of your room by the door.”

Anthony looked up to where the note was referring to, and immediately saw the silver-covered pan sitting on the mahogany table. He turned back to the note.

“-I have also had the idea to set you up with a few changes of clothes in the closet, which I hope you will find to fit you accordingly. I should say, I also expect you no later than once the sun lies fully in the sky.”

For your instructions today, I simply want you to harness the horses and get into the routine of what I would expect you to do. Then, after that is done, and you have proved yourself capable, please separate the horses and put them outside in the two separate meadows for them to graze. I should also add that taking care of the horses as well as feeding them will also fall into your list of duties, but for today, that has been taken care of by another staff member…”

‘-C.’

Upon reading the last statement, Anthony quickly got up and started walking to the closet. When he opened the door, he inspected what was hanging inside. It was filled with various articles of clothing ranging from breeches, sweaters, undershirts, jackets, and even a few hats. He chose light brown breeches, a white undershirt, a brown sweater, and a dark green jacket to go over it all. He was about to leave, but then looked at the hat rack and grabbed a single brown flat cap and put it on his head.

As he got dressed, he was surprised to see that all the clothes fit perfectly and seemed to match his body better than anything he had ever worn before. After he got himself dressed, he looked in the mirror. He barely recognized himself in the light of his new clothing.

“It’s remarkable what money can buy…” Then seeing the meal that was left for him, which was a simple meal of Johnny cakes and a glass of milk, which he ate down gladly, far better than the gruel he and the other boys were often served. He then left his room and went to the stables, where leaning against the side of the barn was Master Crowley. Upon hearing footsteps, he turned to see him.

“Ah, so that's where you are…” He stood up and started walking towards him.

“I'm sorry for being late, if I am, sir…”

“Don’t worry about it, with your day yesterday, who only knows how much you needed it…” He then turned facing the entryway of the barn and walked in, opening the door for Anthony. “I expect you to be able to quickly harness the horses if need be, so today you will simply practice the ability to know the routines as quickly as possible, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Crowley looked pleased at that.

“I will watch the first time, and how you harness them, and then leave you to it for the rest of the day.” With that, he gave Anthony permission to do so. So he walked over to the first horse, the black stallion, grabbed the rein and head collar, and through the head gate, put it on him. He then opened the door and hooked the side wall reins to him, before stepping back and looking for the saddle. Once he did, he grabbed it off the wall, threw the blanket and the saddle onto the horse, and started adjusting the reins and leg strains. Continuing to do his work as he idly thought, pretty soon he found himself completely with a perfectly set-up horse. He looked up at Crowley when the job was officially done. “Nicely done.” He said, before turning to walk out. “After you've harnessed both the horses, you can then take the saddles off them and place them in the outside pens. Even though they aren't going to be ridden today. They still need to be kept in practice.” Anthony simply nodded.

As more time passed and Anthony had succeeded in both endeavors, he then led the horses to their two separate pens. However, immediately after being divided, they ran to and from the gates closest to the bridge between the two, trying to get back to each other.
“I’m sorry, but you both need to be divided, I'm afraid…” The horses whinnied and cried out towards each other. Anthony, not knowing what else to do, went back to the stable in hopes of finding some work, but instead was met with a small paper clipped to the door of the barn.

“At 6:30-7:00, you may bring the horses back in for their nights, for the rest of the day, feel free to do so as you please…”
‘-C’

Pleased with this, Anthony decided to go walk around and understand the perimeters. On one side of the fencing, there lay a barrier of a great forest, with a light river going into a creek on the lower parts of the hill, while on the other, a light flower garden filled with multiple types of roses and wildflowers. Yet, ultimately, the house lay in very plain view upon the many great hills of the bare grasslands, but that didn’t stop the fact that the house was extremely far from most points of civilization.

For a moment, Anthony wondered why Master Crowley lived so far away, but ultimately, he couldn’t blame him; perhaps people had been horrible to him, too.

After going through the yard and admiring the different flowers in the front and back garden, he realized that time had quickly passed, and the horses needed to be brought back to their stables, so he did just that. Then afterward, he decided to retire to his room for the rest of the evening. However, as soon as he got in, he saw a freshly made dinner sitting in the same place the breakfast had been, as well as a new letter.

“Good job today, tomorrow you won't have to saddle up the horses as I won't be going out, but I still expect you to release them into their separate pens. I should also add that the feeding and cleaning duties will also fall upon you.

Also, if ever you need me, just simply call into the house, I should be there in some room most of the time.”

‘-C’

After reading the letter for a time, Anthony thought of the unique circumstance he had found himself in, with his now unique but different employer, and his new job. He was curious to know how this new start would go. So changing into light wear, and then ate his dinner, consisting of a stew made with different poultry meats and potatoes, and corn, which he still ate gladly. Then, not seeing much else to do, he spent the rest of the evening lying in bed looking at the faux curtain ceiling of the canopy. Looking at it, he imagined stars leading all through space and time, taking him back to the orphanage, where his friends were. At first, he wondered how they were and if they cared about him, but then he realized and questioned if they even wanted to. Gazing on the stars with one last eye, he thought of them and smiled as his consciousness died.

The next weeks and days after that first introduction proceeded to go about the same, with Anthony letting the horses out to their different pens, and then letting them back in when the time required it, and spending the time dwindling the hours walking around the estate, or skipping rocks down by the creek. Even so, it wasn’t all bad. Over time, Crowley had started giving him books and literature charts, acknowledging his ability to read and understand words; however, it never fully got his mind off of George and Henry. So, Anthony decided the next day he would try to ask for his master's judgment on the subject. This, his drifting mind, is what ultimately led him, while he was walking around the manor, to not notice that the black stallion had gotten out of his pen. It was only when the mare whined while running side to side along the gate that he noticed and started running over there.

“Hey! Hey! Get out!! Out of there!” He grabbed the lead and collar on the corner post of the fence, as he tried to calm down the stallion, and put the head muzzle on him, but the horse only stood on his hind legs, kicking his feet out, knocking the boy down, and then nearly trampling on him.

However, Crowley, who had heard the yelling, came between them and yelled at the horse to stop, before shooing it away, and left it running towards the outer fields. Calming down, he then looked back at Anthony.

“Are you alright?” The child only leaned upward, clutching his right arm as he breathed heavily, trying to get up.

“Ow-“Crowley then leaned down, trying to get a good look at it.

“Here, let me see it…” Anthony stretched his arm out to the best of his ability, and then turned back to Crowley's face, to which he noticed his glasses had fallen down an inch or so from his eyes; allowing himself to inspect them further, he saw that they weren’t just golden, but splintered too, like a snake. He slightly gawked as he saw them, and Crowley, noticing this, got up quickly before asking what he was staring at.

“Oh, nothing, sir, I just wanted to check behind you for any sign of that running horse.” He seemed pleased with the answer.

“Well, your arm seems fine for the most part, but if I had to guess, there’s probably a slight strain in the lower ligament, so a good rest is what I recommend to you.”

“But, sir?”

“Yes?”

“The horse, what shall I do about it-“

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll get him.” He turned to where the horse had run last. “Bastard is probably smiling at what he’s done.” He sighed. “No, I want you to go straight back to your room, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Besides, there's dinner waiting for you…” With that, he had begun to lead the way walking Anthony back to his room, and then when they got to the door, Crowley only spent a moment opening the door for him, and leading him inside, before closing the door, and leading off himself. Anthony, having nothing else to do, spent the rest of his time reading scriptures he was given and staying in his room. Before quietly once again going to sleep.

-And when it came that next day, when he woke, he was surprised to see a letter calling him off work for the entire week. Although happy to be given time to heal, he was still curious about what he saw the previous day, and almost expected it to be one of those unanswered mysteries of life, but what he didn’t expect was a quiet knock on his door. Getting up from the bed in his nightwear, he slowly opened the door. Crowley stood, in his usual attire, still having his hand in the knocking position, before looking down and giving him a slight smile.
“I'm sorry for intruding like this, but I have some news…” Anthony moved slightly so Crowley could come in through the door. “I'm afraid I'm going on a business trip, and won't be here for a few weeks…” He turned to Anthony, still by the doorway. “I'm sorry it's right after your incident, but you see it's quite urgent…” He then pulled from his pocket a few pieces of parchment and a bag of coins. “These are just a few maps to show you where everything is, and some money in case you need anything from the local town.” He then turned around, wagging his finger, and came back to him. “You needn't worry about meals, the rest of the staff will take care of that for you, and if need be, there's always something available in the kitchen…” He went to the entryway and rested on the door. “I really am sorry about this, but it seems duty calls once more.” -And with that, he left.

“Oh, alright then…”

That night Crowley saddled up one of the horses and took off to wherever he was going, but Anthony was sleepless that night, still thinking of the previous days, so he got up out of bed and grabbed the maps off of the night drawer, and started to analyze their material. According to them, the manor had two levels, and multiple bedrooms/baths, with much of the homely things, such as the kitchen and grocery supplies, being on level one. He started to go there, and went out of his door to the kitchen at the left end of the house. When he got there, he was surprised to see how dirty it was, and how organized it had all been; but nevertheless, he continued to the stockyard, where he saw many cabinets filled with canned and bottled goods, as well as baking ingredients, alluding to the idea that the area is being used. Scowling as he looked around, he decided to go back into the hallway to get to the staircase, to which he went up, stairs creaking as he did. At the top, he looked around to see two hallways leading in two different directions, with doors on each side, so he decided to go to the right one, which was supposedly above his room, to see what was up there. Upon reaching the door, he went inside and immediately became amazed by the sheer quantity of plants and books in there. It seemed upon every canvas of wall there lay a vine or carpet of immense beauty and quality, and flowers of all types and shades rushing like waves upon the tables and floors.

“Wow…” Pteridophytes, Bryophytes, Gymnosperms, Angiosperms, flora, and floridums. It truly was its very own Garden of Eden. Looking at the books kept in the lower shelves on the wall, he saw that most of them were books on the maintenance and care of plants.

Deciding he had seen enough, he walked out of the room and went to the second door on the other side. Entering, he immediately was met with the potent stench of vinegar and sulfur; looking at the floor, he noticed bottles strewn together thrown in corners of the room, dried wine stains on the wall, and lastly, black feathers rummaging the floor. Following their pattern, he was led to a four-poster bed, laid with black satin sheets, and more loose feathers; there were also claw marks in the pillows, rips in the blankets, the evidence of a sort of battle. Looking away from the bed, he saw bookshelves into the later sides of the room, filled with copies of theology, demonology, angelology, cosmology, astronomy, planetology, and at the far right of one end, a few books, written ‘By a Lady’ to which in the inside cover, was the name, Jane Austen. Anthony hummed a sound of approval as he looked at all the books, but his eyes went back to the bed and floor, all drifting with feathers. Kneeling, he picked one off the floor and inspected it. It was a beautiful midnight color, with shades of darkness passing through it. He then looked at the size of it.

“Couldn’t be a crow's feather, could it?” He measured its length. “No, far too big for a crow.” He held it to his eyes. “Couldn’t be an eagle or a hawk's feather, it's a completely different color.” For the time being, he put the feather in his pajama-jacket's breast pocket before getting up and walking out of the room. As he went back to his chambers, three thoughts were going on in his mind. One, who is running this house. Two, find who or what this feather belongs to. -And three, nothing is as it seems.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, after his findings, he started taking a look at all the books he found upstairs. Deciding after looking through a few of the botanical works, and realizing they were just simple gardening writings, he started off with the ones in the feathered room. Although he quickly realized most of the books there were of different beliefs and religions, they contained one unique similarity hidden in the opening chapters of each one, where the same story of Eden started with an angel and a demon. Anthony, having been a Christian, as well as a devout follower of faith in his earlier years, knew most of the bible by heart, and so didn't need to read much further after the parts that he already knew. But the books that really caught his eye were the demonology, angelology, and astrology archetypes that contained pictures of their so-called studies.

Inside were painted illustrations of phantasmical images of heaven, hell. Portraits of all the angels and demons that were to reside there, as well as their motifs and peculiarities. He chose the book of demonology to read, and then revealed it to its first page, and read the opening epitome.

“-This book contains the literary accounts of all nine circles of hell, and the demonic markings associated with each one. The names and words presented in this volume will deal with the tidings of the kings, queens, princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses, leviathans, fallen angels, elemental demons, imps, and those processed through the pit of demise. “

Then below it lay a chapter index, with microchapters of each subject about the overall topic, containing all the specific types of knowledge to explore. There was, as listed.

Chapter 1: The Nine Circles Of Hell & Their Meaning
-Introduction, Pg 1
-Limbo, Pg. 9
-Lust, Pg. 18
-Gluttony, Pg. 27
-Greed, Pg. 36
-Anger, Pg. 45
-Heresy, Pg. 54
-Violence, Pg. 63
-Fraud, Pg. 72
-Treachery, Pg. 81

Chapter 2: The Demonic Markings Associated With Hell
-Introduction, Pg. 90
-The Pentagram, Pg. 93
-Occult Symbols, Pg. 97
-Alchemical Symbols, Pg. 102
-Ceremonial Symbols, Pg. 107
-Common Symbols, Pg. 111
-The Meaning Of Animal Markings, Pg. 118
-Insect Markings, Pg. 137
-Invertabrate Markings, Pg. 165
-Fish Markings, Pg. 184
-Amphibious Markings, Pg. 203
-Reptile Markings, Pg. 225
-Bird Markings, Pg. 257
-Mammal Markings, Pg. 279
-Other Markings Of Note, Pg. 303

Chapter 3: The Kings Of Hell
-Bael, Pg. 304
-Paimon, Pg. 305
-Beleth, Pg. 306
-Purson, Pg. 307
-Vine, Pg. 308
-Balam, Pg. 309
-Zagan, Pg. 310
-Belial, Pg. 311

Chapter 4: The Queens Of Hell
-Lilith, Pg. 312
-Agrat Bat Mahlat, Pg. 313
-Naamah, Pg. 314
-Eisheth Zenunim, Pg. 315

Chapter 5: The Princes Of Hell
-Lucifer, Pg. 317
-Satan, Pg. 328
-Mammon, Pg. 334
-Asmodeus, Pg. 356
-Leviathan, Pg. 373
-Beelzebub, Pg. 392
-Belphegor, Pg. 403

Chapter 6: The Princesses Of Hell
-Azazel, Pg. 404
-Azreal, Pg. 405
-Sarahiah, Pg. 406

Chapter 7: The Dukes Of Hell
-Agares, Pg. 407
-Valefar, Pg. 408
-Barbatos, Pg. 409
-Bathin, Pg. 410
-Astaroth, Pg. 411
-Amduscias, Pg. 412
-Augusyon, Pg. 413
-Eligos, Pg. 414
-Zepar, Pg. 415
-Saleos, Pg. 416
-Aim, Pg. 417
-Bune, Pg. 418
-Berith, Pg. 419
-Focalor, Pg. 420
-Vepar, Pg. 421
-Vual, Pg. 422
-Allocer, Pg. 423
-Murmur, Pg. 424
-Gremory, Pg. 425
-Vapula, Pg. 426
-Flauros, Pg. 427
-Crowley, Pg. 428-

“-Wait.” As soon as he saw the name, he went to the page number that corresponded to the title. Upon reaching it, all blood and color had left his face. The portrait on the page was of a man dressed in black, with golden snake eyes, and black wings that shone above him; his hands were feathered and clawed, and he had patches of what looked like scales going down his arms. He read the information pertaining to him below it.

“The demon Crowley is associated with the knowledge of Astrology and Astronomy; he acts as the duke of marksmanship upon the subject, as well as one of the heads of knowledge is Lucifer's crowning jewels of wisdom. He is described as having black hair, golden eyes, a sharp face, a fair complexion, and black wings. He is said to have been around since the dawn of time, as an original angel of heaven before falling, and his symbols are the serpent, owl, crow, and interwoven snake. He is considered a level five demon, but is dangerous when tampered with, as he still retains his angelic capabilities, perhaps leaning towards a history of extreme power. His arch nemesis is considered to be the Arch-nemesis of the Angel, Aziraphale, a lower-class principality of heaven, who is said to disrupt his evil ways.”

Anthony, no matter how hard he tried, could not bring himself to tear his eyes away from the page; it seemed the more he looked, the more it drew him in, leading him ultimately to shut the book and throw it randomly across the room. As he did so, he stayed put against the backdrop of a stained wall as he only heavily breathed and stared incredulously at the book in front of him. “It can’t be!” He slowly made his way back to it. “No, no, no, no, no.” But as he looked at the image once more, there was no denying the truth. On that page, the same man who had taken him in was the same duke of hell. To this, there were only two options: either the book was fake, and some humorous edit to spite a laugh from the person inside, or two, everything in it is, in fact, factual.

Over the next few weeks, he learned about the various demons in hell as well as their ties to the different skills in the demonic world. He also began to take notice of the demonic markings, which were the symbols of power given to demons based on their various personalities. But, eventually, as the knowledge in that book began to make itself known, he then moved to the Angelology book, to study there as well. Eventually, one night, remembering the quoted name from the other book, he decided to look for that one first. Scrolling to the letter “A”, he went through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Aziraphale, Guardian Of The Eastern Gate. His name means ‘Helper Of Darkness’ and his symbols are the dove, unicorn, and Pegasus. His prayers and guidance often reflect people who desire help, strength, and fortitude in various tasks, and by showing kindness, resilience, beauty, and grace, you show the characteristics of his angelicness. He is known for his beauty, grace, purity, and innocence. He is a principality angel, which is the third lowest rank of angel. His Arch nemesis is considered to be the demon Crowley, a higher duke of hell, who works his wiles upon every-one of his mental and physical fortresses.”

Although the reading did clear up some of the questions he had pertaining to this angel character, there was one interesting factor that stood out to him. “Helper of Darkness? What god would name their child, the helper of evil?” With that, he closed the book and put it back on the shelf; however, as he walked back to his room, he was just about at the front door when he heard keys rummaging at the front doorway. Not knowing he sprinted through the entryway of his room and closed the door behind him. Through the keyhole, he listened for the noises outside. Unbeknownst to him, it was Crowley, drunkenly trying to open the door, as his shaking hands couldn't open the door, eventually managing to open it through a demonic miracle. Then, pushing himself inside, he started to drunkenly mumble.

“That- blessed -hic, Angel.” He started wobbling through the hallway, leading himself up the staircase. “Sooo- lovely and white…” He clung onto the stairway rail for dear life. “-And everything nice- Oh!” He nearly tripped over his feet, catching himself on the railing. The rest was incoherently heard as he forced himself up the stairs to his room, where he shut the door loudly. Anthony, hearing this and realizing it was his master through his voice, could only think in horror.

“Had they gotten into a fight?”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley in Horror. “You showed up drunk in front of him?” Crowley took offense at the acquisition.

“I thought he was asleep! How was I supposed to know he was awake? Besides, not my fault we found each other at the local tavern that night.” He then looked at the floor sadly. “I was just desperate to spend more time with you, is all…” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Tell me about it, I woke up not even remembering where I left my shoes at!” Crowley snickered. But then a silence quickly overcame the table. “Sooo…” Aziraphale paused. “How did he- take you being a demon then?” Crowley's eyes, for one of the few times in his life, actually raised up in surprise when rethinking the memory.

“He took it in a way I never thought possible…”

As Anthony lay in bed that night, he was worried that perhaps Crowley might realize he'd been snooping throughout his rooms. But when the next morning came and there was no change in routine, as was the next day after that, he thought he had made it through. But on the noon of the third day, Crowley finally introduced himself back to Anthony.

“I have returned from my trip, as you can see!” Anthony simply stared at him peculiarly.

“Yes…I can see that.” Even Crowley could sense the tension.

“Is uh- is something wrong?” Anthony immediately apologized.

“No, no, it's just, something came up, that's all.” Then he remembered what day tomorrow was. “I was thinking of going to church tomorrow, actually. Would you want to go with me?” The face Crowley gave me could only be captured in time through the mishapened lens of the world. His eyebrow raised, his hair stood on end, and last but not least, even through his glasses, you could see the dilated pupils. He shook out of it quickly, but still the fear was there.

“No, -no I'm afraid I-, I can’t go to church…”

“Why not?” Replied Anthony.

“I, I- I’m not really liked in town, so I usually find it best to stay inside on those days of worship.” The boy simply scrutinized him before walking away.

“That's fine, I understand, I am glad you're back though… Master Crowley.” -And with that, he went back to the stables.

After he put the horses away and completed the rest of the chores he was assigned to do, he walked back into the house through the back door, where instead of darkness there was a faint light at the end of the hallway from the fireplace.

“What light through yonder window breaks?” He whispered. As he walked there silently, he also heard the faint clinking of glass being set onto a table. When he reached the doorway, he immediately noticed Crowley's gaze on him from the chair by the fireplace. In his hand was a drink of brandy, with a bottle held on top of the table beside him. He stared at him with the same golden eyes he had seen that day, unashamed and unprotected by his usual charade. After seeing him come on, he turned back towards the light.

“Sit down, Anthony, just for the time being…” So Anthony did, taking a seat on the sofa slightly parallel to him. As he did so, he watched Mr. Crowley's face, as fire idly played upon it, and on the floor as it widely danced upon the rug. “I know you have been through my room.” Anthony froze at the remark. “I think I would know if anyone did.” He brought his drink to his mouth once more. “I have been in that room so long, and on that bed, I have every book and particular practically memorized, every feather mapped out.” He turned to Anthony, with the right side of his face brushed with fire, and the other left in darkness. “I have something to tell you.” He said, while lightly smirking at the idea. “Don’t worry, I won’t harm you at all, or even stop you from going, when I do, but I think you already know what I am, don’t you?” Anthony only lightly nodded as he looked down at the floor.

“Yeah, I know what you are.” He looked up at him. “You're a demon.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale at first looked at him worriedly, but then thinking, only smiled at him smugly. “So he didn't run up and scream, I take it?” He said coyly, taking a sip of his wine. Crowley only rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I know what you are.” He said, as he looked up at him. “You're a demon.”

“Rightly so.” He made a gesture of cheering his drink towards him. “As evil as can be, -and from hell indeed.” He washed the rest of his glass down in one gulp.

“Why did you take me in?” Anthony said, leaning in closer to him. “If you're truly as evil as you say, why did you let me live?”

“Who said I'm going to?” But right after he said the words, he immediately regretted them and shook his head. “No, I-I just thought you needed somebody, or maybe I did, I suppose…” He then turned to him with a slight smile. “But, don’t worry, you'll never have to see me again if you'd like, you can even have the whole house to yourself!” He pushed his heel up against his leg. “You won’t even have to look at me.” But at the words, Anthony only recoiled and shook his head.

“But, I-, I don't want that,” Anthony replied, yet Crowley only cocked his head.

“Why’s that?”

“I don't know-” He lied. But Crowley only looked at him.

“Well, no matter what it is… You are free to stay if you'd like.” He then placed his hand on the armrest of the chair. “All will remain the same as before if you wish…”

“-I don’t want that either…” Anthony said as he looked to the ground. “I, -I want to be friends, Mr. Crowley… Maybe even acquaintances.” He then got up and walked to the side of the room before he spoke. “You've helped me, and now, -I’d like to help you…” The demon said nothing, his eyes hidden by the night, but the answer was still there.

“But how could you help a demon?” He asked confusedly.

“I don’t know, but I'll try…”

“So he didn't take it negatively then?” Azira said, scooping the last of the crab on his fork.

“No, it seemed not; in fact, he wanted to repay me. After that night, and after we decided to go to sleep to settle the revelation, he started taking a grave interest in my plants and books.” He leaned back as he remembered. “It seemed to him, he thought I needed someone to talk to.”

“But, didn’t you?” Azira asked, suddenly realizing the realization.

“Yeah.. -I did…”

Over the years, Anthony not only grew into a better individual and a demon’s apprentice, but also became a very fine young man. At thirteen, he and Crowley made the silent deal that they would both try to work together, no matter how hard that may be, for someone in both of their positions. What started as a difficult conception eventually became a useful tactic. By the time he was seventeen, having been educated by Crowley secretly as well as learning the demonic tricks to survive in the human world, the demon had begun to bring him on the various assignments he was assigned to do.

His first assignment with Crowley was a simple festival temptation, where together they were to start causing chaos in the multiple events across it; spiking the delicacies and ale; altering clothing so it would miraculously fall off performers; and even causing violent roundhouses between the poor and elite. Anthony mostly acted as a distraction or a secret vantage point when all else proved difficult; in short, he proved important. Though it was all a day's fun of course, with good pay at the end of the day, as hell would then leave Crowley and him to their own unique devices.

These expeditions then became more rigorous. As by the time he was seventeen, both he and Crowley were extremely used to working together and seemed to be becoming very proficient at what they were doing. Even Hell itself started sending Crowley on more important expeditions. These were bank robberies, conducting locals to the properties of sin, messing with the county mail, all necessary evils, of course. However, in this action, both took a new approach to sin. At this age, Anthony was doing all the backup work, recruiting fellow human followers to participate in their plans, laying out the signals for an easy job, and sometimes even conducting the ideas himself. Together they scored through ideals of chaos and broken banks, their share was only the fun and a slight sum of money. Perhaps this was the reason that right after one of these jobs, Crowley and him, had found themselves celebrating precariously in the living room of the house, with multiple bottles of cognac, bourbon, wine, and whiskey. Then, as they drank and talked about the night, an idea came to Anthony that he hadn’t thought to mention in a long time.

“Where's that angel that's always supposed to stop you?” Crowley looked at him confusedly.

“Who?”

“Aziraphale, your arch nemesis?” Crowley chuckled and then looked down at his drink. “I know we talked about him before in your books, but you never said much pertaining?"

“Oh… Him.” He then took a sip from the glass before making himself comfortable and replying. “Although the textbooks will say differently, the truth is…” He looked side to side as he said this. “We prefer to work together rather than be enemies.” He then placed his end on the couch rest. “Us being hereditary enemies is… -just a cover.” Anthony seemed surprised.

“So your friends then?”

“Hngk,” Crowley quickly sputtered at the word. “N- More acquaintances, I’d say…” He looked down at the ground and started twiddling his fingers. “We drink sometimes together, when we happen to come across each other in a similar town or place, we also might call on the other if we're bored or need to talk about something, but- yet we always try to stay apart when its possible…” He then quickly got out of his memory. “You know, so we don't arouse suspicion!”

“Yeah…” Anthony then cocked his head to the side in question. “Do you sometimes call him Azira?” Crowley seemed surprised.

“Uh, -yes -I, I do… -How did you know?”

“You talked about him once when you were drunk, back when I first came in. You were going up the stairway, talking about him.” Crowley then chuckled at the idea.

“I'd be more surprised if it was only once…” He laughed once more silently. At this point, Anthony had begun to notice a series of small movements that he had seen for years, but couldn't quite define, so he continued.

“You called him beautiful, I think…” He then mocked him in his own voice. “-Sooo lovely and white!” Crowley only ducked his head and held his eyes away, abashed.

“Well… He is an angel…” He said as he once again dwindling his hands.

As this happened, Anthony looked at him and realized these were the same tell-tale signs he had seen in all the other boys when the older schoolgirls walked by their workhouse; it was the same look he had seen on their faces as they softly admired their beauty from afar.

“Oh, I see what it is.” He said while grinning and putting his hands cutely under his chin. “Little demons~ got a flitter of the feather!”

“Shut up!” He hissed quietly. Anthony was loving this, only got up out of his chair, and paraded over to him.

“A demon in love with an angel.” He raised his eyebrows and moved his mouth in sarcastic thought. “Haven’t heard that before-” He ran back to his chair quickly before Crowley might throw something at him. He only laughed as he sat down. “I'm sorry, but you must understand in human nature, it's only right to tease in the causes of love!”

“It's not love…” Anthony only scoffed. I've seen the way you looked talking about him. Besides, you wouldn't have reacted as you did if you didn’t.” Crowley only shook his head.

“I'm a demon, it's impossible for us to love…” He then fixed his stature silently. “It's probably some deep, dark, demonic urge to destroy the purity.” He then looked at Anthony. “After all, is not the most invigorating thing, purity? The potential corruption of innocence?” Anthony only disapproved of the words. “But that's enough about me, I actually have a question for you.” The other man only smiled.

“Shoot it.”

“What ever happened to that shilling I gave you?” Anthony's eyes widened at the question. “It was twelve pence, that was still a lot then, so what happened to it?” Anthony only scattered his vision downward.

“I, -I wouldn't like to talk about it…”

“Oh, come on, I just answered yours, so what about mine?” Anthony then looked up at him pleadingly.

“Maybe one day I'll tell you, but please not today…” Crowley only needed a glance to understand.

“Alright, alright, that's fine, but one day, I would like to find out you know…” He then tapped Anthony on the arm, and he only smiled back at him. “Well…” Crowley said, as he thought about another question. “How about your friends? Did you have anyone you talked to at the workhouse?”

“Oh yes, I did!” He replied, almost smiling. “I had George, and Henry, we were the three country poverties!” His face then turned sad as he thought back on them.

“Have you ever tried to look for them again?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I did, when I used to go into town every weekend, I would always walk by the workhouse, but they were never there…” He then turned his head towards the fire. “After I, after what happened, I wouldn't be surprised they left the place too after that.” He then only sighed.

“Well, who knows, they may be doing far better now, like you are. Anthony smiled at that.

“Maybe…” He turned back to look at Crowley, but the demon had his head turned towards the window, looking out at the velvet darkness.

“Well, I think that's it for tonight, all else we pass out and forget…” He turned to Anthony for an answer, and he did agree, but just as he was about to get up, a pained expression crossed his face. “Are you alright?” Asked the demon.

“Yeah- sorry.” He then looked around confusedly as the pain slowly went away. “My back hurt just horribly all of a sudden. He then brightened his expression. “Probably just overdid it carrying those bags… -and those wood boxes actually…” He only continued to smile, but Crowley's face had turned to a frown.

“Well, I suppose is as much that happens when you get older…”

“Yeah, it sure does…”

As more years passed, Anthony, now a professional in the action of demonic workings, started to join Crowley for his out-of-country jobs. In France, Italy, and even the Western countries. For Anthony, this being the first time he really got to explore, he was amazed at the sheer difference these other places had, and spending it with Crowley, where, with miracles and magic, anything could be done. He had opportunities that he never would have imagined. By this point, he was twenty-five. A fine young individual, in the new constant of freedom. With this, Crowley was more admirable for letting him perform his own jobs, while still keeping in check every now and then. Anthony loved it; however, he would never reveal that he had been performing private jobs ever since he started working with Crowley, just getting the letters with his objectives in the mail quicker than he did. But nevertheless, more chances were always welcome. Together, they had helped local underground burglars with their trade markets throughout the railway. In other places, they guarded ideas with rich leaders that insinuating and taxing the poor further was the only way to redemption. Oh, the chaos it became!

When finally home, they relished in their journeys and only continued to spite and glory in these enthusiastic wins, having settled in and created enough living throughout the seasons, it only better supported them throughout the winter. But both mostly stayed home during this time, even though they did not have to, and all the while Anthony still liked to care for the horses, although older and much looser now. Sometimes even Mr. Crowley would come out and take a short ride with them and Anthony, into town, or just around the area, in the forest close by, or by the creek. However, one day, during a very cold start to winter, Crowley did not come out as expected to the stables, nor out of the house at all for quite some time. At first, Anthony suspected it was just a very important call to action from hell, but as the winter turned to spring and then winter again. He had feared the absolute worst. But in the middle of the night, as he lay in bed, with his demonology books, trying to figure out what he could do, he heard a loud crash upstairs. Upon hearing the noise, he immediately ran upstairs to see what it was. Opening the door, he saw Crowley in his regular 1800s attire, but all bloodied up and wings strewn apart with fathers falling off them.

“My God, what happened to you?” He said as he ran up to him, cradling him slightly as he gathered him to rest on his shoulder.

“Hell happened…” He grunted, “I-, I was with Azira, we- we were, -we had happened to meet in Edinburgh, I was very excited. We met this little lass, who was a grave digger, supporting her friend.” He breathed a sharp breath that drew some slight blood from his mouth. “She ended up getting killed because of us, then the grave digger tried to kill herself with laudanum." He did a sarcastic laugh. “To stop her, I drank it, but hell didn't like that!” Anthony only pushed him up on his feet to get him into his room.

“While I appreciate your kindness, that was a stupid thing to do, you know! You could have gotten yourself killed!” Crowley only breathed on.

“Would that really be so bad?” As Anthony laid him down in his bed.

“Yes, yes, it would be!” Crowley only grunted. “Now stay here, I'll get something's downstairs…” He hurriedly ran downstairs.

“Not like I can move anyway...” When he came back up, he had brought blankets and multiple bottles of alcohol. He put the blankets over Crowley and then handed him one of the bottles.

“I hope that helps with the pain…”

“Don’t worry, I'll be fine… Isn't the worst hell's done to me. The worse they've done…” He then snorted. “You need only look at my wings, that disgusting color!” Anthony wasn’t paying attention to him, only looking at his body and wings to assess the damage.

“Well, it looks like most of it was only the top layer, mostly physical, then?”

“It would seem so, they left me in a pit for most of it. They must have forgotten I was in there; they seemed surprised when they brought someone else down there.” He then swallowed. “That's how I got out.” He then turned to Anthony, "But if it makes you happy, I heard about your friends." He shallowly smiled. Anthony turned to him, surprised.

“You have?” Crowley only smiled more.

“My Angel-” He then turned to the bed's canopy, looking at the star-filled cloth. While we met earlier, we were talking about the town, and I told him of the local workhouse, and he seemed so disgusted by it.” He hummed softly. “He told me years ago, he came here and as soon as he saw it, he performed a miracle so that every child there would get a happy home, some way or another. -I heard most were adopted out by rich widows, or gentlemen whose wives could not have children.” He then turned back to Anthony. “Azira recognized their names! George and Henry, he said, he saw them go off happily into those new homes!” Upon hearing the ending, Anthony only nodded appreciatively.

“I thank your angel prothmuslessly."

“I bless the angel myself…” Anthony only watched him as he started walking towards the door.

“Are you really going to be okay?” Crowley turned to look at him. “Trust me, I will, you don’t have to worry…” Anthony only moved his head around.

“That's a little difficult, you know…” He said as he sighed crazily. “I practically see you as my father, you know…” He then realized what he said. “Sorry, but it is the truth you know…” -And with that, he left him alone.

As it became late winter, and Crowley had healed from his injuries, it soon became January 13th, Anthony’s birthday. Although every year had always begun with something different, they always revolved around one simple idea.

“What would you like to do?” Asked Crowley as they sat on opposite ends of the dining room table, flushed with food.

“I don't know-” Said Anthony, as he poured some molasses on his johnnycakes. He quickly grabbed a piece of fried catfish and stuffed it in his mouth before he cut into them. “There’s not much to do around here…” He then began eating his plate in earnest.

“Right…” Said Crowley as he looked around at the various prepared dishes on the table. There was Johnnycakes, catfish and grits, salted porkchops, rabbit, buffalo steaks, beans, chicken dumplings, and more, all of which Anthony requested. “But we don't always have to stay here, you know?”

“Yeah, I know…” He spoke between bites of food. Crowley looked at him peculiarly.

“If I knew you were going to ask for this much, I would have invited my angel!” That was the only phrase that Anthony looked up to.

“No, you wouldn’t, you're too scared to do so.” Crowley only stared at him before looking down at his plate.

“Yeah, you're right…” He looked so defeated after saying it, but kept talking. “He does love food though, all humanity things really…” He sighed dramatically. Anthony noticed, so, wiping his face with a napkin, he asked.

“Perhaps ‘that's’ what we should do…”

“What?”

“An alcoholic breakfast!” He supplied, standing from his chair, walking towards the cabinet. “A very alcoholic breakfast indeed!” He then started pouring two individual glasses on the table, filling them to the brim. “It’s nine in the morning-” Anthony looked up at him.

“Are you really complaining?” Crowley only shook his head before accepting the glass filled with bourbon.

Like all alcoholics, the first few drinks come easily enough, with a riptide of following actions, the mind plummets to a degree of sanity that often cannot be seen, except to those who pressure themselves to be the best. Ten hours had passed by this point, and in a desperate attempt at keeping up with Crowley, Anthony had tried to drink at the same rate of his friend. This is what ultimately led to the discussion of the past. To all their various misdeeds that they performed, and their parented schemes; together, they spiked bars, taverns, and various drink houses; they pulled pranks on various townsfolk across the country, continuing to work better and better than the day before. Perhaps this is how all mistakes are made.

He and Crowley had just finished a conversation pertaining to an old bank heist with local criminals, when they started playing a rhetorical game of asking questions to the other. At first, it started simple.

“If you could tell Azira how you feel, what would you say?” Anthony teased him; Crowley only groaned.

“Your-” He started again. “He’s the light-” He fixed his posture and went again. “Beauty itself-” He then leaned back and gave up in defeat. “I don’t know-”

“Oh, come on, you didn’t even try!” He then leaned in closer to him. “Imagine he was here right now, and you just had to say something, if it was your last days together, what would you say?” The demon only stared at the floor as he talked.

“If, If- I could paint time, the only thing that I’d paint is you, your kind eyes would be the only thing that would stop death and life too; Mother and Father who own this earth together, only carry meaning because they have given you; like a flower that is trampled upon every stranger that passes, you are that sacred kept statement that books pay to greet, but people never pay to meet; others abuse you, use you, and torment you, and then there's me who only wishes to see you; you are the light, and I am the shadow, you are the grape and I am the vine, and it seems like wine, I only acquire the after effects of you!” He then looked emptily at the fire. “If love is to suffer, then I will suffer any amount; to prove in whatever depth of action that I love you; at least I think I do.” Crowley then looked up. “I was never one with words or poetry…”

“It doesn’t have to be!” Said Anthony. “Words are only the vehicle to express the emotions we keep completely tamed.” Crowley only smiled.

“I suppose that's true…” He then sat upright. “But now it’s your turn!” He then placed his hand on his cheek as he thought, before lowering it as he found his question. “I-If you could be born an angel or a demon, which one wou-would you be?” Asked Crowley, slurring his words and smiling stupidly at the other man. But, Anthony, for the time being, found himself without an answer for a while, but just as he was about to reply, Crowley answered for him. “I suppose it's a stupid question, isn’t it?” He slid his hand down his face in exasperation. “Obviously, everyone picks the angel.” He brought his drink to his face, where he only smiled at it, but Anthony, having thought of the question seriously, and started to sober from it, cast his words aside.

“No, in fact, I actually think I would prefer to be a demon…” With those words, Crowley quickly turned to face him, where only a dropping smile was forming. “Come on, we all know the answer.” He looked around incredulously, but Anthony only stood firm in his resolve.
“No, I-I really think I would be a demon.”

Crowley's once drunken smile only turned to a grimace, before going to a scowl. “Why on earth would you want to be a demon?” He looked at him as if he were mad.

“I don’t think it would be that bad-”

“Yes, it is!”

“But you weren’t bad! -And besides, -these last few years have been some of the best times in my-”

“Why would you choose to be something like me, when you could be so much better?!” Anthony looked at him with surprise. “Why on earth would you choose this?” He said, pointing to himself, summing it all up. Black hair, snake eyes, clawed hands, and feathered and scaled ligaments. “Why on earth would you choose this?” Anthony was about to answer, but just as he was, a glass shattered on the ground, as Crowley began to throw them around the room. Anthony, recognizing the motion, started walking out of the room, having seen Crowley's tantrums before, but right before he exited the room, he turned once more to look at the heavily breathing man.

“You may be a demon, but you were an angel to me…” He then left the room, and as he walked away, he could only hear the crashing of furniture and glass. He then yelled quietly from where he was walking. “-And I'm sure your angel would love you, if you just were the same person, you were to me, too!” With that, he went back to his room.

“But, you didn’t take it well, it seems.” Said Aziraphale, looking at him disappointedly, from the chair in the Ritz.
“No, I didn't, not at all, to this day I still don’t understand what made him even say the blasted words.” Azira looked at him sadly once more. “But that never could have prepared me for what happened next…” He said, looking directly at Aziraphale.

As Anthony walked towards his room, the pain in his back started to come back again. It had begun to grow more frequent in recent years, happening whenever he moved too suddenly, or after specific actions, but now it blared with a pain that refused to stop. He walked up to his door and went inside. He clutched his sides as he felt the pain burning up from the inside. “Jesus, did I really outdo it that badly?” He started to walk towards his chamber's bathroom, a newer edition since Crowley realized there was only one bathroom in the entire house. He went inside and looked at the mirror. Although his form looked altogether normal, for twenty-five even he had to admit he had a youthful innocence unlike most of his peers his same age. It seems time had gone on without him. Yet his back still carried on its spasms, so feeling hot, he took off his shirt and hat as he continued to look at himself in the mirror. Turning around to look at where the pain was coming from. He halted at the site, right where the pain was burning, and there, the stretched skin was seen bursting to be opened. He only gawked heavily at the sight, but the vision of it only made the pain start to feel worse, and eventually, he could barely stand and was gripping onto the counter with such force. He called out to Crowley, and with no answer, called out again, but there was no reply, only the sound of crashing. In a desperate attempt to release the tension, he looked around himself to try to find something. That is when in the left counter he saw shining, a silver straight edged razor, he picked up the brilliant piece of metal in his hand, and without a second thought, he used to slice just barely the layer of stretched skin over his shoulder blades, immediately the cool dullness of the blade had soothed the pain beneath, but it was not enough so he went further, and it seemed the farther and deeper he went, the more the pain relieved and got worse at the same time. Eventually, he started to quietly yell, as the blade went thicker and thicker still through his back. Eventually, he heard rattling at the door.

“Anthony, are you alright?” He didn't listen. “Anthony! What's happening?” He didn't acknowledge the door at all, focusing only on the blade. The door rattled again. “Anthony!” His yelling only became louder and more broken as he sawed off more and more of the tense flesh. The door was just starting to be kicked down when Anthony brought back the blade in front of him to see the damage that was upon it, but what he saw only shocked him, as it was not just blood. Bringing the blade back, he cut that last strip away just as the door was miraculously opened, and he dropped the blade to the side of his body on the floor, as the pain finally melted away. He turned to look at Crowley with a terrified but bewildered expression. He followed the demon's gaze, as from his back, there was only the sprouting form of black wings, forcing themselves out of the raptured flesh, slowly beckoning to the air above. Crowley only stood in the doorway, shocked with awe.

Chapter Text

Upon finishing the story, Aziraphale had moved his chair side to side by Crowley's, unable to part with a single letter of the tale. He smiled a soft smile, glancing forward at something unknown that he couldn't see. At the moment, Crowley knew that Heaven could never wait.

“So that’s how you found out about the transformation, then?” Crowley only nodded.

“Yeah, gave me a right surprise when I found out…” He then tilted his head up to meet Azira. “How about you Azi-” But the reply was cut short, as the waiter from before came bursting through the room, once again carrying his silver tray. He came over to the side of the table and glanced at them sitting together before placing two new dishes upon the table.

“Gentleman, here we have a Ballotine of Duck Liver, with a Cherry and Pistachio vinaigrette." With this, he slowly placed Aziraphale's plate in front of him with a sultry gaze, while with Crowley's, he merely threw it down quickly. Placing the two previous plates from before on his tray and grasping the glasses, he slightly hunched as he asked. “Now, do we know what we shall have for our wine?” Azira took this as his cue to answer.

“We'll both have a Veuve Clicquot, from La Grande Dame.” He then smiled cutely while raising his hands. “A champagne!” The waiter only sighed at him.

“Of course sir, for you right away!” With that, he left quietly, taking a short look behind him before leaving the room. Crowley only sighed and turned to Aziraphale.

“It must be hell dealing with that…” He said to him, looking defeatedly at the door. But Azira only comfortably hushed him.

“Oh it’s simply just the natural reaction to purity!” He then looked to the side of him. “You get used to it after a while…” Crowley only put his arm around Aziraphale as they leaned on each other.

‘Well, I wish it wasn’t…” He then looked right at the angel. “What about you?” His eyes dilated as he said the question. “What about your first?” Aziraphale only lightly chuckled.

“Well, for one, I was many years after you, my dear!” He then smiled slightly as he remembered the past. “I didn't meet Teddy till the 1920s.” He then started getting all excited as he visualized him. “Oh my dear! If you only saw him back then, he was such a beautiful cherubim!” Crowley only drew his hand up higher on his shoulder and chuckled. “Oh! He was so kind and very polite!” He clutched his hands together as he talked. “And oh! He was such a mama’s boy for me…” The line seemed to strike differently, as all of a sudden, his smile fell. Crowley noticed this and drew his attention once more.

“Can you tell me how you first met him again?” Crowley asked as he drew him in more. Azira only gazed downward as he recalled the moment.

“It was Christmas time, like it is now, and sometimes, every once in a while, this same little boy would come wandering into my shop…”

It was 1927, with snow blanketing the streets and houses, that shops glittered across the pavement with phantasmal lighting and delicacies. People walked the sidewalks carrying bags of parchment and shining parcels; children strayed, wandering through lit windows and stores in the Berwick market. Overall, it was a very active holiday, where bustling with motion and spirited action were the requirements. However, on the street of Soho, no shop shone brighter than the corner establishment of A.Z. Fell & Co. Where pillars were decorated with streams of sprung ivory, and little dots of hollies stood hanging from the branches. Inside, amidst the clutter of books, there were candles lit delicately all over, and a tree that stood in the middle, populated with sparkly tinsel and gorgeously built glass kugels. Beside it, Aziraphale stood on a step stool, lightly lighting the candles that sat on the exterior branches of the tree. When he finished the last one on the top, he then stepped down from the stool, where directly above him hung a most intricately made mistletoe with red berries and all. He sighed sadly as he looked away from it, but just as his face was taken by the emotion, confusion formed, as he heard a very subtle knock on the door. At first he thought to open it, but then decided not to, after all the sign was turned to closed, but then the sound came again, so turning towards the direction of the noise, he started walking towards it. Upon opening, at first he didn’t notice anything until he looked down, where he saw a young boy around the age of nine. He wore black shoes and pants, with a black jacket covering him, and then a grey flat cap on his head, and had his arms coiled tight around him from the cold, shivering desperately. Aziraphale's fragile heart broke at the sight.

“Oh my dear, are you alright?”

“May, -I please come inside, all the other stores won’t allow me to stay if I don't buy anything…” At the question, Aziraphale swiftly opened the door, before hurriedly ushering him inside.

“Of course you may!” He said, placing his hands on the sides of his shoulders as he walked him towards the couch by the fire. “Now, you stay here…” He said, plopping him on it and covering him with the blanket hanging off the side rest. “-And I’ll go fetch you a cup of warm tea!” With that, he hurriedly sprinted off to the kitchen.

“Wait-” But the bookseller was gone as quickly as he came. “You really don’t have to…” The kid said quietly, but looking around at his surroundings, he was almost happy to be alone. Admiring different shades of color and feeling the force of the fire, it was almost pleasant to have a sense of comfort; so, seeking warmth, he sank deeper into the couch and brought the blanket up higher to his neck, so he was completely covered by it. He then turned to see Azira coming back to him with a white winged glass steaming with a pleasantly looking cup of tea. He then brought the glass close to him so he could pick it up by the handle himself.

“Thank you…” The child said as he took it, then brought it to his lips to drink. He breathed a sound of gratitude as the taste of the perfectly sweetened mixture hit him. “It’s good…” Aziraphale wiggled happily at the remark before taking a seat in the armchair adjacent to him.

“I'm happy to hear that!” He said smilingly. “But I have to ask, why were you out in the cold, my dear?” The kid froze up at the question.

“I'm just taking a walk around town to look around at some things…” The angel looked puzzled.

“On Christmas?” The kid only shook his head slowly with wide eyes.

“Where’s your family?”

“There… still at the house. Azira only stared.

“Do you need any help with anything?” The kid briskly looked up.

“No! No, no, no, I’m fine, I just got cold and a little lost, that's all, but-” He turned back towards the fire. “I know where I’m going now…” Azira seemed pleased for the time being, so he stopped intriguing in.

“May I ask your name?” The kid looked scared for a time, but then decided to answer.

“It’s Teddy…” He then explained. “My father reworked the name from his father, who was closely named Freddy. He then shyly asked. “Uh… What's your name?”

“Oh! Mine's Aziraphale.” Azira then looked back at him wearily. “A mouthful, I know…” He then beamed a bright smile. “-But it’s a lovely name, -just like Teddy!”

“Well, thank you…” But Teddy seemed somewhere distant during the conversation, somewhere far-far away. He then suddenly looked outside at the darkening sky. “I think I really should be going now.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked, getting up with him as he did. “But you just got here, and you also have barely finished your tea. He said, pointing it out. Teddy then followed his gaze to look at it.

“I know, I'm really sorry…” But then, looking at it again, he grabbed it and then quickly drank it, before gently placing the cup down. “I am really sorry, but my parents are probably worried about me. I should be getting back…”

“Well, I suppose that's true, but -well…” He then gazed at him with a gentle gentleness. “Just please be safe, my child.” He reacted oddly to the phrase at first, but then quietly said.

“I will, really, you don’t have to worry about me…” He then started walking towards the door, but then looked back. “-But thank you for caring though, really, thank you…” -And with that, he left the shop.

Azira, still clutching his hands from when he pleaded for him to be careful, then undid them and kept them on his chest beside him. He then glanced over to the mistletoe hanging above him. He sighed sadly again.

“You always were a mother with him…” Crowley teased. Azira only rolled his eyes out of the memory.

“Well, you must!” Aziraphale said with his hands in an assuring gesture. “Especially with young children.” Crowley only mimicked him as he spoke, but he then digressed.

“Well, he was always your child, as was any of them when they met you…” Aziraphale only smiled at that.

“Well, of course they are, after all, their god's children as well!” Crowley only moved his head side to side. But just as he was about to ask Aziraphale the next time he saw him, the bartender came bustling through with two new glasses and their bottle of wine. He went to the table and exchanged the bottles accordingly, and then filled each glass measuredly.

“Here is your Veuve Clicquot, from La Grande Dame.” He then leaned in closer to Aziraphale as he said this. “Champagne!” Aziraphale only laughed uncomfortably, while Crowley looked deadly. The waiter then bowed before exiting the room. Crowley then turned to Aziraphale.

“I'm going to kill him…” Azira then sharply turned to him.

“No, you're not!” He then picked up his glass, disgruntled, and started taking small, light sips from it. Crowley, sensing this was not the time, asked him again, about the second time he saw Teddy.

“The second time I saw him was a few weeks later, it was also mid-morning when the snow was melting away-”

Azira was fussing around the bookshop when he heard the bell above the door go off.

“Just a minute!” He called from one of the backrooms. Azira looked at the book in his hands; it was a first edition copy of Emily Brontë's Jane Eyre. Smiling at it, he then reshelved it to its proper place, turning on his heel to exit the room. When he reached the front, he was surprised at who he saw. “Oh! It’s you!” Teddy was dressed in the same clothes, albeit dirtier, while walking around the room analyzing the titles on the shelves, before he looked at the angel; but when he did, he had one of the brightest smiles imaginable.

“Hi.” He said shyly.

“Hello!” Said Azira brightly. “I was hoping to see you again… Everything has been well for you, I hope?” He said, slightly inquiring.

“Oh yes, it has!” He turned to him suddenly. “It got a lot better after I met you actually…” He said confusedly, before he glanced back up at him again. Azira mentally sighed, thanking the charm he did after that night worked, making sure there would be no problems for the young lad getting home.

“Well, I'm glad to hear that…” He then realized his manners. “Would you like to sit, or read a book, or?” Teddy seemed slightly taken aback by it.

“Oh no, I only wanted to check up on you, sir. I'm sure I’ll be going soon-” But Azira only shushed him.

“Nonsense, nonsense.” He then brought him over to the couch and chairs again. “Stay for as long as you like.” He then leaned closer to him. “I can get you another glass of tea if you'd like?” But Teddy quickly refused.

“Oh no, it's fine really, but if you're sure about it, I’ll stay for a little while more, if you'd like.

“It's perfectly fine by me.” But as Aziraphale continued his bustle around the shop, Teddy grew curious about a few covers he saw in a curio parallel to the shop door.

“Ah, interested in my collection of rare Bibles then?” He walked closer to him.

“So that's what they are…” He looked at them interestingly. “What makes them so unique?” Teddy asked.

“Well, for one, they are considered to be the most accurate.” He then whispered lightly to him. “They also include a specific angel and demon who reappear at each and every crossroad of humanity.” He then tipped his head sideways as he talked. “It’s really quite something!” Teddy looked humbled.

“Incredible…”

“Yes… I collect many unique books here.” He strolled around his collection. “All first editions, of course, -and signed.”

“Wow, that’s really incredible…” Azira then looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you happen to like books, Teddy?” The kid only looked bashfully around.

“I used to read a lot, but… well, not anymore…” Azira cocked his head.

“Any books you liked specifically?”

“Well, I did enjoy Yeats, The Wild Swans at Coole…” His eyes then brightened as he thought of another one. “I also liked F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby…”

“Both good choices.” Azira then got up to one of his shelves and grabbed the first one on the third shelf. “Do you like Frank L. Baum?” Teddy shook his head.

“No, I'm afraid I'm not familiar…” Azira then nodded his head in understanding.

“This is the first book in the series, but it's called The Wizard of Oz. “Would you like to read some of it with me?” Teddy only smiled.

“Yeah!” He then walked cautiously over to him and sat on the part of the couch closest to Azira's chair. Both comfortable and ready, he started to read the opening to the book.

Together they sat, intermittently reading lines when one got tired of reading them aloud, but eventually, after a good few hours of reading sessions, the book was finished. With the last words being read aloud by Teddy, saying, “-And oh! Aunt Em! I'm so glad to be at home again!” He looked happy as he read the line, but then, when he turned the page to find no more, his face grew sad again/ Azira noticed, so he asked.

“Sad it’s over?” Teddy only nodded.

“Yeah, I am…”

“It was a good book, though, was it not?”

“Yeah, it was…” Azira then looked out at his shop, and then out the window.

“Oh! I'm sure your parents are looking for you right about now.” Teddy then grew wide-eyed as he realized the time.

“Oh yeah, you're right!” He then quickly got up and gathered his things, but then stalled before going out the door. “Do you think I could come back here, and we could read sometime again?”

“Of course!” Azira said happily. “I would love that very much…” Teddy then looked at him graciously.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” -And with a wave much like a flourish, he ran out, and then slowly walked as he nearly knocked into someone on the street. Azira only lightly chuckled at him, before looking around his shop and suddenly, feeling very alone.

“Reading to him? -No wonder he turned out the way he did…” Crowley said, kicking his feet up on the table. “He turned out just like you…”

“I'll take that as a compliment, my dear!” Aziraphale then tilted his head to the side. “Considering how much you loved Evera.” Crowley only sensually eyed him.

“So what happened after that?” Crowley asked as he poked at the duck liver, not appetized at all.

“Well, he started coming by a lot more frequently after that, almost every day if he could, but-” Azira then looked around cautiously. “-But one day, I caught word of a recent event that had happened from a neighbor.”

“Have you heard about the Hardys?” Said Sylvia, an elderly shop-woman who ran the embroidery next door.

“No,” Azira said, confused. “What happened?”

“Apparently, a few months ago, the entire family got killed in some sort of house fire; but if you ask me, a murder is what took place!”

“Oh my god!” Said Aziraphale was absolutely horrified by the subject. “All of them?”

“No, but most; apparently the youngest son survived, cause he was in the outer villa for the night.”

“Oh, how awful!”

“I know, the little lad only found out about the monstrosity the next day, as he saw the entire house in ash.” She then scowled at the idea of what she would say next. “Apparently, at the funeral, he was so distressed that one of the morgue men found him lying in a coffin ready to die too.” She then sighed. “Poor thing…”

“What’s the boy’s name?” Aziraphale wanted to know so he could bless him and make sure he at least got something positive after all that.

“Teddy Hardy.” She then sulked at the name. “His father was Thomas Hardy, the man who owned the masonry down the road; he named him after his father, Freddy.” She then turned to Azira directly. “Poor thing is an orphan and a runaway now…”

Aziraphale only looked at the floor with an unreadable expression.

Chapter Text

“So you found out he was an orphan then?” Crowley only leaned back while he let out a sigh. “A kid like him, alone.”

“Not necessarily,” Said Aziraphale, chiming in. “Although his parents were gone, he had been living in different orphanages for the time being….’ Azira then waved his hand around in a matter of conversation. “But he kept running away each time they put him back.” He then looked defeatedly at the floor. “When I first found out I decided to keep my knowledge secret from him, which meant he still visited my bookshop regularly, as well as visiting me whenever he could, but one day my curiosity took the better of me…”

“Why do you always run away from the orphanages, Teddy?” The kid looked at him worriedly.

“What?” Azira only petted his shoulder lightly as he talked.

“I heard from a neighbor about what happened to you…” He then looked around, slightly worried about what reaction this might bring. “Apparently, they sent you to an orphanage after the incident, but you keep running away each time, and then being forced to come back…” He looked at Teddy. “Why is that?”

“You-you don’t know what it's like there, Mr. Fell…” He said simply. “It’s, it’s terrible!” He clutched his hands together in paranoia. “Besides, if I don’t want to be there, why would I stay?” Azira could only nod to the point.

“But you're very young, Teddy, and it’s very dangerous for you…” Teddy only sighed and nodded his head in understanding. At first, he breathed hopelessly, but then he looked up to the fireplace, which was only lightly flickering now.

“If I were liked, maybe then I wouldn't have to constantly be running around….” He then looked towards the rug-covered floor. “But that's a stupid dream.” As he said that Azira's face seemed to go blank, as he had images of Teddy living here with him, and maybe even Crowley finding out about him too, but then he thought of heaven, and hell, and the vision was immediately gone. Azira only hugged him from his side, as he sighed.

“Well, I'm sure at least someone likes you…”

“But that was only the first day…” Azira said as he crossed his hands on the table. “He then ran away again and again-” He then looked at Crowley seriously. “I tried prayers and miracles, even when Gabriel wrote me up for it, but they never worked…-However, the last straw came the third visit after that one, the most truthful encounter so far.

It was the middle of the night, and rain was pouring down from the heavens, when Azira heard a knock at the door from one of the bookshop chairs in the lobby. Still having his reading glasses on, he looked up from his book, the Tempest. Then, gathering himself, he started walking towards the door. When he opened it, he took a double take on the floor of his entryway. Where there curled up in a ball, and coat swaying in the wind, bleeding from his mouth and face, was none other than Teddy himself. Before Azira could ask what happened, the child beat him to it with a few misplaced words as his explanation.

“This- is why, I can’t stay at the orphanage, sir.” -And all of a sudden, Aziraphale had felt as if all the angelic deeds he had ever done meant nothing more than a word.

Helping him up, he carried him inside, before glancing at the couch and then shaking his head and walking towards the black staircase near the corner of the room. Stumbling up it, he eventually led Teddy to his spare guest room, where he set him down and got him all comfortable in bed, taking off his coat and shoes. After that, he then asked him if there was anything he wanted, but not hearing an answer, he then miraculously checked his vitals, but not seeing any significant harm, he took that as his warning to leave the room.

That night, Aziraphale's thoughts could only be described as two words: future plans. As he sat by the fire drinking a glass of merlot, he only thought of everything he had done in his life. Job and his children: Noah's Ark: Elspeth and Morag: The children in the orphanages and workhouses, and now Teddy.

“Have I really been helping at all?” He said quietly to himself. The answer was not so obvious. But as he looked at the blood-stained coat that still hung limply in his hands, he had already made his decision.

The next morning, Teddy woke up feeling the worst he had felt in a while, but far more comfortable than he would have been the night prior if he had stayed. He remembered everything, the beatings, the laughter, the yelling, and then the kindness. However, he also knew what this meant. He had trespassed too far, and this was the end of the gentleness he had grown accustomed to. So, begrudgingly getting up, he looked around the room for his belongings, but only finding his shoes; he decided the rest must be downstairs. So carefully tiptoeing out the door, he saw a mirror hanging on the adjacent wall. He was surprised to see all his wounds had healed, as well as all the blood cleaned up. He looked sadly at his reflection before turning towards the stairway leading down, but once he arrived on the bottom floor, Aziraphale had already been waiting for him on the chair by the mantelpiece, with his coat strewn in one hand and a half-full glass of merlot in the other. Teddy’s eyes then followed down to the multiple bottles on the table, still visible. He then looked back at Aziraphale, but the angel said nothing and just continued to softly smile back at him.

“I have made my decision.” He said, then standing up, albeit with difficulty. He then started walking towards him, threading his fingers through the dirtied black coat in his hands. “I, -I don’t want you to go back to someplace where I know you'll be hurt…” He then closed and opened his mouth before starting again. “I also don’t want you to be running away again and again, because of this.” He then passed the coat back to Teddy, before turning around again. “I have talked to the orphanage this morning, and one could say with miraculous efforts, you don’t have to go back there anymore.” At first Teddy’s eyes did widen, but they then returned to the same tired expression. “-Nor any other orphanage.” He turned to Aziraphale, surprised. “You are free to leave…but if you'd-…” He turned back around. “You can also stay with me, if you’d, -if you’d like…”

“Can I stay with you?” Aziraphale slowly but reluctantly shook his head.

“Yes, you can…”

“-And you're okay with it?” Aziraphale's eyes widened at the thought of heaven and hell, but he vowed this was the last time. He turned to Teddy sympathetically.

“Yes, I'm perfectly fine with it…” He then grasped him by the shoulder as he led him around the bookshop, explaining his surroundings. “As always, most of my books are free to read…” He then led him back to the staircase leading upstairs. “-And the room that you awoke him, is now your room, if you wish it to be…” Azira then fiddled with his hands as he explained. “I know it’s not much, and you can always ask me if there's anything you want, and ill try to make it happen, but I hope you at least like the idea of it all, I suppose…” He then glanced upward awkwardly. “Are you… Happy?” Teddy only looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Of course I am…” Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, that's good!” He chuckled. “But I want you to know that this is your home now, as well as mine, and you are free to live in it as I do.” He then looked at him specifically. “-And I'll never hurt you, I swear I won't ever!” He then lifted his hands slightly, so he could pet Teddy’s head, but only barely, as he flinched with the movement. “Not ever again…” He said too quietly for anyone to hear.

Chapter Text

“You always were an angel, -Angel.” Said Crowley bemusedly.

“-Yes….” Azira then laid his chin upon his hands. “They were good times though, as scary and terrifying as they were, good times indeed.” He smiled, reminiscing on the memories.

The following weeks after the event had become a collection of looped details, as changes to both of their lives were made. For Aziraphale, the once-empty bookshop eventually became accustomed to the constant energy of another form, while Teddy, on the other hand, grew used to the constant care and attention of a doting figure. This led the two to build a close relationship quickly and eventually go on outings together. Whether to little shops and street vendors, where they'd buy sweets and sugar, or maybe old antique shops where they'd buy whatever interests the other. These trips became the motive for Teddy to become all the more infatuated with his new guardian, volunteering whenever he needed help lifting boxes or bags, and being his own personal porter if need be. Until, eventually, after one of these excursions, they walked past one of the old orphanages he used to be in, prompting Teddy to speak about this newfound change.

“You know, if it weren’t for you, I'd still be in that god awful orphanage…” He then looked up at Azira with eyes half lidded by a smile. “Almost seems like the good lord sent you down for me…”

“What a sweet and affectionate child you are to say so, but no, I only did what most would do for right…” He cupped Teddy's chin and then let it go softly.

“-Even so, Mr. Fell, I think you're an angel for what you did, if not more so…” Azira hummed lightly at that.

“Well, I would certainly hope so…” Then, without warning, he turned on his heel and grasped Teddy by the arm gently. “Why don't we celebrate going to Anabelle's!” He then playfully ran to the shop down the road rather quickly, Teddy slowing down on purpose as they got closer to it.

“He really did see you as his mother…” said Crowley, gazing rather coldly at the table in front of him. “He loved you more dearly than even me at times…’ But Azira only scoffed at him.

“He merely loved me because I was gentle to him, and many times people in this world prove otherwise!” He tapped Crowley on the cheek. “-But yes, he did love me greatly I think…”

“Tell me, how did he find out you were an angel?” Azira shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he thought about the question.

“There were multiple points, really, much like yours…” He then crossed his legs as he recalled. “There were always little details like my miracle use, and my questionable history, but a big turning point was when Gabriel came to check up on me.” He then shook his head as he looked to the ceiling. “Poor child was so afraid…” He slid his hands across his face. “-Yet not for him, but for me-”

It was late morning one day when Aziraphale could sense the incoming angelic scent of another angel. At this moment, Teddy was lying on the couch with his feet out, reading an old copy of Jane Eyre. Quickly, Azira got up and sprinted over to Teddy and, grasping him by the arm, started hauling him up and pushing him towards the stairs.

“Teddy, I need you to go upstairs now immediately!” The child did as he was told, but still slowed down to ask.

“Why? What's happening? Are you alright?” Azira gave him a worried but relaxed expression.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, I just have someone coming over, that's all…” He smiled nervously. “Just a work meeting, that's it!” With that, he pushed him completely into his room and shut the door, using a miracle to lock it. Then, in the next moment, a quiet knock came at the door. Aziraphale breathed nervously before fixing his suit and calmly walking to the door.

“Hello Aziraphale.” Said Gabriel, smiling superiorly at him.

“Oh, Gabriel, what a surprise…” He let him in with a gesture of his arm and closed the door behind him. “Is this a check-up then?” Gabriel said nothing as he walked in, and only admired the state of the bookshop before turning back to him.

“No, this is about a certain activity in the area.”

“Certain activity?” Azira chittered on. “What's happened?”

“Have you heard any news from the demon Crowley?” Aziraphale swallowed.

“No, nope; nothing at all!” Gabriel only watched him closely.

“Well, apparently, he has new help, he's been getting deeds done at a quicker pace than ever, and there also appears to be something none of us. Can. Quite.” He turned to Aziraphale fully before saying the last word. “Define.”

“How odd…”

“Yes…” Replied Gabriel. “But nevertheless, I'm just merely checking up on all our deployed angels, making sure they haven't noticed anything peculiar.” He looked once more around the bookshop. “-But it seems there's nothing here to suspect either.”

“Good…” Gabriel started to turn for the door, but then returned to stand in front of the lesser angel.

“Remember Aziraphale, you're an angel-” He raised his hand to lightly trace Azira's collar. “-Angel~” So with that he finally left, but for the next few minutes Azira only stood in complete shock, as he recalled the moment a thousand times, that simple touch and name, but only one thing kept blaring to mind.

“Only one person gets to call me that-” However, his thought was cut short with the sound of short steps being led down the staircase. Azira stared, confused. “How did you?” But he thought it best just to abandon the thought.

“Are you okay, Mr. Fell?” Aziraphale shook his head.

“Don’t worry, Teddy, I'm fine.”

“Who was that man?”

“My boss…”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he mo-” Aziraphale at first looked shocked with the question, but then shook his head in concentration.

“No, no, he didn't, so don’t worry.” Teddy didn't seem convinced, but he did eventually relax, coming down the stairs completely, to settle by Azira on the couch.

“Well, I hope so…” Teddy then opened the same book he had been reading earlier, and scrolled to a page he had bookmarked earlier.

“Her coming was my hope each day, her parting was my pain; the chance that did her steps delay; was ice in every vein.”

“Mr. Rochester?”

“Yep…”

“That was his first instance with my boss…” Said Aziraphale. “He became a lot more protective of me after that…” He then backed up in his chair, and his eyes started glittering beneath the light of the chandelier. “So protective…” Looking directly at Crowley. “Just like you…” The demon only gazed solemnly through the darkness at him, but the meaning remained the same. “You know, years passed after that day, and all the same, he always looked at me that specific way…” He then cradled the memory in his hands as if it physically existed. “He was seventeen by the time he found out, and it wasn't from some deep exploration of the soul or some fantastic breakthrough of fate.” Aziraphale shook his head. “No, he found out because I told him, and what did he do?” He started to breathe more deeply and erratically. “-He ardently surpassed me at all turns.” Azira started crying in front of Crowley. “Apparently, he knew the whole time, because ‘no one as good as you could exist,’ he said… When really it should have been I saying it instead.” He then swiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket before he continued. “The saddest thing is, I think he really did believe me!” Crowley, having watched Aziraphale bring himself down to hysterics through the memory, decided to change the subject to a different topic.

“How about the change then?” Aziraphale looked up from his hands. “How did that happen?”

“It happened two years after I told him, and in a single night too…” He caressed his arm lightly with his hand as he remembered. “He was nineteen around the time, and I had been doing my angelic duties…”

It was on a summer evening in town when Aziraphale found himself walking back from one of his heavenly shifts. During the day, He had been spreading the godly word about the rites of love and lust, outside the local motels and group houses. Personally, he did not like interfering physically with the outside world and much preferred a more miraculous intervention, but his statements from Gabriel had procured otherwise. However, as he walked back towards his store, a group of charming young men came up to greet him.

“Hello!” He said politely and then moved out of the way for them to pass while still walking forward, but then one of the men purposely moved in front of him. A woman came up from behind them. She wore a tight but dirty dress and started parading about him, while pointing. “This was him, alright…” She stopped right in front of him and grasped his chin in a fierce grip before releasing it. “He came to the brothel to make fun of me and my sisters' work ethics…”

“What?” Said Azira confusedly.

“Do anything you please with the angelic bastard.” With that, the men dragged him down to the floor and started to berate him as the woman watched. The lady then moved in front of him, between his legs. “Tell me, do you have anyone who would listen to you, Angel? My children listen to me, don’t you boys?” She said sultrily. A few of the men laughed and quipped at her. She then turned back to the man on the ground. “Does your god listen to you, my child?” She called. The man started undoing his jacket. “-Were about to find out…” Just as Aziraphale was about to use a miracle to get out of this predicament. He heard a voice screaming across the street.

“Get away from my mother!" Upon hearing the remark, one of the men who was undoing Azira's belt started to get up and laugh at the young adult running at him, but then didn't as his vision was blared with beautiful brightness.

A jump like a win-fold, he cut through the air like a knife, and out from his back the white wings ripped through his clothing seams and took to the air like the freshly fallen black. His once auburn hair turned white, and eyes disguised turned golden. -And so, emboldened by rage, he kicked one man down, and then, mimicking a punch with his hand, the wing behind him snapped another man like a fist. He sprinted between them, twisted, not even acknowledging his newfound abilities. It was at this moment that the young woman, too amazed to fight back, only said one line.

“He really did hear you…” She said, and then ran away.

With that, it wasn’t until all the people had run off limping, or carrying themselves painfully, that he turned around towards Aziraphale exemptfully. The angel was still on the ground, but then backed away as Teddy came near him and offered his hand. He stared blankly at the glittering wings behind him. Teddy couldn't understand what he was doing.

“What's wrong mo- Azira?”

“You- your wings…”

“What?” He looked behind him, confusedly, and then saw the gossamer feathers.

Chapter Text

“He had such beautiful wings, Crowley…” Aziraphale sighed. “-Whiter than mine…” The demon looked at him doubtfully.

‘-If only you knew the number of hours I gazed at them in the sunlight, Angel!” He thought silently. Then, turning curiously to Aziraphale, he asked. “How did he take it, the transformation?”

“Rather well!” Aziraphale said, surprisingly. “At first he was a bit startled at the change’n all, but-” Aziraphale swirled the glass he had in a circular motion, causing the wine to spin as well. “He grew to love it…” He suddenly looked up and set the glass on the table, causing the motion within to stop. “He said that now we could be together forever!” He then set his hand beside the glass as well. “He always hated the idea of going first and leaving me alone without him…” The angel's eyes then turned sad. “-Now I suppose it’s the opposite…” Crowley only sputtered a breath.

“We don’t know that for sure, Azira-” Aziraphale quickly snapped up at him.

“Please don’t lie to me, Crowley.” He looked at him pleadingly. “Please…” Crowley relented the rest of his discussion.

“He still took it better than Anthony, though. “The demon said, trying to relieve the tension. “I still remember his panicked look, -and the scales!” He covered his eyes. “-Crawling on him like a disease!” He then relaxed his expression. “Nevertheless, though, he still took it better than me…” He grabbed his glass too, this time looking through it. “I thought it was some cruel twist of fate that had given him just another pill to swallow, but when he realized what he turned into, he was ecstatic!” He then limped downward as the realization came across his whole body. “Happy even-” He looked away from the glass. “-To be a demon…”

“When it came to Teddy, he didn’t see the majority of the changes till later, even though they all started that night.” He shifted in his seat absentmindedly. “Over time, they just grew more prominent.” Azira used his hands to accentuate his point. “HIs hair grew more curly and white; his skin, much more pale and fair; his features, become more softer and intensified-” Aziraphale then paused as he scooted closer to Crowley. “-But never his eyes!” Azira then leaned back and placed his hand upon his chin in a thinking motion. “No, they changed in a different way…”

It was only a few weeks after the incident, when Aziraphale and Teddy had been spending the good half of an hour lying beside each other on the couch in the backroom as they read their books. At this point, Aziraphale had been taking small absent peaks at Teddy, who was engrossed, reading Dante's Inferno. At first, they started out as simple gestures easily missed, but eventually they became so frequent and interchangeable that even the subject had begun to notice.

“What are you looking at, Mom?” That seemed to wake Azira up as he quickly shook his head and looked away.

“What?” Teddy rolled his eyes and turned to him.

“You look at me, whenever given the chance, especially my eyes.” He then turned nonchalantly back to his book. “I've noticed you know!” Aziraphale looked downward, ashamed to be caught.

“I’m sorry, Teddy, but it's just-” He looked back at his eyes, only to find himself lost in them once again.

“It’s just what?” Teddy asked silently.

Slowly, without question, Aziraphale delicately brought up his hands to cradle Teddy's face before he moved it slightly in his hands, giving him a better look at his eyes. He then stopped moving him as he got the perfect glimpse of those same yellowed eyes, albeit more golden in color and with regular pupils. Aziraphale lightly traced his finger across the outer edge of Teddy's cheek.

“What is it, Mom?”

Aziraphale slightly smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing…” He then moved backwards to give Teddy some space. “You just have such beautiful eyes, my dear.” He then picked up his finger from his cheek and brought it to lightly tap his nose before letting him go. “It's just… -you have my Crowley's eyes...”

“Crowley?”

“Yes…”

“Who's he?”

“A demon…” Teddy looked surprised at first and then depressed.

“Oh, don’t look so disappointed, my boy.” He lightly wrapped his arm around him as they turned to face the fire on the couch. “He's a wonderful person…” The young angel noted his slight smile as he thought of him. “I think I might even-”

“I always hated my eyes…” Interrupted Teddy. Azira turned to look at him. “I was happy when they changed…” He turned to look at Azira. “-But then when I saw they weren't yours, I hated them even more too!” He sighed. “Why couldn’t they be blue…” Aziraphale only gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Well, I love your eyes; they're a beautiful color!” He smiled. “I always loved the hue really…” He said, petting his hair.

“Do you and Crowley know each other?” Aziraphale then tilted his head in contemplation.

“Some could say that…” He then uncrossed his legs. “Maybe friends…”

“Is it normal for an Angel and a Demon to be friends?” Aziraphale only did a sardonic laugh.

“Oh no! Absolutely not!” He said, smiling as he got up. “-But that didn't stop us though…”

“Is he uh, -a good man, Crowley?" Aziraphale did not miss the double meaning.

“Yes, he's a good man.” He said abashedly, and then, inclining his head back, replied. “Rather like you…” That seemed to lift Teddy’s spirits. “Maybe you'll get to meet him one day…” Azira said hopefully, but then shook his head at the doubtful idea.

“I’d like to…”

“I’m glad he got to meet me then…” The demon said appreciatively. “I just hope I fit the description of what he was expecting…” Azira then looked at him with an upcurved lip.

“Oh, trust me- you did.”

“Did you tell him anything else, um, -about me?” Crowley asked timidly, looking at his hands as he fumbled with the tabletop. Aziraphale only grinned knowingly.

“Oh, you know, only that you're very tall-” He tilted his head side to side cutely as he went down the list. “-very handsome, very intelligent, very kind-” Crowley's grin only grew wider as the terms continued. “-very protective, very romantic, and even…” He leaned in closer to the table, from the opposite side, which also prompted Crowley to lean in as well. “Extremely attractive…”

“Really?” Crowley said, sarcastically surprised, only a few inches away from the other.

“-Yes…” Said Azira breathlessly.

Together they leaned in closer, with Azira even getting a hand behind Crowley's neck, and the other sliding up his chest, while Crowley's arm held him aloft on his angel's shoulder, with the other supporting them both, on the table. Azira then moved his hand from the demon's neck, sliding up his cheek before he cheekily flicked the hat off his head, revealing his midnight hair. The black chapeaux hit the table, before feltering to the floor.

Chapter Text

Azira looked at Crowley pettily, then glided his hand down to the demon's tie, idly playing with it, before grabbing it forcefully and tugging it towards him. The demon quickly went straight up before Aziraphale, a breath's pace away from the angel. His eyes, dilated and blown with barely any yellow left, looked at the being enclosed in white.

“Well?” He said amusedly. The demon only looked at him sultrily, as he knew what he was waiting for. He began to lean in for that kiss of death, but then the doors burst open in an unapologetic manner.

Azira practically threw Crowley off him as they both landed in their seats. To steady himself, Crowley placed his hands on the table to stop his chair from falling backward. Aziraphale merely slid back into his chair with his proper grace as always, as if nothing had happened. Crowley eyed his calmness for a moment before turning to the entryway.

The waiter turned just as he came in, revealing a silver tray of their next meal, steaming through the air. He paced coyly through the parlor before settling at the table and placing both dishes accordingly, albeit Aziraphale's with more care. He then stuttered backward before presenting the dishes with a gesture.

“For our next entree, we have a Cornish Turbot, a white flatfish with a pistachio herb sauce.” He then keenly leaned over to Azira’s side. “Now, may I know what you gentlemen will have for your drinks?” Once again, Crowley gave that pertinent nod.

“We’ll do a Shannon Ridge Chardonnay, please.” He smiled.

“Excellent choice, sir.” He said, making an effort in speech, as he closed his eyes and rolled his head in agreement. He then straightened his posture and took the empty dishes, glasses, and the bottle before exiting the room.

“He has a wondrous schedule that one…” Crowley said unabashedly. Azira only looked at him annoyingly and uninterested, but then his eyes calmed as he thought of his next question.

“How about your favorite?” Crowley looked at him confusedly.

“Sorry?” Azira fixed himself up better.

“It’s no lie that Teddy was one of my absolute favorites, so how about yours?” He stared at him curiously. “Who was your favorite?”

“Well, it would have to be Evera…” Crowley answered quickly, with only a few seconds passing from the question.

“Why so much?” Crowley looked at him disinterestedly.

“You really have to ask that Angel?” Aziraphale smiled, as he knew it was a stupid question. He subtly played with his hair and fixed himself as any prideful angel would do, emerging from Crowley a soft sigh.

“She did have such beauty…” Azira the stopped as he gazed at him seriously. “Tell me, how did you find her, Crowley?” The demon only surveyed the floor as he spoke.

“I was walking through the streets of Kalundborg one morning, in December, at Christmas. It was 1845 in Denmark at the time…”

Gazing at the intricate pebble marbling, Crowley kept walking through town as he sauntered vaguely through the streets unknowingly, before a figure stepped before him. He looked up, and he saw a young girl about the age of eight with a box of matches in her hands. As he saw her, she lightly swayed her dirty blonde hair aside, before asking him.

“Please, sir, would you like to buy a match?” He stayed quiet. “There only a penny each, sir, so if you could please spare a-…” He continued to look at her. She wore nothing but a light, stained dress with a dark blue apron, as her shoeless feet continued to turn slightly blue while resting in the snow. He also admired the same features he had come to know so well with Aziraphale; the pale skin, fine hair, and then the blue eyes.

“-You look like an angel, my dear…” He confessed. The young girl smiled at the remark.

“-Oh, thank you, sir.” She still stayed in front of him, which then made him click in on what she was trying to do. He reached into his pocket and brought out a few half-pennies and passed them to her.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” She then reached into the apron of her dress to bring out the matches, but Crowley halted her before she did.

“You needn’t do that, my dear, you can keep it…” With that, he walked away, leaving her alone once again in the cold. However, pleased that she finally sold something, she held the coins close to her chest as she ran back to her father at their dwelling place. It was through the alleyways and turns she went, knowing these routes by heart, until eventually reaching an open quarter with nothing but a metal sheet roof she saw an older man with light brown hair, who was her father.

“Dad. Dad!” The older man looked up. She held the coin aloft in her hand, excitedly. “I finally sold a few matches!” The man looked at her interestingly, but when she ran to him, and outstretched her hands to show the coins she had gotten from the buyer. She only turned her head upward as she smiled, when suddenly she fell backward. The men had kicked her square in her stomach, knocking her down.

“This! This is what you bring after a whole morning of selling?” He said while clutching the money in his hands. Meanwhile, the girl only scrunched herself together, struggling to get up as he yelled at her. “We can barely buy bread for two people as it is!” He then threw the coins on the ground. “You useless-” He kicked her. “God-forsaken!” He punched her on the ground. “Bitch!” He kicked her again. “-Just like your mother!” -And with that, he dropped his hands at her, and left her on the ground, while she stayed still, covering herself. When she had felt he was far enough away from her, she slowly got up and gathered the coins from the icy floor, before turning back to her father.

“I’ll go back to, to- town dad…” She then placed the money in her apron. “I’ll, I’ll get more!” She said painstakingly. “I'll bring more…” -And with that, she left back through the alleyways and turns, back to the town square. It was early evening now, with the sun begging to set, but she knew she couldn't return barely empty-handed again, or else the beatings would only come again. So she continued to sell her wares, but as the hours passed, eventually it became night, and barely anyone was out, and getting colder. She gradually began to lean towards walking near the open shops on the pavement. However, as Christmas evening came, so did the shops' lights go out, and families slowly retreated back into the homes of their homes and began sitting at their tables filled with all sorts of delectables. There was roast geese, duck, ham, potatoes, glazed carrots, yams, sauces of all flavors and colors, and even desserts like meringue pies and tarts, like earthly jewels on shined plates of brass and silver, glittering in the candlelight.

Desperate to get a closer peek, she placed her hands on the freezing iron of the outer house's window and continued to watch. Her fingers couldn't even feel the difference between the pole and the air. It wasn’t until the family had finished, and they started going into the living room out of sight, that she turned away from the window. She looked at her hands, which were almost numbed with cold, but then had a small thought.

“A match!” She cried. Slowly, she retired back to one of the small alleyways and hid the back of one as she began to slowly take out a single match. She then ripped the match against the brick wall she sat at, and almost immediately, the whole area turned into a giant warm light. How beautiful it looked, and how bright! And then, without warning, around her the area started to transform, and all of a sudden, she found herself in a small, quaint kitchen, with glistening pans and bounties of game and seasonings hanging from the ceiling, with a giant hearth-like fireplace roaring in front of her. She watched in rapture as the fire burned with such blessed influence and warmed her so delightfully, but then the small flame went out, and with it the stove and everything else vanished, and she had only the remains of the burnt-out match in her hand.

She rubbed another against the wall: At first it burned brightly, but then calmed, and where the light fell on the wall, there the wall became transparent like a veil, so that she could see into the room. On the table was spread a snow-white tablecloth, and upon it was a splendid porcelain service, and the roast goose was steaming famously with its stuffing of apple and dried plums. And what was still more capital to behold was, the goose hopped down from the dish, reeled about on the floor with knife and fork in its breast, till it came up to the poor little girl, trying to make her laugh; but then—the match went out and nothing but the thick, cold, damp wall was left behind.

She lit another match. Now, she was sitting under the most magnificent Christmas tree: larger and more decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door in the rich merchant’s house earlier. Upon it, thousands of lights were burning on the green branches, and gaily colored pictures, such as she had seen in the shop windows, looked down upon her. The little maiden stretched out her hands towards them when the match went out. The lights of the Christmas tree rose higher and higher; she saw them now as stars in heaven, and soon they disappeared into the black. She looked aimlessly at the floor while tears flowed from her eyes. Although no longer cold, she grabbed the rest of the matches from her apron, desperate to see another vision. Quickly, she struck them against the wall, lighting up the entire area, but when she glanced around was surprised to see only the slim arches of black feathers curling around her. She followed their ridges till she saw a black suit and looked upward, where she saw the same hatted man who gave her the coins this morning, giving her a gentle smile.

When she saw him, she flinched slightly as she was spooked by the revelation, but he put out his hands lightly to calm her. She relaxed. He then looked downwards, where he brought out his arm, and as she followed his gaze, as if from his flesh itself, a bright small fire burst forth from the palm of his hand. She gasped at the sight of it, and then, without warning, the wall of feathers, which then turned out to be his wing, lowered slightly and revealed the cold outside; that was renewed with freshly fallen snow. She shivered slightly when the breeze hit her, he noticed, and so, removing his jacket, placed it upon her shoulders. She clutched it closer to her, appreciatively. Then, asking for her hand, he lightly raised them both up until they stood beside each other. Now, up she could get a better glimpse of his wings and suit, which were glazed with a beautiful white; she turned up towards him. he seemed to be lowering them slightly. Then, raising his wings, with one fell swoop, they both shot into the air; and the power of the flap sent all the snow covering his clothing and his wings, off, revealing the same outfit and wings as dark as the night.

Chapter Text

“She thought you were an angel…” Azira said quietly.

“How can you tell?” Aziraphale looked at him as if it were obvious.

“Look at the way she trusted you, and took your hand almost immediately…” He sighed sadly. “She was ready to leave…” Crowley’s eyes sank downward.

“Yeah… I think she was..." Murmured the demon softly.

The next day, Evera awoke slightly confused, for instead of white pillars and vacant spaces of sky and cloud, she saw the sheeted canopy of red fabric and duvets of coarse wool and silk upon her. She sat up whilst still holding a bit of the blanket in her hand, then she noticed her skin, unblemished and untouched; then her hair, which shone brighter than it ever had. She then untucked herself so she could sit up on the floor, to which she saw herself clad in a beautiful long-sleeved nightgown made of white satin and lace. At first, in awe of its beauty, she then closed it much like a robe as she decided to get out of bed and look around. The room she was in had dark blue walls, with a black painted trim, and a roof that was pure white with golden stars painted frivolously on it. She followed its splendor to the furniture around the room. In the left corner, sat a standing golden mirror, with a decorated folding panel splayed out idly beside it; to the right, a closet and multiple dressers sat white and furnished with gold ornaments; her bed sat cornily in the back right of the diamond shaped room, standing tall and hidden by its sweeping drapery; in the middle of the room sat a plain dark blue couch with black wood detailing, and a few stools and tables for anything of light leisure.

“I wonder who owns this room?” She asked, amazed. Then, turning towards the entryway, she opened the door slightly before glancing outward. Then, upon opening it, she heard light chatter and voices coming from down the stairs; so, deciding to follow it, she held her coat tight against her and stepped out onto the hallway rug as she lightly walked through the bare corridor and down the stairs, while she admired the house's beauty.

When she finally happened to find the room where the voices were coming from, it led her to an open archway, where she shyly peeked from behind a wall, to where two men sat at opposing ends of a small table, where, between them, was the largest breakfast she'd ever seen. One of the men who sat on the right was a taller man, wearing full black, who currently had his face covered by the newspaper he was reading. The other man gazed languidly at a collection of papers he had sitting on the table, with one of his hands holding a fork with a speared sausage on it, taking a bite and then chewing it for a period, every once in a while. She looked at the men curiously before the man on the left spoke up.

“Any news with hell then?” The other man merely flicked his paper.

“You think?” He then set it down, and her face dropped.

“Half the damn place is on fire down there!” It was the same man who gave her the money from that other day, and the same man who flew her up to heaven. She backed away from the archway in shock, and as she did, the floor creaked. They both turned towards the noise. Anthony looked more skeptical and got up to check, but Crowley only calmed him with a nonchalant wave of his hand and shook his head. “If that’s you, little match girl, feel free to come out, it’s alright…” He then turned to the table. “We have… -pretty much everything here, if you like it?” Anthony looked confusedly at Crowley, and then back at the wall adjacent to the archway. Evera, thinking not to delay any further, slowly walked out from behind the wall, holding her arm in front of her, and looking down at the floor. As soon as she came out, Anthony dropped his fork, slack-eyed and mouth open, and turned to Crowley, shocked.

“WHAT-” Anthony screamed.

“Oh, so you didn't tell him?” Aziraphale said, interestedly.

“Nope.” He then gestured with his hand. “Therefore, reason for surprise…”

“How did he take it?”

“Uhhhhhh….”

“What the fuck?” He pointed to the girl and then at Crowley. “Are you kidding me?” He was about to blow up at Crowley when the girl quietly asked.

“Um, excuse me?” They both quietly turned towards her. “This isn't heaven, is it?” Anthony started to turn to Crowley, who was already growing upset as the quick flash of a smile shone upon the younger man’s face.

“Suuuuree-” said Anthony sarcastically. “That is, if hell is your heaven.” Crowley quickly hit his arm on the table, causing him to laugh painfully as he turned back to him.

“Ignore him, my dear.” He then stood up and dusted off whatever dirt may have been on his coat. “You're still very much alive, my child…” I just brought you to my house after I saw you freezing during the night…” He then realized how that might sound bad. “I thought you might die, a- and I never meant to harm you in any way if I did!” -But she only hushed him with a soft wave of her hand.

“Y- you don’t have to apologize, sir.” She then bowed her head. “I thank you; I don’t think I would have made it too much longer if it weren't for you…” She then looked up at him, remembering the wings he had, but not seeing them now, she thought it was just a near-death delusion. “If you can tell me where my clothes are, I will leave your house immediately if you wish…” -But Crowley only immediately took her hand as she gently turned away.

“Oh, no-no-no if you wish, you can stay here for as long as you’d like…” He then turned her towards the table, gesturing for her to sit down. “Sit, -sit.” He the guided her to an empty chair and allowed her to get comfortable, before getting her a plate and utensils so that she could get whatever she liked. As he did this, he walked by Anthony, who only stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You're being awfully kind this morning-” He stopped on his foot in retaliation, which only left a pained hum coming from Anthony’s mouth. “Hmm…”

As he placed the plate in front of her and handed over a few utensils, the young lady gave such a slight smile and a shy thank you, which even made Anthony’s heart twist. Crowley then went back to his seat and sat down before picking up his paper again and shielding his face from the crowd. Anthony, too, went back to reading his papers and eating his food.

The young girl thankful for what the man had done, as well as not wanting to be a rude house guest, got a bit of everything, which included, johnny cakes, catfish, apple tarts; blueberry scones; cherry dumplings; sausage links; ham steaks; eggs; bread; porridge; and even a side of various cut fruit. When she finally got her plate together, even though she took only a little bit from each offering, it still piled mildly high on her own. So now, wanting to get a drink, she reached for the pitcher closest to her, right when Anthony also reached his hand over as well. She quickly took her hand back and apologized for getting in the way, but Anthony only rolled his eyes and went past the pitcher to get a jug of what looked like spiced wine. Crowley looked at him disappointedly as he did this.

“I swear to god you're worse than me sometimes…” Anthony only laughed as he filled his glass to the brim.

“It’s what you get for offering it as a job well done when I was younger!” He then put down the jug and took a sip of the red liquid from his glass, sloshing it around in his mouth before letting out a long sigh. He then turned to Crowley and gave him a solid ‘okay’ sign. “Beautifully done!” He said. “Nicely miracled…” With that, Crowley let out a soft laugh before going back to his paper. She didn’t understand what he meant miracled, but still found the phrase at the very least charming nonetheless.

Turning back to her plate, she took her first bite of the blueberry scone, and almost cried; it was the best thing she had tasted in years. She then started eating in earnest, putting whatever landed on the fork into her mouth, then letting out a sigh as she tasted more and more of the delicious flavors that came to her. “Who cooks here?” She asked.

Anthony decided to answer. “He does!” Nodding to Crowley across the table, the demon put down his paper to look at him confusedly. “-More or less…” He said. With that, Crowley did a quick quirk movement with his head before going back to the article. He flipped another page in the newspaper, but then, seeing it was the last one, he set it down and then sporadically pointed at Anthony.

“-This week; Saturday; opera house; most likely a bar temptation.” Anthony smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Let’s go!” After that, only then did Crowley start grabbing a few of the treats across the table, taking the spiced wine from Anthony, as well as a few assorted meats from various plates. She looked between them both, and even though she didn't understand a majority of what they were talking about, she enjoyed the chaos nonetheless. She smiled slightly as she drank a sip of her water. A realization then dawned on her.

“I just realized I don't know any of your names!” Anthony looked at Crowley like he was going to hit him.”

“Oh, I'm sorry!” Crowley then placed his hand on his chest. “My name is Crowley.” He then pointed to the other man, who smiled presently. “-And his name is Anthony.” He looked at him tiredly. “A pain in the ass.” The other man's smile fell. “What's your name, my dear?”

“Oh! It's Evera! E-VARE-UH,” she sounded out simply. Crowley then leaned back, interestingly as he thought of the name.

‘Eve-vare-ah,’ He said in his head. “Well,” he turned to Anthony. “It’s a beautiful name…”

Chapter Text

“I really shouldn’t stay any longer!” Evera said as she tied her now clean and mended apron around her, from last night. “I’m thankful for both your hospitalities really, but I must go back to my father now!” As she said this Crowley's eyes only worriedly looked down upon the ground, but realizing he couldn't force her to stay, He relented.

“May I at least walk you back to your abode?” He asked with a small shy smile. At first, she put her hands up in a ‘Oh no! It’s okay’ fashion but truthfully feeling as if she didn't want to be alone, she allowed him to accompany her.

As they walked back into town, she couldn't help but let her eyes linger on the shop windows, Litten up with the morning sun. Crowley noticed this and slightly detoured from the main road to walk closer past them.

“See something you like?” She woke up out of her absent-minded gaze.

“Oh, no I wasn’t-” She turned to the shop window seeing the dark blue ball dress, and her eyes revealed otherwise. Her face softened. “-It is pretty…” Crowley smiled slightly.

“Would you like me to buy it for you?” She quickly stopped the idea.

“No, no no no, please! You've done plenty enough for me already…” She started walking quicker through the streets, until she came to the same spot she had been on that one dreadful night, she glinted at the familiar area that still ice melting upon it, but she then turned to the memorable pathways she had grown accustomed to. So, through the stretch ways she hurriedly ran, until she got to the open area, where her father usually resides, but as she looked around, she saw not a single soul.

“My father might have left-” She turned to Crowley. “-He might be looking for me in the town square!" Crowley only gazed at the ground, while she ran back to the town square, and went around looking for him. At this moment it would almost seem in coincidence that Crowley would walk up to a specific gentleman, when he asked the question.

“Do you know what happened to Ruthran Black?” He asked. Evera stopped in her tracks as she gazed at him.

The shopkeeper turned to him surprised, before looking remorseful. “The lad had a bill tab stretched out for miles, when he came in again last night, it was only fitting the whole club ganged up on him” He then laughed. “I don’t think we'll see the bastard for years!”

“Do you think he forgot anything?” The owner looked at him annoyingly.

“How should I know?” With that he returned to his work.

The answer given, Crowley only inclined his head towards Evera's way, but not seeing her there, he frantically turned around, before beginning to look for her. It would seem coincidence, that he'd found her in the same alley she was that night, but not wanting to reveal himself yet, he stayed quiet. As Evera sat with her long hair blanketing her arms and chest, and covering her face, as she sat in the same snow filled corner, she didn't even glance upward, when she heard footsteps approaching. Then feeling the recognizable movement of a larger body sitting next to her, she scooted slightly giving him room. Crowley glanced upwards at her, from his seat in the snow, before returning to his hands, and watching them slowly be covered in ice.

“I thought he'd at least bring me…” She spoke.

“Well, it was the coldest evening of the year…” He turned around. “Perhaps he thought you were already safe-”

“You don't need to sugar coat it!” She said upsetly. “I know what he did…” She said, looking at the others man shoes. “I also know what you did…” Crowley leaned his head toward her. “You were there to take me away…” She then furrowed her brow as she remembered. “I thought I must have been dreaming, but I know I wasn’t…” She pointed her hands at him. “I know I wasn’t!” She then looked across at the shops despairingly. “Why. -Why did you help me?”

“I already told you-” He looked off into the distance at the shops too. “You reminded me of an angel…” That seemed to answer the question enough.

“So, what will I do now?” Crowley clicked his tongue.

“Well, you have two choices now really…” She looked toward him. “I can send you on your way with some money, and-” He looked at her up and then down. “-some better clothes for winter, and you can go wherever it is you want to go…” He looked at her for a second and then returned back to the distant shops. “Or you can come live with me and Anthony, and we’ll try to help whichever way we can…” He then waved his hand frivily. “Anthony was like you as well and now look at him!” He shrugged. “Bastards a better demon than me.” It sounded harsh but his face showed he thought of him quite fondly.

“So you are a demon then?”

“Guilty…” He said lightly. “For the both of us really…” She then turned to the floor.

“I, -I don't want to be alone anymore…” She carefully fiddled with her hands. “I wouldn't want to go by myself I think…” Crowley turned to her surprised.

“So, you would stay then?” At first, she stayed questionably quiet, but as she thought more of her situation; it wasn't like she had a choice anyway.

“Yeah…” She nodded to him. “I'd like to stay…” Crowley's face lit up before drawing her in to a hug, close to him. At first, she was confused, but then lightly placed her hands around his back on his shoulder blades.

“That’s wonderful!” He said, as he unhugged her to gently grasp her by the arms. “Absolutely wonderful!” He said drawing her in again. “Thank you! Thank you for letting me help you Angel…” His eyes then widened as he remembered and quickly drew back from her. “I'll have to tell Anthony immediately!”

“He doesn’t know?” She asked confusedly.

“Nope!” He got up and raised her along with him. “-But don’t worry! I think he's guessed already…”

After they walked back, and opened the door to the house, Anthony stood directly Infront of the entryway with his arms crossed and staring intently at Crowley, but as he looked at the young Evera again, he couldn't keep his steady face. He turned back to Crowley.

“I hope you know what you're getting yourself into…” Crowley only smirked.

“Did I not learn with you?” Anthony looked to the ground.

“Touche…” With that he cleared the pathway allowing them to walk wherever it is they needed to go. Slowly the two of them walked together, up the stairs until the hit the same room Evera woke up that very morning.

“This will be your room Evera…” He lightly backed away from her, as he spoke. “I hope you like it…” He then explained. “If you'd like any changes, always feel free to ask me!” He turned around. “For right now just rest, and we’ll continue this talk in the morning, but just remember!” He slightly yelled this as he clicked his shoes upon the stairs. “Id do anything!”

Chapter Text

At the Ritz, Crowley carefully picked up his hat from the floor, brushing it off and placing it on his head, before giving it a firm two-finger tap at the top, so it stayed on. He then turned to Azira as he began to fix his tie and apparel. “From that day forward, she was my child…” He then smiled lightly as he glanced distantly to the side, past Aziraphale. “How beautiful your sandaled feet, O’ princess daughter!” He continued, “-Enclosed in jewels are your graceful legs, the work of an artist’s hands. Your navel is a rounded goblet that never lacks blended wine. Your waist is a mound of wheat encircled by brilliant lilies.” His smile then fell as his gaze lowered to the ground. “You used to read that story to me all the time when you picked up your Bibles…” Azira's eyes turned to the table solemnly.

“How did it happen, Crowley?” The angel looked at him desperately. “How did she become like us? Tell me again, a thousand times again!”

To say Evera had Crowley wrapped around her finger was an understatement. As Anthony sat outside the local tailoring shop, he couldn't help but look in through the open curtains as his father and sister danced around the boutique. Evera, now seventeen, stood on the leveled patio of the bridal suite, admiring the multiple dresses and coats her and her father had picked out. At this moment, she wore a dark blue lace and silk long dress, with long sleeves and a chest piece with see-through fabric, to say it was a knockout. She turned and frilled the dress slightly as she twirled.

“What do you think, Dad?” On the couch adjacent to the mirrors, looking intently, was Crowley. Who, admiring her from afar, sat comfortably while a cacophony of multiple parcels and tote bags lay around him.

“Absolutely beautiful, my dear!” She smiled before looking back at the mirrors.

“You really think so?” She then looked at the multiple bags and boxes beside him. “-But I have already gotten so much!” Crowley quickly got up to hush her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” He placed his arm around her as he guided them back to the dressing rooms. “It’s not every day a young lady turns seventeen, now, is it?” He then closed the door behind her as she changed back into her regular clothing. Now alone, he went to the multiple shop assistants and thanked them for their time; however, most degreed to him that for his lovely daughter, it was no fuss at all, besides the point of her also being one of their best clients. Then, walking to the register, he paid by only bringing out a thick wad of cash and placed it on the table before leaving. “-Just a little extra tip for everyone!”

As Evera came out of the dressing room, even in a medium length fur coat; with leggings and Chelsea boots, she looked like sheer royalty, but as her gaze met up with her father; her actions said anything just, as she quickly helped to gather the bags, carrying a few of the boxes with her as well. Crowley, of course, resisted the idea, but he could never brace the beautiful face of kindness.

As they walked out Anthony saw them and quickly ran over to help with anything they may need, and slowly got closer to his dad, as they walked. Crowley, noticing this, slowly leaned closer to him, readying himself for that air of sarcasm.

“She’s got you at beck and call, dad…” Crowley only rolled his eyes.

“No, she doesn’t…” He then turned towards him fully. “It's only right I spoil her on her birthday; besides, don’t you remember yours?” He questioned. At the remark, Anthony drew back quickly from him; after all, he was right.

“Perhaps you have a point…”

When they finally got to the house, with a well-done miraculous apparition, if Crowley did say so himself. They all helped to move Evera's things back to her expanse, which, when they were done, caused the entire space to be covered in multiple arrays of cellophane and filler paper, all thrown around the room.

Exhausted, Anthony threw himself on the couch in the living room as he listened to the light speech upstairs.

“Thanks, Dad, really! Thanks for all of this…” She threw her eyes around the room, looking at all the purchases.

“Oh-” Crowley went closer to her and placed his arms on her shoulders. “No need to thank me, my dear, your mere presence is enough for me…” He then quickly turned around the arm as he spoke. “Now, I'm sure you have a lot of cleaning you have to do, as well as sorting, so I'll leave you to it, my dear!” He then looked at her before exiting the room. “-And then perhaps after dinner, and when your brother falls asleep, -you and I can go for a fly like the old times…” Evera looked at him kindly.

“That would be wonderful, dad, thank you…” With that last line replaying in Crowley's head, he practically skipped his way to the living room, nearly tripping over Anthony's perfectly placed feet near the doorway. As Crowley quickly got cut off from his joy, from his sons' pranking, he turned to look at him.

“I never knew why you liked her so much…” Anthony said curiously.

“No? Well, I would think it is quite obvious at this point…” He then turned to the part of the house where she resided, as if he could see her through the walls, flittering about putting everything away. “It’s multiple things, I think…” Anthony tilted his head in wonder.

“Well, come on, tell me.” Crowley looked at him wordlessly before he finally relented.

“She just, -reminds me of Azira a lot…”

“A lot?” Anthony asked as he brought out a bottle from underneath the table and two glasses.

“The way she speaks, acts-” He then turned to him in wondrous abandon. “-even how other people react to her.” He realized, slowly turning towards the glass set in front of him. “It’s all just like him…”

“How so?” He said, filling up the glass.

“The reckless thought of only good, the gentleness, the quickness to help-” He sighed. “It's all there…” Anthony only looked at him with half-lidded eyes and a bored expression.

“I think you're seeing things, Dad…” He said while pouring the rest of the bottle into his glass.

“No, I'm not!” He said, banging his hand on the table. Anthony only looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, even if it is real, what does it mean?” Crowley found himself unable to answer the question.

As dinner concluded, mainly with Anthony going up to his room to lie down, after mixing wine and rice. It left Crowley and Evera to have a little father/daughter time.

“How has your birthday been so far, my dear?” Evera let out a little laugh, as she was also a little tipsy herself.

“Even better than the year before, especially that cake!” Evera savored the memory; German chocolate with coconut and a caramel fudge, it was brilliant, as well as the rest of the meal, really as she recalled it, with ham and pork being the main dishes, as sides of sauteed vegetables and pasta dishes like carbonara and penne, or Ravioli Burro e Salvia also played their part. She then looked up at him curiously. “-But I think you had other plans in mind?”

“I do…” He said sheepishly. “I thought you and I could go to the moon lake tonight, and watch the swans like we used to when you were younger…” He then said to see her reaction. “-And maybe go for a flight up in the clouds…” She smiled at the thought of it and quickly, although ungracefully, got up to go there, but Crowley slowed her down. “Let's wait a few more minutes for the floor to return, though!” He said while laughing. -And so they waited a little while.

Yet as they finally started to walk to the lake, Evera began to think back on all the times they had been together. Their first meeting in the alleyway, their first breakfast, and even that first meeting with Anthony! She laughed quietly to herself. -But when they reached the water, she turned to Crowley, and at that moment, with the moon, her hair showed a brighter white than it ever had before, but then it dimmed as she turned back to the forest.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Crowley asked stupidly, still stunned by her beauty. She looked back from behind them, her face still wracked by an unknown expression.

“Yeah, I'm fine, I just… thought I heard something…” She then looked at the swans as they carefully swam through the lily pads and cattails, then looked at the little cygnets that followed them. Her face turned sadder as she looked at the reflection of the moon.

“What's wrong, Evera?”

“Just thinking…”

“About what?”

“My dad…” She paused. “My old dad.” She sighed. “There are times when I think of my life now and then before, and I can’t understand why he hated me so much.” She turned to Crowley carefully. “I wasn’t bad, was I?” Crowley looked at her seriously.

“My dear, we have talked about this and will continue to, your father wasn’t worthy of you…” He too turned towards the water. “Even I'm not worthy of you-” However, his message was cut short, as he quickly turned to look behind him.

“Dad, what's wrong?” He said nothing, only stared intently for a long while, and then, with a bursting jump, his wings spread out, and he leapt to the forest floor, where he had someone pinned to the ground.

“Name, badge number, ring, and rank! Now!” The character beneath him squirmed.

“Eric!” He whined. “I'm from the Pride ring! Badge number 25697! I'm -an elemental demon!”

“What the hell are you doing here then?” Crowley hissed.

“Shax sent me for you! You missed an old ruse a few weeks ago, and I was sent to talk with you about it!” Crowley slowly leaned forward, putting more weight on his arm, so it choked him. “I swear that's all!”

“Damn Shax!” As Crowley was distracted, Eric looked up to see Evera before him, a few steps away.

“Why is an angel here?” Eric asked, confused, catching Crowley off guard, as he looked back, the demon quickly sent a blast of fire at him straight in the chest, knocking him back. He then walked straight up to Evera and only grazed her cheek before Crowley hauled him to the ground. “Who is she?” Eric demanded.

“None of your business!” Crowley yelled, pinning him down by his hands and legs. Then with a flash, Eric's hands became claws, and his face contorted as he lunged at Crowley, overriding him with sheer strength alone. Evera could only watch in horror as her father lay before him, but then as Eric grabbed his hair, forcing his neck to be revealed and raising his hand, making the claws appear longer. She only yelled a quiet-

“-No!” Before the air around her turned static and a blaring white flashed the entire forest. Eric came to a halt on the ground as she forced him down on the floor. Evera the turned to look at Crowley, who sat unmoving in the forest land. She then turned back to the demon, who could only look in awe. “What did you do to him?” She screamed at him. “What did you do!!?!”

“I-” Not giving an answer, or unable to, Evera threw him, before glancing at Crowley and then back to him once again, and grabbing him by the cuff of his shirt. “You come around here again, and I'll kill you; you show your face around here again and I'll kill you; You even look at us again and I'll make sure to bathe the very star-way in your blood!” She yelled at him. “You understand!!?!!” He only nodded. So she let him go, and he immediately ran off to some distant land. She turned back to her father, still lying motionless on the ground.

“Oh! Dad!” She started sobbing and lay down beside him. As she cried, she slowly wrapped herself around him, and with it, didn't even notice the white wings behind her, curling around them both as well.

“What on earth happened to you?” Aziraphale asked worriedly.

“I-I got knocked out, I suppose! -All I remember is one second being beneath him and then the next, found myself wrapped up in white…” He then breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought I bloody died!”

“Why do you think you were knocked out?”

“I don't know. -but I remember right when that flash of light hit, it was like all the power in the entire vicinity just- surged!” He looked around, all wide-eyed. “Aziraphale, I-I felt as if I got struck by lightning!”

“What about her? What happened when you woke up?”

“She was, of course, relieved to see me alive, -but when I saw her, I couldn't believe my eyes!” He stared into Azira's soul. “She looked just like you! Her hair was long and white.” He almost relented. “Her skin was as pale as the moon, bright as the sun!” He looked over his shoulder. “-And her wings! They were yours, I know they were!” He just gazed open-mouthed at the ground. “She couldn't believe her eyes!”

Chapter Text

As Crowley and Aziraphale sat silently in their private quarter of the restaurant, it was only when Azira decided to speak up that the waiter came bounding in joyfully.

“Gentlemen.” He said, pertaining to the both of them. “We have reached the first half of our course, and so there will be a light break, of refreshments and delicacies to refine your palate, and then after, we will continue with the standard procedure.” He then clapped his hands, and another server came in with a trolley, carrying a steaming kettle of tea, as well as some light finger foods. Azira bowed his head in a silent thank you to both of the men before turning back to Crowley, ignoring the servers. The waiter from before looked mildly displeased at being ignored, but then relented before calmly leaving the room.

“Were halfway done already…” Azira only nodded.

“If I’m correct, this next story is about our Apocalypse…” Crowley only gazed at him remorsefully .

”I’m sorry…”

“I know…”

It was 1948. Crowley was walking through London station, near one of the trains, when he suddenly found himself surrounded by a great cloud of black smoke. When it vanished, he was no longer in the terminal but in Beelzebub's room, with her sitting boredly in front of him.

He bowed to her. “Lord Beelzebub.”

“Crowley.” She then hopped down from her seat on the desk. “I’ve come bearing some news regarding a new threat in your area…”

“Yes, my lord?” She turned to him suddenly.

“The angel Aziraphale, he's been seen deployed in the same area as you are in London.” She took a quick breath. “Some demons are even speculating he might even have an emissary there…” Crowley didn't react to this, as he already knew, but continued listening. “My orders were to only warn you of this threat, as well as inform you to be prepared if he starts messing with any of your tidings.” She then turned to him questionably. “It's a miracle he hasn't encountered you yet…”

“Isn’t it just?” He said tiredly, but before Beelzebub could send him on his way, he couldn't stop his curiosity. “You wouldn't happen to know where he's been seen last, would you?” Beelzebub looked at him strangely. “So I know where to avoid him, of course.”

“To my knowledge, no.” She then let out the rest of her words in a sigh as she turned swiftly on her heel. “-But my guess is never too far…” With that, the smoke came back and cleared right in front of him, leaving him in the same place as before by the train. At first, he choked on the harsh fumes, but then, grasping his throat, he continued further.

‘So he's in the area.’ He thought. The demon smiled and began walking with a bit more pep in his step. Although Crowley had access to Aziraphale as he knew where he lived, meeting up at the bookshop was too dangerous and would definitely cause suspicion. So often, they just played the waiting game, hoping for the day they could see each other face to face, giving them an excuse to talk.

It was at this moment that a crowd of people came out of a recently halted train, rushing to and fro-, with their bags and luggage. As the passengers got off, other ticketers quickly relished at the opportunity to find their seats on the transport. While people hurriedly went past each other, mists of white steam came blinding through the air like a dream. As one of the currents went past Crowley's eyes, he scrunched them painfully before opening them again, and through the corner of his eyes, seeing the distant white apparel he had become used to so well. As if struck by magic, he unknowingly put his hands on two separate people's shoulders, trying to get a better look at the distant character. Upon realizing his mistake, he quickly apologized, but started sifting through the crowd at double the pace. His careful ways quickly turned more desperate and serious, the closer and closer he got to the being enclosed in white.

As he rounded the last trolley, led carefully by an office official near the head of the train, between the distant caricatures of people walking past, and the steam still whispering through the air, Aziraphale stood still, donned in his white overcoat and matching long-brimmed hat. He carried himself introspectively with gloved hands, reading a small ticket card, but then, as if he knew, turned left to see Crowley staring intently at him, and gave a bright smile.

“Aren’t you going to say Hello?” Crowley shyly moved forward as he slowly walked up to him.

“Hello.” With his reply, the train's horn blazed through the station, and the wheels started churning towards the next destination. “I hope I didn't just let you miss your ride…”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, don't worry, it's not a train I have to catch…” Crowley's eyes fell towards the ground.

“Well, were you on your way back at least?”

“Actually I was on my way out. I still live here.” He then gazed absent-mindedly at the departing train. “It was a surprise when I saw you, but I thought I should at least stop to say ‘Hello…’” The demon looked a bit sad at the response.

“Well, I hope I didn't have to secretly bend your arm to get you to stay…” Aziraphale’s face softened at the response.

“No…” He gently uttered to him. “I'm very glad to see you, Crowley…” The demon only sputtered a few single breaths before ultimately nodding slightly to Aziraphale. He then asked.

“Do you still act?” Hinting at their last meetup in 1941. Azira only rolled his eyes.

“At the palace now, actually…” He teased, then placed his eyes upon the ground as he remembered. “I've made some progress since I acted in the theatre among the soldiers and the British GIs.” He then perked his eyebrow as he looked at Crowley with the next line. “Maybe you can spy on me sometime, if you'd like…” He then lifted his brow. “-If you have time.”

Crowley simply smiled at him, all glitter-eyed. “Every night-” -And for once, Azira seemed speechless, just staring at Crowley with soft blue eyes. Then all of a sudden, a voice cut through the angelic and demonic realm.

“Crowley-” Aziraphale seemed to know that it was time for them to leave. “Crowley!” The demon turned back towards Aziraphale.

“Well, go on, Crowley!” He lightly laughed. “It seems mother is calling you!~”

With the reply, the demon only nodded to Azira slightly before leaving, but Azira grasped him slightly by the arm. “It is good to see you, Crowley…” -And with that, he left. As the demon watched him leave, till he completely disappeared out of sight, he only said two words.

“-My pleasure…”

As he answered the demonic summoning from Hastur, he annoyingly got up from the pentagram circle on the floor, sighing at him as he looked up.

“Did you really have to do this right now?”

“Yes, Crowley, in fact, I did.” Replied Hastur.

“If this is about the angel Aziraphale and me being in the same area…” He breathed painfully as he got up. “I already know!” He then took a last deep breath. “I just met him!”

“No, im afraid it's more serious than that, Crowley.” He then walked closer to him as he grinned precariously. “Something's… up!”

“What’s up?”

“Up, up!” Hastur then turned to the balcony of the house they were in, and slowly looked down at the oversea of hell. It was nighttime, and all the buildings were shown with a hellfire light. “Apparently, there's news of unlisted angels on earth…” He then turned back to Crowley. “-And unlisted demons!”

“How's that possible? -Aren’t we all accounted for when we fall?” Hastur shook his head.

“That's what I thought as well, but this is something even I can't explain.” He turned back to the night air. “At first I thought maybe it was you or one of the other demons being mistaken, but… angels?” He looked seriously towards the prince's tower. “Heaven doesn't fuck up that badly…”

“Why are you telling me this?” Hastur looked at him, surprised.

“Oh, come on, Crowley, you've been on earth longer than any of us, nearly six thousand years!” He walked back up to him. “-If anyone can figure out this mess it's you.” He then turned away while snapping his fingers, lighting up the summoning ring again. “Besides, I'm in for a hefty promotion if I happen to help the finder of it…” He grinned at him. “-And you know how much I hate the dirty work!” Crowley rolled his eyes as he turned away.

“You can have it!” He then jumped on the circle and fell through the floor.

When he awoke lying on the station floor, he looked up to see an array of worried faces surrounding him and asking him if he was okay.

“Do I look okay?” He yelled angrily as he got up. Then, standing upright, he quickly walked away from the commotion, but as the noise died down and silence came, he could only think of two things. One, Azira. Two, his children. Although he reasoned eventually Heaven and Hell would discover the energies of a growing angel and demon, he didn't expect it to be this quick. It also didn't help his cause with Aziraphale, who was just as much in danger as he was. As he thought, suddenly he found himself much more aware of the potential threat this might bring.

As he came upon his flat in Mayfair, he only needed to signal the front desk with a wave before he walked up the stairs to the second floor, before miraculously opening the door and letting himself inside. As he entered from the couch, Evera happily looked up at him, with a copy of Pride & Prejudice in her hands. Anthony only took a glimpse upward at him before bringing his eyes back down to a comic he was reading himself.

“Hey, Dad!” Evera said, getting up to greet him.

“Hello, Evera…” He said while petting her hair. He then looked at them for a time before turning around sadly.

“Is something the matter?” She asked, catching on.

“Just some problems with Heaven and Hell, that's all.” He then carefully laid down his hat and jacket on the coat rack before turning to the bar and pouring himself a drink. Once in his hand, he sat beside Anthony on the couch, who shifted slightly, so he had more room. As he took a nice sip of bourbon, he placed the glass down before lying back on the couch, catching both their attentions with a slight smile.

“You won't believe who I saw today…”

“Who?” Asked Evera excitedly.

“Azira…” Catching Anthony's attention, he looked to the left of him to meet his father's gaze.

“Oh, it's been a while since you last saw each other…” He turned back to his story. “How was he?”

“Well enough for an overworked angel!” He then sank into himself as he remembered their short-lived conversation. “We met at the train station; said hello; asked him how his day was; and before I knew it, he was gone…” His daughter pulled a light, saddened smile.

“Well, at least you talked!”

“Clearly not enough-” Anthony chimed in, making Evera hit him lightly on his arm.

Seeing his children fight, he put up his hand slightly. “No no no, he has a point, Evera, but I'm afraid it's a point that just has to be made. “He grabbed his drink once more and took a sip. “-Just like imprints in the sand…”

“Doesn’t he live close by here, though?” Anthony asked, confused by his fruitless despair.

“He does, but it would be too dangerous for us to meet.” He looked at Anthony slightly, annoyingly. “I told you this before…”

Anthony looked down, unknowing of what else his father could do, but then an idea occurred to him. “What if you sent a letter?”

“What?” Crowley asked, confused.

“I mean, if you guys can't meet at the bookshop, or your flat here, why not send a letter to meet somewhere specific?” He then added as an additional argument. “I don't think Azira would mind seeing you again.” He said, slightly nudging his shoulder.

Crowley thought of the idea for a minute or two but then cast the notion aside. “Were both very busy during this time, I doubt we'd be free…”

Anthony looked at him exasperatedly. “Even more a reason to talk to him!” He grabbed a piece of plain writing paper and a pen, then quickly brought it to Crowley, placing it on the table. “Just ask him!” As Crowley picked up the pen, he only looked at the paper for a few minutes before turning elsewhere. “Perhaps I should write it then,” Anthony said, snatching the pen out of his hand and grabbing the paper. This immediately ignited an action in Crowley to take the utensil back, saying.

“No no no, I'll write him, I'll write!”

It was late evening, in the back room of the bookshop, that Aziraphale was sitting at his desk with a quill in his hand, writing away in his most recent diary edition, (as he had written multiple across the years.) -Usually in these entries he talked about his day, or buyers, or even the lovely meals he had eaten with various individuals, but today only one thing crossed his mind. “Crowley!” As the word left his mouth, he penned the name multiple times across the page, remembering him as he was that earlier day. He even did a less-than-impressive drawing on the adjacent page, but as he turned up to take a sip from his winged mug, he saw lying beside it a black envelope with a red wax seal. Curious, he took it in hand, before picking the seal and revealing the paper, and opening it gently. He read the words slightly aloud.

“Dear Aziraphale,

Right. This is a letter. I’m writing a letter, I know! -But you’ll be sure to note the handwriting is particularly legible for someone who, in my case, has claws. So, I hope this finds you well…

So. Was thinking. (Dangerous, I know.) You and I—we’ve been doing this long enough that it hardly needs to be said, but I’ll say it anyway: it seems for the two of us, who constantly need to watch out for heaven and hell on our backs, especially after last time, was thinking it would be particularly nice if the two of us had a little outing.

Which brings me to my point. I was wondering if you might like to accompany me to the Ritz this Friday evening, -at around nine. Proper dinner, candlelight, silver cutlery, the lot. You know the place. To have ourselves good time.

Nothing nefarious. Just a pleasant evening. Two eternal entities, sharing a bottle of something scandalously expensive and pretending, just for a few hours, that we’re merely two blokes enjoying a night out. No heavenly scrutiny. No hellish oversight. Just us.

Entirely optional, of course. You could say no. I hope you won’t—but you could. Just... thought I’d ask. Like a proper gentleman. Which I most certainly am not, but I’m making the effort.

Yours—

Crowley

P.S. I’ve already made the reservation. Under “A.Z.”. Figured it was more discreet. Let me know if you’d prefer something flashier like “Principality & Serpent.”
P.P.S. I’ll be the one in the black suit and sunglasses as always. Try not to outshine me, angel. But I know you will.
-Like you always do…”

As Aziraphale read the letter, his smile only became wider and wider as he continued down the page. At the last inclination of ink, he hugged the letter to him and immediately ripped an empty page out of his diary as he wrote his reply. He wrote only one word

“Yes!”

Immediately, he miracled the note straight to Crowley, hoping it would find him miraculously quickly…

After Crowley sent the letter, he sat silently for the time being, contemplating whether he could quickly summon the letter back, but already suspecting it was too late, he remained motionless. His children, on the other hand, who sat on the armchairs in front of him, eagerly awaited a reply, but as nothing came. They slowly began to give up hope. -But then, in the middle of the room, right on the table in front of him, a bright flash appeared, and so did the note. Crowley, desperate for an answer, quickly snatched it and read it in his head.

“Well?” Anthony asked. “What does it say?”

Crowley only looked at him, completely surprised. “He said yes…”

Evera happily cheered while hopping up and down. “It seems you have a date tomorrow then!” Crowley only smiled until his eyes widened in shock.

“I have a date tomorrow!” He quickly got up and started heading for his room.

“I can't believe it, our father has a date, with Azira no less!” Said Evera happily.

“Can we come with you?” Asked Anthony, desperate to see how the date was going to go.

“Absolutely not!” Cried Crowley absurdly. “First of all, we can both sense demonic and angelic auroras, so we'd spot you in an instant.” He then looked at them from the nearly shut doorway. “-And two, this is private!” With that, he turned away and shut the door for privacy.

“Well, it was worth a shot.” Said Evera, she then turned to Anthony. “-But he is right…”

“Yeah…” said Anthony, disappointedly. His face then went back to a neutral expression. “I'm still going though…”

“How? He said he’ll feel your aura in an instant.”

“My dear Evera, when will you learn…” He brought out his hand in a finger snap action, looking at her with a glint in his eye. “There are things you keep private…” He snapped his fingers, immediately disguising himself and his aura so well, even she could feel the change in the air. “-And things you keep, private!”

Teddy got back home from his job at a local diner, nearly late evening, when he came in through the front door, seeing Azira bustling through the bookshop. When he turned to get a look at things, across nearly all the bookshelves and furniture, lay all types of beautiful coats and hats, while other garments were merely strewn about on the floor.

“Did someone get murdered in here?” Asked Teddy, surprised to see so many things.

Upon hearing his voice, Azira looked up at him sweetly. “Oh, Teddy, I didn't know you'd be back by now!” He then zipped past him, plucking a pair of white heeled boots from the floor. “I will be gone for most of the evening, I think,” he said, lacing his shoes quickly as he sat down. “I've been invited to dinner!”

Teddy looked surprised. “Who's the lucky person?”

“Crowley!” Said Azira happily.

“The demon?” Azira saw his worriedness from a mile away.

“Oh, don't worry, my boy, I've told you before; he's a very good man, and a gentleman at that...” He then reached his hand into his pocket as he threw him the letter. “I have the words written to me to prove it!”

Teddy looked over the letter in his hands, reading the cursive writing over and over again. “If that's the case, then…: He turned up to Azira hopefully. “Can I go with Rosh to a bar tonight?” Azira looked up at him. “He's celebrating his and his wife's engagement, and I'd like to go…” Azira smiled at the news of love.

“Of course you may go!” He then cradled his face slightly. “Besides, it would be better for you to be out of the house.” He then got up as he finished tying his shoes. “I suspect you'll pass out at his house then?”

“Oh, definitely!’ He looked around all knowingly. “You know how his parties get!”

“Well, I only think it's fair that if I have fun…” He pointed to himself and then pointed to his son. “You have fun!” As he said this, his eyes glared over at the grandfather clock near the entrance. “Goodness, 8:30 already?” He quickly threw his scarf around him and his hat, as he hurriedly ran towards the door. “I'm sorry, Teddy, but as you can see, I'm rather short for time as it is!” He then went off with a blown kiss and a wave as he shut the door. “Goodbye, my love!”

“Goodbye, Mom…” Teddy said more quietly, but as his vision left the door, his face remained the same calm. Then, realizing the choice he had already made, he quickly grabbed his coat that he had left hanging on the couch and went to follow Azira.

Outside, Aziraphale was immediately met by the black Bentley awaiting him outside his bookshop. At first, he was going to fuss over whether it was safe to show themselves so thoroughly, but even Azira couldn't get mad a the kind gesture.

“Have you been waiting long?” Crowley saw him from afar as he leaned on his car, watching Aziraphale come strutting before him with his fully white get-up.

“All my life…” Crowley said as he opened the door for Aziraphale.

It was for the most part a very silent drive in the Bentley as Aziraphale and Crowley sat in the front passenger side of the vehicle, but when they finally made it to the establishment, and Crowley once again helped Azira out of the car, the angel couldn't help but admire the outside of the inn, before going inside. As both revealed themselves to the workers, they quickly led them to the dining room, where Aziraphale immediately stopped in his tracks.

Through the dim lighting, Aziraphale could see the lit shaven faces of men and dressed-up women sitting on the various outside tables of the room, but the center table, amidst the lit candelabras and hanging drapery, stood on an elevated platform in the middle of the dining square, holding itself slightly hidden from view. However, what really caught his eye was the gigantic window that lay parallel to the table, revealing Green Park and its lake, dancing as the city lights reflected on it.

“I always thought you would like a place by the water…” Crowley then waved his hand at the table overlooking the great front window. “I had the entire place opened, as it was closed for the winter season…” He then pointed to the chairs. “Whichever one you want…” Upon hearing the sentiment, Azira’s lips slightly curled upward in a smile, before slowly walking to the right chair at the table. His eyes glittered as he looked out from the window to see that from this particular spot, the entire lake glowed with a wave of yellow light dancing on the shoreline.

“I’d like this one…” He said, lightly tapping the chair. The waiter adhered to his request and opened his chair for him as he sat down, the other waiter doing the same for Crowley. They then both scooted closer to each other from the opposite sides of the table.

As soon as they got comfortable, one of the maîtres bowed slightly to them both, handing each a menu, before looking to Aziraphale first.

“Boeuf a la mode? We have an exquisite blanquette de veau that-” But Aziraphale only gave the menu a quick glance before returning it to him.

“I’ll have the asperges sauce mousseline and a Chateaubriand.”

“Pommes frites?”

“Bien entendu.” At this moment, the waiter seemed to realize that he was dealing with an exceptionally classy man.

“Dessert?”

“I'll decide later…” The waiter then bowed to him before turning to Crowley.

“Monsieur?”

“-I’ll have the same…” He said abruptly. The other man then came up to them both.

“Wine?”

Aziraphale looked to Crowley. “You decide…”

“Two glasses of Pinot Grigio, please.” He asked the waiter and then sent him on his way.

Crowley looked at him, surprised. “It seems your French classes have taught you well, ay?” He looked around uncomfortably. “You've been around, haven't you? All them fancy dishes, parley-voo-fransay.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “Been taking lessons?

Aziraphale gave him his gentlest smile. “A sugar daddy who teaches me how to act ritzy? No, I read. I try to learn everything, I want to learn every-...” He leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it's a little odd to make plans…”

“Depends who's in them.” Answered Crowley.

Aziraphale then gave a soft but worried smile at the double meaning. “Crowley… you're the only person I ever...

“Ever what? Go on, say it…”

“-I ever cared about. But…” He then looked at him all seriously. “You'd lock me up and throw away the key, wouldn't you?”

Crowley didn't even try to deny it. “Yeah, -yeah, I’d guess so…”

“Yeah…” Said Aziraphale, staring right at him. “The thing is, I'd probably not even mind…”

“So?” Crowley asked hopefully.

“-So, -I got to get to where I’m going!”

“-And where's that?”

“To the top!”

Crowley sighed. “Now you sound just like Gabriel…” He then inclined closer to the angel. “You guys are both alike, that's why you hate each other so much…”

“You want me to leave?” Said Azira angrily at the comparison.

Crowley looked at him apologetically. “No, I don't want you to leave...

As Azira looked at him for a moment, his eyes then returned thoughtfully to the floor, as the orchestra reached its musical height, swooning over the tables and room.

“Are you dancing?” Asked Azira curiously.

“You asking?” Crowley replied.

“Yes, I'm asking!”

“Then I'm dancing.”

With this, he got up from his chair at the table and walked over to Azira, asking for his hand; he took it, and then got up. They both started heading for the private dance floor, adjacent to their table, in an artistically curated design right next to the orchestra. Turning towards each other, Crowley slipped his arm around the angel's waist; just when the chorus line of waiters arrived with the asperges and Chateaubriand, but Aziraphale and Crowley paid no attention, as they danced locked together like lovers, and couldn't care less.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Evera asked nervously as they sat on one of the outside tables of the inn.

“It has to be!” Anthony quietly yelled at her. “It's not like there's any other damn place called the Ritz!” He turned again towards the inner part of the restaurant, trying to see any sign of them, but still, it seemed there was no luck. He turned back to the table, getting a quick glimpse at their outfits. Evera wore a bright silver dress, with her hair made upward, as jewels hung from her neck and ears, while Anthony wore a dark emerald long jacket, with black undergarments and accessories. “At least we look the part…” He said quietly. He then closed his eyes as he sensed their aura’s, not feeling anything, he concluded that the blocker he had placed still stood strong. He opened his eyes. “Where on earth could they be?”

Then, with a quick movement of multiple maîtres coming in through the door, the pair that followed was exactly what they both had been looking for.

“Look! There they are!” Said Evera, pointing to them from the lounge seat. Anthony quickly pulled her hand down, but followed her gaze. At first, he saw Crowley making a small smile, but then, who came behind him, nearly stopped his breath.

“Oh my god, he's beautiful!” Said Evera taken aback by the man's looks. Anthony only remained quiet, slightly breathless.

“Yeah, he is, isn't he?” He then looked more closely at him. “Man, Crowley wasn’t kidding.” He turned back towards Evera. “You really do look like him!” Evera could only nod.

“I really do…”

As they watched the pair get seated. They both lightly chuckled at Crowley's flustered appearance when the waiters asked what they wanted.

“I bet the bastards so nervous, he can barely get a word out!” Laughed Anthony, inclining his head towards Evera, and brushing her shoulder. Yet as the pair continued to watch, they began to envy the tables closer to them. As they couldn't understand a word the two were saying, ultimately leading them to turn away, only getting more and more confused with the worried expressions of the expectant pair; but as the music grew higher and the two got up to dance, they quickly turned back to watch them as they swiftly intertwined and swayed to the music.

However, as they danced, Anthony’s head grew to look beyond the pair, as on the opposite side of them, behind multiple litten towers of fine cloth and candles, was another boy gazing right back at the couple too. Curious as to who the boy was, he lightly prodded with his magical aura, to which he felt another angelic essence, meeting back. His prodding stopped, and swiftly retracted before the other boy sensed his essence too. -Suddenly, a most scathing, most brilliant idea came to him.

“What's wrong, Anthony?” Asked Evera, curling her head coyly to him.

“Nothing.” He said far too quickly. “Nothing at all…” He quietly returned.

Soon, the pair went back to their table and started eating their meal.

As Crowley took a bite of his meal, he then continued with his story. “-And to keep yourself from going crazy, you almost had to cut yourself off from the outside world!” He said almost angrily. “I remember when I first got to hell, we'd work when it was still day and work again when it was still night.” He then turned to Aziraphale almost hauntingly. “-And yet...all the time I was in there went by-just like that!” He then continued. “Time passes a lot faster when you're not doing anything…” He drank a bit of his wine. “There were two things I used to dream about- one was God, and how she let me fall just like that… the other was you…” He smiled up at Azira. “How you used to read me the Song of Songs, the only time I ever even read the bible…” He then smiled again. “I used to read it before I went to sleep, and I'd think of you.” He then leaned back as he quoted. "How beautiful are your feet in sandals, O prince's daughter." He continued. "Your navel is a bowl well-rounded with no lack of wine… -Your belly, -a heap of wheat surrounded with lilies.” He then looked down. “Your breasts… -clusters of grapes… -Your breath, -sweet-scented as apples..." He then lightly shook his head as he looked at the angel in front of him. “No one's going to love you the way I loved you.” Azira only looked down at the floor and then to the flowers in the vase on the table.

Crowley then sat up and took his face in his hands with the most infinite tenderness. The angel lifts his hands to him, as if to caress him, but then slowly takes his hands away from his face. He looks full into his eyes as he continues. “When I sat in my bed and pretended my pillow was you; -When I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I'd tell myself, Aziraphale's out there, she's alive, he exists… -and that'd pull me through!” He said almost desperately. -But the angel only recoiled back from him, before looking up pleadingly.

“Crowley, this isn't the place for this, let's go somewhere else, -please…” He understood the double meaning and so, calling the waiter over for the check. They paid before getting up to leave.

“What? They're leaving now?” Evera called out from the action. Anthony quickly looked to where she was pertaining to. “It's only been an hour, -two hours at most?”

Anthony was at first confused, but then signaling the waiter for the check, he paid as quickly as he could. When they got out, the both of them rounded the corner, and they saw the pair getting in the car, before driving off slowly down the main road. “They're not going back to the flat, I know that…” He then looked around before ultimately deciding what they would do. “Come on, let's follow them!” As they walked secretly beneath the darkened corridors as well as the badly lit alleyways, eventually they reached their stop, which was right in front of an old bookshop.

“Why on earth would they be going there?” Asked Evera.

“I don't know…” Replied Anthony. They then watched as Crowley opened the door for Azira, leaving the Bentley parked, and led him inside the bookshop, with a mere last thud being left from the door. They slowly walked towards the almost fully blinded windows of the bookshop before a voice questioned behind them.

“What are you doing here?” Both Evera and Anthony froze before turning behind them. There in the shifting shadows of the alleyway, a white haired boy, wearing full black, slowly crept into the streetlight.

“Oh, it's you.” Said Anthony.

“You know him?” Asked Evera, confused.

“I saw him in the Inn.” He then tipped his head to him. “He's an angel.” The other boy looked surprised.

“How did you know?”

“I felt your aura.” He then shrugged. “Demon.”

“I see…” He then turned to Evera. “I sense she's the angel, then?”

“You’d be right…” The boy nodded before looking between the both of them and then the bookshop window, he then tilted his face questioningly.

“Do you happen to also be like me then?” Anthony began to think his suspicion was right.

“A human child turned supernatural?” He then smiled sharply. “If so, then yes!” The other boy swiftly became very interested in the conversation.

“Crowley’s?” Anthony nodded, then returned the question.

“Azira’s?” Teddy nodded his head.

“What's your name?” Evera asked.

“Teddy!” He said excitedly. “Yours?”

“Anthony!” He let out his hand to shake the other young man's, he then drifted his other hand towards the girl. “Evera…”

“Incredible!” He said lightly.

-But then, all of them slowly realizing why they were even here, they slowly began to drift their eyes to the moving characters inside.

“1875, or 1933?” Asked Azira from the cellar in the back room.

“Why 1875, of course… It's a good year!” Azira then came up out of the cellar holding an older bottle of wine with the cork still screwed in, setting it on the living room table, in the middle of the bookshop by the fireplace. Miraculously popping the cork off, he poured Crowley's glass first and then his own, physically putting the cap back on afterwards.

Crowley took a nervous swig of his wine before putting the drink back down, still sitting on the couch, but Azira still stood adjacent to him holding his wine; before setting it down and walking to a curio that stood closed by the left doorway. He then opened it, taking out one of the books that sat near the back of the cabinet; Crowley at first raised his eyebrow at the fully disheveled condition the book had, before recognizing it. His face dropped immediately. It was the same bible Aziraphale had read to him before in the past. Azira then sat on the opposite side of the sofa to where Crowley was sitting and then opened the book to an unknown page.

“My beloved is white and ready, his skin is the most fine gold; his cheeks are as a bed of spices…” He then looked up tauntingly. “Even though he is as pale as the last December…” Crowley only swallowed annoyingly at the comment. “His eyes are as the eyes of doves! His body is of bright ivory; his legs, -are as pillars of marble.” Azira then looked at him almost with fake disgust. “-Even with skin so scaled and feathered…” Crowley only looked down sadly, but Aziraphale continued. “He is altogether entirely lovable!” Crowley looked up with hope, but the angel only shook his head. “-But he'll always be a two-bit demon, -so he'll never be my beloved…” He then raised his brow at him mockingly. “What a shame!”

At first Crowley looked at him, as if he had lost all hope, but then his eyes grew determined, and slowly started to lean in. Aziraphale only watched him with a blank expression, not turning away, until finally, at the last second, they both pushed forward, and their lips finally met, but as a noise came from the outside, Aziraphale opened his eyes and then leaned back, shocked, as he saw the outline shape of someone looking in. He gasped as he stood up. “Someone's there!” Quickly, Crowley ran outside to see who it was.

On the outer fence of the bookshop, Teddy, Evera, and Anthony all looked to each other wordlessly before scattering like a group of cockroaches as they heard Crowley's footsteps approaching.

Crowley immediately opened the door to look outside, but saw not a single soul in sight. He turned back around to Aziraphale. “There isn't anyone?” He then heard the sound of a distant whistle, and internally, his entire mood fell, as his mind went to one person. Anthony. He smiled as he looked towards Aziraphale. “Probably some stupid teenage punk…” He said. Aziraphale dropped all emotion on his face.

“That's not nice to call someone Crowley!” He then looked at the night sky, blazed with millions of stars. He then turned back to Crowley. “Thank you for tonight, Crowley… really! Thank you.” Crowley sheepishly smiled at him.

“Of course, Angel…” He then backed away from the door. “Don't wait so long to call on me again, ay?”

“I won’t…” He started to back into the bookshop, but then stopped, and turned to look behind him. “Crowley?”

The demon quickly turned back to him. Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times worriedly. He breathed a sigh. “Crowley, I have to leave for Paris tommorow, and I wanted to see you tonight to tell you…” Azira then turned around suddenly. “-Goodbye Crowley.”

“Goodbye, Angel…” -And with that the door closed, but Crowley still stood outside; and looking to the bookshop once more, he carefully leaned himself on the outside railing before starting to sing in a very low voice.

“~You're the top,
-You're the Colosseum!

You're the top,
-You're the Louvre Museum

You're a melody from a symphony by Strauss!
-You're a Bendel bonnet!
-A Shakespeare sonnet!

You're Mickey Mouse!

You're the Nile!
-You're the Tower of Pisa!
-You're the smile,
-On the Mona Lisa

-I'm a worthless check, a total wreck, a flop!
But if, baby, I'm the bottom,
-You're the top!”

He said, looking to the ground, crying, with his eyes full of hissing tears, as they boiled on his skin. He then rubbed them off with his coat sleeve before getting into his car and driving away…

Chapter Text

When Crowley got back to his flat, he took no notice of the empty bedrooms or the silent voices that should have been bustling with questions. Instead he simply walked to his room, closed the door, and spent the rest of the night sitting up in his bed thinking of the day.

Even when he heard the front door open and close, and the sounds of footsteps coming near him, he still did not come out of his room.

For hours he laid there, thinking over and over of the evening they shared, until something awoke him from his thoughts.

A knock came at the front door. As quick as he heard it he got up, and left out of his room, to the sights of his other children leaning out of their bedrooms themselves, but he quickly motioned them to stay inside. As he walked to the door his shoulders slumped in realization, at the feeling of the familiar angelic aura, he opened the door precariously to see Azira standing idly in front of him.

“Hello Crowley….”

He had half the urge to shut the door right there, but he was always so weak when it came to Azira.

“Hiya angel…” Aziraphale titled from foot to foot before ringing out his hands in front of him.

“I was hoping you might be able to give me a ride…..” he then took a sharp intake of breath. “ It’s only to the train station-“ he looked back up at him. “-I would miracle myself there, but then I would always wonder….”

The demon only smiled sadly.

“Don’t worry Azira I’ll drive you…”

The angel gave a bright smile at his acceptance too. “Oh thank you Crowley!” He happily sauntered to the side of him so they walked side by side through the building to his car.

Then once there, Crowley opened the door for him, before getting in the driver's seat himself.

Although Crowley had his hands on the wheel, the truth was the Bentley was doing most of the work, because Crowley found himself unable to think of anything else ever since yesterday. Crowley turned into an underground tunnel, driving slowly as the lights flashed in the car rhythmically as they drove.

“Always be a demon then?” He thought, silently to himself. “Maybe I will be then…” but the thought quickly disappeared as he shook his head. -But Azira noticed.

“Crowley, stop the car…”

-And so he did, turning off the road, and parking in the darkness of the tunnel on the side lanes. Putting the vehicle in park and then turning off the engine. However after doing as he asked, Crowley just continued to stare forward, at the cars slowly passing by; even in the dark Aziraphale could see the heartbreak on his face, he leaned in from his side to look at him more closely, and then as gently as he could, placed the sweetest, gentlest kiss on Crowley's cheek that he could muster. Upon feeling the imprint, Crowley turned his head to meet him, so their lips met, and instead of pulling away, the angel opened his mouth, and placed his hands on his back, cradling him ever so slightly. Then with a sly miracle, the chair started to lean backward, and as Azira laid himself downward, the hat on his head fell off adjacent to him, on the back seat. Meanwhile, Crowley only continued to caress Aziraphale as he laid down on top of him, peppering the angel's jaw with small kisses. However, as he started to lower himself, the angel only brought his hands to his lips, and said a delicate “No…” As he reassuredly smiled.

-But Crowley did not stop, slowly climbing over Aziraphale as he turned him to lay completely flat on the backseat.

“-N, -No!” Azira began trying to push him off of him. Crowley seemed reluctant but still laid on top of him, now trying to rip at his coat and shirt.

“No! No!” Azira kept grabbing at his coat trying to cover himself. “Please no!!” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hands forcing them above him, as he settled between his legs, making their chests flushed together.

“Please! Please??!” Crowley then tugged at his pants forcing them downward, and then proceeded to rip Azira’s apart, right at the crotch.

His hands had turned completely black and scaled by this point, and his nails had grown and curled without him noticing, so when he grasped Azira's face to force him to look at him, the image of them made him stop, but that wasn’t the only thing.

As he saw Aziraphale's face, inches from his own, he saw how he wasn’t looking at him, but to the left of him, eyes focused on the black upholstery of the Bentley, and as he did, a string of tears came flowing from his eyes, forming a streaming lake. From beneath him he heard choked gasps and weary intakes of air, and Crowley was once again lifted to look at his face.

He was so close he could kiss him; how would they kiss? It was always very gentle whenever he thought of it, he would come down and take those lips as for his own, and be as gentle as he possibly could, or maybe another way; if Azira happened to be on top of him, perhaps he would come down and place his hands on Crowley’s as he slid them to his face to force them to his.

“I would never hurt Azira.” He thought. “I would never hurt Azira!!!” But he realized too late he already had.

He looked down at his hands that had grabbed the side of Azira, claws puncturing his skin; drawing small droplets of blood that began to bleed through his shirt. He looked further and stopped breathing at the sight.

Aziraphale's pants had been completely ripped in half from the button joint, and his underwear tugged down to reveal his privates, trying to be hidden by his thighs pressed together.

-The worst part of it however, was when Crowley looked down at himself, his pants were taught and tight, with the rigid outline of him trying to get out.

He pushed himself away immediately, hitting the car door in a frantic motion, heavy breathing at the sight of what he had done. He clutched his arms around him, looking at Azira's frozen body. He quickly started to remove his jacket and put it around Azira, as well as doing a quick miracle fixing all the broken clothes and ripped segments that he had done.

At first he questioned whether to even touch Azira but his body had moved without him, wrapping himself around him, hugging him as tight as he could, with his face buried in his neck. Crowley held onto him as he spoke, words breaking into cries as he just kept repeating…..

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry….

-I’m Sorry!

Chapter Text

As Crowley held him, Aziraphale said nothing, just continued to stare off silently into space. When Crowley moved back to take a look at him. All he saw was that his face looked as if he had been erased.

Seeing what he had done, Crowley began to move backwards, getting out of the car, to get back into the driving seat. As he did, he continued to steal small glances at Azira as he started the car and began to drive off.

His hands were more panicky than usual, moving to and from on the wheel, and his eyes fluttered about the car and street, trying to focus on anything else, but he couldn’t, as he kept on looking at Azira.

When he finally reached the train station, he practically jumped out of the car, to run to Aziras door to help him out. But as he offered his hand the angel only waved it away getting out himself. However Crowley was always near to steady him. As Aziraphale got out, with Crowley’s coat still wrapped around him, he only clung it tighter, as he walked away from the car.

But Crowley followed him unbeknownst, to the inside of the terminal…

Azira was no stranger to love, he was an angel after all, he could feel it all around him at all times, but to love, is different than being loved. He knew that now

-once inside, Aziraphale picked up a magazine from the seller's cart by the train station before handing the man his payment and walking on. It seemed, amidst the rolling luggage carts, and steam wagons, people crossed beside him unknowingly of his condition.

At this moment, Crowley came from behind a hanging stand that stood adjacently from the train, -and in this pitroresque frame, as he looked through the first class residential window of the first passenger cart; he watched as Azira set down his luggage, before lowering the window panel, and opening the newsletter. He wore the black long coat now, and sat behind a pink lampshade still glowing brightly in his private chamber. Then as a last whistle was given, signaling the departure; the transport started to move, and then, as if by magic, feeling it, Aziraphale looked up to meet the demons eyes, but as he did his expression only turned horrified with a tantalizing stare, and he closed the curtain completely, as the train churned away.

Through the distant clouds of steam, the entire train then disappeared like a dream.

Crowley could only stop and stare….

They wouldn’t see each other for 10 years after that day…

Chapter Text

As Crowley watched the train disappear through the wafting steam his shoulders slumped in knowing anticipation; and having nowhere else to go, he started drifting backwards towards the outside; and going upstairs to the front section of the terminal, he saw his Bentley still parked by the sidewalk. As he walked forward, he pulled out his hand to touch the front curve of the metal, but as he did, the car's exterior seemed to contract and shrink away from his hand. Putting his hand back, he opened the driver's seat door, and sat down before placing his hands on the wheel. The Bentley did no pur of satisfaction, nor no motion whatsoever, it simply remained completely silent to its owner.

-Even the car hated him…

Having nowhere else to go, and refusing to meet the eyes of his kids, he did something he had never done before…

-Sitting at the bar end, strung with bottles and liquor glasses all fogged up and dirty, there was a black hatted man sitting drunkly alone.

That is, until a small, but feathery figure took a seat next to him.

“Hi…” Crowley looked up from where his head had been laying on the table. In front of him was a short blonde haired woman, wearing a white flapper dress with a white stole around her. She smiled cheekily at him.

Crowley looked at her up and down.

“Hi…” he then closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths clearly wobbling.

“Are you here alone?” The woman asked.

Crowley scoffed leaning in on his elbow. “No, I’m with you…” he looked at her once again. “-practically at home…”

“Do you want to dance?” She asked, tipping her eyebrow towards the floor.

Crowley scrunched his eyes and a few incoherent sounds. “Mmn, uunhg, no, not up for that…” he looked at her seriously. “You wanna know what I want?” He leaned back on the chair drunkly. “I want to get laid…”

The young woman scoffed. “So that’s what you're up to?”

Crowley only slightly nodded, before reaching into his left pocket bringing out his wallet; and then started to place different bills of money on the counter. As he did this the girl looked at the alcohol around him.

“-Do you drink like this every night?” She then scooched in closer, “-or is this just a bad night?” She smiled.

Crowley then passed her a 500 dollar note, without even looking. As soon as she saw it, she quickly placed it in her breast pocket in her dress.

“Who are you?” She quickly asked. “Mr. Rockefeller?”

Crowley looked confused for a moment. “Why’d you say that?” He then turned to her drunkly. “How much did I give ya?”

“50.” She reassured lightly.

Crowley nodded. “Hmm, what’s your name?”

“Eve.” She said smilingly.

As Crowley continued to scrutinize her, eyeing her up and down he finally relented.

“Well, I’ll call you Azira…” he said, getting up from his seat and offering his hand.

She happily took it. “I’ve done far more complicated things for clients!”

Later, in a rented hotel room, above the bar. Eve laid in the bed with her white undergarments glistening in the light.

Then, Crowley softly appeared on top of her.

“Azira…” he called softly. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Eve replied, happily paying into the game.

All of a sudden Crowley stilled in front of her, looking at her white hair and face. “God you're so beautiful…” she smiled bashfully at the comment.

“Thanks…” He heard Aziraphale reply, and he then put his hands around his head, bringing Crowley towards him, till their lips met; and as he did so, Crowley lightly traced his chin with his curled nails, barely even touching the skin there.

However Crowley started to turn slightly, trying to bring him on top, but so tired, he only turned himself on his back, starting to mumble something incoherently.

“-How beautiful are your fee… -sandals ... ./Princess daaauuughter…..” he then took a light breath. “Azira…” and started to fall asleep.

Eve saw this and started putting herself on top of him, while kissing his jaw, at first he didn’t make any movement, but then jostled awake and flipped them over.

“Don’t, -don’t worry, n-now I’m going to fuck you…”

“Take your time…” Eve said lightly tracing his sides with her nails.

He then dove in quickly to kiss her, and as he did she wrung her nails up and down his back, but then stopped, as she felt his body go unmoving and heavy.

At first she tried to paw at him and get him awake, but seeing him so tired laying down as she did. She lightly ruffled his hair with her hand, before leaning down and placing the most lightest and gentlest kiss she could on his cheek.

Crowley could swear he had been kissed by an angel.

When he awoke the next day, cars and trucks were honking at each other in the early morning, as he stretched himself looking around at his surroundings, on the pillow adjacent to him, laid a small note. Seeing it, he picked it up and read it.

-A little tip for next time,
-how about a little less money,
-and a bit more work,

-Love Azira,

He ripped the bottom end of the paper off and threw the rest away, and then miracling his clothes on, went about the rest of his day.

Chapter Text

It was midnight one evening, as Crowley and his two children sat side by side each other on the couch when a telegram from hell came through.

At first frightened if it contained any mischievous emblems, he asked them to step back a s he opened, but upon revealing the note, it was only a message declaring his new demonic task.

“What is it Dad?” Asked Anthony.

“A job.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Nothing said as he looked up from his paper.

Crowley sucked a breath through his teeth. "At the very least a year…”

Anthony glanced upward in shock. “A year?” He got up and took the letter from his hand. “Oh….” His face seemed to say it all.

Evera then took the paper from Anthony and read it. “A political temptation?” She read further. “In Paris?!!?”

Crowley nodded.

“It’ll take some time, but…” He looked between his two kids. “I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back…” however the more he looked between his two kids, an idea seemed to form beside him. “Actually….” He looked at his trusted handyman Anthony, a demonic worker nearly better than him, and then to Evera, who was new to the whole business."Why don’t you both come with me?” He seemed to say with a questionable remark.

He then thought about to more carefully. “Why not? It would make a good practice for you Evera, and Anthony and I can teach you the ropes…”

Amazingly, Anthony looked between himself and Evera as well, and actually seemed to agree on the idea. (Mostly because of his fascination with travel) but he would never admit it.

“When shall we go?” Evera asked suddenly?

“So that’s how you came to Paris…” said Aziraphale.

Crowley nodded appeasingly. “Yes, but I must admit…” He chuckled as he fixed himself. “ I was never expecting to see you there!”

It was about three months into the gig, after the fascination with Paris and the honeymoon of travel had begun to pass on them all; when Crowley, walking outside the Panais Garnier at night, saw a familiar face on a poster.

It was Azira, playing as Cleopatra, from the Shaksperian play.

At first, Crowley didn’t even recognize him, painted white, with a black headpiece and darkened features. He looked at the quote plastered on the bottom of the page.

“Age can not wither; nor custom stale, her infinite variety.

-Last Viewing Tonight At Eight”

A front lady, seeing him analyzing the poster, walked up quietly behind him, before stopping adjacently on his side.

“Do you like the play?” She turned to him, as she asked.

“No.” He said, but then lifted his hand to point at the actor. “Who’s he?”

The older woman smiled. “The patron saint of the place; a lovely actor… she bumped his arm jokingly. “-And actress…” she continued on.

“-His names Az-“

But Crowley was not listening, only losing himself in the frightful yet determined look of Aziraphale on the poster.

A few hours later, after doing the last of his tidings for the day, and sending Anthony and Evera off to do whatever they wanted. Crowley found himself seated, in one of the back rows of the opera house, waiting for the play to start.

-And then it did.

“Nay, but this dotage of our generals-“

As Crowley walked outside of the play room, he thought of the first few scenes of Cleopatra. The front woman was right. He was terrific, more so. He played her as she would be, with being as beautiful, as intelligent, and as incredible, as she was in every right, but to him, Azira was just so much better.

At this time, the first half of the play had been done, and so now, it was an intermission, and so, many of the guests had walked to the dining area, in search of refreshment.

But one gentleman in particular, grabbed his attention immediately. He was a tall, lithe man, wearing a black opera coat, with a long hat and spectacles, and looking beside him, with fork in hand, lay a delicate, small-white frosted cake, with red cherries, that he studied immensely. The man at first pecked at the fruit with his fork, but then tipping his head, gently pushed the utensil into it, and then naturally popped it into his mouth. His then gentle nature began to drop; as he started to twist the fork through the frosting; licking the cream; ripping through the delicatessen; puncturing the cake; taking it thoroughly, until there was nothing left!-

-Puncturing his skin, with my nails, the white flesh was so delicately pure……
-I had bruised it, and bloodied it, and taken it…..
-until it was no longer your-“

Crowley put his hand over his mouth, as his throat began to contract. He quickly excused himself through an array of people until he reached the men’s bathroom, and turning into an empty stall, began to expel the vile from him. He coughed, and coughed, and even began to cry as he did; small choked sounds coming through the occupied compartment.

Onlookers glanced between themselves to decide what the right idea would be, but in the end, no one came to check on him.

So, spitting the last of the bile into the lavatory, he fixed himself and his hat, before stepping out into the bathroom, ignoring the looks of fellow gentlemen eyeing him in advance..

As Crowley walked, he couldn’t even bring himself to think of the action. He slumped against a pillar in the main room. Be placed his quickly blackening hand on his head, and shuddered a breath.

“Have I, could I have killed Cleopatra….”

-And then with the blare of trumpets, the intermission had ended, and everyone was returning to their seats. So following silently in the darkness, Crowley did too.

It was a time before Aziraphale showed up again fully, but after a quick soliloquy, he now stood in his complete glory with the signature white makeup and black apparel, and with the limelight shining down upon him, she began to speak.

“This proves me base….If she first meet the curlèd Antony, -He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss, -Which is my heaven to have….” He turned to the left of him and grasped a small black serpent. “—Come, thou mortal wretch!” She places an asp on her breast. “With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate, of life at once untie… -Poor venomous fool…” She shows difficulty in trying to get the snake to bite. “Come now, be angry and dispatch!” She breathes a sharp breath of relief as it does. “O, couldst thou speak, -That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass Unpolicied!”

Another actor playing her maids chimes in. “O eastern star!”

But Aziraphale quickly retailiates. “Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep?”

The handmaiden seems to cry. “O, break! O, break!”

Aziraphale starts to recline on a chair as she gently holds the serpent to her breast. “As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle—“ he seems to look up and see Crowley in the crowd. “O Antony!” He pauses. “Nay, I will take thee too.” She places an asp on her arm.
“What should I stay?-“ and then his hand falls limply beside him, hanging off the chair.

As the maiden continues her speech, Crowley can not stop looking at Cleopatra's dead corpse.

“Oh what In this wild world? So, fare thee well. Now boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies, A lass unparalleled. Downy windows, close and fall-“

There was nothing but the sound of words being said, as Crowley just continued to watch the life of the dead.

After the finale had passed and flowers were thrown on stage, applause was given. It was about twenty minutes after the show that Crowley stood outside carefully, in front of Aziraphales star door.

As carefully and as quietly as he could. He opened the door to see Aziraphale staring right back at home through the mirror he was looking through. Then looking left, he placed the black headpiece on a mannequin, to keep it in its forever glory.

He then turned even more so they were looking at each other directly now. Crowley used this opportunity to take a few steps forward, so that they both shone in the light.

Aziraphales room was pure white, with flower vases, and pots all bringing with beautiful multicolored roses, lillie’s, lavender, all most likely gifts from favorable fans.

Crowley turned back to him, still wearing his white makeup.

Aziraphale then got completely up, still facing the mirror. With this, Crowley could see he wore the same black dress and coat over it, with a delicate pink scarf laid loosely around his neck.

“Hello Azira…”

For a moment Aziraphale just seemed to stand awkwardly, shifting his eyes to look around the room and anywhere but Crowley.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Aziraphale then forced his eyes to meet Crowley’s through the full mirror. “What’s someone to say after-“ he paused. “-more than ten years…”

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. “How about, ‘how you doing you look good’ or-“ he glanced down at the ground knowingly. “-Or, ‘I was hoping I’d never see you again’.”

Aziraphale looked at him seriously. “I never thought I would-“ he took a breath. “There’s a difference…”

Crowley tipped his head. "At least you recognize me, that's something…”

“Actresses have good memories.” With that he finally moved to the right of him grabbing a fine glass bottle. “Want a drink?” With no reply, he started to pour his own. “I’m having one.” He then went back to his chair by the mirror, taking a drink of it, as he sat down.

“You're a famous actor now?” Aziraphale looked up at him through the mirror.

“Yes…”

“Are you living alone?” At first he said nothing in reply, just shaking his head. It was only when he started to run his makeup off that he replied vocally.

“No.” He then said as he scrubbed the black eye shadow. “Where were you?”

“I was out of town, per say.” Crowley replied, taking off his hat, and holding it in his hands in front of him.

“Have you been here long?”

“A couple of months.” The demon replied. “For business.”

“Are you staying?”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to be silent. However, sitting down, on a chair in the far end of the room by a table, he replied. “That depends.” He said, looking to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale halted. “Why did you want to see me?”

Crowley lightly raised his head. “There were two reasons.” He kicked up his knee on his other leg. “One was to see if it was the right idea for you to go to Paris.”

Aziraphale haughtily smiled while looking in the mirror. “Well?”

“You did, you were terrific…”

Aziraphale stopped trying to clean the makeup off for a moment, and only looked deeply inside the mirror, before glancing at him through the sides of his eyes.

Meanwhile Crowley turned behind him to the poster. “Age can not wither her…” He shook his head. “It’s like the play was written for you…”

Aziraphale now mostly cleaned up, glanced downward. “What was the other reason?”

Crowley stiffened immediately. “The other reason…” he got up to stand idly beside him. “Is to figure out why you remain in Paris…”

Aziraphale stood silent, until he flinched, when a knock came on the door. “Uh, -who is it?”

The voice from the door called back. “It’s me Azira, Teddy-“ Aziraphale quickly started to yell through the door, making frantic gestures with his hands.

“No, no Teddy, just-“

“Can I come in?” The voice from outside the door called.

“No, just wait outside Teddy, I’ll call you…”

The voice on the other side, did a slight chuckle. “Okay, I’ll be right here…”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale confusedly, but then pressed the question. “Azira, why have you stayed in Paris?”

Aziraphale quickly started to reply in hysterics. “Why should I have to disclose anything to you? I don’t have to answer anything! I mean, why- why are you here? What, -what do you want from me? -I, -I know nothing. Nothing!” He tiredly placed his palm on his head.

“Now you're a lousy actress…” said Crowley, getting closer. “Please Azira, why did you never come back from here?”

Aziraphale only started to brush his hair, before slowly talking. “After what you did, I didn’t trust myself or you anymore…”

Crowley nodded but still protested. “There’s more to it than that…”

“I’m in trouble Crowley, but you can’t help me…”

“Let me guess you have a lover, and heaven is going to attack you for it?”

Aziraphale only slowly shook his head. “Age can not wither us Anthony; but we’re both getting old…” he turned to look at him with his eyes. “All we have left is our memories…-and the hope of them” He looked at him so sweetly then. “If I tell you the truth, you won’t even have that anymore…” he then pointed behind them. “There’s an exit this may Crowley, please, go through it…” He continued his transfixed stare. “-Just keep walking, don’t turn around…” he got up out of the chair. “I’m begging you, please…”

Crowley twisted the hat in his hands. “Are you afraid I’ll turn into a pillar of salt?”

Azira leaned in towards him, pointing to the opposite door. “If you go out through that door, yes.”

With that Crowley started walking towards the pointed door, in the front of the room; where the previous outside voice had come from. At first he looked back to say a last word to Azira, but finding nothing to say, only opened the door to walk through.

As he looked around to the outside, in the prop throne for the play, insinuated with the image of Cleopatra holding out her arms to present something; there sat a young man, around the age of twenty, with porcelain skin and white hair, exactly the same as Aziras.

Crowley looked toward the ground in shocked awe. The young man on the throne seemed to look confusedly at Crowley before looking to his mother for answers from afar.

“This is Teddy, my son…” Aziraphale explained. “His eyes are splinted and golden like yours.”

Crowley shook his head, and put on his hat accordingly. Still taking small glances at the young man in front of him; and as he did, all the color and hope seemed to drain from his face. He then quietly started walking to the right of him, going down the backstage staircase leaving them both alone.

At this moment, Teddy furrowed his brow in question to his mother, but Azira only looked at him with the saddest blue eyes he’d ever seen, as he placed his brow upon the wall desperately, in fruitful remorse.

“There were no words to describe the heartbreak that revelation put me through…” Crowley said in the ritz. “Really there is none…”

As Crowley walked outside the establishment. He nearly toppled forward into his car, as his entire soul seemed to crack with the revelation given to him.

“So Aziraphale was like him…” he thought, protecting a family again. He got in his car, and flipped it on.

“Well Aziraphale, I have a story also; a little simpler than yours. Once upon a time, I had a friend, a dear friend… I loved him so much, then when he left, I did something terrible, but we both wanted it that way…. Goodbye Mr. Fell…..”

Chapter Text

For a time, Crowley only sat quietly in the Bentley, rethinking the last few moments over and over.

He then started to envision another life, maybe after the shock. He and Azira would move somewhere together, perhaps a small house in the south downs, and raise all their children together, after he would tell him of course, but the dream now seemed a distant memory.

“I really do mess everything up don’t I?” He asked the car, smiling. “I really do…” he sighed. “After what I did, it would be impossible…” he chuckled as he drove off in the car.

After that moment it would be another seven months until they saw each other again, this time back in SoHo.

After only having recently gotten back from Paris, with Evera & Anthony arriving first, as not to arouse suspicion. Crowley had forgone driving for a little while, to take a walk around downtown soho, near the bookshop. However as he nearly walked past it, a light seemed to shine from within.

He stopped to turn suddenly from his heel. The window panels had just been closed slightly, to seclude whoever was inside. Crowley bowed his head in acknowledgement, but before he could get a ways away, a small but tinkly voice called out for him.

“Crowley?” He looked back towards the doorway, seeing Aziraphale leaning out towards him. He shyly turned around, still hanging his head down.

“Hi angel…” he then started to turn to walk away.

“Would you like to come in?” The demon’s heart skipped a beat, thinking he’d never be allowed back in. “I have an older bottle waiting at the ready…” he said while lightly smiling. Carefully Crowley stepped forward in small and gentle steps, waiting for a turn of voice, but as it never came, he walked beside Azira into the bookshop, as he closed the door behind him.

When he got inside, he removed his hat and coat, putting it on the coatrack to the side of him. But, then inclining his head toward the hearth, saw Teddy eyeing him from the couch, over a small book he was reading. He merely nodded to the boy, before standing idly in the entryway.

Aziraphale then turned and upon seeing Teddy, was about to ask him to leave, before looking back at Crowley. “Um, Teddy…” he brought his hand over to the other man behind him. “This is Mr Crowley…” the young man only nodded his head silently, eyes dead set on the man.

Crowley did the same

Then the angel asked as nicely as an angel could. “Uh Teddy, could you excuse us for a time?” He looked down to the ground. “We have some things we have to discuss…” With that the boy closed his book, and went upstairs through the metal staircase upstairs, where a closing door was heard.

Aziraphale walked past him, motioning his hands to follow him. “He’s a lovely boy really….” He turned to face him as he walked. “Favors me quite a lot, if I must say….”

“I’m sure they all do…” Crowley thought solemnly.

Aziraphale then opened the back room, where they usually would go, whenever they planned to have a drink in the past.

He sat Crowley down in the middle of the sofa, as he went to the curio to the side of the room, grabbing two glasses and a bottle and setting them on the table. He then poured them both a small drink, taking his in hand, and then sitting on the left of Crowley.

However as soon as Azira sat down, Crowley immediately moved away, so there was a spot between them on the sofa. Both now separated left from right.

Azira then shyly took a sip, as Crowley swallowed his in one gulp.

“Are you alright?” Crowley was sputtered back into reality with the answer.

“Yes I’m fine, why do you ask?”

Aziraphale looked at him seriously. “Crowley, you haven’t even looked at me this entire time…”

Crowley coked his head. “I think there’s a reason for that angel…” Aziraphale lowered his eyes. He then relented himself. “How’s the boy doing?”

Aziraphale seemed relieved to get a question from the demon. “He’s doing well… probably a little upset though that he didn’t get to meet you fully…” the demon turned to him confused, but the angel only brought up his hands. “Don’t worry, I only talked to him about you, nothing bad…”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did…” but Azira only ignored the statement.

“He’s quite eager to meet you, you know…” He then waved his hand around. “-wants to meet the demon of a man.” Crowley chuckled, but the expression on his faded.

“Why did you let me in Azira?” He said turning fully to the angel.

“I wanted to talk.”

“Why?” He asked breathlessly. “Do you realize what I did?” He then brought out his hands incentuating his point. “Do you?”

“Yes, I do…” he then took another small drink. “-And I knew you would too…” Crowley face faltered.

“What?” Azira turned to look at him.

“Remember what I said in the Ritz all those years ago, after you asked me how I thought about you. Crowley took a moment of to think on the words he said.

“Only ever what? Go on, say it.” Crowley had begged, wanting to hear the answer.

““-I ever cared about. But…” Azira then looked at him all seriously. “-You'd lock me up and throw away the key, wouldn't you?”

Crowley didn’t even try to relent. “Yeah I guess, I’d guess so…”

Aziraphale looked at him scrutinizingly. “Yeah…” he then backed away, casting his eyes to the table. “-The thing is I’d probably not even mind-“

-The meaning seemed to slap Crowley across the face.

“So there was no point in me trying to be anything else then huh?” He started to tear up, not even able to look up at Aziraphale. “Always a demon then?” He said starting to break.

Aziraphale shuffled closer to him, placing his hand on his back, but Crowley didn’t notice.

“Just always messing up something right?” He looked up to the sky, glasses falling down, revealing his serpentine eyes. “First with god, then with heaven, and even Anthony, wh-, when he was younger too….” Azira looked at him confused. “It’s like no matter where I go, I’ll always have the smell of hell following me!” His eyes started to hiss, as water began pooling in them. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you Aziraphale…” He said, looking to him. “I swear to god I didn’t!!” He testified looking up at the sky. By now the tears were starting to steam as they nearly galled on his face, but then Crowley slumped his arms down, drooping his head forward.

“You were right to leave…” He revealed, the tears finally flowing down his face; they started to leave a red trace of skin where they crossed, slowly melting away until they dried up completely, before even leaving for the ground. “What did I ever hope for?” He laid his hands on his knees. “I’m just a demon after all…”

With that he got up, but Aziraphale slowly made him sit back down.

“-And all I am is just an angel…” Crowley looked to him. “A stupid, prideful, submissive, dumb angel…”

“No, no you're not stupid angel…” Crowley said, looking at his empty glass. “You never were that…”

“-but I am Crowley. I am….”

They sat in silence for a while until Azira decided to break the peace.

“You said the name Anthony, who is he?” The demon didn’t even lie.

“My eldest son.”

Azira's eyes widened. “You have children as well?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah two… An older daughter, and an oldest son…”

At first Azira smiled, but then his face turned to horror as he realized the absolute horror both them and their children will be, in regards to heaven and hell. He then looked between them at the empty space.

“Oh Crowley…” Aziraphale cried. “Why did we both have to mess everything up!”