14

Disclaimer: Everything related to Good Omens belongs to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I'm making no profit.

Author's Note: While I love C/A slash, it suddenly occurred to me that this fandom has stunningly few heterosexual fics. There are not even any Mary-Sues to be found! Although I've seen a few Azi-Sues and even Crowley-Sues. So I thought I'd try something different. And since it's Christmas… I also challenged a friend to do the same thing and she ended up with a lovely little Aziraphale Christmas romance which I promised to translate and upload. I'll get her an account here tonight. The fic is called 'In The Eyes of a Stranger', you should read it. And now without further ado…

… And then an angel appeared before her and told her that she would give birth to a son and her son will not be an ordinary child. Then the angel told her what she had to do with the child. Then she told him to piss off, hit him with a lamp and ran away.

It was a good thing that she had never had much trouble believing in the supernatural. Even if it was just supernaturally bad luck like what she was experiencing now. I mean, what were the odds that this would happen to her? Or anyone at all for that matter…

The wings sprouting from the backs of the three figures and the golden glow around them suggested that they might be angels. Or that she might be drugged or mentally ill…

She had never taken drugs in her life. As for mental illness, well there's a reason why crazy people don't usually know they are crazy. The human brain is very stubborn when it comes to admitting its own incompetence.

So she was left with the possibility that these were indeed angels and they wanted her baby. Well, fat chance, you bastards, she thought. Even Heaven shouldn't mess with a woman's instincts. Especially a woman on a hormonal high.

One of her hands clasped protectively around her belly while the other reached into her pocket for her pepper spray. One of the figures advanced and she sprayed him in the eyes. There was a cry of surprise. Evidently, the spray worked on ethereal beings just fine. She took a few quick steps back, just to walk right into the hands of another attacker. She screamed and tried to kick him between the legs. That didn't work quite well enough as there was nothing there. (Someone wasn't making an effort that day.) Then there was another rustle of feathers behind her accompanied by an 'woof' and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The hands of her attacker had barely released her when they were replaced by another pair that grabbed her tightly around the waist. (It took a second to actually locate her waist.) There was a rush of wind, created by a pair of large wings beating furiously and her feet left the pavement.

"I'm really, really sorry I didn't call!" someone shouted in her ear over the wind and screams of righteous indignation behind them. Then she fainted.

"'Books through the Ages', how can I help you?" Aziraphale said into the receiver with a less than welcome voice in case it was a client calling. Maybe someone was looking for a last minute Christmas present. It was the 24th after all.

"Angel, it's me."

"Crowley?" Aziraphale's attitude changed to much friendlier but slightly reproachful. "Where have you been? Haven't heard from you in almost two whole years. First we go out almost every week and then you're suddenly very busy. And you couldn't have been that busy because nothing really hellishly awful has happened recently. (A lot of humanly awful things had happened but that was another thing.) No more than normal anyway. I was starting to get worried. Are you avoiding me for some reason? Did something happen between us that I somehow missed?"

"No," Crowley said quickly, "It has nothing to do with you. At least… not yet." he sounded uncomfortable. "What I've been busy with was… personal things. It's… I kinda… Look, you'll learn everything soon enough. Just… can I come over? Please?"

Aziraphale frowned at the slightly desperate note in the demon's voice but decided not to press him for explanations over the phone.

"Of course, dear, I'd love to see you," he said instead, hoping that he would get his answers soon anyway.

"Great. Thanks. See you in five minutes."

Even less than five minutes later, Crowley was at his door. And he actually knocked. Aziraphale was starting to feel a little panicky at this point.

"All right, dear boy, now what's going on?" he demanded ushering Crowley to the back room and promptly dropping him on the couch. "Are we in for another Armageddon or what?"

"Eh, no, no…" Crowley shook his head. "At least I hope not. Like I said, it's more of a personal matter…"

He rolled and unrolled the end of his tie between his fingers a few times. Finally he took a deep unnecessary breath (that felt quite necessary right now) and dove in.

"Okay so here goes. I haven't been calling you lately because I was afraid how you would react to something I did."

"What did you do?" Aziraphale asked alarmed, trying to decide if it was possible for him to have missed some great act of evil.

"I did the stupidest thing any angel or demon could do. I went and fell in love. And before you start panicking, no it's not you."

The angel sighed in relief.

"It's worse, though," Crowley warned him. "It's even more complicated."

The angel raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, my dear, but how can it possibly be more complicated than a demon falling in love with an angel?"

"It can, when the demon has fallen in love with a human."

There was absolute silence in the room for a few moments. Then Aziraphale shook his head.

"You didn't."

"I'm afraid I blessed well did," Crowley said miserably. "Her name is Molly."

"Molly? You fell in love with a woman named Molly? Of all the names in Britain I would have never thought that 'Molly' could belong to a demon's love interest. This isn't some kind of joke, is it?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?!"

He didn't. He looked like a man standing on the edge of the roof, ready to jump. Aziraphale had unconsciously started opening a bottle of wine.

"How?" the angel asked after he had poured them both a hearty dose of alcohol.

"I really don't know," Crowley admitted. "And I don't know why now. People have near-death experiences that change their lives so maybe that near-Apoclypse experience did something to my brain. Or I've finally gone completely native. And the way you are looking at me right now with those baby-blues of yours, I swear if I hear you say something like 'I thought demons didn't do love', I'll hit you."

Aziraphale shook his head and gave him a compassionate pat on the arm.

"Alright, alright. I won't. Love is a wonderful thing, of course. But I can't help but think this one's just going to hurt you. I mean, let's face it, after a while she'll have to die..."

Crowley waved his hand.

"That's not even half of it."

"Oh my, it gets worse?!"

"She's having a baby."

"Oh! Whose baby?"

Crowley stared at him like he had just asked who Lucifer was.

"Are you daft? My baby!"

"No! But… You're not really… I mean… You're not specifically…"

"Well, maybe I am. Form determines nature, remember Dog?"

"But supernatural beings can't get humans pregnant, can we?"

"Er, Aziraphale, have you heard of a guy called Jesus? His birthday is what the fuss is all about this time of year. Ring a bell?"

"Yes but…"

"You can 'but' me all you like but it doesn't change the facts. Believe me, I wish it did. It's the people Down There's fault. They wanted me to do a bit of the old school stuff. Tempting a single soul and condemning it to hell, that sort of thing. Technically it should have been someone important but you know me, I don't like politics and it would have broken the Agreement so… And she was such a nice, proper girl. So sensible. No driving over the speed limit, no excessive drinking, no unreasonable grudges against her colleagues. On top of that she was alone, just arrived from Australia. Sold the family farm after her last living relative, Uncle Byron died. The perfect subject. I never thought it would get to this. I mean, it started like just your regular tempting, you know. And then it sort of… got out of hand. She's so… well, normal."

"You fell in love with someone because they were normal?"

Aziraphale actually reached and felt his forehead to see if he had temperature. Demons didn't normally get sick hut you never know. Crowley swatted his hand away.

"Angel, stop that! Will you please take me seriously? I need help! I thought that was your area! I mean, I tried not to get you involved in this but who else am I supposed to call, right, and it's not even about me it's about her and she's a human and you're supposed to help humans and it would probably count for thwarting anyway except that it probably won't really and it might get you in a lot of trouble but it's Christmas and demons are weak on Christmas and I can't really protect her and…"

Aziraphale slapped him. Crowley stopped talking and stared at him.

"Calm. Down." the angel said slowly. "Are we calm now?"

The demon hesitated, then nodded.

"Good. Now, dear boy, the rest of the story, please."

Crowley took a breath. He was in more than a bit of a hurry but he couldn't ask what he was about to ask without at least explaining what was going on.

"Okay. At one point after about a year, I realized I was having way too little luck with my tempting and way too much fun with her. So I decided to do at least one evil thing right and disappeared without warning her, leaving her a note that I was running off with another woman. I thought at least that ought to get some hatred out of her. I didn't even wait to see if it had worked. I was out of town by the time she read the note. And I had no idea she was… pregnant." He stumbled over the word as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. "I found out about… the baby…. about half a year ago when Hell sent me some weird mix of a commendation and reproachful note for managing to get a woman to have my child. The note said that Hell had considered punishing me for doing it without permission but they thought it was a curious little experiment so I was off the hook. But since I was busy here on Earth and not the best example of a demon anyway, Hastur had volunteered to take the baby and teach it the 'good old traditions of Hell' or whatever the Manchester. And your people are in on it too! I'm actually surprised you don't know about it. So now heaven wants to take Molly away from my 'vile influence' and kill the baby and Hell wants to kill her and take the baby."

"But Heaven wouldn't really kill a b-"

Aziraphale stopped himself. Wouldn't they? They were ready to let all of Earth be destroyed just to see if they were 'the better band' like Adam had put it.

"They would," Crowley assured him. "And they are serious about it. There were three angels after Molly when I found her. I think there are at least two more by now. We've been managing to dodge everyone so far but she could give birth any moment and I can't hide her well enough. Not now. It's Christmas. I don't have my full power. Not to mention five angel warriors and a Duke of Hell have more than me any day anyway. I just know the playground a little better and Molly has had some good ideas but…"

Something just occurred to Aziraphale.

"Wait. Are you telling me that you actually sat a human down and explained to her about Heaven and Hell and… everything?"

"Had no choice."

"Are you sure it's yours?"

"Can't be anyone else's. I checked."

"How?"

Silence.

"You hypnotized her like you did with Sister Mary!"

There was an accusatory note in the angel's voice. Crowley raised his hands in defense.

"Well, what would you have done? I had to know! She gave me enough hard time about that, I don't need it from you."

"So she really knows that you're a demon. You haven't told her you're the Holy Spirit or something?"

"Can you seriously imagine me impersonating the Holy Spirit?!"

"Point taken. But… she wants to keep the baby? No offence, it's just…"

"She doesn't have much choice at this point. I just told you, she might be giving birth right now for all I know! But yes, she does seem to want it…"

Aziraphale realized with astonishment that Crowley had turned a particular shade of pink. The demon adjusted his sunglasses.

"All things considered, she took it rather well. Surprisingly well. She was, er, sort of happy I was back once she stopped screaming at me for landing her into this. Turns out uncle Byron was a Satanist in his spare time so it wasn't that hard to convince her I was the real thing. And that's just it, Aziraphale. Not only does she not mind me being a demon, she doesn't even mind that I'm a rather low-ranking one! She shrugged all of it off as not that important. I mean I could have said that I was an accountant for all she cared!"

Aziraphale was compulsively drinking his fifth glass of wine at this point and immediately sobering after each one so he wouldn't miss anything important.

"I'm against abortion of course," he said hesitantly after draining the liquid "but in this case maybe you should have tried to talk her into it… I mean I shouldn't be saying such awful things but this could really be a problem… "

"I told you, I wasn't there. I didn't know. When I found out it was too late for that."

"What are you going to do?"

Crowley sighed and dropped his head in his hands.

"I haven't the slightest idea. Look, I called you because… I was kind of hoping that maybe you could, er, take her in for a little while? At least for tonight? Just until the baby's born and I get my full powers back? I mean, I know I'm asking a lot. You superiors won't be happy if they find out. I didn't mean to get you into this but…"

"Oh!" Aziraphale said. "Oh! I mean, of course! No, don't worry. Sure, she can come here. It's part of my job, you said it! You should go get her right now."

Crowley smiled faintly.

"Thanks."

By the time they got to the bookshop, Aziraphale had managed to secure the closest thing they could get to a midwife under these circumstances. Anatema Device arrived about an hour after them in her husband's rather strange Japanese car. The husband himself, after much arguing, had been left at home to watch the kids. Anatema had been adamant that he had no business coming with her. It was true that the situation was potentially dangerous but it was unlikely that Heaven or Hell had a particular reason to want to hurt Anatema…

So getting her in trouble was one less thing Molly had to worry about.

Molly Henzel had blue eyes and chestnut hair and, just like Crowley had said, she was very normal. She was pretty but not overly beautiful, quite smart but not supernaturally intelligent and fairly level-headed which still could not compensate for the fact that she was scared out of her mind right now.

Fear, however, was nothing compared to other emotions. For example, the desire to kick both Up There and Down There in the nuts until they got the hint and left humans well alone. It was ironic really. Some people claimed to have spent their whole lives fighting an inner struggle between the forces of good and evil. Why bother? They were all bastards!

Well… Not all. Or rather, some of them were at least likable bastards.

She had shouted at Tony for deceiving her but, honestly, who starts a flirt with 'Hi, I'm a demon, can I tempt you?' Well, all right, some men do but then it's considered lame. And he had been more surprised than she was about the baby so it wasn't likely that he had done that on purpose. Even six months ago when this whole insanity had started, she hadn't managed to get properly angry at him. Which was saying something. She had no problem getting angry at people in general. But Tony was… cute. Like a toothless, evil, fluffy kitten. If you were even moderately thick-skinned, he couldn't even really bite you. While they were dating he had sometimes told her out of the blue that she was fat. She had answered him that he was an ass. Neither had really taken it at heart. Later while they were on the run, she had asked why he had done it and he had said he had been evilly trying to lower her self-esteem. At this point she had successfully lowered his self esteem when she had burst out laughing and patted his head.

Molly chuckled slightly. Life with Crowley was fun if nothing else. Like life was supposed to be. He was many things but not boring. He wasn't evil either, not really. She had to admit that being fun and not completely evil was more than a lot of men could offer. There was more than one little problem with this relationship but those could wait for another day if they all lived to see it. And now she got back to the job at hand, which was bringing a new baby into the already overcrowded world.

At least Anatema had turned out to be a no-nonsense kind of woman which Molly liked. She looked fairly competent, too and Aziraphale had told her that she and her husband already had two kids of their own. Which meant that if bloodthirsty angels or demons didn't barge into the room to kill one of them, she and the baby should be fine.

"Oh, Croooowleeeey! Come out and meet your old friend Hastur!"

Inside the shop Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged worried glances.

"He can't get in," Crowley said with near-certainty. "It's Christmas Eve. Demons are very weak at this time of year. He won't dare enter the home of an angel."

"He isn't going to burn the shop or something like that, is he?"

"He wants the baby alive so I don't think so."

"Come on Crowley, it's in your best interest. I just want to discuss a little deal," the voice called again.

"What do you want?" Crowley shouted from behind the door.

"Just a little deal, you slimy little maggot, just a little deal. The deal is this: you give me the woman, I get the baby and you get to live."

"Piss off."

"Wrong answer."

There was a sudden burst of broken glass to their left. Angel and demon ran behind the counter, expecting Manchester knows what. A few seconds later Crowley peered at the object that had been thrown in. He raised an eyebrow.

"A brick?! What for?"

"Hey this window was really expensive glass, you vandal!" Aziraphale protested.

They carefully returned to the window to look outside but before they could peer through the hole, something else flew in and splashed on the floor. Crowley managed to jump out of the way just on time. The angel got quite wet but then again, that was all that happened to him. The demon's coat which had gotten sprinkled by a few drops started smoking and burst in flames just as he managed to take it off. Crowley threw it away and blessed through his teeth. The remains of a burst balloon filled with water were on the floor.

"Holy water! The blessed bastard got the idea from me!"

"Well, go back! Get back behind the counter! I'll try to see what he's up to."

Crowley wasn't suicidal so he obeyed. Aziraphale peered cautiously through the window.

"Erm, Crowley…"

"What is it?"

There was dread in the demon's voice.

"Well, the good news is that Hastur is gone. I think he's back in Hell by now."

There was a pause.

"The bad news is really bad, isn't it?" Crowley asked resignedly.

"Well… He's gone back to Hell because he just got beheaded by a flaming sword. Crowley, there's a bunch of angels out there."

Another pause.

"Oh. Can you maybe talk to them?"

"To the warriors? I don't think it's going to work. I'll try to talk to their superiors. That… probably won't work either. But I'll try. You stay away. Go back to Molly and… help her breathe or something. I'll be right there… maybe."

Crowley threw him a glance that was almost worried but slowly retreated to the back room where Molly was now cursing with a thick Australian accent.

Aziraphale sighed, took out the candles and rolled the carpet trying not to think of how well it had turned out last time when he had tried to communicate to Heaven.

Ten minutes later a determined looking Aziraphale swept his eyes over the crowd of winged creatures before him. As he had expected, talking to the Metatron had gotten him an icy response and an insistent advice to mind his own business and stop fraternizing with demons if he knew what was good for him. Because Aziraphale was Aziraphale, he had also tried to talk to the angels in front of the shop. That had gotten him a selection of weird looks ranging from condescending through mildly irritated to really angry. But understanding or sympathetic were not among them. He had had about a minute to decide what he was going to do and he made the only choice he thought was available to him. It was a bit like the end of the world all over again. There were people who didn't deserve what was coming to them and he had to try and prevent it, even if it looked rather futile. After all, one could always hope for a miracle… The problem with being an angel who was preparing to fight other angels was that there were not many places left where you could expect a miracle to come from. If He hadn't really done anything to prevent The End of Everything, it wasn't very likely that He would personally come down from Heaven to prevent this. They had been lucky with Armageddon. He and Crowley had been sure they were signing their own death certificates standing there against the wishes of their respective leaders. But standing there was all they had had to do in the end. This time being ready to fight would not be enough. He would have to actually fight. He would have to fight his own kind. Well… As if he hadn't done that before! When Lucifer had fallen, angles were fighting angels all over Heaven. The significant difference was that then Aziraphale had been on the winning side. And they were the winning side because they had outnumbered the enemy at least two to one. Now he was outnumbered about twenty to one. Although to tell the truth, most of the angels in front of him were just members of the Heavenly Choir who were only here to watch the show. They were sent to Earth in human bodies for Christmas to do a little bit of promotional work. Sing supernaturally beautifully, appear before mortals…this kind of stuff. They would probably go right back to their Christmas hymns when this was over. He doubted they would fight. But besides them, there were the five warriors in full armor. He had had armor like that long ago. He had been one of them. One of the best, really. He hoped it was like riding a bike. He tried not to think of the fact that he was now for most intents and purposes, a middle-aged bookseller dressed in tartan who couldn't even handle a bunch of human kids at a birthday party.

Aziraphale raised the poker he had taken from his fireplace and it burst in holy flame. It wasn't a sword but… well, anything long and pointy would do.

"Fuck, this baby is just like its father – makes an appointment and then keeps you waiting! And, Anthony J. Crowley, don't you dare do anything stupid or I'll marry you in a church!" Molly screamed from the back room.

"I'm not, Bentley, I'm trying to do something smart here!" he called back over his shoulder. (The origin of the nickname had been this: Crowley had asked her what she wanted to be called. Molly had told him to call her something that he considered precious.) He glanced nervously outside. Aziraphale was going to need help and soon. Thank someone the angel was vain enough to have a few mirrors in the house. This better work. He braced himself, opened the door and stepped outside.

Molly heard the door opening and closing and her heart skipped a beat. For a moment the world stopped existing and she wasn't prepared. She hadn't thought she loved him that much. She hadn't realized. No one had told her it was so serious. But here she was now, in the middle of giving birth to his baby, and at the thought that she might not see him again her brain had temporarily switched off both her ears and her pain receptors and had redirected all of its capacity to the folder called 'Anthony'. Strangely, all she could think about was his hair. It was unnaturally soft and smelled of earth and apples. She knew now that it wasn't because of his shampoo. She was always tempted to kiss the back of his neck so she could smell that scent. She hadn't had enough kisses. Not nearly enough.

Aziraphale was in the center of a small square formed by the four remaining angel fighters. (The fifth one had been relieved of his current corporation.) He narrowly missed being beheaded by the blade that swished through the air a millimeter above his head. He was still bent over when he heard the doorbell of the shop ringing behind him, signaling that Crowley had been idiotic enough not to stay put. Trust the demon to act heroic on the one occasion when you told him not to. The angel spun around quickly to meet another blade. Stupid, stupid demon! Now he had to worry about him too. Crowley was no fighter. The only reason Aziraphale himself was doing so well was because he had had much more practice dealing with a human body than his opponents. But they were learning fast. So what was Crowley hoping to achieve with a mirror on a stick?

While this was rushing through Aziraphale's head, the demon, whose wings were already out sprung in the air and circled above the fighting angels, using what little power he had to make ring of fire appear around them and landed a few feet away.

"Get behind me!" the demon shouted.

"Are you insane?! Go back inside!" Aziraphale shouted back.

"Blessit, Azirapahle, duck!"

"Duck? Where? Oh!"

He managed to drop to the ground and turn around just on time to see a blade about to plunge into his chest. He rolled away and out of the circle. His shoulder got burned by the hellfire but at least he avoided being discorporated. For a few seconds anyway. He realized he wouldn't be able to get up on time to block the next blow. Just at that moment a blue ray of light hit the flaming circle with the warriors still inside. They disappeared.

Aziraphale blinked at the empty space once, twice and finally figured out what Crowley had done. He had used his uncut connection with Heaven and had redirected the Heavenly light with mirrors to the new circle. It shouldn't be possible but no one had told the demon that so he was doing it anyway.

There were sounds of alarm from the seraphim. Crowley was holding the mirror as threateningly as he could but his hands were shaking and being anywhere near a link to Heaven was giving him a huge headache. Aziraphale would have held his breath if he hadn't started doing that as soon as the battle had begun.

The remaining angels looked at each other. They had only been given bodies for tonight in order to appear before a few chosen individuals and give a little concert so heavenly voices could be heard on Earth. Even Heaven needed publicity once in a while and they would get in trouble if they got discorporated before they finished the job. Fighting wasn't in their contracts. They gathered together. They argued. And then… Then they shook their heads dismissively. The message was clear. These two here are not worth our attention. We have more important things to do. Like… sing for example.

Aziraphale couldn't agree more. He had always been in favor of a good hymn in place of a good fight. There was a terrible noise as a dozen pairs of wings beat vigorously in the air. Only one of them hung around for a second looked at the angle and demon still on the ground. Aziraphale imagined there was a small smile on his lips.

Then they were all gone and the snow-covered street was quiet and deserted as if they had never been there. Crowley dropped the mirror and almost dropped to the ground next to it. Aziraphale tried to get up but his knees were suddenly being very uncooperative.

"Angel, you alright? You're not seriously hurt or anything, are you? How;s your shoulder?"

"I just fought members of the Heavenly army," the angel muttered, not really paying attention to what the demon had asked.

"Eh… yeah." Crowley sounded distinctly guilty. "You'll get in trouble for this, wont you?"

"Oh. I suppose I will," he said a bit absent-mindedly. "But then again, I was doing the right thing. And what's the worst that could happen? I could Fall?"

"Well… I would be the first to say that that's not so bad. But I thought every angel was afraid of Falling."

"Well, that's because most of them don't have friends Down There. Now, dear, help me up, will you?"

Leaning on each other, they made their way back towards the door of the shop. They froze when baby's cry cut through the quiet night.

"You have a son," Aziraphale whispered.

"How do you know it's a son?" Crowley asked just as quietly, as if afraid the moment would shatter if he spoke louder.

"I just do," Aziraphale said.

His blue eyes, usually warm to begin with now sparkled with a kind of warmth that was rarely seen there. Crowley smiled, then grinned.

And somewhere above them the Heavenly Choir went about their business and sang. It was Christmas.

A/N: Please leave a comment as I would love to know how this little experiment turned out. There are a lot of questions unanswered so I do intend to write a sequel in the near future.