Hello, everyone! This is the first chapter of Anno Domini, being my very first fluff story. It's also a Christmas story that is twelve chapters long, because I'm weird that way.

This story is the second part in what I call the Dark Trails 'verse, and it's the sequel to the horror story of the same name. Therefore, understanding the goings-on in this story will be somewhat easier if you've read what came before, but for those who aren't into freakish horror, it can also be read on its own. Enjoy!

And there's a link to some mood music on my profile page.

Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. No copyright infringement or personal profit was intended with the writing of this story.

Warnings: none. Scary, isn't it?

Dedicated to Jean-Claude17 and Lunissa, both on dA, for being consistently, wonderfully weird. I love you guys.

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Anno Domini

September

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Forget fluffy, poofy pillows: fluffy, poofy angels were the way to go.

Such, at any rate, was Crowley's semi-conscious opinion, as he lay coiled, all two-and-a-half feet of him, around Aziraphale's neck, blissed out by the warmth, the nearness, and the ages-old familiar smell of dust and paper that the angel always carried about with him. When Crowley flicked out his tongue, he could almost taste it. And when Aziraphale reached up a hand from the book he was reading, to gently pet Crowley along part of his spine, the latter gave a hiss of drowsy delight, and shifted around so he could press his head to where Aziraphale's pulse was steadily beating, and let the regular, calm rhythm of it soothe him to sleep.

He was just inches away from sliding into dreams, when he felt a brief tremor pass through the shoulders part of him was resting on. He opened his eyes a fraction, then shut them again when nothing further happened. But a few moments later, another tremor twitched him awake again, then another and another. And there were these little snuffling sounds as well. Wait a moment, and Crowley forced his brain to come back online, was that Aziraphale? Was Aziraphale... Was Aziraphale crying?

Snatched into complete wakefulness now, Crowley partially uncoiled, raised his head, and questioningly nosed the side of Aziraphale's face. "Hey... Hey, angel? Are you okay?"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, nodded and smiled, and took out a pocket handkerchief to dab at his eyes. "Oh! Yes, dear, I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. I am sorry I've woken you, though: you seemed to be sleeping so soundly."

Dismissing that last bit with a wriggle, Crowley said, "If you were fine, you wouldn't be crying. So what's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear, really! I truly am fine. I was only crying because I'm happy."

"...'scuse me? That makes no sense. Crying because you're happy? And happy about what?"

"That you're here, dear," Aziraphale said softly. He smiled again, his eyes warm as Heaven's-blue amber. "You don't know how I felt when I thought you might have... that something had happened to you, dear, and I don't believe I'd ever be able to find words to express it. It's just... so good to know you're all right." He cupped Crowley's head in the palm of his hand, pressed it against his cheek, and held it there. "Dear, dear... Yes, you are dear."

Crowley didn't need to think of something to say: it came of itself. "You don't have to explain it to me. If I'd found one of your feathers, down there, I'd have felt just the same way."

"...Crowley, dear."

"Yes, Aziraphale. Yes."

A few minutes of silence; then the clock struck eleven. Crowley pooled into Aziraphale's lap (careful not to land on and crease the book there), and crawled onto the empty sofa cushion next to the angel. Two seconds' concentration, and he was in human form again, legs crossed and sunglasses dangling from one hand. "Well," he said with a sigh, "I suppose I'd better head back to my flat."

Aziraphale started. "Oh, but my dear, you're not imposing, please, don't think that! I don't mind at all that there's a second bed up in my bedroom. Surely I've told you that?"

"Yes, but I have to go back. It's been two weeks already, and my landlord might get ideas into his head about breaking off my contract on grounds of prolonged absence and putting a nephew or a girlfriend or something in there, the sneaky bastard. Done it before, you know."

"Oh?"

"Mh. Then there's all the hassle of spooking them out again, and frankly, poor fish like that are hardly worth the trouble of vanquishing. No, best I go."

"Well... All right, if you feel you must."

Crowley put an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders. "Hey, don't worry. You can still sit up in your bed and read and not sleep when I'm not there sleeping in mine, too, you know, just the same."

"Not quite the same, dear boy," Aziraphale answered quietly.

"...and, and besides: you don't honestly think you're rid of me yet, do you?"

"I wouldn't want to be."

They got up, Aziraphale accompanied him to the door, and at the door they parted. Aziraphale watched Crowley get in his car and drive off. He waved as the Bentley rounded the corner, then went back in and locked up for the night, glowing inside.

Who ever said there could be no such thing as a brotherly kiss goodnight?