I lied AGAIN! I said 19 chapters... it will be 20... I'm pretty sure this time...

I may or may not be able to post next week because we are moving to Los Vegas... um... this week? Maybe next week. I'll try my best regardless.

THANK YOU BETA's Azeran and Tim!

There is more Azirath art by OwlVirus! Azirath is feral and looks kickass! Go to DeviantArt and search for OwlVirus to see it!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Crowley was worried.

Everything seemed fine, fantastic actually. They were safe and living an incredibly domestic dream life. Aziraphale appeared to be thriving, increasingly so after he'd woken from his near month-long nap, and it had been three months and six days since then. His angel was livelier, had a pep to his step most days now that was definitely not there before, started wearing lighter colours. Shit, he'd even wiggled once! Crowley had been wide-eyed and speechless as soon as he'd witnessed it and had to rush outside, muttering some silly excuse so he would not break into fitful sobs in front of his angel, like the lovestruck sop that he was. Crowley cherished that moment like a small, precious treasure and he hoped to behold it again soon.

Aziraphale seemed, well, happy - most of the time.

Aziraphale had taken up cooking after their neighbour, Emily, offered to teach him how to make her famous stew. Crowley thought that Aziraphale would dryly but politely refuse the offer, and then his angel surprised him when he happily took her up on it. Since then, Aziraphale cooked up a storm whenever he was able, whether successful or not.

There had been a day that Aziraphale tasted some concoction of his own invention but tutted and sighed dramatically. Crowley's ears perked up. Those were the telltale signs that his angel was displeased and was about to offhandedly make a request of Crowley without actually asking him to do it.

It was their age-old dance. A to and fro they partook in whenever their paths crossed - whether intentionally or not. Aziraphale would make some remark or complaint, then Crowley would play hard to get in his casual and cool way, then it would be Aziraphale's turn to pout and beg with his eyes. Finally, Crowley would cave in, as if he never intended to, but they both knew he always would. Crowley loved it, lived for it.

So, at that moment, Crowley waited with a smirk for Aziraphale to begin their dance, only for Aziraphale to open his mouth and then shut it quickly.

Instead, Aziraphale approached Crowley timidly. "Might I bother you a moment, dear," Aziraphale had asked nervously. "I was wondering if, if, I could request a few, um, herbs and vegetables for the garden." Crowley had blinked a few times, waiting for more, but when he realised that Aziraphale was sincere with his mundane and silly request, Crowley nearly barked out a laugh. It would have been hilarious had Crowley not seen the clear apprehension on Aziraphale's face as he waited for Crowley's answer.

Aziraphale used to "ask" for all sorts of silly things, not necessarily small favours, but silly ones, Crowley would practically trip over himself to indulge him. It was just their thing ! And now the thing was gone.

The simple request for him to plant readily available seeds for the most basic and easily grown - vegetables for shit's sake - had caused Aziraphale real distress. Crowley could not understand why. So, instead of circling and trying to engage in their age-old dance, Crowley smiled and acted as casual as possible. "Of course, angel. Been meaning to expand the garden. Why don't you make a list of the things you'd like, and I'll get right to it." He'd thrown in a wink for good measure.

The look of relief and gratitude in his angel's whole body language nearly broke Crowley's heart. The rest of that day, Aziraphale stopped himself from asking anything of Crowley. Like when he cut himself off from asking Crowley to pass the salt, or toss him a towel, or open the window. It was small instances like that which made Crowley worry.

Then there was the sex. In the manor, Aziraphale was never apprehensive about initiating. After he had woken from his sleep, his angel had no issue whatsoever pinning Crowley to the wall and taking him into his mouth like a starved animal. When they got into bed to move onto a proper shag, Aziraphale had gone pale all of a sudden and froze.

"I, I, oh dear, I didn't ask," Aziraphale had breathed in panic.

Crowley had been instantly worried that it had something to do with some life-threatening calamity, as par for the course. "What? What's wrong?"

His angel had been positively petrified. "I should have asked you if, if, well, if you wanted... to... do this."

Crowley's jaw had positively dropped open in shock. "Of course, I do! What do you mean, you should have asked?" Aziraphale seemed instantly relieved and deflected the question by stroking his cock.

Since then, Aziraphale approached him cautiously, with small touches, coy smiles, and hungry eyes, but never really initiated things unless Crowley took the hint. If Crowley wouldn't, just to see what Aziraphale would do, his angel would simply give him a peck on the cheek and busy himself with something else.

Crowley had a theory, and it wasn't one he liked at all. Perhaps Aziraphale was so traumatised by their last encounter with Satan that maybe he thought Crowley would no longer desire him. Being almost incapable of asking Crowley for almost anything was probably Aziraphale's way of trying to "keep" Crowley. And-

Oh no. What if he hasn't wanted to be intimate at all and just trying to keep me happy and thinks I'd leave him if he doesn't put out?!

All of it was ridiculous to Crowley, of course, but what else could it be? He blamed himself, mostly. Crowley knew they needed to talk about what happened. He also knew that Aziraphale would not be the one to bring it up, and Crowley had promised himself to be better at that sort of thing.

He just didn't know how to approach the issue or when was the best time to bring it up. Crowley was not the type to go and get advice. Maybe it had to do with not being able to trust anyone other than Aziraphale with his issues. Even then, it was like pulling out perfectly good feathers. It was really almost physically painful. His stomach was always out of sorts whenever he showed any vulnerability like that, he felt too exposed. Plus, he was a demon. He'd been a lone agent, always doing things his way. The Arrangement was purely Crowley's way of getting close to Aziraphale, not because he really needed the help.

Pondering on his dilemma while planting what Aziraphale wanted for his cooking experiments, Ramiel spotted him.

"Why so glum, chum?" Ramiel laughed. "That is how it goes, yes?"

Crowley smirked and nodded. The new residents of what everyone jokingly started calling Heathenville were growing in numbers and intermingling pretty well. The humans made all the difference. They were the ones who gathered enough courage to insert themselves into their lives, always curious and always willing to teach both demons and angels a thing or two. The new demons were still suspicious of their intent. That would probably not change anytime soon. At least there were very few incidents that caused a bit of disharmony among their new community. Any row was quickly diffused by a demon's better half, or a well-meaning passerby.

Ramiel and Moloch were often sought out by other pairs. Crowley and Aziraphale were seldom approached because of Aziraphale's reputation, though Gabriel made a point to always seek advice from them. And Crowley made a point in taking Aziraphale to any and all social gatherings.

Maybe, Crowley thought, Ramiel was the best bloke to ask for a little guidance.

"Erm, I've just got something on my mind," Crowley confessed and scratched the back of his head nervously.

Ramiel's smile faltered. "Anything I can do to help?"

Crowley almost laughed. The recently Fallen still had more angel than demon in them. Maybe it had something to do with being a dove.

Crowley approached Ramiel and led him a bit further from the house. "I want to talk to Aziraphale about something, erm, serious. I don't know how to bring it up though, it's uh, a sensitive issue."

"Afraid to hurt his feelings, or...?

Crowley sighed and cleared his throat. "It's hard to talk about it. It's, uh, hard for me to talk about it. I'm sure it'll be just as difficult or more for Aziraphale to discuss it."

Ramiel looked thoughtful. "Well, words sometimes make certain things tough to express. It seems like talking may not be the best option for either of you, so don't talk about it." He shrugged.

Crowley blinked a few times and grimaced. "Repressing it doesn't seem to be helping."

"Oh, no. That's not what I meant at all!" He chuckled and patted Crowley's shoulder awkwardly. "I mean physically, don't talk. Don't use words! Communicate in our First language."

"Oh." Crowley made to speak other words, but nothing intelligible came forth. Ramiel was a genius. Though it was his least favourite way of communicating with fellow demons, the idea of doing it with Aziraphale rather excited him. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Ramiel looked to the ground sheepishly. "I believe you two are more ingrained in the physical world than any immortal I know. Gone pretty native." He laughed softly and gave Crowley a tentative smile. "If the sounds from your home when you forget to close your windows are anything to go by." Ramiel pursed his lips and glanced away again.

Crowley's face burned with embarrassment. "Ah." He cleared his throat and shifted in place. "I see your point."

Ramiel nodded and took in a loud breath as if readying to blurt something out before he could change his mind. "It's sort of why I came by today actually..." he coughed toward the end, and his discomfort visibly grew.

Crowley quirked a brow and frowned. "Yeah? Well, I'll try to remember the... windows."

"Oh, no, no!" Ramiel scratched the stubble on his throat. "You see, Moloch has, erm, expressed interest in, uh, making..." he cleared his throat again and spoke in a lower and hushed tone, "making an Effort."

Crowley spluttered and choked on his own saliva, punching his chest to clear his airways. Ramiel had come for sex advice. How utterly mortifying.

Aziraphale was worried.

Everything appeared wonderful, fabulous, actually. They were far from harm, they were living an amazingly tranquil ideal life, really. Other than Crowley's long term memory issues, which they worked on every day, his demon seemed at peace most days. Crowley's smile was more natural and relaxed. He was easy to laugh. He loved his garden so very much, anyone could tell. It filled Aziraphale's heart with joy whenever he caught Crowley whispering to the extensive flora, even though he was probably threatening them under his breath most of the time. Still, Crowley was in his element when among his plants, shoots, and seedlings. He was always too filthy to come into their home, but Aziraphale didn't mind helping rid the dirt in their private washroom. Bathing one another had become a lovely ritual between them that they continued to engage in.

Crowley's absent moments were still concerning for Aziraphale, and it looked like those moments happened more frequently as time went by. Sometimes he'd let Crowley come back on his own to see how long the spells lasted. A few minutes at a time was usual, but sometimes it would go for over half an hour, and Aziraphale could not stop himself from waking Crowley from whatever was going on in his mind. He lived with the constant underlying anxiety that Crowley would not be able to resurface one day, and his eyes would stay lifeless for who knows how long if not permanently. He could not live through that again.

His demon was always reassuring after his episodes, pushing Aziraphale's fear away with witty comments and sweet words and kisses. Still, he wondered how much Crowley was keeping from him. What was even more worrisome for Aziraphale were his own episodes. Sometimes something would trigger the demon in him, flashes of memory or catastrophic, imaginary scenarios. Nothing serious had occurred, yet, but he did break things in his disorientation sometimes and have a deep urge to strangle someone. Aziraphale was quite sure Crowley never witnesses him in such a state and he planned to keep it that way.

Then there was the sex. Crowley hardly initiated intimacy anymore, and when he did, it was cautiously, and always with a hint of fear in his eyes. Aziraphale would approach just a bit tentatively, looking for any sign that Crowley was not in the mood, never pressuring or surprising him. Even then, Crowley would sometimes stiffen or give him a questioning look. Aziraphale had no idea what to do about it and blamed himself for not bringing up the traumatic events before they arrived at the sanctuary. Months had already gone by! It seemed too late to broach the subject now, out of nowhere.

What if Crowley was merely trying to appease Aziraphale? What if Crowley was no longer interested in sex because of what had happened and he was suffering in silence like he always did? It was a horrifying thought, but he wanted to assure Crowley that it would not change the way he felt about him. Aziraphale wanted Crowley to know that his love for him would never diminish no matter what.

True, Aziraphale had gotten into the occasional habit of carnal pleasures and felt his urges as strongly as he craved the taste of delicious foods, but he didn't need it. At least, he could stave off the desire by willing away the necessary parts for the act, and if that didn't work, he could always take care of matters himself. It's not like Crowley shied away from all physical affection. He loved cuddling, grooming, embracing, and kissing. It was more than enough for Aziraphale, though he still mourned the idea of possibly losing the more intimate closeness, of bringing Crowley pleasure, of coming apart in each other's arms.

Aziraphale shook himself out of it. Crowley had been so patient with him, indulged him for so long. It was only fair to return the favour. It was why Aziraphale tried turning the tables. He waited on Crowley as much as he could. He took mental notes of Crowley's likes and habits and was now an expert at anticipating Crowley's needs. He was determined to make Crowley happy. He'd do anything to make sure Crowley felt safe and cherished, even if that meant waiting six thousand years or forever for it to happen. Aziraphale had to bring it up. He just didn't know how.

A laugh from outside drew Aziraphale's attention away from his thoughts. He walked to the window and caught sight of Ramiel chatting with Crowley, his hand on Crowley's shoulder. Aziraphale smiled. Although he'd been reluctant at first to get to know the other pairs or anyone for that matter, he was glad that Crowley pushed him into society. It made him feel normal. Like his old self.

It did not go unnoticed that most everyone stayed a safe distance away from Aziraphale. He really could not blame them. At the beginning of their stay at the sanctuary, while Aziraphale was asleep, some humans anonymously left gifts at their front door. He ventured to guess it was his rescues and just the thought of Crowley accepting the presents on his behalf was absolutely mortifying. Thankfully, there wasn't much of that happening anymore, and Aziraphale made sure to get rid of the evidence of their flighty visits. At least they had the decency to stay unnamed and used others to deliver the goods for them.

The only others who dared approach their door were their human neighbours. Gabriel, as much as Aziraphale abhorred the thought of his persistent visits, found he was welcomed with warmer greetings than he used to be. Aziraphale could not help it. As time went by, he did feel a sense of loneliness, only because it was evident most angels and demons feared him. Gabriel had also been his former supervisor, and it was a real feather in Aziraphale's wing to have his old boss asking him for advice. It was nice.

If the immortals came near, Crowley was always their first point of contact, not Aziraphale. Once upon a time, he would have preferred it. Now, it was disheartening. A constant reminder of what he had become and how much harm he had caused. Crowley assured him it would all "blow over" someday. Aziraphale was not as optimistic, but he tried to be, for Crowley's sake.

A loud snort came from Crowley while Ramiel looked particularly embarrassed. Aziraphale squinted. Was that a coy smile on Ramiel's face? That struck Aziraphale as odd. He lingered by the window and watched their exchange with curiosity. Crowley seemed flushed. He was kicking at the dirt idly, which meant he was either uncomfortable with the situation or-

Ramiel drew closer to Crowley, much closer than Aziraphale liked, and whispered into Crowley's ear. The spy was dismayed to hear a lovely giggle come from his demon.

What was happening?

A warm sensation crawled up Aziraphale's neck, up to his head. His breath was shallow, his fists clenched, and his nostrils flared.

Jealousy.

Aziraphale was jealous. For a moment he wanted to laugh at himself for how ridiculous that was. There was nothing to be jealous of!

Sure, Ramiel was tall and handsome. Sure, the other dove was charming and easy to talk to. Sure, he'd managed to keep his hands clean despite his Fall and was still more angel than demon...

At that moment, Crowley laughed again and gave Ramiel a pat on the shoulder that lingered just a bit too long for Aziraphale's taste. Ramiel opened his arms wide, and before Aziraphale could understand what was happening, Ramiel took Crowley into his arms and embraced him.

Lucifer was holding him. Caressing him. Kissing him.

Red.

Everything was red.

Someone's breathing had turned to wheezes, and he could hear growling as well. Oh . It was Aziraphale.

Vision still tinted crimson, Aziraphale pursed his lips and tried to use logic to dispel the overwhelming sensation of unadulterated rage.

Ramiel had already ended the hug. The demons were smiling awkwardly at each other and exchanged quiet words. Crowley seemed bashful, flirtatious even. Aziraphale knew without a doubt that Crowley's love belonged to him alone, but the closeness was odd. Ramiel and the other immortals usually shied away from touch. What was the bastard's angle anyway?! He had a companion! Why did he have his pristine, slender hands on his demon?! Why was the snake not recoiling at his touch and instead welcoming the familiarity with open, albeit clumsy, arms?!

Lucifer was dragging him away.

Logic was not helping.

Without realising it, Aziraphale was outside staring at the two demons who appeared startled.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley called out cautiously, lifting his hands up slowly as he took a step toward him. "What's wrong, angel?" Another step forward.

Aziraphale felt confused and angry. Was he not enough for Crowley? Obviously. He already knew that. He thought to respect Crowley's space was the right thing to do. He'd let him run into the arms of another. It was too late. Crowley had finally found out that Aziraphale was lacking. Ramiel was a much better companion for him. Pure. The closest thing to an angel than all the other demons and doves in the sanctuary.

The pain pooled and swirled in his chest, in his belly, in his head. "Crowley..." he let out in such a small voice that he wondered if he'd said it aloud at all.

"Aziraphale, just take a breath," Crowley replied gently. "Everything is alright." He nodded slowly and took more steps toward him. "Ramiel, I think you should go," he muttered.

Aziraphale's gaze had not left the dove before him. Ramiel looked terrified as he walked backwards.

Red turned to black and Aziraphale was rooted in place by strong arms.

"Breathe, angel, please," Crowley murmured into his hair. "It's alright. I'm here. Tell me what's wrong."

Hands rubbed at Aziraphale's back, and Crowley's scent washed over him as he did what he was told and breathed. He shuddered and relaxed into Crowley's embrace. Calm started to settle within him, and his senses returned. It was dark, and Crowley's presence was all-consuming. Gradually, Aziraphale realised that Crowley had cocooned them in his wings. Shame struck him like a punch to the gut.

"Oh, God," Aziraphale breathed, "I'm so sorry."

He continued a long string of apologies, utterly horrified by his behaviour. Crowley continued to console him with words and warm affection until Aziraphale had calmed. The shiny black wings lifted and disappeared. Ramiel was still there, further away from before but stood ready to act at a moments notice, white wings flared behind him.

Aziraphale could barely stand to look at either of them but knew he had to apologise to their guest, Crowley's friend. A friend.

"Ramiel," Aziraphale pleaded, "I'm-I-I'm," he took a long inhale to steady his nerves, "my deepest apologies. I don't-I don't know what came over me."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Ramiel replied evenly and nodded. "Are you all right?"

No. Was what Aziraphale wanted to say. "I... I will be. Forgive me," he added quickly.

"Forgiven," Ramiel replied genuinely. "Go in peace, Aziraphale. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault, Ramiel," said Crowley. "It had nothing to do with you. Right, angel?" Crowley gave his angel's shoulders a squeeze. "Just some unresolved issues we've left to fester for too long, right, love?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and Lucifer stared back. He snapped his eyes open again and nodded in assent quickly.

Crowley didn't even turn to Ramiel as he dismissed him. "Thank you for the advice, friend. I'm going to put it to use right now."

"And thank you for yours," Ramiel cleared his throat. "I might also put it to use, um, very soon."

Aziraphale was led inside their home before he could say anything more. As soon as Crowley closed the door behind him, he whirled around and grabbed Aziraphale's face.

" Aziraphale," Crowley drawled, "what the Heaven was that ?" He wasn't angry but was most assuredly concerned.

Aziraphale swallowed hard. "Well," he tried to explain, "I believe I was," he let out a single mirthless laugh, "jealous."

Crowley shook his head, eyes wide. "Bloody hell, angel, if that was jealousy, remind me never to even accidentally graze another being again."

Aziraphale covered Crowley's hands with his own, still cupping his face, and looked directly into his eyes. He smiled weakly. "I think you were correct in your deduction. I saw..." he shuddered. "I remembered - it happens when -"

"I understand. I see it too. Too often." A mixture of concern and guilt took over Crowley's features. "Come, we need to talk."

Well, those words struck fear into Aziraphale's heart.

Crowley led them to the bed. "Come here," he smiled gently and pulled Aziraphale to sit cross-legged on the mattress facing him.

Before Crowley could get a word in, Aziraphale felt an urgent need to explain himself. "I'm so sorry, Crowley. These past couple of months have been so lovely, and I've ruined it. I tried so hard to be patient and give you space. Of course, I want you to have friends. You should have friends. I can do better, I know I can. It's just that I've missed how easy it was at the start of it all, you see, and I'm not sure how to act now. You don't have to pretend for my sake-"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Crowley interrupted, waving his hands in front of him. "Pretend to what?"

"Well, to want, you know, to want me... physically. I can see how uncomfortable it is for you and I should have brought it up sooner-"

Crowley sniggered and covered his face with his hands. "Oh 'ziraphale," he muffled into his palms, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Aziraphale waited, not very patiently, for Crowley's hysterics to subside. This was an urgent and serious matter, after all. No one should be laughing. "What?"

His demon finally resurfaced with the corners of his open mouth turned up in a disbelieving smile. "Well, angel, as usual," he chuckled, "our communication skills are bloody brilliant. Fantastic." He kissed his fingers like he'd just tasted a gourmet meal and laughed openly again at his angels confused face. "Come here." He took Aziraphale's hands and placed them on his chest and leaned into Aziraphale to rest their foreheads together. "Go on. Take a look." Crowley closed his eyes and took even breaths.

It was several moments before Aziraphale understood what Crowley meant. His demon wanted to share his thoughts with him, literally. It was an archaic form of communication that was used when the angels were all new and more connected than they were now. To Aziraphale's surprise, Hell still used it and forced it on the demons occasionally to relay secret instructions. It had always felt like an intrusion on his mind save for when Crowley used it in his serpent form to communicate, he was always quiet and gentle. Now here was Crowley open and willing to let Aziraphale in completely. It nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Aziraphale concentrated, it'd been so long since he'd done it he wasn't sure he'd be able to. The intention was all he needed. Gently, Aziraphale slipped within Crowley's essence and almost jolted back out from the information he received all at once. It wasn't just thoughts, it was feelings too. Crowley had nothing but fierce, possessive love for Aziraphale, and it made his chest want to explode with joy. Ramiel didn't occupy a space within him at all. His jealousy was, of course, unwarranted.

After the tender feelings came the darkness. The worries, the panic, the anxiety for Aziraphale's wellbeing. The memories of that awful night in Satan's castle came forth from Crowley's perspective, and Aziraphale gasped as he watched himself through Crowley's eyes. There was so much anger and guilt. So much remorse for even bringing it up.

They shared the same fears for each other, as it happened, for the exact same reasons. They were both so wrong. Aziraphale now understood why Crowley had found some amusement in it all. There was just one thing in particular that Aziraphale needed to clear up.

Aziraphale ended their connection and thumbed Crowley's wet cheek. "Oh, Crowley," he uttered lovingly, "thank you." He waited for the demon to open his eyes. "But you must know, my dear, he never did."

Crowley gulped and blinked. "You mean..."

"My love, I thought you knew. I thought you saw, but you didn't." He smiled sadly, "we were wrong."

"What? Wrong about what?" Crowley suddenly felt desperate.

Aziraphale pursed his lips and tried to form his words in his mind before he spoke them. "I've pondered on it a lot, on our theory and what, well, what happened that night. I don't think I was ever an object of Lucifer's, erm, affections, as it were."

Crowley frowned and furrowed his brow with confusion. "But I saw him-"

"You didn't," Aziraphale sighed, "he certainly made it seem like he did, but, oh goodness," he shrugged and gave an uncomfortable scoff, "he never made an Effort , if you get my meaning."

Shock was not a good enough word to describe what happened to Crowley at that moment. His entire mind had gone completely blank, and it wasn't until Aziraphale shook him back into himself that Crowley gasped.

"What are you on about? What do you mean? He-he-he-"

"He did awful things," Aziraphale nodded and stroked Crowley's tense shoulders that were by his ears. "Unforgivable things, and yet he never had any intention of fulfilling his threat. I'm sure he thought he didn't have to. It was never about me, Crowley. I don't even think it was about you. He was playing a disgusting game just to use you. Just to prove he was right. And I believe, had the blasts not gone off at that precise moment, his farce would have worked."

Yeah, it would have, Crowley thought, remembering how he had almost given himself away. Crowley felt dizzy. He let himself fall into Azirphale's arms. "Bollocks. Are you sure? Maybe he was just-just-"

"Flacid?" Aziraphale chuckled mirthlessly. "No. There was nothing. Trust me, Crowley, I would have felt it. I'd offer you my memories in return, but I don't want you to go through that again." He raked his fingers through Crowley's hair and began to undo the plait.

"If it was never you, then who?" Crowley wondered aloud.

"Maybe there isn't anyone," Aziraphale replied, though he felt differently.

"That's madness, Aziraphale," Crowley whispered with disbelief. "After everything he put us through, he was just having a laugh?"

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. The dove continued his ministrations for a long while, brushing his demon's locks with gentle care. Ramiel came to mind again, and he sighed with shame.

"I imagine that my behaviour earlier will not help my reputation in the least."

Crowley chuckled. "No one else saw you go rabid, angel, don't worry."

Aziraphale frowned, not liking the comparison to a rabid animal however fitting it was. "Maybe we should invite Ramiel and Moloch for dinner," Aziraphale mused aloud. "I think I've quite gotten the hang of Emily's meat pies."

"Mhm."

"What were you two giggling about out there anyway?" Aziraphale's tone could have been less accusatory, but he couldn't help it.

"Oh," Crowley laughed, "Moloch heard us fucking, and now she wants to give it a go."

"Good lord!"

Eight years later...

For the most part, Adam's days were quiet, but the quiet only grew louder with time. Once again, he had no one. Just Satan, who insisted Adam continue his training and rule beside him. The Antichrist spent a lot of time with the Devil these days. The boy didn't really have a choice. And, really, Satan wasn't so bad. When they were alone, Lucifer would ask him questions, engage in conversation, and at least try to understand him and get to know him.

His old friends were far in distant lands and wanted nothing to do with him. His new friends abandoned him the first chance they got. They were never his friends, he realised sadly. They did what they had to do to survive. It was the only reason either of them had put up with him. There were moments that he could remember how genuine Crowley was, moments he could see past his pain and see the remorse in Crowley's face as he left Adam behind. There were even times that Adam could pick out memories of Aziraphale looking proud and pleased with his learning. Loneliness is a poison that, left untreated, will strip those precious and happy moments away from the soul.

That is how Adam felt now more than ever, stripped of hope and love, leaving only despair and resentment behind. Oh, and he was angry. He was so, so angry most days now. He wished he'd never met Crowley and Aziraphale, but his wishes never came true anymore.

"Adam."

The Antichrist was brought out of his miserable musings by Satan calling. He'd almost forgotten the council had convened, what was left of it. Death stopped showing up, his seat a formality anyway. Aziraphale was who knows where by now. Belphegor had been melted by Holy water in the battle on the castle grounds. Satan was in no hurry to replace his "advisors."

Adam looked to Aziraphale's empty seat before gazing up at his father. "Yes?"

Lucifer placed a clawed hand on Adam's shoulder. "Buck up, my son. We will find every traitor in due time. They will be punished, but I need your help." He bent low to meet Adam's empty gaze directly. "You want them punished, do you not?"

Adam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." His voice was strong and even.

"Now, you mentioned earlier that you had something of great importance to bring to the council. You said," Satan paused and pursed his lips, "that there is another traitor among us. Do you still believe that?"

Adam nodded again. "Yes." Though his voice held no emotion, the tension in his body could not be mistaken for anything other than fury.

"You said they were right here. Under my nose this whole time," Lucifer whispered dangerously. "Tell me who. All you have to do is point them out, and I promise you," Lucifer smiled evilly, "their punishment will be for you to decide. You can be as lenient or as harsh as you desire." He gave Adam's shoulder a squeeze. "Now, go on. Point them out."

Eyes still locked on his father, Adam slowly raised an arm, uncurled a finger, and pointed.

Lucifer didn't even have to look. He grinned wickedly and tutted. "How disappointing."

Just in case you missed in the beginning notes...

There is more Azirath art by OwlVirus! Look them up on Deviant Art to see it!

I know... a cliffhanger. Oh, Adam, Adam, Adam... Are you surprised? I think you all know who he pointed at.

Thoughts? Theories? Let'em roll! I will especially cherish comments this week because they will carry me through all the stress of, idk, changing my whole life in less than a week... ha.

Have a lovely week everyone! As always, you can find me on IG and tumblr but I'm more active on Insta! At mordellestories.