And now, Mistress B2WM performs the Author's Note Rag. Notice how her filk scans with Chicago. (Almost. )
Season five's out! And it's fun though this was written well before it. "Double Edged Sword" gave me ideas. Thanks to Sparkling Cyanide, Sarcasm for Free, and those who come on the ride!
Oh no, oh no, oh no I don't, I don't own GO, don't own GO and I don't own Lucifer, can't own Lucifer, yes it's clear that I don't own Lucifer...
(Yes I have a playlist for this fic attributed to Chloe and Aziraphale subtitled "why no devil lets his nostalgic blond theater nerd DJ" and yes it's heavy on the Hammerstein. Why do you ask?
Unfortunately, the hit counter I usually use to determine when I update is on the fritz, so favorites, follows, and reviews are extra appreciated, as it lets me know if people have read a new chapter. )
"...And Amenadiel won't let me see him as long as he lives on earth." Translation: Aziraphale would never see his godson again. Wasn't like Cain had much of a chance of getting into heaven, what with the bloody sword he'd tried to hide, after he failed at destroying it. Oh, sure, he'd knocked out the little fiddly bit holding the haft - or was that just the guard? - onto the tang of the blade - what was it called again? It seemed easier to try to remember useless trivia about swords that Crawly had never used even during the fall than to give the upset angel his full attention - but lying about that blessed weapon was not a trick that Cain had managed to pick up from his godfather. He'd been asked, he'd prevaricated without answering, - Crawly would be proud of the technique, under other circumstances - and Azrael had shown up with the biggest remnant of the sword and something else besides that the demon didn't want to think about and she didn't even acknowledge her old partner in crime as she ratted Cain out.
Amenadiel had turned up with a branding iron after that, and Crawly didn't think either he or Aziraphale needed to stick around for that part. The Principality had disagreed, rather sharply, and the next thing Crawly remembered was the lesser angel sobbing and stuttering through a mental breakdown that might or might not have included an apology for smiting him somewhere between the panic for Eve's eldest sons. The demon really hadn't been listening for it.
The boys had not always hated each other, after all. Cain could be standoffish and condescending, but a lack of public affection didn't mean that he didn't care, much as some tried to hide it that way. Abel - all right, Crawly had spoiled Abel, just a little; he tried to take care of all of Eve's kids, but Abel was his ungodly son and God Himself had liked him best too, so Crawly had done something right. Or he thought he had. Abel had grown up to be as cocksure and comfortable with his own graces as Lucifer before the fall. It was probably just a favorite son thing, but the boy brought back memories of a time just forgotten enough to hurt pleasantly.
But yeah. That pride. Abel didn't need Crawly's. He'd had more than enough for himself. And- and… well. He hadn't had as much patience with Cain's stiff upper lip. Cain hadn't had much patience with Abel's peacocking. The boy didn't have the same memories that Crawly did, after all.
And pride goeth.
"... he's all alone out there, cast out, and you of all beings should know that that can't end well." Maybe, Crawly would consider later, Aziraphale hadn't meant it as an accusation so much as an entreaty. But under the circumstances, the fallen angel might be forgiven (if he'd ever asked to be) for taking things a little too close to heart. (He shouldn't think of chest wounds right now. Not of burning. Not of falling.)
"Then he should've thought about that before he- he- acted," Crawly spat, not quite as smoothly as he meant to.
Aziraphale was quiet for just a breath too long.* "Before he took the sword away from Abel, you mean?" he asked evenly, nearly had the gall to ask innocently.
*(Only Cain was breathing. In theory, so were Adam, Eve, Seth, the girls, and the grandchildren, but the only breath Crawly heard was the drawn-out shudder of pain from the being Amenadiel had hauled away, halfway around the world.)
"Cain was always stronger. He just has no willpower." The demon continued to strike instead of acknowledging Aziraphale's pain. It was easier to pretend that it wasn't there anymore when those liquid blue eyes went hard as flint, and then maybe Crawly's could disappear that quickly, too.
"Oh?" Aziraphale held his hands locked together in front of his chest. There was no sword anymore, but it was about the right height for a low guard. "He's always tended his fields with firm intent. He's bent his whole life toward pleasing God, even when some desires go unacknowledged. Cain has always controlled his emotions better than his younger siblings when things don't go his way-"
"Up until now," Crawly cut in.
"Up until now," Aziraphale echoed faintly, rocking on his heels. "But you must admit that he was pushed beyond any reasonable limits. I hardly see how he can be accused of lacking willpower when Abel was just as quick to anger for much less cause."
"Because Abel didn't murder anyone!" It had been a closer thing than the serpent ever wanted to admit, but demon. He was allowed to revel in the technicalities.
Despite the tight interlacing of the angel's fingers, Crawly could see the sudden whiteness of his knuckles, the tremble shuddering through Aziraphale's body, the utter heartbreak wetting blue eyes as Crawly came too close to acknowledging what had happened, to making it real.
"Quite." He wasn't sure if that was allowing the devil's advocate his point, the guardian's own way of unearthing the sharp edge that Crawly teetered upon, or simple reflex meaning nothing other than that Aziraphale had heard. The syllable was too well formed, lingered on without express heat. The angel thought unceasingly hard and fast without speaking before his brain caught up to his mouth or his body betraying anything other than generalized anxiety, something Crawly only wished he could do himself. (Something he wished he could stop in the angel, if only to release the pressure on that furrowed brow. Or jealousy. Jealousy was probably safer than thinking about how Aziraphale glowed when he was pleased, when he was relieved. That was certainly safer than how Crawly wanted to make him happier and calmer even if it meant starting a fight and letting him blame everything on the demon, so at least there was someone to blame besides Aziraphale himself.)
"Yeah. Quite so." Crawly couldn't get his arms tight enough around his ribs. Even with his wings held low and tight, his spine sunk into itself, his damned heart was going to burst out from this. The angel must have been able to hear it rally against his bones. "Cain's banned from heaven and hell and his family and friends, but he's alive. The mark's only on there until he underssstandss the consssequences." And he and Aziraphale were more likely to die first before that happened, but Crawly could almost control the sibilance of the angry half-truth. "You think Abel's coming back from that?" He tilted his head down to one side and back up, not able to so much as point with a finger.
"So you'll have exclusive access to him!" That. That hurt.
"Fair's fair, angel. I won't see my godson until you see yours," he promised more softly than he meant to. "Everyone else down there will be clamoring for some time with him, so exclusive access isn't gonna happen for a couple millennia at best, anyway." And Crawly couldn't bear to think about what that "time" would entail, much less face it. He was a coward like that, buggering off when it was too much to handle.
"Crawly…"
"Go check on the kiddos for me, angel. Amenadiel doesn't do the sympathy thing very well, and Beelzebub will come around for a report once Azrael delivers what she's got to deliver. You don't want to stick around for the talk with lower management." Crawly didn't want to, either, but just because Satan might understand and Mazikeen would be busy didn't mean he was home free.
Aziraphale swallowed tightly, his throat bobbing in a way that reminded Crawly of Adam eating his first bite of the apple, and nodded before marching off. Hopefully the angel could at least distract himself, fussing over the remaining humans and making sure they ate and slept and were properly hugged. Eve would recognize that grief; would understand better than Crawly how to comfort him even while she was hurting worse. The serpent wouldn't be the first one to send her an envoy rather than come himself, after all.
Crawly would check in after he dealt with Beelzebub. It would give the family time to mourn before he stepped in, time for Aziraphale to get them to hate him for his screwups so that the inevitable separation would be easier - life was always easier when everyone felt the same way he did.
Beelzebub didn't disappoint, not where timing was concerned. Translucent iridescent feathers glittered like the millions of insectile carapaces swooping in with the new arrival that burrowed up from the bedrock. "Zzzo, the firzzt dead zzoul comezz to uzz." The prince of hell greeted Crawly with a sharp-toothed smile.
"Wahoo and all that." Crawly supposed he should feel honored to get so warm a greeting. Beelzebub was another former Principality, one who had been impressed with Lucifer's status more than his desire for freedom. Since their fall, Beelzebub had stayed as close as Satan let anyone in, but there was always that stench of ambition equal to the cloud of flies coming off the petite demon. Maze was the conqueror, and Beezy was the bureaucrat, keeping hell running however was necessary, with or without the Boss's input. Must be something about having served a stint as Gabriel's executive assistant.
"It'zz pozzible that He will give up the exzzperiment now. It'zz one thing when zey mizzbehave, but now He can't even reach zem." Most of the demons hadn't been overly impressed with humanity so far. Lucifer thought they were interesting, so Beezy and the other social climbers at least made note of where they were at, but no one besides the Boss and Crawly had bothered to talk to them.
Beelzebub wasn't quite voicing something dangerous, wishing that God would give up on humanity as a bad job and clear the board. It would make for an empty world for a final confrontation with the angels above, but if God decided that He'd been wrong about His new toys, then maybe there would be no need for a place to put the bad ones. Maybe He'd decide that He and His wife had been wrong about throwing out a favorite son and certain Principalities.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Crawly said, rather than mentally unpacking all the raw emotions that unspoken wish burned into him. "There's still a whole litter of the things that've gone unclaimed for now, and I for one don't want to challenge His reach yet. Cain's only on the other side of the world, right?"
Beelzebub hummed in reluctant agreement. "With Amenadiel, no lezzzz," the prince grumbled, but kept a neutral facade. "But you zercured the firzzt two He made, az well. The rezzt will follow."
The flies had ventured far enough to investigate a puddle that Crawly was trying his hardest not to notice, and buzzed happily in the silence.
"Hell's for punishing the guilty, innit?" Beelzebub gave him the flattest stare that had yet existed. "If you really want Adam 'n' Eve to sssuffer, don't sssend 'em down with Lucifer and Lilith and - and Abel." There. He'd said it. Sort of. "Keep 'em ssseparate from their belovedss and their sssonss and not knowing whether any of their other kidsss'll make it. Parentss' worssst nightmare, for all eternity. Extra guilt becaussse they know damn well that they belong down there."
Well. In theory. But even if Crawly didn't see the sin in seeking knowledge, stay in hell long enough and one would do something to deserve to be there. Case in point.
"You are cleverer than I gave you credit for, Crawly." Beezy was happy in the way that meant that shortly no one else would be. "Make God do the torture Himzzelf and zzee if thezze zzoulzz are worth it. Luczzi wazz too zzoft on Eve, anyhow."
"Don't let him hear you say it." And maybe it would torture him, too. Eve had wanted Satan to make a place for her and her children, and now he'd have to do so for one of them. Not Eve, though.
It might hurt, but Crawly had to believe she'd be safer in heaven. He believed Aziraphale was safer in heaven. The serpent still wanted them on earth as long as he could selfishly keep them.
Beelzebub's mouth remained on the edge of a smile, the same sort of polite half-grin that lions gave Abel's sheep. "I believe that Maze would appreczziate zuch pzychological inzzight into our firzzt human."
Maybe it would mean pissing off two of the most powerful demons in hell if Beelzebub were right, but he just couldn't do it. "Me? What would I know about kids, anyway?"