Fun little concept I've had, and I hope you enjoy my take on "raising the anti-christ".
...xxx...
The day had been a long one, there was quite a bit of worry on Aziraphale's mind for that day. He had been keeping an eye out for trouble ever since dinner, looking over his shoulder for when a certain wily demon would make his presence known, either by showing up unannounced at the shop, or perhaps calling. He wasn't sure which. But he had been anticipating something for the past five hours. He hadn't even any idea what it was Gabriel had been worried about, the archangel was never really straightforward with his messages.
It was close to midnight when he finally got his answer.
There was a pounding on the side door of the shop. A rather persistent, impatient knock, very annoying. Who in the world could that be at this hour? Whoever it was was going to get an earful!
"I must say, what in heaven's name is the meaning of...Crowley?"
"Quite the exact opposite, actually." The demon shoved passed him, carrying what looked like a picnic basket.
Aziraphale shot the demon a look of confusion and irritation at how uncharacteristically rude his friend was.
"Crowley, what is the meaning of this, pounding on my door at this hour? A bit late for a picnic, don't you think?"
"Not a picnic. I made a mistake, and I need your help, angel. This is pretty much the opposite of a picnic." Crowley put the basket gingerly on the table in the center of the room.
The angel looked at the wicker basket, then at his friend's face, the demon staring at the basket as if it would explode at any minute.
"Crowley, what..." He swallowed a lump that suddenly appeared in his throat, he fiddled at his ring. "What is in the basket?"
Crowley lifted one lid of the basket to reveal a sleeping blond haired baby, swathed in a powdered blue blanket. Aziraphale was stunned silent at the next word out of the demon's mouth. "The anti-Christ."
Out of anything in the entire universe, that was certainly the very last thing the angel had expected to hear. "The...anti-Christ... as in..." He pointed downward.
"Son of Satan. The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this..." He trailed off when Aziraphale waived his hand, indicating he got the point.
"And why, pray tell, did you bring the anti-Christ here? I thought he had to be raised by humans?"
"I don't know, angel. I panicked. I took him to the church, told the nuns there where to take him, but then, I...ngk!" Crowley took off his sunglasses, and rubbed at his face. "Him being here means the end of the world, I thought perhaps if he was raised right it wouldn't come to that. So I went back. Gave the Ambassador family back their kid when no one was looking, and took the anti-Christ."
"Ambassador?"
"Yeah. Was going to be the son of an American Ambassador. Supposedly would have been the perfect way to breed the darkness in him." Crowley sneered.
"And now what, Crowley? Who is to raise him? Find a pure religious family to raise him to be a good boy?"
"No. I don't know. Maybe..." Aziraphale stared in disbelief, between the basket that held the possible destruction of the world and his friend curled into himself. He waited for the demon to finish his sentence. "... maybe WE could raise him. Together."
"Raise him... TOGETHER?" Aziraphale sat on the plush chair across from the couch Crowley sat, his legs no longer working.
"Yeah. We'd be his parents. Fathers, or mothers. Whichever. Doesn't matter."
"I just don't know, Crowley. Raising the anti-christ? that doesn't seem to be the best of ideas!"
"Well what other choice is there? Little bit of good, and little bit of evil, it's a perfect balance if you think about it."
"I AM thinking about it, my dear. And I must admit I am having reservations about this."
"Angel, the only other option would be is to..." He gestured to the basket, not keen on finishing the sentence. "And I don't know about you, but I'm not one to..." He really didn't want to finish the thought, let alone the sentence.
Aziraphale paled, also not really one to do so. It was bad enough the amount of times he had to stand by to allow such things happen. He still wasn't sure on the whole being the bringer of the end of the world's parent. He stood up quickly, heading to a cabinet against the far all. "I think we need to discuss this a bit more before deciding on taking care of a child, my dear. I've got a few bottles I had been keeping for a special occasion." And nothing says 'special occasion' more than the potential of adopting the son of Satan.
"But... I just don't know, Crowley. I can't just dis...diso... not do what I'm told!"
"C'mon angel, I can't do it on my own. Otherwise how will he turn out? Don't you have to thwart evil's wiles? 'see a wile, you thwart it!' Besides, what other alternative do we have?"
Aziraphale fiddled with his glass, finally deciding. "Fine. We'll be his parents then." He couldn't help but smile fondly towards the sleeping infant in the basket nearby. "I'll be damned."
"It's not so bad once you get used to it." Crowley winked at him; the angel shot him a glare, not finding that funny in the slightest.
About an hour later they were still discussing what their next plan was to be.
"What would we even name him?" Aziraphale asked, haphazardly refilling his glass.
Crowley raised his glasses to stare hardly at the basket. He let out a breath, his lips fluttering in a razzing sound. "I 'unno. The human family named him Warlock. Eh, or rather their kid that."
"Warlock? How curious." Aziraphale tapped his chin, eyes unfocused. "What about Anthony?"
"Nhngggg. Can't call him that. S'my name!"
"Well, lots of children have their parent's names. Nothing wrong with that."
"We're not calling him Anthony. Don't want to get confused."
Aziraphale shook his head, smiling softly. A small noise came from the basket, and the angel walked over to check on the child. Crowley watched as he checked on the child's needs, miracling a bottle into existence, proceeding to feed the child. The demon watched enraptured by the scene. His eyes drifted to a marble bust on a stand behind the angel, of a familiar face. He was hit by inspiration.
"How 'bout William?"
"William?"
"Yeah. Like William Shakespeare. Smart lad, brilliant writer, even though he liked gloomy things."
Aziraphale looked down at the infant in his arms. He smiled. "Alright, we'll call him William. But what about his second name?"
"Nnnn, can we worry about that later, we still gotta figure how we're going to do this."
"Right. Can't very well raise him smack in the middle of London. We need to go somewhere where neither of our sides can find him." Aziraphale wasn't going to immediately admit it, but he had very quickly fallen in love with the child while feeding him. Naming it was the final nail in the proverbial coffin. "Especially since as far as they know, the American Ambassador to London has the anti-Christ."
"Yeah. We need to play on that assumption full on, make it seem as if everything is 'according to the Great plan,'" Crowley pulled a wince at those words. "Figure we should send agents to be that boy's godparents. Give the appearance that we're striving for the endgame, when in fact we're raising the real boy to be completely normal."
"Do you really think this will work, my dear?"
The demon shrugged. "Don't see why it wouldn't, angel. We've lived by our arrangement for centuries, think of this as a part of that, eh?"
He had a good point there. "Alright. Let's figure out where we will live, then. The further away from London we are, the better we would be at actually pulling this off."
...x...
I've seen many "Ineffable fathers raise the anti-christ au' but I don't think I've seen one where they raise Warlock as their own. So I decided to fix that. Crowley kidnapped the wrong boy from the church, and together they raise him not knowing that he is NOT the anti-Christ until it is far too late.
I promise i have no plans on abandoning this one, I've got 6000 words written in my wip! I'll update once a week there-abouts until it's fully posted. Please be patient, and please let me know what you think!