(A/N) So...apparently October is pregnancy loss awareness month. Did you know that? I didn't know that. I wanted to have a few more chapters of this one written out before I started posting, but then I decided I wanted to post as close to October as I could. So, full disclosure up front, this story is going to deal with the loss of a pregnancy, but also with the successful one following that loss, since I'm going to tackle this story in a somewhat non-linear fashion. I dunno if it's gonna work, but hey, nothing to do but go for a drive and see where we end up, right?
I Knew You'd Be Our Angel
Chapter 1: Perhaps I Had a Wicked Childhood
Now
They had just returned from the Lupa Silvia galaxy when Crowley first noticed it.
Lupa Silvia wasn't even a pinprick of light from the Milky Way's neck of the woods. Likely it would be centuries yet before humans discovered it. But next to Alpha Centauri, it was one of his favorite places away from little old Earth. He supposed it could be said they'd been on something like a holiday, but it was difficult to think about things in terms like that after everything...
...in the shambles of a life half-ruined...
But none of what had happened was visible in the little cottage that he and Aziraphale returned to on this chilly spring night. Really, the place looked as if they hadn't been away at all...as if nothing had happened. For four months, their little haven had gone undisturbed while everything else had crumbled around it...
...he screamed in agony as Uriel tore into his wings, nearly rending his true form atom from atom. But it wasn't him the archangel was trying to get at...
...the feel of power swelling beneath his own, great and terrible, but so warm and so gentle...
...the stars on fire, burning with the wonder and ruin of Creation, but not one of those stars burned more fiercely than the rage in Aziraphale's eyes as he broke through the cosmic cluster...
...the way the angel trembled as he held him tightly, reassuring him of his presence, but also holding him in the moment...keeping him from slipping away..."Darling, please...you have to let go"...
Crowley shook himself off as Aziraphale led him through the front gate, making a concerted effort to chase away the snatches of memory. He couldn't do this right now. Not when his angel had fought so hard for him.
"You know, I quite think your plants have missed you, dearest," Aziraphale noted as he looked around the garden out front. "They've maintained themselves quite well these four months. Not a frond out of place."
"We'll see about that," the demon said, glaring pointedly around at every single tree and bush he could properly lay eyes on. Despite his best efforts at his old death glare, he couldn't wholly help the small note of fondness he felt worm its way into the look. It was good to see something familiar...something from the past that had remained untouched.
Not quite sure what to do with himself, Crowley stood in the foyer while Aziraphale roused the cottage, still getting used to all the little ticks and nuances of his corporation. In a lot of ways, it had been almost...strange to slip back into human form after the time away from it. He felt so many things beneath the human flesh now. Things he was quite certain no human had ever found the words for, nor ever would. It was like being at once too much and not enough to fill the space beneath his human skin, as if one moment he might burst right out of that skin, and the very next he was shrinking within it, shriveling away to nothing inside a withering husk...like a snake that couldn't quite figure out if it was ready to shed the old skin.
The worst part of it all was that he couldn't even manage to figure out if it was all just in his head, as so many things were, or if it was legitimately some sort of effect of what the archangels had done to him. He just...didn't feel right within himself anymore.
Do I even...still fit?
The time away with Aziraphale had helped, of course, and he appreciated his angel taking the time away from everything else to help him heal, but the time spent off in their true forms was a different plane of existence. It seemed that coming back to mortal time, back to mortal care, was going to be another healing process altogether. Hands wandering uncertainly to his midsection, Crowley looked around the space with a kind of fearful hope.
Can it...ever be the way it was before?
That was when he felt it.
The shift was small, so subtle as to almost be negligible, but he was attuned to the difference now. He felt the new lick of power beneath his own, separate from it, but still somehow a part of it, dependent on it. As the realization moved through him, his slim fingers involuntarily pressed that little bit more firmly against the flat plane of his belly.
This...can't be...if...if I...what will I-
He didn't say it out loud. Didn't even dare to think it. Because if he put a name to this feeling, it would make it real, and he didn't know if he was ready for that.
Was it possible? No doubt. He and Aziraphale had made love to each other often enough on their little unplanned holiday, but contraception was...something of a novel concept to two supernatural entities who had to make a concerted effort to even come together in that way. He honestly wasn't even certain how they'd managed it the first time. But whatever they'd done to manage it before...it seemed that they'd managed it again.
In only a moment, the realization took him from shock to sadness to hesitant joy and finally to fear.
What am I gonna tell Aziraphale?
"Oh, come and have a look at this, Crowley," the angel's voice came from the direction of the kitchen. He'd been engaging in that most mundane and domestic of human tasks – going through the post. While the demon had been most fond of the notion of junk mail as a concept and an invention, he'd never much liked being on the receiving end of it. So they didn't actually receive any post. What the mail consisted of was four rather thick letters from Anathema. "It's an invitation to Anathema's baby shower."
Part of him had wondered, albeit distantly, how he might react to mention of the expected Device-Pulsifer baby. That part had been worried of reopening wounds that weren't even properly scarred yet...of reacting with jealousy or even indifference. But he felt none of those things. If anything, he felt secretly happy that someone's family was still intact. The witch hadn't been very far along when...well...the last time he'd seen her. Really, he hadn't seen any of the post-Apocalypse gang since...since the bookshop. Any of them except Adam and...that hadn't really been Adam. That had been the Antichrist. In fairness, though, he had specifically asked Aziraphale not to treat him like glass about any of this.
"Shower?" he repeated as he entered the kitchen. "Baby shower? Why shower? What does that even mean?"
"Well, I believe the etymology of the phrase is something to the effect of "showering" the mother with gifts for the new baby. Though I do recall a somewhat odd offshoot of the idea from the nineteenth century that involved an umbrella-"
"Shhh," Crowley shushed him, shaking his head as he placed a finger over the angel's lips. "Already answered the question. Don't need more detail just now."
"So...do you want to go?"
The demon shrugged. "Don't see any reason not to. World goes on turning and all. We saw to that."
There was something both precious and heartbreaking in the way his angel's face broke into a smile. As if their time away really had been worth it...but also how he knew that face and smile he adored would be twisting with worry again before too long.
Maybe...just for tonight...he could imagine things were normal again.
He was good at imagining things, after all.
"Angel...do you think...maybe we could sleep tonight?"
"Of course. Whatever you'd like, dearest," Aziraphale said, still smiling as he set the letters aside. As he came around the table, he reached out to take Crowley's hand in his. Not so much because he thought the demon needed to be led, but because it was something of a habit of theirs now. They liked to be reassured that the other was nearby...that they were all right...
...that nothing had happened.
"Of course we shall have to think of something to give them. What will they need? Blankets? Bottles? Toys? Do children that young play with toys?" Aziraphale chattered on as they headed for their bedroom.
"All kids play with toys," Crowley answered softly, his free hand traveling back to his middle, out of the angel's sight. "Just needs to be age appropriate."
Aziraphale carried on as they got ready for bed, but Crowley was only half listening, distracted with trying to get a feel for what was happening inside of him. He hadn't imagined it. He knew that much. The new flicker really was there, just barely sparked within the vastness of his own existence. It was so small, so helpless, but that ember still burned with life. And life, he knew, was only too easy to extinguish.
What could he do to keep this life from slipping through his fingers?
"Angel," he interrupted as they climbed into bed together, "their other human friends can get them all that human stuff. I dunno what, but what we need to do is give them something only we can give them."
"Something only we can give them?" the angel mused as Crowley curled up around him, close as he could come to outright coiling around him outside of serpent form. "Now that's something to think on."
"Well, you think. I'll sleep."
"Yes, of course. Sleep well, darling," Aziraphale said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. Crowley turned his face upward to catch the angel in a proper kiss, holding in the embrace for several moments, drawing it out.
He didn't much know how to explain it, but he could never seem to have enough of kissing Aziraphale. It wasn't as if they never had...back before Armageddon, even...but once that dam had broken and they'd no longer had to hide from each other what they truly wanted, well...the dam had all but shattered, really. Every time they kissed, he felt like he lost himself in it, no matter how long or how brief it was. The angel kissed with pleasure and fierce joy, like a man enjoying a favorite pastry, just on the verge of devouring it.
Crowley himself, though...the way Aziraphale had once described it to him was that he kissed like a man dying of thirst. Like he'd been parched in the desert and the angel's kiss was the drink of water that saved him. And while Crowley always blushed and hissed in annoyance at the poetic language, he couldn't exactly deny the truth of it. So he drank his fill of his angel's lips, reminding them both that they were still alive. It was a reminder he needed, because as he cuddled up against the angel, drifting off to sleep, he could only seem to think one thing.
Aziraphale...I'm scared. I am so scared.
XxX
While Aziraphale went to reopen the bookshop the next morning, Crowley opted to try and have a bit of a drive around London, partly to see how things looked after their time away, but mostly to prove to himself that he didn't need to have his hand held the entire time.
He made a brief stop at his flat to check on things and was pleasantly surprised to find his plants in perfect condition.
"There now," he started as he looked around at all of them. "See? Is it really so hard to keep this up? Why couldn't you do this before- before they came?" he demanded, voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.
Without warning, he found himself on his knees in the middle of the room, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face, the salty tracks occasionally hissing and evaporating upon contact with his suddenly too-hot skin.
What the bloody fuck?! He was supposed to be getting over this, wasn't he? Demons didn't cry. It wasn't a thing they were supposed to be able to do, and indeed, he hadn't done all those months he'd been in his true form. Tears required more regret than a demon was supposed to be capable of. But he supposed he knew there was only so much true demonic nature he could maintain after such a long time among humans. He'd had his first taste of tears after Aziraphale's brief flirtation with death. And now again, it seemed. The pain he kept so carefully bound up inside of him overflowed its boundaries and, before long, he was curled in on himself on the floor, sobbing helplessly.
He shouldn't do this! He should go to serpent form, back to true form. Something. Anything! Anything not to have to cry like this. He was a sodding demon! He shouldn't be this weak. It was pathetic! Aziraphale wasn't falling apart. What business did he have just going to pieces like this?
Only...he couldn't exactly help it, could he? Nothing to do but let it happen. Miserable as it was. Miserable as he was. So he just lay there for who could say how long, sobbing, and after a time he noticed that, rather than tremble at his presence, as the plants usually did, they seemed to be...leaning in closer to him, so much as they were capable of movement.
Bloody heaven, but he really had hit rock bottom. Getting sympathy from his own plants.
He couldn't put it off anymore. He had to tell Aziraphale what was happening.
Once he'd come to that determination, the tears finally subsided, allowing him at least to sit up. Interestingly enough, he...actually felt a little better after crying. The tiny flame that flickered at the core of his being seemed to flare a little brighter, reaching out to him. Slender hands brushing sporadically over his midsection, he sent a tendril of comfort down to the little thing.
Don't worry. It's all right. Everything's gonna be all right. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Nobody's going to dare!
Swallowing harshly, he smoothed away the more visible signs of his tears as he got to his feet. Somewhere in the middle of his episode, his sunglasses had fallen off.
He didn't pick them up.
Next would be the bookshop.
"Don't think you little bleeders can slack now I'm home again. I expect this kind of performance one hundred percent of the time now," he warned the plants with a nasty but fond look. Then, even if it was just for old times' sake, they all gave him a little tremble. He hissed at them before heading out.
XxX
Perhaps another reason he hadn't gone with Aziraphale that morning was that he'd wanted time to steel himself before seeing the old bookshop again. He honestly hadn't been certain how he might react to it, as he'd briefly had trouble with it following the Shadwell incident. As comforting a sanctuary as the old shop had become over the centuries, it was starting to accrue a lot of unpleasant memories.
If nothing else, Crowley supposed he could be grateful for the fact no one else was around when he first entered the aging building, because he was immediately struck by a slough of ugly flashbacks.
...a spray of his own black blood covering one of the book stacks. Aziraphale wasn't going to be happy about that...
...Sandalphon and Iruel holding him down, flaying away the layers of his human self to reveal the demon within, and Uriel...
...the feel of his own throat scraped raw with his screams. He couldn't call Aziraphale. Not here. They would kill him. But-
Angel, help! HELP US!
...Gabriel's acid smile looming above it all. "If they can't be separated, just bring the whole package. We'll leave a note for Aziraphale"...
Crowley gasped sharply, eyes blinking open as the memory released him. There was no sign of that bloody struggle now. The books were all in their usual places, pages and spines intact. The blood was gone, the scent of it wiped clean. The taste of ozone and heavenly fire was gone from the air. The pain he had felt then was only a distant phantom and the sound of angel wings only a faint memory of terror inside his own mind. There were no angels now.
Or, rather, there was one angel – the one who hadn't been there before. Aziraphale had come in from the back, a look of sharp and painful worry on his face at the sight of the demon.
"Angel..." he exhaled on a broken breath, feeling just as helpless as he had in his flat...as he had four months ago.
"Darling," the angel began in a flurry as he rushed to him. Crowley didn't realize he'd been about to collapse until Aziraphale was catching him, holding him tightly as he clung to the solid reality of him. He didn't cry this time. He had no tears left after earlier, but he clung to the angel as if he'd never let go.
He managed to keep his feet, at least, not collapsing fully. He couldn't say how long he and Aziraphale stood like that, just holding tightly to each other, but all throughout he coiled himself up just as tightly within the other's firm, gentle touch...in his soft, tender words.
"It's all right. It's all right, dearest. I'm here now. I've got you," Aziraphale whispered to him. "They can't hurt you anymore. They'll never dare, my love."
"Aziraphale," he called softly, voice echoing with the same tremulous cry from the Apocalypse, not so much to try to explain. Just to say his name. "Aziraphale."
Once Crowley was a little more steady, Aziraphale shifted to simply holding his face between his hands, resting their foreheads together and allowing them each to just breathe the other in. After that, he pressed tender kisses to each of the demon's serpentine eyes, pulling back to look him in the eye.
"I knew I shouldn't have let you go off on your own today; I could just tell something was wrong," the angel twittered in a guilty tone. "I should have been with you for this-"
"It's not that, Angel," he said quietly, even though it very much was. There was just more to it. Briefly, he wished he could sink into Aziraphale's touch and never have to think about anything ever again.
"Then what is it?" Aziraphale asked him, thumbs tracing circles along the hollows of his cheeks.
Even though he didn't really need them, Crowley took several steadying breaths before reaching for one of the angel's hands, drawing it slowly down his own body until he brought it to rest against his belly, holding it firmly in place as he looked into his eyes. He watched as those grey eyes first widened in realization, then wobbled briefly, looking into his with pale hope.
"Are- are you certain?"
Crowley nodded slowly, holding that hand a little more firmly against him. "It's happened again. I...I'm pregnant," he near-whispered, finally saying the words out loud, making them real again. Maybe he was afraid someone might overhear him. Whatever it might've been, he was sorely tempted to collapse back into the angel's arms when he pressed his fingers a little more intently against his middle.
"How do you know?"
"I can feel it. It- feels...like it did before," he explained in a halting voice. "Like a little spark...something that's me, but also...not me. I dunno. It's hard to explain. You just- you have to look."
Almost counterintuitive to what he'd said, Aziraphale closed his eyes, but Crowley knew he understood what it was he'd actually meant. He was looking beyond the physical, to the place where his true form existed, to see what had changed in him. And another something in him fell a little bit more in love when he saw that face break into a tender smile. When Aziraphale opened his eyes again, they shone briefly with tears.
"Oh, darling...it's- they're beautiful. You're both so beautiful," he exalted before pulling Crowley into a kiss. But this kiss was a little too brief for the demon's liking. It wasn't long before the angel was pulling back from him, the joy in his expression melting into fear and worry. "Will- will you be all right? Are you certain you're ready for this? So soon after-"
"Doesn't matter whether I'm ready or not," Crowley said with a small, bitter laugh. "It's happening. Can't not happen," he said, pulling away from the angel and walking further into the bookshop. Aziraphale stopped him with a hand at his elbow. Not a grip he couldn't easily break if he felt the need to, but he never would. If anyone, he knew Aziraphale wasn't going to hurt him.
"Then...I swear I will do whatever it takes to keep you both safe. Neither angel nor demon will lay even a single feather on you. If they do, they will find themselves lacking the wing," the principality vowed fiercely. Then his hand shifted down Crowley's arm to grip his hand once more. He drew that hand up to his lips and pressed a worshipful kiss to the demon's palm.
Crowley loved the feel of the devoted kiss, but was also unnerved by the naked brutality he heard in his angel's words, the agony he observed in the bend of his shoulders. Only for the third time, he was struck by just how deeply Aziraphale had been affected by losing him, by feeling as though he'd failed him. He had seen this fire in the angel only once before, and he didn't want to see it again.
Not even for the sake of their family did he want to watch Aziraphale lose himself.
"Angel-" he started in, but was interrupted by the sudden jingling of the shop's bell. He was ready to turn and stop time on whatever unfortunate human had interrupted them when he actually saw who it was that entered the bookshop.
"Knock, knock?" Anathema asked hopefully as she waddled through the front door, her dress already beginning to strain against the bulge of her seven months' pregnant belly. She was followed soon after by Adam. Both the witch and the Antichrist looked uncharacteristically anxious. Crowley quickly miracled a new pair of sunglasses into place.
"Adam! Anathema!" Aziraphale greeted as he turned to them, his smile only partly put on. "Wonderful to see you both again, but- whatever are you doing here?"
"Adam said you were back. He asked me to bring him down. Couldn't say no," she said, offering the boy a fond sideways smile. "Besides, I wanted to see you, too. We didn't know when or- or even if you'd be back. I mean I- none of us would've blamed you if you'd wanted to stay away...with everything Adam's told us-"
"I knew," Adam insisted, more or less barging his way into the shop. "I knew you were coming home."
The boy didn't waste words after that. He made a beeline for Crowley and, to almost no one's surprise, threw his arms around him in a tight hug. The demon returned the hug, albeit it a bit gentler. Before, he knew, he would've found this awkward or uncomfortable, but now he just let the boy hug him. Adam and Aziraphale had faced down the rage of Heaven for his sake, after all.
"Good to see you, too, little imp. But you're gonna have to be gentle with me," he told the boy. Adam slowly loosened his grip as he looked up at the demon who'd delivered him to his parents.
"You're gonna have another kid," he said, excitement quickly firing up in his large eyes as he smiled up at Crowley. It wasn't a question.
A similar smile slowly started to move across Anathema's face as she looked between the angel and the demon. "Really? You're pregnant again?"
"Yeah," Crowley answered with a shrug as Adam released him, trying to be casual about the whole business. It was one thing to lower his defenses around Aziraphale, but another entirely around anyone else.
The young witch considered it a moment before nodding. "I guess four months is about right for it. Do we need to start talking...battle plans?" she asked, again looking between the two of them.
"Fairly soon, yes," Aziraphale answered. "For now, simple space-time manipulation will serve, but...well...it will not serve forever."
"And you two are coming to the shower?" she asked the angel. "I wasn't sure if you were receiving my letters at all, but I thought I should send you the invitation anyway."
"Surely, surely, dear girl. But your baby shower ought to be about you. We aren't turning it into some sort of war council."
"We are if I say we are," Anathema said, focus turning more to Crowley as she spoke. "This isn't just your fight. If these guys want to use your kid to start the next Apocalypse or whatever, then it's everybody's fight. I want to build a safer world for my daughter. I can't- begin to imagine what it's like to lose a child. If there's anything I can do, I want to help you pay those assholes back for everything they did to you."
The demon kept eye contact with the witch as she spoke, which he was a little impressed with since she couldn't properly see his eyes. She understood. If any of them did, Anathema understood. She understood in a way even Aziraphale couldn't. Even so...
"I do, too," Adam spoke up. "I know I wasn't much help before. I'm still figuring out how the powers work now. But I wanna get them back, too."
Aziraphale sighed as he shook his head. "Adam, there's no call to be down on yourself. You were very helpful up there. Likely you're the only reason Crowley and I even walked away from it. It's just- Gabriel and Beelzebub had not been prepared to consider you as a factor before. They are prepared now. They will be ready for you. I'm not certain even the pair of you can truly comprehend what it is we're up against."
"Hey, we averted the Apocalypse, didn't we?" Anathema pointed out.
"Whatever comes after that should be easy," the young Antichrist continued on.
"You'd think," Crowley started in heavily, finally joining the conversation. "But what we were up against before was Heaven and Hell on script. There's no script this time. No nice and accurate book of prophecies. No 'it is written's. No Great Plan. No high and holy play book where A + B = C. It's just angels and demons doing whatever the bloody heaven they want. And that, to my mind, is something much more dangerous than bureaucracy."
"Okay," Anathema began again after a long moment of staring him in the eye. "What are we supposed to do then? Just lie down and die? The two of you can't be expected to handle everything, not with all you've been through. It's just not fair. I know you don't think we can help, but we happen to live on this planet, too. If we can't protect it, there's not much point to us having it, is there," she declared. On most other women, the defiant stance of feet planted apart and hands on hips would've been made decidedly less imposing by a heavily pregnant belly, but not Anathema Device-Pulsifer. If anything, she looked even more a spitfire than normal.
Glancing sideways at Crowley, Aziraphale tilted his head and raised both eyebrows.
How can we possibly involve them in all this? It's far too dangerous.
Crowley shrugged, jutting his hip out a little further before crossing his arms over his chest.
You know they'll involve themselves anyway. Isn't it better they be involved with us than without us?
The angel winced, dipping his head a little lower, jaw jutting out slightly in an incredulous look.
You want to pit our friends up against Beelzebub and Gabriel? After what he did to you?
Crowley shuddered, glancing away from Aziraphale, the gesture carrying no words. Only pain. While he didn't see the angel's response, he could feel him freeze in the space beside him. Then Aziraphale was reaching out for him, taking his hand in his. Crowley looked back to see his face stricken with guilt.
I'm so sorry, my darling. I didn't mean to-
Crowley shook his head, returning the grip as he raised the angel's hand to his lips to brush a kiss along his knuckles. When he looked down at him over the rims of his sunglasses, the only thing he conveyed was love. But then he let his expression shift into his typical devilish smirk as he nodded toward Adam and Anathema.
Because if I remember what you told me correctly, this pair of humans was essential to helping you find me.
Aziraphale's expression shifted into an exasperated but fond smile.
It seems you can talk me into anything.
"Would you two cut that out for a second?" Anathema snapped at them.
"Hmm?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow at the witch.
"That thing where you have a whole conversation just looking at each other. Some of us can't follow."
Aziraphale chuckled as he pulled his hand away from Crowley's. "Oh, you'll develop the ability with time, dear girl. For now, though, it seems I am overruled."
"Yeah!" Adam cheered.
"We've nothing particular to discuss today, however, so why don't we get some tea going. I'd offer some brandy but, well, at this late stage..." he said, glancing down at Anathema's baby bump. "Tea it is."
"Thank you, Aziraphale," the witch said as she and Adam followed him into the back. "I knew you'd see things our way."
"And perhaps I can scrounge up a tin of biscuits or two."
"That's loads better than tea. We had these great biscuits at my birthday. You should've been there."
"We were both quite sorry to miss it."
"No mind. Not supposed to make a big deal about that sort of thing anymore, am I. I'm officially a teenager now-" Adam went on.
Crowley hung back for a moment, losing the thread of the conversation. Even though he'd advocated for the involvement of the others, it didn't mean he was any less worried. This was a dangerous business, and human lives were already so short. Didn't they deserve to have what they were allotted without having to concern themselves with the affairs of angels and demons?
Ah, well. Crowley was many things, but he was never one to deny a person their choice, and these two had made one. It almost nauseated him a bit to admit it, but- the idea that someone not Aziraphale was willing to fight so hard for him...it warmed him in some small way. Lips quirking in an awkward smile, he let his hand drift to his middle.
You're gonna have a wonderful family, little angel.
"Your hair's longer," Anathema commented when he joined them in the back.
"Huh?" the demon mumbled eloquently, reaching up to tangle his fingers in what was, indeed, fairly long hair. A little past shoulder-length. In fairness, he hadn't really taken the time to examine his appearance since taking up his corporation again, but he really ought to have noticed the feel of all that hair against his neck.
But then...maybe he just didn't want to know what he looked like right now.
"Well. What d'you know."
"I guess it didn't really seem like you were gone all that long...even if it has been over half a year. That's a lot of hair growth for just seven months," she noted as they watched Adam talk Aziraphale's ear off while he readied the tea.
"Mneh, it's- human- demon, true form- body...timey stuff. 's complicated," he mumbled absently.
"I like it," she said, not pressing further into the subject. "It looks good on you."
"Honey, I can make anything look good," he said as he sat down beside her. "Except maybe polka dots. No idea what's up there."
"Not one of yours?" Aziraphale called out over Adam's chatter.
"Excuse you," he fired back at the angel. "I'm evil, not a heathen."
"Any idea how far along you are?" Anathema asked him once the minor argument had settled down.
Crowley shook his head. "None at all. In human terms...can't be anywhere outside of a month. We'll just- see how this one goes. Could even be completely different from the first. Dunno."
His first had only vaguely followed a human pattern anyway. The only thing he could be certain of with this new one was that it was going to be that much more stressful than the first – knowing just how horrifically wrong it could go.
But then he looked up to see Aziraphale, smiling as he went about serving tea and biscuits to the witch and the Antichrist. He had been reminded of just how much power was concealed beneath that soft, unassuming human frame only too recently, but for every ounce of power, there was just as much love. That power had been fueled by the angel's love for him.
"This is proof of his love for you. Cruel proof, isn't it, Crawly."
Crowley shook off the memory of Michael's voice with a pained shudder. He didn't need to be thinking of it now. When he drew himself back to the present, it was to find Aziraphale looking at him with a twinge of worry in his smile.
He nodded to let the angel know he was fine – fine as he could be, anyway. There was no knowing what was ahead of them. Not really. But had there ever been?
We'll get there. We'll get through it, he thought, allowing his hand to subtly rest against his middle again. And even if we don't...they can't take this away from us. They can never. Even if it's brief...at least we had this.
XxX
Then
Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had ever been the sort for marking anniversaries of any kind. There was just a certain point where time didn't matter all that much. But when Madam Tracy had sent them an invitation to a little get together in 'commemoration of the averting of the end times', well...how could they refuse her?
It was a simple little affair, a cookout between the eerily picturesque fields of Lower Tadfield and Hogback Wood. It was an evening in which it was revealed that none of the ragtag band was much of a hand at grilling things, but that Tracy herself made divine cream puffs. That alone, in Aziraphale's opinion, made the whole outing worth it. Though it was surely adorable to watch the Them engage in some sort of marshmallow contest, seeing who could fit the most marshmallows on their roasting sticks. This was followed in short order by a competition to see which child could fit the most in their mouth which, to nearly everyone's surprise, was won by Wensleydale. Although Crowley did have to step in with a little miracle when the poor boy's face began to turn blue.
As with most groups of children, Wensleydale's very brief brush with death earned him a bit of celebrity status amongst his friends. Gathered around the fire with a fresh bag of marshmallows, their morbid topic of conversation was soon branching out from death by asphyxiation and into other avenues of dying, including, but not limited to, strangulation, hanging, drowning, smothering, suffocating in the vacuum of space, and, soon enough, beheading, which quickly evolved into the twelve-year-old version of a symposium on the Six Wives of Henry the VIII.
"Oh, my," Aziraphale commented from a safe distance, shuddering. "The things children will discuss." After all, there had been no love lost between Crowley and that particular monarch.
The serpent seemed just as content not to bring it up, though, keeping the conversation in the present moment instead.
"What's really nice about all this is that we get to give them back to their parents hopped up on marshmallows at the end of the night," Crowley said, smiling in an oddly contented way as he slouched further back in his folding chair. Miraculously, the thing managed to stay uncollapsed despite the intricate tangle of limbs inhabiting it. The only bit of him the angel could properly distinguish anymore was the hand that reached out to rest on his knee. "Introduce a little anarchy."
"Crowley, you really are a demon," Anathema said with a small laugh, head resting easily against Newt's shoulder as their fingers intertwined in an awkwardly cute sort of way.
A second arm emerged from the sinuous collective of limbs that was Aziraphale's lover as the demon threw his head back to gaze up at the twilit sky. Beginning with an exaggerated hiss, he concluded with, "What's the point in being Fallen if you can't enjoy your sin a little?" Crowley had been idly rubbing circles along his knee with his thumb, but the word 'sin' was punctuated with a somewhat more intent sort of rub. Aziraphale shivered pleasantly, despite the warmth of the May evening.
"Someone's clearly never had to deal with a sugar high little one," the witch said.
"Oh, I've dealt with loads of sugar high miniature humans in the time I've been on this planet, but I always get to give them back to their parents when I'm done dealing with them."
"So you wouldn't want children of your own then?" Madam Tracy asked them. She and Shadwell were sitting together, but the former sergeant was plainly nervous about actually reaching out to take her hand.
"You know, I never gave the matter much thought. Head office raised such an almighty fuss over the Nephilim, it hardly seemed worth it to challenge them on the subject," Aziraphale answered, hoping that might be the end of the subject. He hadn't thought much on it, but Crowley...
"Well, you've now defied them pretty thoroughly on every other subject," Anathema pointed out. "Why not this one, too?"
"Can an angel and a demon even reproduce? How does that work?" Newt was the one to ask.
"Probably not. Not like anyone's ever tried," Crowley responded and, to the others, the angel was quite certain he sounded nonchalant. But he knew his demon too well. He could hear the undercurrent of old longing in his voice.
Crowley had always loved children, from Cain himself right down to this unruly gang of four just a little ways off. Oh, he always complained of them to anyone who would listen, but he would also be the first to sneak some kids a handful of sweets, or nick an apple for a hungry child. He listened when they spoke, which was more than most adults could say, and he protected them. Above all else, he protected them. Aziraphale sometimes thought that the demon's greatest stake in preventing the Apocalypse had been because he wanted to serve as some kind of voice for all of the children who had none in how ridiculous the whole thing was. The angel had always been of the opinion that Crowley would be a wonderful parent. It just wasn't something that had ever been in the cards.
"It's...complicated," Aziraphale tried to explain when Crowley left it hanging. "We are the same type of being, after all, and angels can reproduce; the mere existence of the Nephilim rather attests to that. It's just...well...it's different between angels. We have our own version of- making love, I suppose is the most comparable term. But two angels coming together...it doesn't typically result in the creation of a new angel. There have been only a handful of those since the creation of the Earth and I don't think a one of their progenitors could tell you exactly how it came about. Perhaps it's simply been the will of the Almighty-"
"Fornication Under Consent of the Queen, as it were," Crowley put in snidely. While they'd been speaking, his hand had moved steadily up Aziraphale's thigh, leaving little room for doubt in the angel's mind as to where his thoughts were truly bending tonight. But he did at least manage to be a little subtle, that hand moving up to encircle Aziraphale's waist, rather than into more dangerous territory. Although Aziraphale was only too aware that Crowley was capable of being dangerous with any part of the body he pleased. "But what about you, Book Girl? Miss Anathema Device? Since you're the only one here who can actually have kids. When's the ole' baby-making factory gonna be open for business?"
Newt actually went visibly pale at his words and Anathema herself gave an awkward laugh of understanding, letting him know she got that his crude way of phrasing the question was about the same level of propriety that the conversation had started off with. "Let's get through the wedding before we start talking about that."
Ah, yes. The impending Device-Pulsifer nuptials, coming up in a little over a month now. Aziraphale had proudly tacked their invitation up over his desk when it had arrived. It wasn't the first time either of them had been invited to a wedding, but it was the first time they'd been invited to a wedding together...as a couple. It was probably ridiculous, but the angel found himself savoring little things like that. Having breakfast together and not just catching lunch, being able to take the demon's hand in public without fear of being seen, helping him set up new plants in the bookshop, going shopping together just to be able to go together, to be able to tell anyone who asked that they were together. And even though he was a little more clandestine about it, Aziraphale would sometimes catch Crowley looking at that invitation, just to look at their names printed side by side...together.
No. It had never been about the large things. It was the small ones – the little moments that made him fall even more in love with the demon than even he had thought possible. The year following the Almost-pocalypse had been nothing short of bliss for the old but still young couple.
Anathema and Tracy had almost immediately begun to talk shop about the wedding when the subject had come up. Newt still looked like he might pass out and Tracy had managed to take Shadwell's hand in the meantime, leaving the retired witchfinder in a state of near-shock. Really, it was precious to watch.
The children, in the meantime, had abandoned their conversation about the merits of sword vs. axe in beheading in favor of going off to chase fireflies. A rare enough sight in the UK, but Tadfield was full of such sights, after all.
Crowley, throughout all of this, had gradually latched more and more onto him, to the point there was a single black-clad arm draped around him while the fingers of the other hand twined together with his. Even an ankle wrapped seamlessly about his while the demon rested his head on his shoulder.
"Angel...let's get out of here," he said softly, out of the hearing of the others.
"And go where?" he asked in the same tone, not looking over at his partner, but still displaying the same level of understated interest.
"Somewhere. Anywhere. Doesn't matter. Let's go be alone together," Crowley returned, shifting his head a little to press a kiss to Aziraphale's shoulder.
"I think we might just pop off for a walk," Aziraphale announced to the rest of the group quite abruptly as he and the serpent rose from their chairs as one, Crowley somehow managing to emerge from his nest of limbs as a coherent human-shaped being.
"Oh. Do you think you'll be back before the night's over?" Anathema asked them.
"Mm-not likely," Crowley answered honestly.
"Did you two need a place for the night?" Newt asked. "I mean- there's not much space at Jasmine with Shadwell and Madam, but we could probably figure something out."
"No need to worry on us, dear boy. We'll be quite all right on our own. Do wish the children good night for us," Aziraphale said as they moved around the circle, giving out hugs, kisses, or handshakes as was required for each individual. "See you all in a few weeks."
Then they were off, walking hand in hand into the gathering darkness that was Hogback Wood, though it wasn't all that long before the swaths of darkness were cut away by the light from the field of stars appearing overhead.
"A bit different from our usual haunts," Aziraphale couldn't quite help commenting after several long moments of easy silence.
"A bit," the demon returned with a small laugh, fingers twining a little more intently with the angel's.
"I take it you had more than simple Effort in mind?" he asked the serpent with a raised eyebrow, even though Crowley wasn't really looking at him.
"Maybe," he replied with an exaggerated shrug, pulling Aziraphale's hand up to his lips and brushing a featherlight kiss along his knuckles.
They had both made the Effort by this point, if only to taste more of the fruit of the world they had helped save...to savor the closeness that had so long been denied them. But as Aziraphale had explained to Newt before, there were other ways they might come together...other ways they could make love. As an angel and a demon were truly capable of becoming one...that was a delight they had yet to partake in. They had skated the surface often enough, but never quite broken the ice...taken the plunge...so Aziraphale had to wonder...
"Why now?" he asked, shifting his hand just a little to cup the demon's face in his palm. "What's different tonight?"
"I dunno," Crowley said, once again with such naked honesty as he leaned into the angel's touch. "Just- feels right...I guess? And before you ask, no. It's nothing to do with what the others were talking about," he finished with an annoyed huff, almost burrowing into the hand that caressed his face.
Aziraphale laughed quietly before drawing the demon into a kiss, relishing in the taste of his lips like the delicacy they were. It didn't seem to matter how many times he kissed Crowley. He never tired of it. There was something new to taste every time. Something savory and eager, something bitter and longing, something smoky and enticing, but above all, something sweet...something sweet and tender, hopelessly, hopelessly in love.
Crowley seemed to drink in the kiss like water, like a creature dying of thirst. Again, it didn't seem to matter how many times they kissed. Crowley always seemed to be just as amazed to be kissing him as he had been that very first night...like he was questioning if maybe he'd been forgiven his trespasses and been admitted back into Heaven. Not that the Heaven of today was likely anywhere near the place of bliss he kept in his memories, but the analogy remained valid, all the same...
Smiling briefly into the kiss before pulling out of it, Aziraphale took a moment to take in Crowley's expression – an aching, longing sort of look, like he wanted to reach after the angel for another taste. He settled instead for turning his face away from Aziraphale's, pressing his lips to the palm that had still been cradling his cheek. For a moment, he held that hand to his lips with both of his own, as if it were a piece of fruit he was biting into. A tiny shudder escaped the angel when the demon flicked his tongue out to lap at the delicate skin.
"Have...have you ever-"
Crowley shook his head as he looked back up at him. "Not with an angel. Definitely not with another demon. Not even really sure I know how..."
"I tried once...a very long time ago," he told the demon as they continued to walk through the moonlight. "I couldn't manage to open myself to her enough."
"So what?" Crowley pressed when they came to the edge of a small lake. "You're saying we just have to...be open to each other?"
"Something of that nature, yes," Aziraphale said, squeezing the serpent's hand a little tighter as he looked at him again. Then, with his free hand, he started to reach for Crowley's sunglasses. "May I?"
Crowley started at the question, but ultimately nodded, gripping Aziraphale's hand all the tighter himself as the angel slid the dark glasses from his face. Once they were off, he kept his eyes closed for a moment.
"Crowley...dearest...I can stop anytime you want," he reassured him, but the demon shook his head, pulling in a deep breath before blinking his serpent's eyes open, golden and luminous in the starlight. Those eyes that were so uniquely Crowley – Aziraphale had always thought them lovely, but the face that contained them was still hesitant...still afraid. What he wouldn't give to reassure him.
"Behold, you are beautiful, my love," Aziraphale whispered breathlessly as those eyes gazed into his. The demon gave a small hiss at the words, trying to sound annoyed, but not quite able to manage it. "As a lily among brambles, so is my love among all others."
The demon blushed furiously, the coloring of his pale skin quite obvious beneath the light of the stars. "Going biblical on me, angel?"
"Well, you can't really beat the original love song," he said, smiling warmly before pressing kisses to each of the serpent's eyes. "You are remarkably beautiful, my dear," he whispered against those eyes. Then he took a few steps away, out onto the dark surface of the lake, the already still water becoming miraculously still beneath his feet. Crowley kept a hold of his hand for as long as he could, but ultimately had to let go when the angel stepped too far out of his reach.
"Aziraphale, you...you know I can't-"
"As Charles once said, 'Bear but a touch of my hand and you shall be upheld in more than this'," he said, and he held his hand out to the demon, moving just close enough so that he could reach out to take it. Crowley hesitated only a moment longer before reaching out to clasp Aziraphale's hand in his. Then the angel pulled him toward him and they weren't standing on the water, but hovering just a little ways above it. His laugh as they moved further away from the shore was only a little hysterical.
"Please, please, please don't talk to me about faith right now, angel," he insisted, the nervous laugh taking on an almost bitter quality.
"Hadn't thought to, dearest," he said with an easy smile as he spun them out over the still surface, not quite dancing, but the starlight upon the face of the water had an aching, almost haunting melody all its own. "Look."
Guiding the demon's gaze upward with a little nod, he was rewarded with a look of unbridled wonder spreading across Crowley's face as he looked up at the vast sea of stars above them. The multitude of color was reflected in those spellbound gold eyes.
"Can't see this in London," he said, a twinge of sadness sounding in his voice, though his expression still shone with reverence, with longing. "Maybe that's why I invented light pollution..."
"Well...perhaps we ought to spend more time out in the country then," Aziraphale suggested, hand reaching up to caress the demon's face once more. "After all, I see no reason why you ought to be deprived of your stars, beloved."
"Heh, of course you wouldn't," Crowley said with another small huff, though there was something almost...grateful in his expression as he looked back at the angel. He looked as if there was more he wanted to say, but couldn't quite bring himself to it, so he smiled faintly instead.
"Will you let me see them, my darling?" Aziraphale asked, his voice almost loud in the gentle silence of the night as he let his hand fall to Crowley's shoulder, fingers tracing easily down the length of his arm. "I want to see you."
"Anything you want, angel," Crowley returned, eyes briefly slipping closed as another small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. With a shudder and a little sigh, he allowed his wings to spread out behind him, the lovely darkness of them unfurling upon the air and upon the delicate spheres of the ethereal plane.
Aziraphale felt something inside of him spark at the sight. When he reached out a hand to caress the glittering black expanse, he could both see and feel the play of lightning and fire about his own fingertips.
Crowley gasped softly at the contact, wings flaring wider as the loose flickers of lightning traced the fine edges of his feathers. Aziraphale allowed that spark the demon had called awake in him to travel throughout his partner's form, both human and demonic. As Crowley writhed in pleasure beneath the flow of power, Aziraphale leaned in to press a kiss to his neck.
"You are altogether beautiful, my love," he whispered against the serpent's skin, continuing what he'd left unfinished before while his grace caressed the demon in his arms. "You have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes. This is my beloved...and this is my friend."
"Aziraphale," he cried out helplessly, the single word of the angel's name rising on a swell of exquisite desire. Aziraphale could taste divine fire in his mouth and he wanted nothing more than to pour that essence into his lover, to share with him the molten heart of his power, of himself. And Crowley was only too eager to accept what he offered when they melted into a fresh kiss.
The angel was hard-pressed not to share too much of that power too quickly when he felt the demon's serpent-like tongue flick out to lick at his lips, then at his own tongue. With the lightning he allowed to penetrate to the heart of his partner came the distant tremor of thunder. Crowley clung to him tightly, so tightly, but when he cried out into Aziraphale's mouth, the sound was much too sharp, too sudden, to be a sound of pleasure.
"Darling! I'm sorry," he started off in panic, attempting to pull back. "Did I hurt you?"
"No-" Crowley started to lie, still clinging to him, trying to keep them pressed together. "Well...yeah...a bit. But I liked it. It was a good kind of hurt. Don't stop," he pleaded softly, briefly nuzzling his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck. "I want- to feel...Show me."
Understanding what was wanted, the angel allowed a few more of his inhibitions to shake loose, the burn and bloom of his own pale wings unfurling in both planes sending a fresh ripple of pure ecstasy through him.
He could see Crowley twice now, could see the beautiful, perfect human figure in his arms, yellow eyes glowing dimly as tears slipped from them, painting pale, delicate cheeks.
And he could see the truth of him.
He could see the figure that spread beyond the confining limits of mortal flesh to stand silhouetted against the infinite backdrop of eternity, both glorious and terrifying. He could see the vestiges of grace that still clung like tatters of torn flesh to the shadowy midnight of the demon's wings. But rather than be repulsed by the sight of such violent damnation, Aziraphale found it only made the fallen angel more beautiful in his sight. The harsh, strong figure of the demon, hollowed out and carved from the darkest matter, was threaded through with breathing darkness and punishing flame – the haunted, hunting spectre of any human's worst nightmare sculpted into being.
It was a sight that was meant to repel him, the angel knew, meant to force his gaze away in disgust and pity. But Aziraphale had never been able to look away. For in that nightmare vision that was the demon Crowley, he had always seen the beauty that gave form to that fire, the sharp, undiminished will that breathed within that darkness. For the longest time, he had wondered if his seeing these things simply meant there was something wrong with him. So long...so long it had taken him to understand the truths that should have been apparent to him from the very first.
He saw the demon's eyes glow a little brighter as Crowley watched him watching him. Above the human plane, his tears were cold fire, tinged with the remnants of stardust that had once flowed so freely through his being. They were suspended between endless fields of stars in both planes of existence, but in the angel's view, not a one of those stars shone more beautifully than Crowley's eyes. Leaning in to kiss them once more, he exhaled his beloved's name on a tremulous breath. As humans, they held tightly to each other, floating between the sea of stars overhead and the same sea reflected in the waters beneath them, but as angel and demon, they lay down together on a bed of starlight, wings interlacing as both light and matter as pure etheric essence flowed between them.
It was no longer just him sharing power with the demon. Crowley was open to him now, and he to him...open and inviting. As divinity poured forth from his own being, infernal fire rushed into him, through the layers of him, to his very heart, and no part of him was left untouched. He was on fire, spilling out radiance like a newborn star, his very essence boiling with sensation.
"Aziraphale..." his lover's cry came to him on every possible wavelength – as sound, as energy, as light, as pure thought. Nothing was withheld from him and he held nothing back, giving forth the full wonder of his divine light while taking in the full force of Crowley's own power – the dark chaos that both consumed and gave birth to his own light.
"Crowley..." he returned, his cry more than just a word.
Your name to me is love.
He knew that, on some level, they had both feared hurting each other...to even contemplate a coupling like this, but they now both saw how ridiculous that was. They could never harm each other; not when the light and the darkness they both shared were so freely given.
Angel, the demon's voice came to him, barely coherent, wrecked with pleasure. The touch of that thought, of that feeling against his own was thrilling. Unh...angel!
Oh, Love. My love, he gave the feeling of bliss back a thousandfold, ravished with chaos and ecstasy. He was close now. So close...
Somewhere, on one of the many spheres they now inhabited together, he could feel the demon's fingers intertwined tightly with his own, feel the pounding rhythm of his blood, his fire, his power. They were so intent on each other, he wasn't certain even the Almighty herself could've separated them.
"I love you."
And just like that, they were complete. At the absolute height of their ecstasy, their combined pleasure spilled over, forming them as one perfect soul. It was a moment, only a moment, hardly a flicker against the canvas of always, but in that moment of perfect union, every barrier that separated them had been obliterated, and everything either Aziraphale or Crowley had understood as separate beings seemed to unwind around that single soul...that single understanding...
That is the answer.
XxX
When Aziraphale finally resolved back into his own being, it was to find himself lying on the shores of a lake, Crowley lying beside him. It was a great deal later in the night than it had been when he and the serpent had initially gone off together, as evidenced by the fading stars and the grey light of the coming dawn. Both their corporations and their clothing were distinctly more disheveled than he last remembered them being, but he had a lovely, only somewhat vague memory of just why that was. He couldn't entirely help the warm smile that spread across his face as he leaned over to kiss the slumbering demon's eyes.
He couldn't say how long it was they lay there like that before Crowley started to blink himself awake, but the demon's confusion was no more than a handful of those blinks. Aziraphale had the pleasure of seeing uninhibited joy in those golden eyes as his partner leaned in to kiss him good morning.
"Hwoo," the serpent exhaled when he finally pulled back. "That was...heaven, angel, don't suppose you've got a cigarette on hand. I don't think I've been so thoroughly shagged in...ever," he finished with a small laugh.
"Well, it was a bit more than mere shagging," the angel sniffed as he sat up, though he was still grinning.
"Bit more, yeah," Crowley agreed, reaching out to take Aziraphale's hand before miracling his discarded sunglasses back into place. "Reeaally great way to say bollocks to the Apocalypse. Can't exactly get you breakfast in bed here, though, so what say we track down my darling girl and then find you some crepes."
"I rather like the sound of that," he said, still grinning like a fool as he drew his partner into yet another kiss. Neither of them could have known it at the time, but the sheer amount of sexual energy their coupling had unleashed would have a very profound effect on the future population of Tadfield and the surrounding villages.
It would have just as profound an effect on them personally, as well, but in that moment, even the notion of such a thing was far and away. On this morning, a year and a day after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, the angel and the demon were together, and they were happy.
XxX
(A/N) So...shall we continue?