(A/N) Hello, all! So sorry this update took so long. I was so overwhelmed with the warm response this little story got. So many anonymous messages I can only properly respond to here. I'm so happy my little tale's been inspiring. There's no need to worry about whether I'll continue it, though. The updating's just going to be slow at first, since I have three or so other active projects going at the moment. So early on here, this one's going to be a monthly sort of update schedule, but I'll pick up the pace as I knock out my other projects. Hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

I Knew You'd Be Our Angel

Chapter 2: Perhaps I Had a Miserable Youth

Now

The baby shower was a typical, human sort of affair. Or at least Aziraphale assumed it was, never having attended one before. It seemed quite human. With Deirdre Young leading Anathema and several other Tadfield women in weight guessing and name games. Under normal circumstances, he imagined he would have found the proceedings quite precious – a group of women preparing to welcome a new life into the world, sharing stories and offering advice – but...well..the circumstances were not normal.

The circumstances hadn't been normal for quite some time now.

At first, the angel had been worried more for Crowley and how he might take the whole situation, that it maybe hadn't been a good idea for him to attend at all. But the demon kept insisting he didn't want them to treat him any differently than they had before it had happened. So Aziraphale always tried to abide by that wish, behaving as though things were normal, even though they weren't.

But his partner didn't seem to be having any averse reactions to the goings on. In fact, if his sense of the demon's feelings was correct, they were similar to his own – a sort of...somewhat happy melancholy. As in...it was nice to see all this happening for Anathema, it was wonderful to think of the little life beginning inside of her but, at the same time...he would find himself feeling almost...short of breath...whenever he would catch sight of a tiny sock or a miniature spoon.

She would be- four and half months old now.

Whenever thoughts like that would cross his mind, his hand would find its way to Crowley's, and he didn't ask questions whenever the demon's hand would make its way to his. It wasn't unbearable, crushing grief, as it had been in the beginning. Just- a longing...a wondering... The fact that the demon was pregnant again did nothing to alleviate that wondering. Honestly, he wasn't certain anything ever would. This new pregnancy...didn't feel real just yet. Who could say when it would?

Crowley had just released his hand after the revealing of a particularly adorable elephant onesie when one of the town ladies they didn't know suddenly spoke up.

"Actually, my dear, I think I know what I'd like to add to the name pot now. What do you think of Stella? Simple. Classic. Not too old-fashioned. Seems to check all your boxes."

Aziraphale was almost surprised when he heard no response from Anathema, but it didn't take him long to figure out why that was.

Crowley had full-on stopped time.

Anathema and the little circle of ladies had completely frozen up, Anathema with her mouth opening for whatever answer she'd been about to give. Newt was caught coming in from the kitchen with a fresh tray of tea. The Them were stopped mid-regale by Pepper of the one time she'd seen a baby being born.

And Crowley himself? Well, he'd somehow come to be in the far corner of the room, his body trembling as his eyes burned behind his sunglasses.

"Darling!" Aziraphale gasped out, resisting the urge to rush to him, as he could see that he was in the grips of something, and coming on him unawares would likely only make it worse. So, moving slowly, he walked across the room to his husband.

"Crowley?" he tried again. "Crowley, dearest...can you hear me?"

The demon didn't so much confirm or deny one way or the other. He simply made a small whimpering sound, hands briefly twitching, clawing at the wall. Instead of tears, several tiny rivulets of fire ran down his cheeks. Nothing he did seemed to be getting through to him.

"No...no...please!" he begged of something Aziraphale couldn't see.

"Crowley?" he tried one more time before reaching out a hand to lay it lightly against the demon's shoulder. Instantly a flash of memory snapped through his mind.

Michael...carrying away a newborn spark of divinity...

"Let me hold her," he begs, reaching. "Let me hold her just once!"

L'estelle...my sweet starlight...

The angel cried out in agony as he pulled himself free of the memory. He was already apologizing as he tried to take a step back.

"Oh- darling, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"

But Crowley didn't seem bothered by the fact that he'd unintentionally glimpsed his thoughts. No. In fact, he reached out to stop him pulling away, holding tightly to his wrist.

Afraid of triggering some new flashback, Aziraphale was careful in laying his hands back on the demon. He began by laying his free hand on Crowley's. When nothing happened, he moved in closer once more, gently resting his forehead against his husband's. He felt Crowley relax against him, breathing in his scent as he began to calm.

"You...you'd named her?" he asked softly, beginning to understand what had happened, what it was that had triggered the response.

"I...I- yeah," he admitted, sounding almost embarrassed, in spite of the fact he was still coming down from a particularly intense panic episode. "I- I know it- we should've done together, but...I dunno. It felt right."

"L'estelle," he repeated in a gentle voice, trying the name out against his lover's lips. "It truly is a lovely name. And I suppose you did know her better than I ever will."

"She really...was beautiful," Crowley said softly, his voice aching, and even though he didn't cry this time, Aziraphale could still hear that anguish in his words.

"We really don't- have to stay...if you don't want to," he reassured the demon, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm sure Anathema wouldn't mind if we stepped out. We can always give her our gift later."

Shaking himself off after another long moment, the demon slowly nodded. "Might be for the best," he said with a swallow, pushing them both carefully away from the wall. "Who knows what one of the old biddies might say next."

Then, once he was standing on his own, Crowley moved over to where Anathema was sitting amongst the gaggle of women, easily lifting her up into the time stop.

"Wh- wha...what-" she started, gaze darting around in confusion.

"Nothing to worry about, my dear," Aziraphale rushed to reassure her. "Crowley's just stopped time."

"Right," she mumbled faintly, beginning to move about the space, looking at everyone else frozen perfectly in time. "Because that's a thing that happens."

"Sorry to interrupt the party, but I'm afraid one of the ladies gave Crowley a rather bad start with her name suggestion."

"What? Stella?" the young witch asked absently as she waddled in a circle around her husband, waving a hand in his face. But then she seemed to realize what such a thing would mean, looking back at both of them. "Was...was that-"

"L'estelle," Crowley offered up, suddenly sounding very tired.

"Oh...oh- Crowley," she started, moving back toward him, and when Aziraphale saw the way she traced the air beside him with a single hand, he realized she was looking at his aura. Though he didn't know what it was she was seeing, he didn't imagine it was anything pleasant.

"Anyway, we- thought we might pop out for a walk or some such. Didn't want you to be alarmed when we disappeared."

"Do you think you'll be back?" Anathema asked, looking from Crowley over to him.

"Likely we shall. Though that may be one we have to...play by ear, as they say."

"All right, well, there was something I wanted to ask you about once the party was over, but I suppose I might as well get into it now while nobody's listening. Though...this isn't going to hurt any of them, is it?" she asked, gaze shifting between Newt and the Them. "Being stuck like this?"

"Nah," Crowley said with a dismissive wave. "After all, literally nothing's happening to them."

"And it doesn't hurt you?" she pressed the demon. "Holding time still like this?"

"It may do after a time," Aziraphale answered before Crowley could lie. "But it should be fine for a short stint like this. What was it you wanted to ask about?"

"Agnes' new prophecies. I was wondering if perhaps you thought all this could be related to the third prophecy."

"Wait- new prophecies?" Crowley asked, looking between Anathema and Aziraphale. "What's this about new prophecies?"

"You didn't tell him?" Anathema asked him.

"It never really came up," Aziraphale explained, because indeed it had not. He honestly hadn't thought of the new prophecies any since going to rescue Crowley. "When Gabriel and the others...took you...I did everything I could to find you. When nothing worked, I grew desperate."

"So we got Tracy to help us get in touch with Agnes," Anathema picked up when he fell off. "We thought- something in the other book might be of some help finding you. She gave us five prophecies that would've been in the book."

"The Final Five Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter," Aziraphale said quietly, more to himself. But when he continued, it was to the witch. "Well...to be quite honest, I didn't really look at any of the other prophecies. The first one told me where I needed to go, so I went. I take it you- have the other four?"

"I do. I wrote them all down," she said, nodding them out of the front area and back into a sort of study, one half stuffed with books and the other half with stripped computer parts. Pulling a notebook onto the desk, she quickly flipped it open to a page bookmarked roughly three-quarters of the way through. "I've been studying them since you've been gone. When you told us about the new pregnancy, I thought it was likely the third prophecy is about your children."

"You said...children?" Crowley pressed, voice dropping into even more of a hiss.

"I- right. It's- oh, here. Just have a look," she said, running a finger along lines written in spidery green letters.

"Two awake. Arise! A prince and princess shalle be born unto the Serpente and the Guardiane," Aziraphale began to read aloud from the page, but quickly came to a stop upon reaching those words, staring at them for a long moment before lifting his eyes to Crowley's.

"Two?" his husband repeated in an almost thunderstruck voice. "A prince and princess? It's...it's twins?"

"Well...I rather suppose that is the meaning one would take from that...yes," the angel returned, feeling a hesitant smile turn up the corners of his mouth.

"And the- 'Serpente and the Guardiane', that's...you and me?"

"Agnes does refer to us that way several times throughout her prophecies. I see no reason why she would change. Does...does anything seem different to you? From the last time?" he asked, reaching out a hand to lay it on the demon's forearm.

Crowley shrugged, focus perceptibly shifting inward. "Not- really? Nothing feels any different yet. But I guess all that stuff happens later. Might not even be twins yet. But...if they really are..." he said, voice falling softly away as his hand drifted to his middle, stroking gently, mindlessly for several moments. Then he pulled Aziraphale's hand down with his so they could feel together. Not that there was anything there yet to physically feel, but to feel the tender warmth of the new spark.

Sparks?

Aziraphale looked up into Crowley's eyes once more, and for a moment, it was just the two of them in the room when they leaned in for a loving kiss.

"Guys?" Anathema interrupted hesitantly a few moments later. "That's not all. There's...there's more to the prophecy."

He had seen that, but the angel supposed a part of him hadn't wanted to see the rest. The fact they were most likely having twins was news enough with what had happened already. Couldn't they stop there? Couldn't they have just this little bit of joy for a moment?

Couldn't his love be spared even one more heartbreak?

We should be so lucky.

"A prince and princess shall be born unto the Serpente and the Guardiane," he began again when he looked back to Anathema's notebook, "the Children of the Weeping Earth. Marke ye well theyr pathe, for they sow the twilight and the dawne in theyr wake. Warie be, for...for wonne to darkness they be drawne, and wonne to light they be showne."

"That...could mean any number of things," Anathema said into the following stillness when neither of them said anything. "Agnes could only ever- predict in a way she could comprehend. It could mean one kid will have more angelic traits and the other will have more demonic ones. It doesn't have to mean that-"

"One'll be good and one'll be evil?" Crowley finished for her.

"We know, Anathema dear. If anyone understands how complex these things can be, the two of us do. But it is no doubt of note that Agnes chose to make mention of it in her prophecy at all," Aziraphale started to explain. "It means something...even if we don't yet know what."

"Definitely children of a new apocalypse, if I've ever heard of any," Crowley said in a voice that Aziraphale immediately recognized as his attempt at being casual while concealing just how much the conversation was hurting him. "Really no idea what she might've been going for with Children of the Weeping Earth. But...what I'm gonna take from all that is...if nothing else...these two will be able to live. I'll take it for what it's worth," he said, moving away from the two of them.

"Of course, dearest," the angel said, following after him, relieved when the demon didn't continue his retreat. In fact, he allowed Aziraphale to take his hand again. His grip was not desperate, as it had been before, but it was certainly firm, silently telling the angel that the contact was wanted.

"There are- other prophecies," Anathema reminded them. "But those can probably wait until next time. I don't want to keep you."

"So sorry to interrupt the shower," Aziraphale said as she came to hug them.

"No thing, boys. I was getting bored with it anyway. There's a lot going on right now," she said, all three of them careful of her bulge as they hugged. "We'll be able to do this for you guys in about six months."

Whatever Aziraphale had meant to say died in his throat when he heard and felt Crowley gasp beside him.

"Crowley? What is it, love?"

"She...she kicked," he said, nearly choking on the words.

"Felt that, did you," Anathema said with a small chuckle, wincing as she took a step back. "Yeah, she does that. Plays kickball with my liver all night sometimes. I guess this time she knows she's got some future playmates nearby," the young mother-to-be said as she took the demon's hand in hers, guiding it to rest back against her swollen belly. Then she nodded Aziraphale over. "You want to feel, too?"

Moving in beside his husband, the angel laid his hand next to his on the witch's middle, and almost immediately began to feel what he hadn't from her other side – tiny, nearly rhythmic jabs just beneath his hand. He hadn't had much opportunity to experience this with his own daughter. She had only moved a handful of times before...before they had been taken. And even then, nothing nearly this strong. She...L'estelle...had been something entirely new. Some intertwining of a physical form and an ethereal true form – a being one within herself as he and Crowley never could be. She had been so beautiful, and she...

"Hello," he said softly, feeling several tears slip down his face as he spoke to the tiny light beneath his hand. "Hello, little girl."

"Gonna be just as pretty as your mother," he heard Crowley saying as the demon slipped his free hand into his, the strength of that grip the only thing telling of what was happening beneath the surface.

"Just as stubborn, more like," the witch returned with a saddened smirk as she laid her own hand over theirs on her belly.

"s'pretty much what I meant," Crowley said with a mischievous smirk of his own. Aziraphale more felt than saw him lift the time stop, quickly raising several cries of shock and calls for Anathema.

The witch wrinkled her eyebrows at Crowley, as if to ask 'really?'. Then she was calling out, "In the study."

Newt appeared in the doorway mere moments later, still holding his tea tray and looking both flustered and mildly panicked. But the panic eased somewhat when he saw who his wife was with.

"Oh, all right. Just more angel-demon stuff."

"Is there any other kind of 'stuff' for us?" Anathema teased, but then she was groaning, drifting over to the desk to half-collapse in exhaustion.

"Anathema!" Newt started in worry, nearly dropping the tea tray as he rushed into the room, but almost immediately she was waving him off.

"Nothing to worry about. I've just been on my feet too long. No need to start panicking and calling doctors. It's not time yet," she reassured her husband.

"I know. I understand," he said, voice a tad shaky as he set the tray down and moved to one knee beside her. "But I worry. Let me worry about you. Somebody has to."

Exchanging glances with one another over the young couple, the older couple took their cue to slip out quietly, heading out from Jasmine Cottage to the streets of Tadfield.

For awhile, they said nothing. Just walked hand in hand through the unaccustomed peace of the little village. Granted, they drew a few more stares here than they would've done in Soho, but it mattered little to either. After a time, the pair happened to come across a little ice cream shop; one they hadn't yet tried out on any of their handful of visits to Tadfield, but a shop which Adam and his friends were always on about.

Well, no time like the present.

It was several minutes later, now strolling with cones of vanilla and strawberry ice cream in hand, that Crowley spoke up for the first time in an hour or so.

"Angel...I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked his partner, completely confused.

"I just- I never seem to know anymore what's gonna set me off. I keep telling you lot not to treat me like glass and I can't even...when a little thing like a name-"

"That isn't little, Crowley," he insisted firmly, coming to a stop on the walk. The demon moved a few steps further before coming to a halt himself. "She was our child...and L'estelle was the name you chose for her. Of course it means something to you. Even a name similar to it...you could hardly help responding to it."

"I'm supposed to be getting over this, though," the serpent snarled, the sound of his ice cream cone cracking as he crushed it in his fist almost as loud as a gunshot to Aziraphale's ears. "She- she's gone. She's gone and I couldn't save her. How am I supposed to even start to make room for a new one, two even, if I can't get over her?"

"Get over?" the angel repeated in mild shock, coming up slowly behind his lover. Something inside of him clenched painfully when he reached out to touch the demon's elbow and he flinched. "Dearest, you- you loved her. You still love her. I can't imagine why you would want to get over loving your own daughter."

Tensing briefly at the words, Crowley shook his head as he started to turn back to him. "Angel, that's not- that isn't what I-"

"No!" Aziraphale started sharply. "I- I can't imagine why you feel as though you need to forget about her. That isn't how it works. She was ours...yours and mine...and- even if she was only alive for a few minutes, we both loved her. We'll always love her. You don't just 'get over' that. I- I suppose all you really do is...learn to live with it," he offered up, voice falling away meekly as his gaze fell to the stretch of ground between them.

"Heh...heheh. How- how do you suppose humans do it?" Crowley asked him, fully facing him now. "Speaking as someone who's had several...I don't think one life is enough to grieve like that. It's just- it's too much."

"By remembering that the love they felt isn't gone?" he suggested softly, reaching out to take the demon's strawberry ice cream-covered hand in his own. "Having felt it once, it stays...always...as our love existed side by side with the pain of our separation for so many ages."

"Really thought we were done with all that," the serpent groaned, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "Love and pain."

"Well...love makes the pain worth it...I think," he said, running a thumb over the back of his husband's hand. "Even though we lost her...L'estelle is still with us. I- I know it's not- really the same," he started before Crowley could interrupt him. "But...she is. She will always be part of us...and part of her brother and sister. And...just because you love L'estelle doesn't mean you love these two new ones less, or love her less to love the twins. It would be like saying you had to love me less to love them properly. Do you love me less, you wily old serpent?"

"Never," the demon answered without hesitation, utterly serious, moving in to press a kiss to his lips. The angel only had a few moments to enjoy the depth of feeling in that kiss before Crowley was pulling back, leaving only just enough space between them to whisper against his lips, "Could sooner decide we actually needed an apocalypse than I could love my angel any less. My bounty is as boundless as the sea...my love as deep," he began with another sweet peck of lips. "The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite."

"I knew you had a soft spot for the gloomy ones," Aziraphale couldn't quite help teasing, a bright smile welling up through his downcast expression.

"What can I say? Will knew his stuff," Crowley said with a little smile of his own. "Though I neither confirm nor deny that I may have had something to do with that line. How else was I supposed to feed you poetry?"

"Oh, you would've found a way. I'm quite sure," the angel said, and with the barest wisp of a miracle, he had them both clean and with fresh cones of ice cream in their hands. "Well, then...shall we be off?"

"Probably best, yes," Crowley said, falling into step beside him as they started to head back in the general direction of Jasmine Cottage. "After all, somebody ought to be there to explain when that last present decides to start smoking."

Aziraphale sighed, shaking his head as he slipped his free hand into Crowley's. Maybe he shouldn't have left the demon in charge of wrapping?

Ah, well. The young couple could at least handle themselves. He knew that much.

XxX

Then

The morning of June 2nd was pleasantly warm and sunny with just the right amount of cloud coverage – the perfect day for a wedding out of doors. And if certain occult and etherial parties with certain abilities had something to do with the absolutely perfect day, well, who was really going to question it?

Crowley and Aziraphale had met Newt's mother in the days leading up to the wedding – a perfectly acceptable woman who was just happy a girl had even looked twice at her son. But in the flurry of the woman's arrival, the pair had somehow managed to miss meeting Anathema's mother.

"Okay, fair warning, since I'm not sure I'm going to be present to mediate," Anathema had informed them in advance of the event, "my mother is really looking forward to meeting the two of you. She's never met an angel or a demon. She's a very- intense woman, my mom. She typically means well...unless you've pissed her off. Then you go at your own peril. Just...try to take it in stride, if you could...I guess...is what I'm saying."

The pair wasn't completely certain what to expect on the day of the wedding. Unconsciously, Crowley found himself thinking, they had probably both begun to treat it like a report to home office, not knowing what might come, but prepared to approach it like a battle.

"And I do believe that's our madame," Aziraphale half-whispered to him early on in the afternoon, and the demon inwardly berated himself for the flinch as he lifted his eyes to search the small crowd gathering on the field for the ceremony. But he quickly picked out a woman whom their little witch rather distinctly took after, both in looks and in bearing. The woman wasted no time in marching over to them.

"And the pair of you must be Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley," she said, plainly trying not to smile too brightly.

"Yes," Aziraphale returned, quickly taking the lead and reaching out to shake the woman's hand. "And you must be Anathema's mother."

"Gabriella," she introduced herself. "Gabriella Device."

The pair couldn't quite help exchanging subtle looks at that one.

Gabriella? Really?

"I apologize. I just- I've never met anyone...quite like either of you."

"Quite all right, dear lady. Most people haven't."

Crowley could feel the woman's scrutiny as she shifted to shake his hand, which he accepted only reluctantly. She was staring at him with much more than her eyes, after all.

"Forgive me, Mr Crowley. I've never had the opportunity to observe an aura such as yours." Re:demon's aura. "Who could say if all of your kind are like this, but...you are fairly glowing."

"Glowing, is it?" he asked, looking at her over the tops of his sunglasses, taking a small bit of pleasure in the surprised widening of her eyes.

"Well, that's- really the only way I can think to describe what it is I'm seeing. An aura is already a corona of light, the outward expression of a soul, but yours is...well...almost radiant. Your energy is absolutely vibrating with joy."

"You know, I don't believe she's wrong," Aziraphale agreed. "You have seemed much happier this past month. Any particular reason why?"

"None I can think of," he said, giving an expansive shrug as he yawned rather widely, using the motion to subtly slip his hand into the angel's. "I've honestly felt more tired this month than anything else."

"Then that has done nothing to dull that lovely aura," the elder witch said with an almost captivated smile. "I feel I ought to thank you for gracing my daughter with such beauty on the day of her wedding."

"Yeah. Sure, no problem," the demon returned absently, trying to get more of a feel for himself. What was it the woman was seeing?

"Well, I'm sure you have a fair few other family members to greet," Aziraphale said in an effort to make a graceful exit from the conversation. "The ceremony ought to be beginning before too long. See you at the reception?"

"Of course. A pleasure to meet both of you," Gabriella Device said with a nod before heading off into the crowd once again.

"It wasn't a complete falsehood, I suppose," Aziraphale said once she had gone. "We ought to be making our way to our seats fairly soon-"

"Actually...do you think maybe we could hit up the hors d'Oeuvres one more time?" the serpent found himself asking almost before the question had properly registered in his mind. "Those goat cheese dates take me right back to Alexandria."

"Well, I won't say no to that," the angel said with a pleased sigh as he allowed himself to be led back toward the table. "They are very nearly divine, after all."

Crowley had never entirely understood Aziraphale's love of food. He enjoyed it himself from time to time, but not in the nearly visceral way the angel seemed to. That sort of pleasure he derived just from watching his angel eat. And now from several more interesting activities, as well. Although, maybe Aziraphale was starting to rub off on him in more ways than one? He'd found himself enjoying food more and more these past few weeks. He'd even found himself actually feeling hungry from time to time. The sound he made now as he bit into another goat cheese stuffed date bordered on obscene.

"I must say, dearest, I do believe you've been eating more these past few weeks, as well," Aziraphale commented after enjoying another of the dates himself. "Finally developing a taste for the finer things in life?"

"Suppose so," he said as he reached for another date. "To use your word, these things are absolutely scrumptious."

"Ooh," the angel shivered with delight at the near moan. "I'll tell you what's scrumptious. That voice. I imagine there are more...varied delicacies we might enjoy this evening."

"I'm up for it, if you are," Crowley returned with a smirk, popping another date into his mouth with particular theatricality. "But...I think she was right, y'know."

"Right?"

"Anathema's mum. I mean- I have been more tired recently, but...I guess I have been feeling happier. I dunno," he finished with a shrug. "It's nice."

Aziraphale fairly beamed at his words, leaning in to press a quick, but very heartfelt kiss to his lips, the lovely taste of the dates lingering between them. Then he was whispering against his lips, "That really is wonderful to hear, darling. I do hope it continues. I almost hate to interrupt your newfound rapport with food, but we really had best be getting to our seats. We'll see where the evening takes us, shall we?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," the demon agreed, grabbing at least one more date before Aziraphale began to lead him away from the table.

Who could say how Newt had gotten either Anathema or Shadwell himself to agree to it, but the retired witchfinder sergeant was acting as the officiant for their wedding. Something about his 'technical' military status qualifying him for it. Neither of them had wanted anything to do with a church wedding, so the sergeant had been their next option. The man now stood beneath a small canopy at the head of a moderately-sized crowd, decked out in what passed for witchfinder regalia, which was really just his uniform spruced up by Madam Tracy and with a few added medals for who knew what. Tracy herself sat at the front of the crowd with the two mothers, looking so proud she might actually somehow burst. Newt himself was standing with Shadwell, thankfully not dressed in his witchfinder uniform, just in a suit with a few patches from the uniform, probably at Shadwell's insistence. All day, Crowley had been overhearing people quietly whispering about which branch of the service the two men had served with, but no one could ever come back with a definitive answer, so the gossip continued. Likely by the end of the evening, there would be some wild story about how they were some undesignated special forces branch. Whatever the tale wound up being, Crowley had little doubt he would enjoy witnessing the evolution of it.

He and Aziraphale preferred to keep to the back of the gathering themselves, still present, but also separate from it all. That had always been their place on this planet, but now, at least, they could occupy it together. From where they sat, he could spot the Them with their families, each of them fidgeting in their nice clothes. Except for Pepper, who sat quite proudly in an outfit that her mother had clearly let her select from the boys' section of the shop. She and Adam would be ducking out very soon to join the wedding procession. They were all just waiting on their cues from Anathema.

"Do you ever...think about it?" Crowley found himself asking of a sudden. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately – speaking before his thoughts had properly caught up with him.

"About what?" the angel whispered back softly. "Marriage?"

"Yeah. I mean, we can't. Obviously."

"Oh, obviously," Aziraphale returned quickly. "You can't properly set foot in a church and I imagine if I tried to, I would be detained or some such nonsense. But...if we could..."

"If we could...maybe something like this," Crowley said, voice quiet as he reached out for Aziraphale's hand.

"Yes...something like this," the angel agreed, returning the grip just as readily. "Something like this would be nice."

At that, some musical cue was given and everyone was seated. Once the simple cloth aisle was clear, Adam Young was striding down it with a large basket of roses and apple blossoms in hand. Grabbing handfuls of the red and white petals, he was soon scattering them through the air in dramatic arcs, getting just as many on the crowd as he did on the aisle.

Next to come down the aisle was Pepper, grinning triumphantly with, in Crowley's opinion, a green velvet pillow that was just a little too large, bearing the wedding rings upon it. With these initial tasks finished, Adam and Pepper took the places of the maid of honor and the best man respectively.

Then came Anathema herself.

The young witch was a victorian vision in white, her gown an elegant combination of modern lines and vintage lace patterning. Her veil was so thin as to almost be negligible and this was topped with a crown of roses twined into her loose-flowing hair. If anyone was radiant today, it was her...her and Newt as he watched her walk toward him down the aisle.

Radiant.

The words of the ceremony started to fall away for Crowley as certain words and thoughts he had heard expressed today started to coalesce in his mind.

Radiant. Glowing...

He had heard words like that before. But...

...fairly glowing...almost radiant...absolutely vibrating with joy...

He could see Shadwell speaking, could see Newt and Anathema looking occasionally mortified by something he'd said, but ultimately happy, enamored of each other. He could see the wedding happening, but he heard nothing. Nothing but the rush of wind in his ears.

"You have seemed much happier this month."

Happy...radiant...glowing...

But he'd been so tired.

Tired but happy. Like carrying a secret...

The hunger...the fierce joy in eating...

"...I do believe you've been eating more these past few weeks..."

He almost never ate...but to need to so suddenly...as if...as if it wasn't just him who needed it...

"Fornication under consent of the Queen..."

The hot taste of divinity against his tongue...

"Aziraphale..."

A spear of divine light piercing him...thrusting to the heart of him...spilling precious light upon every darkened corner of his shadowed self...

Oh, love. My love...

A single understanding...a single soul...

"So you wouldn't want children of your own then?"

And then he felt it...the seed of divine fire at the core of his being. And that seed was impregnated with his own infernal flame – both divine and demonic. It was part of him, but also not, because it was part of Aziraphale, too. It was both of them, but also a being of itself. Somehow...somehow...they had-

Last of all, a memory surfaced in his mind – a moment from so long ago, it had nearly been forgotten.

He remembered an angel, name long forgotten, his being replete with heavenly grace, luminous in his travail, singing even as he suffered, struggling to bring forth the new light. And when he at last reached the point where his being could no longer contain so much raw fire, the new beacon of holy light poured forth into existence – a tiny, fledgling angel.

The very first newborn.

And it was that same sort of energy that welled up inside of him now. A little angel. But a little demon, as well. And maybe...just a little human. As he watched Newt and Anathema kiss and walk down the aisle, he finally allowed the words to form in his mind.

I...I'm...I'm going to have a baby. Aziraphale's baby.

The demon was in such a state of shock, he would've almost sworn he'd blacked out. It wasn't until he started to hear Aziraphale's voice that he began to regain his awareness.

"Crowley? Crowley!" the angel's words slowly started to pierce the fog of his awareness. "Dearest, please. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Why does- s'mthin' have to be wrong?" he mumbled with perfect grace.

"I- Crowley...I don't know how you can have failed to notice this, but...you've time stopped."

"Wha-" he started in amazement, finally managing to look around and see that Aziraphale was right. The world around them was in full stop. He and his angel were sitting in the midst of a completely frozen wedding crowd, mid cheer for a bride and groom who were stuck mid-stride down the aisle. "Oh."

"Oh? What, exactly, is going on, love?"

"I..."

What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, hey. Looks like you may have gotten me up the spout. But it's all fine. Let's just go back to enjoying the party. Everything's perfectly normal.' Before he could think too much on it, though, before he could outright panic or any number of other reactions, he simply came out with it, words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them.

"I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Aziraphale just stared at him, not in any way comprehending. But after several minutes of this blank staring, he blinked and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm going to need that one more time. You're what now?"

"Expecting. Knocked up. With child. Bun in the oven. In the family way. Little stranger. My eggo is preggo. I really don't know how else you want me to say it, Aziraphale," he snapped back at him as he shot up out of his chair, starting to pull himself out of the crowd.

"Well, you- just- wait!" the angel protested, starting to stumble after him. "I mea- how long have you known?"

"Mm, 'bout- five minutes now," he admitted as he turned back to the angel.

"And you're certain?"

"D'you think I'd tell you if I wasn't certain? It just...it clicked. Everything fell into place and I realized...that when we- when you and I...when we made love," he said softly, unable to refer to what had happened that night as simple fucking, "something happened. I don't know how, but...just look," he insisted, taking hold of one of Aziraphale's hands and pressing it against his belly.

"Oh," the angel murmured in quiet shock after several moments of staring into the vastness of his true being, finding the tiny, flickering light at the core of him. "My dear...my love..."

"Is that all you've got?" the demon tried to snap again, but all he could manage was a somewhat broken-sounding snarl.

And then Aziraphale was kissing him.

Crowley's eyes flickered open briefly in surprise, but it wasn't long before he was sinking back into the kiss, taking pleasure in the angel's sudden joy.

"It's so wonderful, Crowley," his lover was soon whispering against his lips. "When we didn't think it possible- and I know how you've wanted this."

Had he? Yes. That much he could admit to himself. It was something that had lingered in his thoughts ever since that first fledgling...ever since he had witnessed Eve holding little Cain in her arms. He'd just...never thought he would deserve such a thing. Just like he'd never thought he would deserve Aziraphale's love. But to see the angel's joy now...it allowed a small spark of happiness to wake in his own heart. Smiling softly, he drew the angel into another kiss. He didn't know how they'd done it, but they had. Somehow...somehow the two of them together...had created a new light.

But almost in the same instant, their fragile joy was tainted with fear. When they looked into each other's eyes again, the realization struck them both in almost the same moment.

"Hell."

"Heaven."

"There's no way they're gonna go for this," the demon said, running a hand through his hair as he took a step back from the angel. "Either of them."

"A child of both realms?" Aziraphale continued softly, reaching out his hands once more to place them over Crowley's still-flat stomach. "No. They could not. This...our child...our child is living proof that there doesn't have to be a war. That we don't have to fight one another..."

"Yeah, try telling that to Beelzebub or Gabriel," Crowley ground out, laying his hands over Aziraphale's.

"Do you think they might...already know?" the angel wondered aloud, his voice tinged with fear. "Heaven, at least, does keep track of this sort of thing."

"Who knows? I mean- they might not, since we gave them all some pretty strict orders to leave us alone. But our little stunt will only keep them at bay for so long."

"And even if they don't interfere, they must certainly keep tabs of some kind. Crowley, what- what'll we do?"

"I don't know," the serpent admitted after a time, drawing the angel back into his arms, both holding and clinging to him. "We- we're just gonna have to be really damn careful. We can't let them get at this little bugger."

"No," Aziraphale agreed with quiet conviction, despite his fear. "We will never."

Then, sharing one last kiss, the pair slipped seamlessly back into real time, back into the wedding reception, as if they'd never been gone. Because, really, they hadn't.

They enjoyed the party, joyed in the young couple's happiness, laughed at the antics of the Them, ate, drank, danced a little (so much as either of them could dance outside of the gavotte, anyway), Anathema even convinced Crowley to take part in her bouquet toss. They enjoyed themselves and the time spent as part of the odd little family, but underneath the joy of the evening, there was the growing sense of worry – the feeling that this might all come to an end soon...that the peace they had won might already be over.

Crowley had thought they were being discrete about their sudden tension, but by the end of the night, after the other guests had left and the two mothers had gone off to oversee cleanup, Anathema proved to him just how wrong he was.

"All right. What is it?" the witch asked them.

"Sorry?" Crowley returned, knowing perfectly well what she meant, but trying to play dumb.

"I don't know what happened, but you two have been wound tight all night. Did you have a fight or something?"

"Oh! No, my dear. Quite the opposite, in fact," Aziraphale rushed to reassure the young bride.

"So what's the opposite of havin' a fight?" Shadwell asked, as if such a concept were foreign to him, which, to be fair, was probably true.

Crowley hardly needed the glance from his partner to surreptitiously start another time stop in order to protect the conversation from prying ears, human or otherwise. By this point, it was the pair of them, the newlyweds, Shadwell and Madam Tracy, and Adam, the only one of the Them who'd managed to convince his parents to let him come along home later.

"Well...do you remember the conversation we had at the anniversary gathering? About whether or not angels and demons could...reproduce...together?" Aziraphale asked them, pale face flushing just a touch.

"Yes," Newt answered slowly.

"Turns out we can," Crowley offered up while his angel struggled to find the words.

Looking between the two of them, Tracy's smile slowly grew until it almost seemed to split her face in two. "Oh- oh, my. Do- do you mean to say that the two of you...that you're-"

"We are going to be parents, yes," Aziraphale took over, taking the demon's hand in his.

"That's great news," Anathema started with a smile of her own, although they both already knew she could tell there was trouble.

"But...you boys are both...well...boys, ain't ye?" Shadwell was the one to ask. "How does tha' work exactly?"

"That is, in fact, not correct, Sergeant. We have never been boys. We are an angel and a demon. We are...male-seeming, I suppose. Besides, we can't yet say just how much of this pregnancy will be physical, as opposed to metaphysical," Aziraphale explained as their intertwined hands shifted to rest over top of Crowley's belly.

"So...your kid's gonna be a not-all-human sort of kid? Like me?" Adam asked, gaze hopeful as he looked between them.

"Yeah, something like that," Crowley conceded. "Honestly, we have no idea what this little thing's gonna be."

"Doesn't matter what it is, it's still gonna be like me," he insisted.

"Well...you're not wrong," Aziraphale said slowly.

"I can show him the ropes," the antichrist insisted. "I can be like a cousin or a- a big brother. Yeah, that's it! I always wanted a little brother!"

"Heh, glad somebody gets to be excited," Crowley said with a small, pained laugh.

"So...do we say congratulations?" Newt was the one to finally ask, starting to pick up on whatever it was his wife had seen from the start.

"Hard to say," Crowley answered. "We're pretty sure both Heaven and Hell'll have something to say about it. We just don't know how much or even if they know yet. We're going to have to find some way of getting even further off their respective radars."

"Then we'll do whatever we have to to keep the three of you safe," Tracy insisted.

"Not sure there's anything you can do, but thanks for the offer, just the same," Crowley said in response.

"Actually...I might be able to come up with something if you give me a few weeks," Anathema said, her face already going pensive, sinking into her stores of occult knowledge.

"Well, if you really think you can, take all the time you need," Aziraphale said with a look that was part bafflement and part relief.. "We truly have nothing else at this juncture."

"Like Tracy said, we'll do whatever we have to," Anathema said, smiling as she also looked between the two of them, then down down to the place where their hands twined over Crowley's belly. "Doesn't matter what it turns out to be. This kid's one of us. We'll fight for them."

Crowley didn't look over at Aziraphale as the humans started to plan. He simply gripped his hand tighter, both of their hands pressing that much more firmly against his body. Who could say what might happen? There was a lot to worry on, but...it seemed there was a lot to be happy about, too. Maybe they could muddle through this somehow?

The same way they'd muddled through everything else the last 6,000 years.

XxX