Story commissioned by Cafelatte100 for 3Skydream3 Hope you enjoy ^_^

The Owl and the Blackbird

A Good Omens Fanfic

The instruction of Warlock at the hands of his nanny and the gardener, now turned his two tutors, was, if you were to ask Aziraphale and Crowley, going quite well. He seemed neither overly influenced by good, or evil, he simply liked playing like a little boy should, and enjoyed comics, his bike, and plastic toys that transformed into other plastic toys. Mr. Cortese and Mr. Harrison were quite pleased overall with their progress, sharing 'job well done' looks across a room whenever Warlock did something particularly normal and not at all something like the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, etc.

But working in the Dowling household was not entirely without its own troubles.

Aziraphale, being the reader that he was, was well in tuned with the drama of humanity, and actually quite enjoyed observing it from the perspective of an outsider who could never truly understand it on a personal level—and to be honest, he was perfectly fine with this.

But because of this, he was also quite aware of Mrs. Dowling's increased depression. Her husband was away so much of the time—and to be fair, Aziraphale didn't think she had quite forgiven Mr. Dowling not being there at Warlock's birth. She did not entirely fit in with the other diplomats' wives and higher-ups that she and her husband had to hob-nob with due to his position. Most of the time, she spent her days shopping in town or at home in the large parlor, which had become her sanctuary, leaving her son in the capable hands of his tutors.

And in her sanctuary, she had recently added two new additions in the form of two elaborate cages, which housed two just as elaborate pet birds.

One was a scarlet-headed blackbird, with feathers of obsidian except those that covered its head and shoulders, which were a bright red. It hopped around cheerfully in its gilded palace, head bobbing as it chittered with its friendly call to Mrs. Dowling when she would sit and gaze at it, doting on it with treats and kind chatter.

The other was a snowy owl, a majestic, beautiful creature with ivory feathers sprinkled with black freckles who cooed low and mellow in the evenings and slept most of the day in the soft nest that adorned one corner of its cage.

Mrs. Dowling loved her pets, spending even more time in the parlor upon their arrival, and was always adding things to their cages, or buying them new treats. She had, rather unoriginally, called them Scarlet and Snow, but that didn't really matter because she treated them well.

She also spoke to them. Aziraphale and Crowley overheard her on several occasions. Sometimes, she would share gossip, and other times, she would quietly confide to them her true feelings about being here in England where she had no friends. Crowley would often roll his eyes at this, but Aziraphale saw through the somewhat silly ramblings to the lonely woman underneath. He could understand a little of what it felt like not being understood in one's own society. And as he knew humans were generally social creatures, this would cause her more pain than it ever had him.

But he took other issues with the situation. Namely, the birds themselves.

When they first arrived, they seemed happy enough, chirping, cooing, and hopping around cheerfully, playing with the toys that Mrs. Dowling provided. But after a few weeks, they began to look just as depressed as their mistress had before she obtained the pets.

Aziraphale watched the birds closely, as they went from cheerful to despondent. The blackbird no longer sang, and instead gloomily began to pluck his own feathers, making him look like he had gone through an early molt.

The owl simply sat in one corner, eyes half lidded, and stared balefully at the dead mice that were given him to eat. He longed for the hunt his kind needed to take part in. He hardly ate, and his feathers began to get a dull, lackluster appearance.

It broke Aziraphale's heart a bit to see them like this.

He wasn't the only one. Crowley too, had been paying attention to the birds, and one day, when Mrs. Dowling was out, Aziraphale found the demon standing in the parlor, watching the birds from behind his tinted glasses, hands shoved into the pockets of his black suit, his shoulders hunched.

"How long does she think she can keep them here?" Crowley finally demanded of the angel, when Aziraphale had stood behind him for a few long seconds, not acknowledging his presence.

"They're her pets, Crowley," Aziraphale said simply, though the demon had only voiced his own thoughts.

"But they hate it," Crowley grunted and the blackbird and owl both looked up at him with expressions that seemed to agree with his sentiment, almost pleading. "I mean, it's cruel, isn't it? Keeping them cooped up like this. Birds are meant to fly."

Aziraphale pressed his lips together. "I know, dear, and yet humans have their strange ways. I don't think we can always understand them."

Crowley took one hand from a pocket as if about to reach for the cage latch, but pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist. "I just wish…well, it would be nice if they at least were free. When we can't be."

And that was when Aziraphale realized what had been bothering him about the birds. In a way, they reminded him of Crowley and himself. They too were stuck in positions they could not escape.

He understood what Crowley meant. It would be nice to see the birds go free.

"I know," he said softly and reached out to set a gentle hand on Crowley's shoulder. "It would be nice, but that's out of our hands. Come now, dear, it's almost time for Warlock's history lesson."

"Yeah, right," Crowley murmured, his mind seeming to be somewhere else, but he allowed Aziraphale to nudge him out of the room.

The angel didn't miss the look on Crowley's face though. The demon always looked like that when he was scheming.

Crowley decided that his new mission was to set the birds free. But of course, he couldn't just do it himself, they did belong to his current employer, and he couldn't just walk up and say—oh, yeah, by the way, I let your birds free—you're welcome. He couldn't chance losing his position, and besides, Aziraphale would frown at him, and there was something distressingly powerful in Aziraphale's frown.

But…as was in his nature as a demon, he could tempt someone else to do it.

And the perfect candidate was sitting at his school desk, pouring over a page of maths as he worked out the figures.

"Here, is this right, Mr. Harrison?" Warlock asked.

Crowley scowled, because that is what he thought teachers were supposed to do, as he took the paper from the boy and scanned the figures.

"All correct as usual," he said. The boy seemed to have great alacrity for maths, which Crowley counted personally as a win for his side, even if Aziraphale didn't entirely see it that way.

"Can you read to me more about Leonardo Da Vinci?" Warlock asked.

Crowley sighed, but reached to grab the book Warlock had been obsessed with lately. Crowley hadn't planned on consuming all the boy's time with Leonardo Da Vinci but there was really no harm in it, he supposed. The man had been a kook—Crowley had spent a good bit of time with him back in the day. And he had dug up graves to use bodies for science, so he wasn't all good.

"I wanna see more of his inventions!" Warlock said excitedly as he sat next to Crowley and hurriedly flipped to the part of the book they had left off in. "Whoa! What's this?"

"Oh, this is his idea of a flying machine; one of the first," Crowley said, pointing to the picture of the schematics—he'd been there that night, gotten old Leo very drunk. Who would have thought the man was before his time? Crowley certainly hadn't. He'd thought Da Vinci had really gone bonkers. Who would have ever thought humans would end up flying all over the place?

"They had planes back then?" Warlock asked, all wide eyes and wonder.

"Er, well, not exactly," Crowley said. "Da Vinci just came up with this, watching birds fly…" He trailed off as he realized what he'd said. An idea, a cunning plan, began to form in his mind and it took a lot of effort to hide the smile from his face. "You know, I bet you could come up with a better flying machine. Maybe you should have that be your next assignment."

"Really?" Warlock asked, already excited.

"But you'll have to do lots of research," Crowley reminded sternly. "And write everything down, draw out the schematics…perhaps build a model prototype…"

"I'm gonna make one just like this, but better, 'cause it will look like Starscream in his jet form!" Warlock cried excitedly, as he leapt up and snatched one of his toys from nearby, transforming it into another toy and flying it around with sound effects.

"Well, you get on that," Crowley told him. "It's almost time for lunch and after that, Mr. Cortese has grammar with you."

But Warlock wasn't listening, he seemed all consumed with his new project. He ran out of the room to go to the kitchens for lunch and Aziraphale came into the study.

A frown appeared on his face as he saw Crowley sitting there, staring at a picture of the flying machine with a contemplative and self-satisfied look on his face.

"What are you up to now?" Aziraphale asked him suspiciously.

Crowley got to his feet and strode out of the room, hands in his pockets. "Nothing that needs concern you, angel."

But he smiled. He had a feeling the angel would forgive him once he saw the birds flying free again.

It only took two days.

Warlock started with some elaborate sketches of what he hoped his flying machine would look like, but when he noticed that Da Vinci had made his with articulate wings, he decided that it was a good idea after all to figure out how birds actually managed flight.

He spent a whole morning out in the garden for inspiration before he realized that birds were notorious for not staying in one place long enough for him to study. And, in fact, decided to avoid the garden all together when they saw the eager little boy frolicking around in it with a pair of binoculars.

This was when Crowley had commented to the boy after Warlock had aired his frustrations, that Da Vinci had used his own pigeons, which he had caught for the purpose, thus planting another seed of his plan.

It took less than an hour for this seed to sprout, in fact, it only took the time to consume one peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple over lunch before Warlock knew exactly how he was going to fix his research problems.

His mother conveniently went into town after lunch and both Warlock's tutors were conveniently busy grading his work, as the boy made his way into the parlor where his mother's pet birds were kept.

It was also perhaps convenient that the parlor opened out into the garden with doors big enough that Warlock was able to push the cages which also just happened to have wheels on them—no one could remember if they had always had them or not.

Scarlet and Snow seemed to perk up the instant they were outside. The late crisp Winter air of February causing them to shake their feathers in joy, looking up and around at the new surroundings. Scarlet began to chitter again, and hop around his cage, and even Snow blinked his big gold eyes and looked around in awe.

Warlock had his notepad ready and tucked under his arm as he began to open the cages.

"Okay, you two!" he told the birds. "I want you to show me your best flight patterns! I need it for research!"

"Warlock, what are you doing?"

Warlock looked up just as Aziraphale came out onto the patio, staring at the cages.

The boy froze, but the doors had already opened and the two birds, seeing their chance at freedom, took it.

Warlock fell back before the owl's large wings could batter his face, and Aziraphale rushed forward, trying to do some miracle to make the birds come back.

But he stopped before the magic could leave him. He simply stood there and watched the two birds soar high into the trees on the crisp winter day and felt a sudden relief in his heart.

He hadn't realized until then that Crowley had joined them, his head also tipped back and watching, a small satisfied look on his face.

Aziraphale was about to say something, but Warlock, who had looked surprised, then dismayed, finally turned to his tutors with wide-eyes.

"I—I didn't mean to, I was just…"

Crowley instantly knelt in front of him before Aziraphale could form words. "It's all right, Warlock."

"But mommy will be mad!" he cried, tears welling in his eyes.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, but at just that moment the front door was heard slamming closed, and Mrs. Dowling's upset voice continuing a conversation on the phone.

"What do you mean you're not going to make it? Thaddeus, it's Valentine's Day! You promised we would have dinner together as a family! I already made up the menu."

The three straightened up as Mrs. Dowling entered the parlor, gazing beyond the room to the open doors to the garden and stopped, frozen. She ended the call as her husband tried to explain something, and walked forward slowly, dropping her purse.

"What…" she breathed. "What happened?"

Warlock's tears fell down his cheeks. "Momma, I'm sorry, I was just trying to watch them fly. I thought they would come back!"

"Mrs. Dowling, I apologize," Aziraphale said and stepped forward. "We were both occupied, we didn't know what he was doing…"

To the shock of all three of them, Mrs. Dowling simply broke down into tears, burying her face in her hands before reaching out and touching the two empty cages.

"Oh, my dear Snow and Scarlet!" she sobbed.

Crowley gulped, looking like he wished he was somewhere else. Aziraphale reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Mrs. Dowling—"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed and Aziraphale and Crowley beat a hasty retreat, taking Warlock with them.

Once inside, Aziraphale fixed his spectacles and glowered sternly at the boy. "Warlock, that was very naughty of you! You know how much your mother loved those birds!"

Warlock sniffled and the angel handed him the handkerchief instead, unable to help having some pity on him.

"I'm sorry!" he cried again.

"Why don't you go to your room for a minute, we'll talk to you later," Aziraphale told him and Warlock gratefully ran off.

Now the angel's glower turned full force on the demon who cringed as he saw Aziraphale's halo brighten in his anger.

"Why did you do that?"

Crowley drew himself up, glowering back. "You wanted the birds free as much as I did!"

"It's not the birds I'm angry about! It's that you tempted a child to do it for you! How could you, Crowley! Now he will get in trouble and it wasn't even really his fault!"

Crowley bit his lip and had the grace to look humbled. "Well, what do you want me to do? Get them back?"

Aziraphale sighed, his shoulders slumping. "No. But we do need to help Warlock mend things with his mother."

Crowley nodded and the two made their way upstairs to the boy's room.

They could hear the muffled sound of sobbing on the other side, and Aziraphale knocked.

"Warlock? Can we come in?"

There was no answer and he pushed the door open, seeing a boy-sized lump in the middle of the bed under the space-themed covers.

"Warlock," Aziraphale said as he sat on one side of the bed and Crowley sat on the other. "Please come out from there."

It was a couple seconds before Warlock's tear-stained face appeared, sniffling.

"I didn't mean to!" he sniffled again.

"I know you didn't dear," Aziraphale said as he sent a small glower at Crowley.

"An' I made mommy sad," he said glumly. "An' it's Valentine's Day too! An' I know Daddy's not coming home."

Crowley perked up and turned to the boy. "Well, then I suppose that's the perfect time for you to make it up to your mother. With a Valentine's Day gift."

Warlock shrugged helplessly. "But what can I get her? I wish I could bring her birds back. That's all I want right now."

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look, before the angel turned to the boy and reached out with another fresh hankie to gently wipe his tears away. "You know, Warlock, birds aren't really meant to live in cages."

"But people have parrots all the time, and my friend Cindy has a cockatoo named Geoff," Warlock protested.

"Well…yes, but birds need to fly, Warlock. That's how God created them." He smiled and finished wiping the boy's tears. "To fly and be free."

"But mommy loved them so much," Warlock sighed.

"Then she'll understand that they're happier out there than they ever were in the cages," Crowley told him.

Warlock turned to look at him. "She will?"

Aziraphale nodded with a smile. "She will, once she stops being sad. And I think you can help her with that."

Warlock frowned. "How?"

"With a lovely Valentine's Day gift that will remind her of her favorite pets," Aziraphale explained.

Warlock perked up. "Oh yeah?"

Aziraphale nodded and stood, motioning for Warlock to do the same. "Come on, let's go see what we can do."

The angel and the demon took their charge and set to work.

First, they went out to the garden and Aziraphale helped Warlock pick some of the tulips and other bulb flowers which had sprung up with the melting snow. Warlock arranged them himself in a vase he had made on his little pottery wheel a year ago and they made a pretty, childish picture.

Then Aziraphale took him to the kitchen and with the cook's help, put together a sugar cookie recipe, which he then helped Warlock cut into the shapes of owls and blackbirds—the owls with white sugar, the blackbirds with a little added cocoa powder.

While they were baking in the oven, Crowley took Warlock to the school room and set him up with paints, helping him decide on what to do.

Aziraphale saw the final product when he came to tell Warlock the cookies were cooled and ready for decorating.

With Crowley's encouragement, Warlock had painted a beautiful night sky scene that, while childish in skill, somehow spoke wonders, especially with the edition of the two constellations in the shape of the snowy owl and the scarlet-headed blackbird.

"This is beautiful, Warlock," Aziraphale told the boy. "Your mother will love it."

Warlock smiled hopefully and all three of them returned to the kitchen to decorate the cookies.

By the time all the gifts were complete, it was almost time for dinner, and Warlock, with the help of his tutors, carried his gifts down to the dining room where his mother was currently sitting alone.

She looked up as Warlock came in, her eyes red-rimmed. Warlock hesitated, but Aziraphale gave him a small push and he stepped forward, first handing his mother the flowers.

"I picked these for you, mommy," he said softly.

One corner of Mrs. Dowling's mouth turned up at the sight of the bright flowers. "Oh, thank you."

"And also…I made these."

Warlock handed her the tin of cookies and then the painting.

Mrs. Dowling's face froze and then she started crying again, but this time, it was obviously not from sadness.

"Mommy?" Warlock asked, casting worried glances back at his tutors.

"You made this?" Mrs. Dowling asked as she reached out and pulled her son closer. "This painting is beautiful, I love it. And the cookies…how thoughtful."

Warlock smiled as he wrapped his arms around his mother, pointing to the picture. "I think your birds enjoy flying in the stars more than being in the cages," he said, looking tentatively back at his tutors.

Mrs. Dowling wiped her eyes. "Perhaps they do, honey."

Warlock hugged her tighter. "I'm sorry you're lonely. Maybe sometime you can play with me? We can go to the park or play Transformers."

Mrs. Dowling smiled and kissed her son on the top of the head. "That sounds nice."

The front door closed with a crash and heavy footsteps sounded out.

"Harriet?"

Mrs. Dowling stood up. "Thaddeus?"

"Daddy!" Warlock cried as he ran to meet the man who appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Dowling looked harried as he thrust a gigantic bouquet of roses into his wife's arms. "I made it back after all. The meeting didn't run as long as I thought. Here, dear, I got you this." He handed Mrs. Dowling a small black velvet box and as she opened it, there was the telltale sparkle of diamonds. Aziraphale and Crowley could both see that, though she smiled at her husband's gift, it was nowhere near the joy she had shown in receiving the ones from her son.

"Come on, sit down, we were just about to eat," she said.

As the family retired to the table, the angel and the demon slipped out, leaving them to their family time.

"Angel," Crowley said and tugged Aziraphale's sleeve.

Aziraphale turned to see the demon snagging two glasses from a nearby cupboard and holding a bottle of wine that he had gotten from somewhere. Aziraphale didn't quite have the heart to ask where once he saw the label.

He followed the demon out into the garden. The night was chill but not too cold for this time of year, and the evening was just beginning to settle into the soft indigo gloaming of a winter night.

There was a stone bench set underneath some trees and the two sat down and Crowley opened the bottle and poured them both a glass.

"Well, I would say that actually went over better than I could have expected," the demon said with a smile as he offered his glass to Aziraphale to clink.

The angel rolled his eyes slightly but touched their glasses together with a small musical chime. "Yes, luckily for you."

"Come on, angel," Crowley coaxed. "Warlock and his mother have a better relationship because of it, and the birds are free. I hope you're happy, because I'm certainly not going to be getting a commendation for this one."

Aziraphale shook his head before he took a sip and rolled the wine across his palate, enjoying the nuances of flavor as he leaned back against the bench, looking up at the first stars appearing in the sky.

And then above them, came the flapping of two pairs of wings; one small, and the other mostly silent. He and Crowley both looked up to see the snowy owl and the scarlet-headed blackbird perched in the tree above them, side by side, looking down at the angel and demon.

"Why, hello," Aziraphale called to them, and the owl cooed back, plumping his feathers happily.

"See?" Crowley turned to the angel with a smile. "Everything turned out all right in the end." He picked up the bottle again and topped off both their glasses before raising his again. "To a job well done?"

Aziraphale raised his too, glancing up at the two birds who seemed content to sit and rest with them. He smiled. "To a job well done."

Then the four creatures simply sat and enjoyed the night together, chatting about nothing in particular as the stars shone down on them from above.

"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always return."

-Leonardo Da Vinci

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