BAD GRACE - quantum witch © 2005
see Prologue for warnings, rating, and summary
In which the Three Other Magi appear, and Crowley thinks he will die.
4:04 – GIFTS BEFORE THE ALTAR
"OKAY, I DON'T SEE WHY I have to come inside. I drove here and back. Again. In two days time. I haven't slept more than 4 hours in two days, I've nearly been fried, and I'm getting very purple hazy. The world is starting to look like Fellini shown in 3-D, but without 3-D glasses or subtitles, and while taking peyote, and maybe with my eyes crossed. I need to sleep, Aziraphale." Crowley was quite grumpy.
"I've said it before… Oh, never mind, you're addicted to sleep, that's all." The angel smoothed his cardigan and handed Crowley a wrapped gift. "Here, I know you didn't get anything so I got two things. This one can be from you, all right?"
"Oh for Godwin's sake, this is all stupid." He couldn't help it though, he followed the angel obediently up the path to the door of Jasmine Cottage, which they saw no long had its cheery old sign on the door.
"Hm, I wonder if the wood finally gave way," Aziraphale mused as he knocked.
"Nah, they're just changing the name," came Adam's voice behind them. "Since it belongs to them now, they thought it ought to be their choice. They haven't decided yet, but they'll get a new sign when they do."
Aziraphale turned with a greeting smile, which froze when he saw that Adam's Dog was there. He was instantly aware this was the hellhound, even in such a tiny and harmless looking package. It had a look in the very back of its eye, a faint reddish glow, that made it clear the dog wouldn't mind a bit of angel tartare if only his Master said 'chomp'.
Crowley had taken no chances, and had instantly shuffled to the side so that Aziraphale's bulk was between him and Dog.
Who was beginning to sniff around their ankles, a low growl stirring in the back of his throat. He was small and scruffy and cute, but he knew supernatural beings when he smelled them and his Master was supposed to be the only one in town. He thought, anyway.
"Dog, cut it out, will ya? Giving me a bad rep, here," Adam said, nudging Dog gently with his foot. The hellhound whined but backed away and sat at his heel, surprisingly well-behaved.
At that point the door was opened by a tired looking Newt. "Oh, hello. Er, thanks for dropping by, but I think we'd best keep it relatively short. Anathema's still quite worn out."
"Oh goodness, of course," Aziraphale smiled, "we won't be long, I'm sure. Such joyous events can be quite taxing. But we truly wanted to bring a few things by, both for you and the baby."
Newt let them all in. Crowley walked up to Anathema where she reclined in a large chair and handed her the present. "Here. 'S nothing much. Not even sure what it is, some kind of candle from the stink of it. Enjoy."
"It's actually sandalwood and myrrh, two of my favourites," Aziraphale said tersely. "Ignore my companion's poor manners. He's simply not accustomed to infants. Or children. Or animals. Or anything else he's spent a lifetime avoiding."
"Bottles of wine are the only hair of the dog I like, thank you very much," the demon muttered. "And babes are just fine if they're over age sixteen in most countries…"
Aziraphale pretended he didn't hear this. "I think you ought to at least attempt to take this somewhat seriously. It's an honour to be named a guardian in whatever form. We must do our best to help care for this child."
"Like you're Mary Bloody Poppins, all of a sudden," Crowley grumbled, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
"Perhaps not. But at least I intend to give it an earnest try," he sniffed. "Oh there's the baby now!" His face illuminated as he stepped toward the crib. He leaned over the tiny form. The baby had been dozing but awakened to look up at her angel. She gurgled just a bit, and tried to focus her eyes on him. "Oh hello, little lambie," he cooed, "precious little dove… it's Uncle Aziraphale… I'm going to watch over you, yes I am…"
"Oh, for pity's sake, angel," Crowley muttered, embarrassed. "Can you not make such noises? I might lose my lunch, and keep in mind that was quite a few hours ago. Could be very bad."
"And this," Aziraphale said, dragging the demon over by his arm, "is your Uncle Crowley who will also be watching over you. Though he won't be as polite about it, and hopefully his influence won't rub off and blemish you."
Crowley hissed as the baby's eyes swiveled toward him. "Thanks, now she's seen me and knows my name. It's imprinting, like animals do in the wild!"
Aziraphale smiled smugly. "You are going to be a significant part of her life." Then in lower tones, he murmured, "Especially if you're planning to be a significant part of mine…"
"Dirty pool, old man," Crowley grumbled, but smiled a bit more.
Adam stepped up and peered into the crib as well, grinning at the pair of squabbling supernatural beings. They were rather pathetic, but deep down they seemed to have best intentions. Even the demon.
He gazed down at the baby, his first actual view of her, and was suddenly overwhelmed. He just stood there in awe, taking in the slightly curly black hair, the tiny hands with little fingernails. He cautiously reached out a fingertip and brushed her cheek, which was softer than anything he'd ever touched. She opened her eyes again, and looked right at him. They weren't blue, like he'd been told all babies' eyes were. They were a dark grayish-blue, with a strange hint of violet at the edges. They seemed to look right into him, to see through him into infinity.
He knew who and what she was. Knew that he'd really known all along. She was the woman from his dreams. And she was the most important thing on earth. He felt an utter peace then, and a love almost greater than even his love for Lower Tadfield. He felt he could bask in this feeling forever.
"Rachel," he whispered, leaning over the crib so that his face was only inches from the baby's head. "You're perfect Rachel… welcome back."
Aziraphale had meanwhile managed to shush Crowley and turned back to the young couple, handing Anathema his package. "This is for Rachel as well as yourselves. Found it at an estate sale a few months ago and I hope you all enjoy it." He beamed with delight as she opened the wrapping to reveal an antique gold-leaf edged book of a child's Bible verses, complete with charming coloured illustration plates. "Of course she's a bit young for it yet, but you can always read to her. Or I could… when I visit…" His voice was hopeful.
"Of course you can," Anathema said carefully. "But you must realise… we're not planning to raise her especially Christian…"
"Oh." Aziraphale's eyes widened, and he wore a slightly bewildered expression.
"Well, see, we're not exactly Christian ourselves," Newt added. "Not that we're against it or anything, just… well…"
"I mean, we understand that your God certainly exists, how could we not, after last year's events," Anathema rushed on, "and of course we will teach her proper values – love thy neighbour, be kind to animals, eat your veggies, don't pollute, and so on. But as for religious teaching… well…"
"We'd rather Rachel decided for herself," Newt finished, firmly but apologetically at once.
"I understand," Aziraphale said, nevertheless biting his lip and looking rather anxious. "I wouldn't dream of …forcing anything on her, of course. But surely… reading these little stories wouldn't do any harm…?"
"No, I'm sure that will be fine," Anathema smiled and patted his arm. "I believe it's the intent rather than the content. You are her Guardian, after all." He looked so utterly adrift that she felt the need to reassure him.
Adam cleared his throat then, and they all turned to him. "Seems that Rachel will be taught everything she needs to know, by her parents and her godparents. And maybe by me, if that's okay…" Anathema nodded mutely. "So, if she gets that much educating, she'll be pretty smart and can figure out what's important and true for herself with no problem."
Once again, Adam had summed it up so nicely and neatly that no one could argue. Crowley shivered a bit. He never liked it when Adam used even a bit of those powers of persuasion. Yet the boy didn't ever seem to use it for evil. That must just burn his Father up, in a literal sense. And that made Crowley grin.
"Anyway, I got her a present too," Adam said, ducking his head a bit. "Probably something she can't use right away. 'S an Easter cake, 'cause it was Easter yesterday. 'S got raisins and almonds and stuff in it." His head turned a little to the side and he blushed slightly. "I borrowed a recipe from one of mum's old books, and I borrowed some of your herbs, Anathema, 'cause it was important to make somethin'. You can eat some now, if you like."
Completely stunned, Newt asked, "You baked this yourself?" He unwrapped the box and inside was a lovely cake shaped like a dome. It was more properly like a bread, but it smelled like heaven. Everyone sighed when the aroma filled the room.
"Yeah, we have to take a class 'bout cooking an' saving money and stuff pretty soon, I guess so we know something about livin' on our own, so I decided to start early. Just for you guys."
"Well, thank you, Adam," Anathema smiled, "we're truly touched. And it does look delicious. We can have some now and freeze the rest for when Rachel is able to eat solids, okay?" Adam grinned with delight.
She waited in her comfy chair, still a bit too sore for casual movement, while Newt and Aziraphale brought plates, forks and a bottle of Anathema's homemade pomegranate-peach juice.
As everyone took a small slice of the cake, which smelled divinely of cinnamon, nutmeg, and rosemary, there was an odd feeling of peace in the room. Anathema was reminded of something she'd read about a old witching ritual; how the breaking of bread was meant to represent something important, a bond of some kind… But she couldn't quite remember the details right now. It wasn't terribly important, she was still tired and could always do some reading later and figure it out. Plus the cake was delicious. It had raisins, dates and almonds, and wasn't too hideously sweet to give her sugar shock. She might try experimenting on a recipe for herself…
Aziraphale was humming and rolling his eyes in pleasure over the flavours and agreed with Newt that Adam should go into baking if he could manage something this good, to which Adam laughed and blushed yet again.
And suddenly Crowley began to choke, quite violently.
His face had turned a ghastly puce, and Aziraphale was momentarily too startled to do anything. Before he could react, Newt had stepped behind the demon and was performing the Heimlich, until Crowley coughed and spat out the offending bit of cake, his sunglasses flying off. He gasped and stumbled to the sofa with Newt's aid, and laid back. His face was now very white and he was wheezing.
"I don't understand," Aziraphale said, leaning over his stricken friend. "He doesn't actually need to breathe, he shouldn't be having such trouble…"
"It's almost like he's having an allergic reaction," Newt said helpfully. "He's not allergic to nuts or anything, is he?" He leaned over the demon and declared, "Look, his eyes have gone all yellow… Oh wait, that's normal for him…" Newt leaned back and stepped closer to Anathema, disturbed despite himself.
"No, I don't think we're capable of being allergic to anything," Aziraphale fretted, quite worried now. "The only thing that ever troubles him is holy obje-" His eyes flew wide and he looked at the cake. "Oh, dear me… it's an Easter cake. Oh, poor Crowley, it must have been like putting a Eucharist wafer in his mouth!"
Crowley groaned. Newt had quickly fetched him a cold cloth and gotten him to swallow a bit more juice. He waved Newt away, then croaked, "Hate to say it… but I think the angel's right… Stupid me… blessed cake…"
Adam frowned, and stared at the cake. It didn't seem especially sacred to him, it was just a cake made for Easter time. It wasn't like a priest had come along and sanctified it or anything. In fact, it had been made by his own hands, and he was the Antichrist, therefore it should have been perfectly fine for a demon to eat. This bore investigating. "Is he going to be all right?" he asked the angel.
"I think so," Aziraphale said though he didn't look very convinced. "Crowley…?
He croaked, "I'll… live. Just a good thing… I didn't swallow." The demon sighed and pulled the cloth down over his eyes. This was becoming a theme, him being in holy pain and flat on his back. He was going to have to find something really wicked to do soon to cleanse his system. And he had an idea what that should be… if only he could get the proper cooperation.
"Er, should we perhaps make up the sofa for you tonight?" Anathema asked, though there was reluctance behind the words.
"Goodness, no," Aziraphale said airily, "I think I can heal him a bit and we can make our way home…" He touched Crowley's forehead, which was clammy, and muttered softly to himself for a moment. "A bit better now…?"
The demon nodded and sighed. It was obvious that they'd overstayed their welcome already. "Let's go, angel…. I'll let you drive a while, if you promise not to grind the gears…" This, too, was becoming habit. Trusting Aziraphale with his most prized things. Damn.
Adam agreed it was getting to be time for him to head home as well, and Dog was getting restless on the porch. He hugged Anathema goodbye, shook Newt's hand, and smiled in Rachel's direction one more time. "See you all soon," he said and went out the door.
Aziraphale also hugged Anathema, and Newton - enthusiastically enough that Crowley figured it would count for him as well – and together, demon and angel left the Cottage.
Before Aziraphale could get Crowley into the Bentley, Adam approached. "I'm really sorry you got sick there, I don't know what happened."
"Adam, what did you use to make the cake?" Aziraphale asked solemnly.
"Usual stuff," Adam frowned, recounting the ingredients. "Flour, water, milk, eggs… some olive oil, some fruit juice in place of sugar… almonds, dates, lemon peel, raisins… cinnamon, nutmeg, rosemary… only I couldn't find rosemary in my mum's cabinets, so I came over here to borrow some from the greenhouse, and I found a label saying 'can be replaced with rosemary for rituals' so I used that instead."
"Can be replaced with… Oh dear." Aziraphale turned nearly as pale as Crowley. "Do you remember what it really was?"
"I think it was frankincense, like you get at Christmas."
There was dead silence for a moment. Then Crowley groaned.
"You just tried to murder me!" he shouted hoarsely. "That shit's deadly poison to a demon!"
Adam's eyes flew wide. "I didn't know that! Honest! Why would I do that on purpose? I don't wanna kill you, or anyone!"
Crowley was just shaking and clawing at the door handle. "Please, can we get away from here, Aziraphale, I need to be away from here."
"Oh, yes, of course," Aziraphale said as calmly as possible. He gave Adam a look that said We can discuss this later, but I know it wasn't on purpose… on your part. There was definitely something going on with all these accidents.
CROWLEY SLEPT MOST OF THE WAY BACK to London, which was a slow and labourious drive. Aziraphale had to keep stopping to check whether the demon was alive or not, and was relieved each time. He knew that he'd never get Crowley up all those stairs to his flat, so the bookshop sofa was going to be his home until he recovered.
Two days passed with Crowley in a fever and Aziraphale in a tizzy. When he was just at the verge of calling Heaven and begging for Raphael's help, Crowley opened his eyes and croaked for a drink of water.
"Oh, my dear boy," Aziraphale's relief was almost bringing tears to his eyes. "I wish I'd known, I'd have stopped you eating that cake…"
"Yeah, I know…"
"And it truly wasn't a conscious act on Adam's part. No matter what you may think, he means you no harm."
"…Yeah, I know. It's something else entirely. Already got that established." Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. It was hard to tell, as his eyes were nearly entirely reptilian, very little area for whites, but they were definitely bloodshot at the far edges. He looked ghastly in every way – hollowed, ashen, drawn and quartered. "Still don't believe it's just you and me, though, not for a minute."
Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's cheek and rubbed the thumb over it. "I don't know either. But too much evidence is pointing that way…"
"Don't buy it. If you'd just… take initiative. We'd find out for sure, wouldn't we?"
"I just. I don't. I can't…" Aziraphale stopped and took a deep breath and dropped his hand. "I really don't think I can."
"Scared?"
"…Yes."
"Of what? Think it'll hurt to pop the cherry?" Crowley managed a grin. "That's for humans, believe me."
Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. He knew it was true, he could have manipulated his body enough to be fine with anything. But he was still terrified and not willing to discuss the reason. This was going to be difficult to get out of, and he was sick of concealing. Though he still felt the need to lie a little bit. "Well… how do I know that it won't. I mean, I'm not naïve, I've read some… books… but still…"
Crowley grinned bigger and raised his brows. "Some 'books'? Oh, have you now? Is that what all those new-looking paperbacks falling all over themselves on your desk are about? Hm, research." He gently rubbed the angel's thigh now. "Aziraphale, you're just a big damned tease, is what you are. You keep letting me get near, you started this whole thing yourself months ago. Convince me that you don't want something more."
"I'm not teasing, Crowley. I just don't… know what to do." The look on Aziraphale's face was miserable and desperate.
"Thought you'd been reading books that tell you what to do."
Aziraphale's face turned red again, and was beginning to think it would just stay that colour and avoid having to bring the blood up every time. "That's not the issue."
Crowley sighed and wrapped his arm around Aziraphale's waist. "For once, can you just do what feels good," he said softly and squeezed the angel's hip. "What feels right."
And Aziraphale really wanted to, he did. Even though he was afraid... it really did feel right, and he knew it would feel good. So he leaned down and kissed the demon. As always it was wonderful, and it gave him that certain tingle from head to toe. And, as always, it also tugged hard at his heart and spirit.
Then it tugged too hard and made him jump backward.
"I'm sorry Crowley, I simply… can't. I don't know if I ever can, to be honest. I just don't know…"
And Crowley's eyes glinted dangerously, in a way they hadn't done for over a millennia. "You ca-… Fine. You deny what you want. I'll have to do so as well. What choice do you give me, after all? I think I feel well enough to go home now so thanks for taking suchgood care of me these last couple days, angel, and it's been loads of fun nearly dying in your presence countless times these last eight months but I have better places to be and less agonising things to do."
The demon staggered out of the book shop. The sound of tires viciously squealing on the curb covered the sound of Aziraphale's little sob of pain.
A WEEK LATER, AFTER TRYING TO CALL Crowley on all of his phone lines, Aziraphale went by his flat. When the door wasn't answered, he asked the lady downstairs, but she hadn't seen him in quite a while after he left with a few suitcases. Panicked, Aziraphale asked the building manager. Who said that Mr. A. J. Crowley had paid in advance for a year, and then declared he would be somewhere on the planet until he felt like coming back.
Aziraphale walked back to his shop, walked upstairs to his never-used bedroom, lay down, and wept for real.