A/N: This one took longer than I expected, but it also ended up longer than expected, so the math works out: I don't own any of these cinnamon rolls. I'm just glad that it did not in fact take me until the Christmas season to finish a Christmas-themed chapter. (Happy Pride Month. As one who tries to advocate for the likes of the angel of San Bernadino on a tricycle, y'all don't need to turn yourselves down.)
Warlock slouched across three airport chairs, ignoring the dirty looks from other holiday vacationers in favor of his phone. u sure I cant talk u n2 coming 2 DC? He ended the text with a puppy-eyed emoji. Brother Francis always complained that it took him thirty minutes to translate their text conversations into proper English, but even the fusty old gardener thought the little smiley faces were cute, and Nanny was enough of a cool grandmother to keep up with the shorthand.
soz, got 2 housesit 4 my nephew. :( Ull b here soon, Nanny reassured him. Warlock had stayed at the Mayfair flat before, and while it was nowhere near as opulent as his dad's place at the embassy, it was sleek in its minimal design and positively an oasis of green from all the houseplants Brother Francis and/or the still as-of-yet unseen nephew had collected. With a whole bedroom just for the boy, an ever-growing number of books, a well-stocked fridge,* demonically fast broadband,** and a fifty-five inch flatscreen, "house-sitting" the apartment over the holidays with his elderly godparents had never been a hardship for Warlock. He suspected that the nephew made up some excuse to leave the flat in Ashtoreth's care every winter so as to give them a place to celebrate.
*(Though Warlock never saw his godparents cook much in the shining kitchen, outside of Nanny's coffee machine and Francis's teakettle. Just because Brother Francis knew how to grow plants didn't mean he knew how to prepare them, and Ashtoreth had always been very clear about being the nanny, not the chef. It probably said something about Warlock's childhood that his instinctive understanding of a "home-cooked meal" was either the ramen his freshman roommate had taught him to make or a mean takeout.)
**(Stolen from the neighbors and somehow immune to any attempt to throttle usage, collect data, or block access by location. Anthony J. Crowley admired the technology sector, but he wasn't going to be bound to its even more draconian laws after he'd escaped hell.)
If only Warlock could skip the connecting flights and go straight there. Felts Field to LAX to O'Hare to Ronald Regan was just annoying, but the layover in Washington was required torture.
DCs SOOOOOOO boring. Dads gonna drag us 2 church 4 photos. It didn't matter that Thaddeus Dowling was about as religiously observant as Nanny Ashtoreth was Christian; there were appearances to be made in an election year, and Warlock was going to have to turn up in the capitol long enough to make them.
Thank God his college offered long winter breaks. His parents wouldn't pay for him to get his degree abroad, but his childhood nanny and their favorite gardener had guilt-tripped the Dowlings into at least letting Warlock visit Britain during his time off, and Washington state was as far from home as he could get in the contiguous US. Meanwhile, Warlock saved what he could in airfare with this full-day joke of a travel itinerary. It kept him away from his father's politics longer, at least.
Francisd go w u if he could. Id burn the church down.
thats why ur the best, Warlock texted Nanny back, before his attention was pulled away by another pair of travelers approaching the gate for the flight to O'Hare.
The taller of the two women - neither was a head over "dainty" and only ten years older than the college sophomore at most, to judge from their faces and punny graphic tees - was holding a phone to her ear, but it didn't take a genius to realize that there was nobody on the other end. Warlock would have assumed that the Latina was faking an important call to get out of talking to her short-haired companion, if her dark eyes didn't keep turning directly to the Velma in nerd glasses and a bob. "He's probably gone to help Candy with her club," Phone Girl sounded as if she were trying to convince herself as much as her friend. "Chloe did say it was business-related, but she just looked so heartbroken…"
"She does know she can trust him, right?" Nerd Glasses was no more convinced by the dead cell phone than Warlock was.
"Yeah, but she was just so scared the last time he left, like she thought he was never coming back. We all know Lucifer likes to take off for Vegas without telling anyone every now and then, but after he disappeared for three months and showed up sunburned and dehydrated in the desert, I can't blame Chloe for getting worried. I feel like a bad friend for leaving her right now. I mean, Lucifer's gone, Linda, Amenadiel, and Maze are busy with Charlie's first Christmas, - and I'm gonna miss his first Christmas and it's gonna be so cute!" As much as Warlock wanted to tune out the conversation about babies, it was really hard when Phone Girl was standing within the range of his kick (if he had the energy to slip his legs off the next two chairs in the row) squealing, and flapping her free hand to her mouth.
"You're not a bad friend, Ella," Nerd Glasses interrupted. "Lu just has to take care of some family business stuff, and then he'll be back. Meanwhile, you need to go see your family before Tia Maria drags you back to Chicago and your brothers won't let you leave."
"Yeah, it will be good to see everyone. Ricky's finally getting his act together and I want to support him even if I don't want to move back with him. Besides, Dan is still going to be in town for Chloe and Trixie, and I think he's finally starting to feel better, too."
"And you think that has something to do with you?" Nerd Glasses waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
"Ugh, don't even go there, RaeRae," Ella sighed, collapsing into the seat across from Warlock. "I'm still trying to get used to my friends' relationships without diving into my own minefield. Ask me about Dan in like a year. And a half. When I'm not a complete confused mess - oh, wait."
"Ella," RaeRae cut her off, still standing in front of the woman with the phone, "you are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to believe the best of people. That's what makes you you and what I've always admired about you. And if that leads to romance, that's great. If it doesn't, that's okay, too. Just as long as you know I've got your back." She didn't have to keep on her feet. Warlock had scared off anyone else who tried to come near his row of chairs. Maybe it was just a confidence thing; the short woman was just above her friend's eye level when only Ella was seated and the maternal reassurance came off as slightly less ridiculous when RaeRae was turning it downwards.
"Yeah, there's no getting rid of the little voice in my head telling me that things are going to work out for the best." Ella smiled at some long-standing in-joke.
"Because they are," the shorter woman insisted.
"But you said that Lucifer is taking care of family business?" The gossip quickly changed the topic away from her friend's moment of seriousness. "What, is he, like, covering something for his brother? Or do you know something about the infamous D. A. D. that we mere mortals don't?" Ella brightened as RaeRae raised a corner of her mouth in an enigmatic smile. "Is he finally making up with his family? Is he bringing pictures? They really ought to get pictures of Charlie. And, you know, I wouldn't mind taking any extra copies off his hands."
"I don't know if they'll make up," RaeRae circumscribed her enthusiasm, "but he is doing at least part of what Dad wanted him to do, even if it's under duress. It helps keep everybody on the right track, and means that there'll be fewer angry… people wandering around."
"Wait, that's your dad, too?" Ella lowered her phone in surprise, before second-guessing herself and gluing it back to her ear.
"That's what Lu always calls him, and I just kinda went along with it…" RaeRae was as shit at lying as Brother Francis. They even both did that guilty little chuckle when caught. "I call your aunt Tia, too!"
The distraction was too little, too late. "Ohmigosh, and you've even had the cute little nickname for Lucifer. How did I not see it? And here I've been complaining about missing Charlie, when you, well - I can leave the airport now," Ella offered. Part of Warlock hoped her friend would take her up on it, but part of him was enjoying watching the trainwreck from under the arm he'd thrown across his face. "We can get there in less than two hours."
"Ella, no. I like your family."
"They think you're a figment of my imagination," the Latina reminded her bluntly.
"Still, I like them, and they're used to me. In some capacity," RaeRae added with a shrug. "I can't visit mine. Ghost rules."
"Sometimes rules are stupid," Ella said. His godparents would like this one.
"Yeah, but they're rules." Warlock had no idea why this short, perfectly corporeal chick would be constrained by "ghost rules," whatever that nonsense meant.
"Still, when we get back, I'm giving both of your brothers a hug for you." It was like watching his bony old Nanny attempt to look terrifying in a black floral print dress and the cat-eye shades that Ashtoreth insisted were prescription while bringing tea out to the garden. Nanny might mean every threat uttered, but bullying Brother Francis's petunias and reading the Prince at bedtime were the sorts of threats that had made Warlock linger in the late afternoon shade of the overgrown lilacs and letting the gardener face accusations of exerting "undue influence" on the boy that turned into spirited, laughing discussions over tea and enough biscuits to fill even Brother Francis and Warlock with Francis sneaking treats for Ashtoreth's hellhound of a giant mutt under the table*.
*(The gardener knew that Warlock was afraid of the dog and kept Rover out of sight as long as Francis was around, just like he set "Dear Serpent" deep in the lilacs or behind a tree when Nanny was due to collect their shared young charge. Warlock didn't think that Brother Francis's semi-feral pet black snake would scare his caretaker, but Ashtoreth might be jealous of how much attention he lavished on it.)
Warlock supposed he could have left it well enough alone. None of it was his problem. But Nanny had always said that he was supposed to bring the world to heel one day, and Brother Francis told their boy that it was important to show kindness and care to everyone, even strangers. Both of his godparents had encouraged him to ask questions. "Why not hug them yourself?"
"Huh?" Ella seemed to finally realize that she'd had a captive audience for the whole conversation. She'd probably assumed that he'd been asleep. Not that Warlock would have minded getting a little actual rest.
"Glasses Chick. What's this 'ghost rules' bullshit?" Brother Francis would have fussed at him for swearing, so Warlock dragged himself upwards and attempted to tone it back down.
He'd been an angry ten-year-old when his parents dismissed Nanny Ashtoreth from service, angry at his favorite gardener in particular for deciding to leave with the love of Francis's life instead of staying with the boy they'd raised together, until they couldn't. The two had written Warlock letters, apologized for the inevitable distance that Ashtoreth's new assignment and the Dowlings' attempts at jet-setting and general fuckery caused, like it was their fault that Warlock had grown into a normal, semi-competent preteen and Thaddeus Dowling was an arse. It took seeing his godparents in person again for Warlock to forgive Brother Francis, but with a couple years and a really weird trip to the Middle East for perspective, he couldn't fault his godfather for getting caught in an impossible choice. Wasn't like there had been much call for an English garden in Meggido, anyway.
But even if Warlock couldn't stay mad at that round old face and ridiculous sideburns, he'd spent two years intentionally taking Nanny's side in every moral sticking point the two of them had argued. He still hadn't broken the reflexive cursing habit by age nineteen. "I mean, not that it's any of my business…" He might work a "sorry" in there if he could make it come out sounding slightly less sarcastically insincere than his mother's fellow diplomat wives at their haughtiest.
"You can hear me?" RaeRae was too surprised to worry about being insulted. "You can see me?'
Warlock shrugged. It should be obvious, making eye contact and all. "Most people can't?"
"Uh, yeah," Ella said, dropping the phone to her side. "Honestly, I still sometimes think I've gone crazy. I had enough people telling me I was when I told them I could see her."
RaeRae rolled her eyes. "I'm here. I'm just a little weird."
"That doesn't prove she's not nuts," Warlock muttered teasingly, "but I guess I'm the same kind of weird. Warlock Dowling," he introduced himself, reluctantly slipping his legs off the other two chairs to face them.
"Ella Lopez, and this is RaeRae. Is that your name or your profession?" There were times when he really hated his mother and her need to make everything unique. Like he hadn't gotten teased enough as a kid, but shortening it to "Ward" felt like cheating. If these girls knew and might be related to a Lucifer and an Amenadiel, they ought to understand, but if interacting with random strangers was really so rare for RaeRae, Ella might be sincere in her question.
"Name. My Nanny was sort of into the whole occult thing and my godfather would say that there're miracles everywhere you're willing to look for them, but I don't think there's anything really that special about me." The whole "you two are trying to have me on" was left unspoken but implied.
"Weird can be good," RaeRae said.
As if to prove her point, a middle-aged man in an International Express uniform puffed up to Ella, out of breath behind the gaudily wrapped box he was carrying. "Ah, excellent. I caught you before your flight. Last minute package for you, miss, marked fragile and to be opened as soon as possible. If you'll just sign here," he said, fumbling over the large box for a clipboard. The card slid out from beneath the wide red ribbon, landing open at Warlock's feet. As he reached down to retrieve it and Ella took the pen, he could have sworn that the delivery man winked at RaeRae.
"Who's sending you stuff at the airport?" Warlock asked, running his hand over the slightly foxed edges of the cardstock. Nanny and Brother Francis had both been reverent about the written word, in their own particular fashions, especially handwritten words from those they cared about. "Seems like a bomb threat waiting to happen."
"And Dan isn't here," RaeRae added mournfully. Either she was really trying to hook up her friend or really wasn't, but Ella just rolled her eyes as Warlock opened the card back up where all three of them could peruse it, even as she signed the clipboard.
The card was simple and relatively tasteful, with nothing printed inside beyond a basic "Merry Christmas" and nothing on the front but a holly sprig. The enclosed note wasn't his to read, but Warlock was curious.
Sunshine,
B's entire department and half of the corrections staff have wound up on the naughty list this year. If anyone could make sensitivity training fun, it would be you and your friend, so I'm sending you supplies to do with what you will. If any of them are beyond salvage, I won't take offense if you decide to regift. They're all yours one way or another, and I believe they'd make great snake treats.
Love to my Rae of Sunshine and Serial Hugger,
"Old Nick"
(PS - I'd say that you would be surprised at how poorly the educational system has done by tiny letter writers and their literally abysmal spelling, but I don't think you actually would.)
"I just got my leg of the trip, but they paid for same-day shipping and we pride ourselves on delivering on time," the International Express man said, handing Ella the box and tipping his cap. "These rush orders are quite a bit of fun, actually. I'm too old to ride motorcycles with the old gang anymore - the wife worries - but when I can put the truck through its paces, it makes me understand why my friend left his retirement to jump back on that yellow horse, even if he's perfectly proud of how his kid's taken over his job. Can't let these young bucks think that we're all defunct relics of the past, eh, lad?" The delivery man nodded sprightly to Warlock as if he cared.
"You've gotta be you," Ella chattered on when the nineteen year old could not bother to summon more than an unenthusiastic grunt. "Everybody has their surprise sides; you never know if that super-dedicated mail carrier is going to turn out to be one of Hell's Angels."
RaeRae couldn't contain a surprised snort of laughter and the delivery man lit up at Ella's words, glowing with nostalgia. "The first, of a sort. Don't see the old crew enough anymore. Happy Christmas. Enjoy your gift."
"Thanks! Happy holidays to you, too!"
"Merry Christmas, Ronnie," RaeRae replied softly to his retreating back. He had never acknowledged her presence, beyond that uncertain moment Warlock had caught from the corner of his eye, but the short-haired woman had to know him personally.
"So that doesn't break 'ghost rules,' but visiting your brothers would?" Warlock had gotten private lessons from two different tutors throughout grade school, and their only real complaint about him had been that Warlock was too good at math. "It's okay, I get it, even if I am an only child. Sometimes family members suck, and you would rather play dead than face them until you have the means to grind them beneath your heel."
"I am curious why you never said anything when I told you I was working with Lucifer," Ella said, gingerly holding the package to her ear. There wasn't any mysterious ticking noise, but Warlock thought he heard a low buzzing.
"Ronnie Soak is an old friend. I didn't interact with him there, not really, but he doesn't get to see the whole gang anymore." RaeRae left them to do the math on why Mrs. Soak might be so against him riding any more motorcycles. "You know how sensitive Lu can be. I didn't want to set him off, even if it's secondhand."
"I just thought he was a method actor at first, but RaeRae, if this thing is part of why he thinks he's the devil and destined for hell, don't you think he'd be better off knowing that you're still looking after him, still love your bro? He mentioned you in that card. He figured it out before I did and the only person I told everything to was Chloe." Ella fiddled with the bow for something to do with her hands. So much for opening it immediately.
"Like I said, Lu's more sensitive than he looks."
"Speaking of sensitivity, what's he sending you to make up for having to lecture an entire department and a half?" Warlock questioned, eager to see what it had to do with "snake treats."
"I don't even know which department he's talking about," Ella said, handing one end of the bow to RaeRae. "Forensics is crazy understaffed, but we all get along well, and I don't know anything about the workforce at his nightclub besides what Maze tells me. I guess if he recommends me for a meeting, I'll try to step up and lead, but it's so much easier to try to work with people on their own individual terms, you know? Get to know what's going on in their lives." Almost reluctantly, she ran a fingernail under the fold of the shiny red and gold paper, peeling it off without tearing.
Inside, carefully padded, was a mason jar with a wire mesh lid, its interior thrumming with insects. Warlock thought he saw a frog and some sort of small lizard or salamander, maybe even some type of rodent more dirty and wild than the gerbil he'd gotten for his eleventh birthday, but the flies were too thick to make out any of the creatures between their unholy nightmare flight. He was surprised that any of it was still living.
"Oh, I know what department Lu meant." The self-declared ghost might yet scare him, the way her eyes glittered behind her glasses. "He sent them to me."
"Uh, he's not expecting them to listen to you though, is he?" The Latina had accepted that Warlock could see her friend, but appeared to be actively hoping that no one that the jar of creepy crawlies was intended for could.
"Probably not," RaeRae agreed. "But good cop, bad poltergeist isn't too far off the shtick we used to pull before… you know. And Lu almost never let me play the bad angel."
"So… Pet snake growing up?" Ella asked, as eager as RaeRae to slide past whatever had separated the siblings.
"Yeah, we used to prank Amenadiel with him all the time, but Crowley got loose about a year before Lu moved. He snuck into a bookshop where the owner fed him better and kept the temperature steady. The snake, not my brother," she clarified, breaking the tension for her friend.
It had to be a coincidence, given Nanny's maiden name. But Warlock never counted coincidences for much.
As a little kid of an age to write Father Christmas for Transformers and comic books and the better sort of calculator, Nanny Ashtoreth Crowley had made sure that Warlock knew the difference between "Santa" and "Satan." He suspected that the recipient still probably thought that he'd been getting his mail mixed up, if the package came from who Warlock thought it had. He was plenty cynical, as a nineteen year old loner closer to his godparents across the ocean than anyone else. But Warlock did believe in adding the answers he received up and recognizing the results.
He had several more questions.
