A/N: Have mercy; I don't own them. I wasn't quite sure whether to add this one here or as its own story, but I figured it still fits the theme, even if it's a jump back to Nothing O'Clock. This prequel chapter is a shoutout to those that came before in many ways. Sure, the "Crowley is Raphael" theory has been extremely popular since the miniseries came out, but I first read Moczo's "Manchester Lost" and A Plus* Dad Raphael about ten years ago and it's still my favorite headcanon for the unseen archangel. CandyQueenAO3 on Archiveofourown also runs with the fanon, for a modern take. Can't swear that I've updated the concept as well as I'd like to fit it with both Lucifer and the Amazon version, but I like to think there's some open-ended possibilities beyond baby!Crowley panicking in Squidward, Snek, Useless Lesbian, Featherball, Teen Genius, and Indy Ploy. (I also headcanon Crowley as being nearly as big a panic omniglot as a demonic Rincewind.)

*(The "A plus" being short for "Adorkable Enough That Even Aziraphale Is Embarrassed.")


Amenadiel spotted his shadow long before he acknowledged it. He was inured to being followed in the silver city, both by his younger siblings and the new Principalities. Most of them meant no mischief by it, only trailing along in the oldest angel's wake out of awe and shy affection. Even Samael, for all his pranks, just wanted to play.

This one kept to the darkness beneath passing clouds, flitting from one hiding spot to another, much like Sam and Azrael when they were plotting. It was a fairly good attempt, by Amenadiel's standards, decent form, but much like RaeRae, the wings were just too dark to blend into the shadows. True ebon black stood out as badly as bright red in the sunlight up here. Perhaps if the eldest had been coming to Sam and Raphael's project zone, the slip of a Principality could have camouflaged himself, but then he wouldn't have had to follow Amenadiel in the first place.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping with the stars, Kyrie?" Amenadiel had found that remembering a name and not turning his head went a long way toward impressing most of the little ones.

"Ah. About that." Black feathers stood on end and then resettled as the Principality gathered his wits, or at least his courage. "Have you met the angels in charge of making stars?" Kyrie hunched into himself, wings deferentially low. He looked exhausted.

"I'm familiar with my brothers, yes." Amenadiel kept his tone dangerously neutral, waiting to see what Sam had done now. "Very powerful. Very creative."

"Coupla pyromaniacs, and if I have to hear anymore about the Principality that Raph's adopted, I might start sympathizing with Gabriel. Gabriel, Amenadiel. Smarmiest angel I've ever been patted on the head by and I might just feel badly for him for having to train Raphael's baby. I don't think God Himself dotes on Samael as much as Raph does on his Azi, whom I just have to meet; it would be so cute to get him and Sam's apprentice together for a playdate… I'm Sam's when I'm being rude, which is, apparently, all the time, so… uh, no offense meant?" Kyrie realized who he'd been outpouring his bile to, and back-winged verbally and physically.

"And this led to you following me because?" Amenadiel continued to offer the skinny starmaker enough rope to hang himself with. Raphael could go on about "his" Principality, the one Mother had created to follow him in particular, but there was no call to be resentful of Aziraphale himself. Raph just liked to introduce his boy to as many angels as possible, and Aziraphale picked up knowledge from those around him like a sponge. Even Kyrie looked ashamed of his rant, to judge by his slumped posture, pulling pale arms and ebon feathers into a double layer of shielding around his middle, his long legs buckling beneath him to splay across the clouds.

"Apparently Gabe thinks that the baby's had enough diplomatic training or is just tired of Raph asking for updates or something, because he foisted him off on Samael for 'sword tricks.' As if Sam isn't frightening enough without sharp bits of metal to light on fire." Yellow eyes rolled upward before Kyrie hunched back into the huddle of black wings. "If Sam starts teaching him to set things aflame, then it becomes my duty as a servant of heaven to learn how to put them back out."

"So you came to me," Amenadiel observed, "instead of Samael or Raphael." Someday, the eldest angel would make a fairly good therapist.

"Didn'twannahear'imsay'Itoldyouso,'" the Principality muttered to the clouds below.

"What?"

"Aziraphale… he's… well, he smiles when Sam does his thing, and then Raphael just gave me this look, and you know, most of the time, Raph's a pretty easy boss to get along with, even if he does get overenthusiastic, but that expression -" Kyrie ran out of words, resorting to unclear hand gestures as if he had forgotten how limbs worked as well as his tongue. "He is related to Gabriel, is all I'm saying." A grinding of the metaphorical clockwork later, it dawned on the Principality that so was his audience. "I just need a moment away, and you're the angel to see about that, or so I'm told."

Amenadiel pressed his hands together, bowing his head as he granted them a bubble of eternity within the timelessness of the silver city. "I can give you your moment, but I can't train you to do it yourself. The skill is inborn, a power bestowed by my Father."

Kyrie straightened further than the dark angel had seen out of him yet, examining his stilled surroundings as if to sniff out the magic by way of his parted lips. The young one flapped his wings unconsciously, jet feathers spread wide to catch the slightest changes in air pressure, hands open to the ghostly remaining vibration of the molecules around him. "Yeah… yeah, okay, I think this could work, if we get a supernova out of control or Sam burns something he shouldn't or Aziraphale smiles…" - his voice once again dropped out from under his display of confidence - "...or something. Gives me time to pull away what needs pulling away."

"If I'm there with you. There's no way to teach this," Amenadiel reminded him.

Kyrie nodded absently, still absorbing every detail he could of the stopped moment. "'Sokay. I'm pretty good at learning on my own." Amenadiel just shook his head, but when he released the flow of time, Kyrie was standing on the other side of the clouds. "So, still got a coupla kinks to work out," he said, slowing his black wings from a hummingbird pace with a snap. "But I think I've got the basic idea."


"Raph?" The star had begun pulsing again, gouts of hydrogen cresting low, no longer threatening to consume its makers. But Raphael still wasn't moving. "Raphael?" Kyrie tried again. The angel remained frozen in time. "Shit."

He could ask Amenadiel for help. But that would net him two "I told you so"s. Kyrie considered his surroundings, poked helplessly one last time at his boss, and legged it. If anyone asked, (and Aziraphale and Samael did ask, and Azrael gave him a Look) Raphael was just taking his time with the next star system.

He did come back. Pride and fear and expediency demanded that Kyrie try again. The planets had been rolling around the frozen yellow sun for maybe a few trillion more years than intended due to time-slowing issues as he attempted to pull Raphael back into sync, but Kyrie had cleaned up the biggest lizards* before Sam came asking about his Dad's pet project globe, and convinced Samael that the resultant skeletons were just a prank he'd set up for the old man.

*(And if Kyrie saved a few of the little feathered ones to rerelease in Eden, well, he had to give Raph something to keep him company where he hauled the unresponsive angel off to Alpha Centauri. He didn't know how long his reprieve would last.)