Chapter Text
Adam was hearing voices in his sleep. Not the dark, ominous voices that had pushed him towards Armageddon, but familiar, comforting ones. He tried to focus on them, to understand what they were saying…
“Hastur ? Really ?”
“Yep. First thing he did once the target’s name was unveiled. Came directly to me, since he can’t talk to you.”
“I will have to find a way to thank him. I imagine they would have cornered me here even before you came back from your errand and… well… end it quickly.”
“I suppose so,” conceded Crowley’s voice reluctantly. “I still want to strangle the bastard, but I guess we owe him.”
“I will think of something. Now stop moving, please. You are not making this any easier.”
Crowley let out a sigh of relief, and Adam struggled to open his eyes. The demon was in pain, he could feel it. He sat up clumsily, realising he was on Crowley’s sofa in the bookshop. Dog, curled on himself at his feet, opened one lazy eye to watch him.
“Oh, hello, Adam, dear. How do you feel ?”
“Hi, kid.”
Lots of memories were swimming in Adam’s mind, and he had the dreadful feeling he wouldn’t like them at all once they had settled and replayed in good order. He tried to postpone the moment, focusing on his uncles, sitting on the rug near the fire. Crowley, looking tense, had his wings out, one of them sprawled on Aziraphale’s lap. The angel was gently caressing each feather in turn, with slow, deliberate motions.
“What are you doing ?”
Crowley answered with pleading eyes.
“He’s torturing me !”
“Now, no need to be dramatic, dear boy.”
“You are ! I am burning, and it’s all your fault !”
Aziraphale smiled, not looking up from his work, and took a long feather between two fingers, sliding them along it. Adam squinted his eyes and saw something shiny detaching itself from the primary, sticking to the angel’s hand before disappearing. He gasped and jumped to his feet.
“You’re taking something off them ! What is that ?”
“Angelic Grace,” answered Aziraphale, freeing another feather.
“It’s hurting him ! Who did this to you, uncle Crowley ?”
“I did. Now will you stop overreacting ? You look like your uncle.”
Adam sat down and looked at the angel’s hands. The Grace was hurting Crowley. But Aziraphale had put it there, and there had to be a reason.
“You put it on every feather ?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And now you’re taking it away. Why ?”
Crowley stretched his arms and neck, careful not to dislodge his wing.
“Angels are immune to their own blessings. They can make a whole crowd feel happy and warm, but it won’t affect them. So coating me in his Grace made me… impervious to everything he blessed. Including Water. Hurts like Heaven, though.”
Adam blinked in confusion. Aziraphale smiled at him.
“Blessings and miracles are slightly different. I can only use miracles on myself.”
“Sobering up,” murmured Crowley. The angel frowned at him.
“What Holy Water ?”
Both entities looked back at their Godson.
“Why did you have to touch Holy Water ? What happened ?”
Memories of the night were still waiting to come back, and Adam stopped pushing them away. His eyes widened.
“I… what did I do ?”
Crowley grimaced. He’d hoped the kid wouldn’t remember. Adam misinterpreted his reaction and stepped back.
“I… I hurt you !”
“Now, Adam, let’s calm...”
“I made you obey ! I ordered you !”
Adam was getting frantic, memories of Armageddon overflowing his mind. His friend’s terrified eyes… the way he’d made them bow to his will… and he’d done it again. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t and he’d done it again, with Crowley ! With his uncle Crowley !
“You saved us.”
Aziraphale’s voice cut through the boy’s distress. He looked at the angel with a heartbreaking expression.
“You saved us. We were about to get killed, Adam.”
“But I… I did things… I was awful. I was… a monster”
The angel tutted. “You are not and will never be a monster, my dear.”
Of course he would say that. Of course he would lie to make Adam feel better. But the boy knew who he really was. He’d thought he had gotten rid of that part of himself, but obviously that wasn’t the case.
“I am one. You know it’s true. that’s why I’ve been made. To be a monster that kills people. That’s why I was created. And it was me tonight. It was me who said those things.”
And now, of course, Aziraphale would say this wasn’t you, that awful thing is not you ! You can fight it, and bury it inside of you !
But his angelic uncle always found ways to surprise him.
“Of course it was you. You are partly demonic, my dear boy. Trying to suppress that is not a good thing at all. You can not lock away the parts of yourself that you fear. Locks can be picked, and bolts can be destroyed, and then it leads to very dangerous situations. You should learn to understand this side of you, to tame it… to let the door open for it.”
The angel rose and took his Godson by the shoulders.
“I have been created a Cherub by God Herself. And I chose to be someone else. If God approved of that, of one of her angels to be different from what she expected of him, why should you bother about the purpose you have been created for ? You are who you chose to be.”
Suddenly Crowley was there, too, smirking at him, glasses nowhere to be seen.
“Listen to him, kid. Rebelling against your true nature is good.
Aziraphale harrumphed “I never said that !”
Adam looked from one of his uncles to the other. There wasn’t the slightest hint of fear or disgust in their eyes.
“I… I don’t know how to do that. Not keeping it locked, I mean. I don’t like to think about it.”
Aziraphale looked at his friend and raised an eyebrow pointedly. Crowley took the hint.
“I’m the expert at controlling demonic impulses, kid. Well, not all of them, just one or two, the not funny ones. So why not work on that, both of us ? I can come once or twice a week to teach you. What d’ya think ?”
Adam nodded, relief invading him.
“Good” stated Aziraphale with a wide, soft smile that illuminated the room “And do not think too much about what happened last night. Crowley and I know what losing control is. I can assure you we didn’t always came to our senses as fast as you did.”
Adam’s eyes widened “Really ?”
“Why, yes of course. We’ve been here from the beginning, and 6000 years is a long time. Everybody gets angry someday, I imagine...”
Especially with all the things Humanity can pull off, thought Crowley, remembering several instances where Aziraphale had lost it when the cruelty was too much to bear. He nodded in agreement “Anyway, everything’s fine, kid. You resisted it, that was impressive. Proud of you. Fancy a drink ?” Crowley’s ears were slightly red, and he had miracled his glasses back. He hated that kind of conversation, and no way he would stay after having said something nice. He still had some pride, thank you very much.
“A tea would be most welcome. And some cocoa,” answered the angel with a fond smile, knowing perfectly that Crowley always felt uncomfortable after praising someone.
“Right away, angel” answered a relieved demon, all but rushing out of the room.
Adam sat on the rug by the fire, his fears dissolving as he watched the flames. The knowledge that he wasn’t alone with these cool but scary powers was reassuring. He smiled widely as a little white mouse ran into his hands.
“Algernon ! How are you ? Dog, say hi to Algernon.”
Dog wagged his tail lazily. He had learned the hard way not to consider that creature prey.
“You will have to go back home before your family wakes up, my dear. It is Christmas after all, they will expect you to get up early.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot ! It’s Christmas ! What time is it ?”
Aziraphale checked his antique clock.
“Almost six.”
The boy jumped on his feet, eyes wide open in fear.
“I have to go ! My sister will come to wake me up, she always want everyone to open the presents early !”
Aziraphale spluttered “But… it is not even six… surely you have a little time for cocoa.”
“Sorry uncle Z, have to go ! See you tomorrow, right ?”
The angel watched helplessly as his Godson and Dog disappeared in the blink of an eye. He sighed forlornly. Not being able to drink his cocoa… the Antichrist big sister’s was an awful bully, thought Aziraphale. Thank God, it had been decided weeks ago that he would spend the second week of his holidays in the bookshop with them.
Then his pout suddenly transformed in an offended expression as he realised something was missing.
“Adam Young ! How dare you...”
He raised his hand to snap his fingers, but Adam was already back, materializing in front of him with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry ! I forgot !” He reached out his hands, cupped together, and transferred a squirming and angry Algernon into his uncle’s palm.
“Really, my dear ! How could you...”
The boy sent him a toothy grin, waved and disappeared again. Aziraphale huffed discontentedly and stroked his little furry friend, kissing his ears before putting him gently back on the floor.
“There you are, my dear. Look at you, so pretty and adorable. I will never let anyone take you away.”
“Aw, thanks angel. You’re not so bad yourself,” answered Crowley’s laughing voice behind him.
Aziraphale chuckled before turning to his friend.
“Hey, where’s the kid ?”
“Back home. Apparently Sarah is waking everyone up very early on Christmas day.”
Crowley made a face.
“That girl should have been the Antichrist, not Adam.”
“Do not tease, dear boy. She is… a nice girl. With a… strong personality.”
“Yeah, you can say that. I’m sure the kid will be happy when we pick him up tomorrow. Tea, angel.”
Aziraphale took his winged mug, sipped it absent-mindedly, and looked as his friend put the cocoa mug and his glasses on the coffee table, then choked as he saw the familiar yellow eyes, and put his own mug down.
“Oh, dear. Your pupils, Crowley !”
“Whot ? What’s wrong with them ?”
“You are still in pain ! Come here, I completely forgot about your wing, silly me !”
The demon sprawled on the rug, waving the angel’s concern away.
“Honestly I didn’t think about it any more. But now you talk about it, yes, I could do without the… warmth.”
Aziraphale sat near him and resumed his ministrations, erasing every remnant of his Grace feather after feather, not stopping once the last of them was finally free and starting to straighten and pull them in order in a real preening session. The demon sighed, his tensed jaw and shoulder relaxing gradually. It might have been very painful, thought Aziraphale guiltily. But there had been no other choice at the time, and he would never have been able to create Holy Water near Crowley without that insurance. His own pain was still a sharp memory, and grooming Crowley’s wings was as soothing to him as restoring an ancient book. Even more so, since the book didn’t really care, while the demon all but purred in contentment. When Crowley finally fell asleep on the rug, the angel snapped his finger to relocate him comfortably on the couch, covered him in a soft tartan blanket, miracled the fire a little more higher and the room warmer, and took both cocoa and tea mug before heading to his desk.
Then he thought for a moment before opening a drawer to chose a writing block and a pen. He had a thank you note to send to a Duke of Hell.
It wasn’t Christmas anymore when Crowley opened his eyes and sat up with a groan. He felt wretched, and instinctively reached out in the coffee table’s direction, letting out a frustrated moan as his hand grasped at an empty spot.
“Coffeeeee...”
Slow steps on the stairs, a door opening not far away…
“Oh, so sorry, my dear. Here you are.”
The familiar mug was pressed in his hand. Crowley opened his eyes with a groan. Cappuccino, and cinnamon stick. Cinnamon stick was for cheering up...
“Oh, bless… that wasn’t a dream ?”
“I am afraid not.”
Crowley suddenly put his mug down and cleared his mind with a demonic miracle, his face scrunching up. Waking up like that always left a sour taste in his mouth and soul. But he couldn’t care less at this moment.
“Aziraphale are you all right ?”
“Oh, dear, you shouldn’t have… of course I am fine. Perfectly okay.”
Crowley frowned “Okay ? That’s not a word you use. How do you really feel ? You almost died last night, and I fell asleep like a selfish bastard. How long was I out ?”
“Really, my dear, I assure you I am perfectly...”
“Jussst tell me how long, angel !”
Aziraphale squirmed his his seat. He looked pale, noted the demon with a pang of guilt.
“Only twenty hours.”
“Only… ONLY ? Damn, Aziraphale, why didn’t you wake me up ?”
“But you were sleeping so peacefully ! And you needed to rest after that dreadful affair.”
“And you didn’t, maybe ? Crowley was almost growling, and his friend smiled placatingly.
“I did rest. I assure you I did. Please stop brooding, dear boy.”
“M’not brooding !” Crowley fought a little with his blanket, then got up and shook a finger under the angel’s nose.
“Don’t you move, stupid ! I’m making you tea ! You stay here !”
“Alright, my dear” promised Aziraphale in a soothing voice before taking a book on a nearby table and opening it with a sigh. He should have known Crowley would react that way if he let him sleep in. Still, the demon needed his rest.
He read a few chapter before closing his book with a concerned frown. That tea was taking longer than expected.
“Crowley ?”
“Here ! I’m here ! Don’t move !”
A breathless demon hurried to put a cup of tea and three boxes on the coffee table.
“Crowley… have you been out ?”
“Only a few minutes. Sorry for the wait.”
Aziraphale opened the boxes one by one.
“Sushi… croissants… loukoums ? Crowley ! You didn’t have to do all this, I told you I am fine !”
“Humour me, angel. ‘Kay ?”
Aziraphale took the proffered chopsticks and started eating the sushi selection.
“How are they ?”
“Perfection, of course. Like always. I cannot believe you popped up to Hokkaido only for that !” the tone was chiding, but it was difficult to take it seriously as the sushi vanished one by one in less than two minutes.
“Wow… you were hungry.”
“I didn’t realise… but yes, I am quite famished,” the angel attacked the croissants more slowly. Crowley watched, feeling a little less guilty. He knew Aziraphale surely have had a crappy night, thinking of the demons he had to destroy. Destroy, not just discorporate. The angel hated to kill. It haunted him, centuries later. Crowley, for his part, couldn't care less and would only think of the cries and yelling of last night as a good riddance, but that didn't mean he should ignore his friend's feelings. He should have thought about it before falling asleep, but he was too tired for that. The angel wasn’t sleeping, but food was as invigorating to him as a good night of rest to the demon.
The loukoums were carefully packed again for later, and Aziraphale felt back in his seat with a loud sigh.
“Thank you ever so much, Crowley. That was scrumptious.”
“Hm… ah, angel ?”
A lazy blue eye opened.
“Yes ?”
“I don’t have a gift for you” mumbled Crowley, avoiding his eyes. Aziraphale laughed, and the demon shot him a startled look.
“You just made me one, my dear. This was delicious and so thoughtful. It is more than enough already, but… are you really sure you do not have something else ?”
Oh, damn. Aziraphale thought Crowley was joking and actually had a real gift. That was making things even worse.
“There… there isn’t. Really, I didn’t find one. Was looking for it yesterday, and nothing looked good enough… so I have nothing.”
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, dear… you must be exhausted. Crowley, you already had a gift, remember ? Sappho’s poems ? You told me you wanted to give them back to me for Christmas.”
Oh. OH ! Crowley put his face in his hands with a groan. He was so stupid ! He had that freaking crate for so long he’d forgot about it. Of course he was supposed to offer it to his friend. He’d saved it from scavengers so many years ago, during the dreadful Holy Water fight, that he had completely forgoten about it. Thank someone the angel remembered. With a snap of his fingers, the precious parchments appeared in a carved wooden box.
“Merry Christmas, angel.”
Aziraphale, hands miraculously gloved, brushed one of the rolls with reverence, his eyes shining way too much for the demon’s liking. Happy tears always made him restless. He got up brusquely.
“I… er… I’ll be upstairs. Things to do… call me if you need something, okay ?”
“Oh, but… Crowley, wait ! What about your gift ?”
Ignoring the demon’s protests, Aziraphale got up and fumbled through his desk.
“Here it is. Merry Christmas, my dear.”
The box was small and light. Crowley, never the patient kind, tore the wrapping paper before opening it. A small key rested on a little cushion.
“Wh… What’s that, angel ?”
Aziraphale was wriggling his hands.
“I… this is nothing, really, but I wanted to make a… gesture, of some sorts. You keep calling the place ‘your bookshop’, like it is only mine, and it feels… quite wrong. You are living here now, and I really want you to think of it as your home too.”
“It’s… a key to the shop ?” asked Crowley in wonder.
“It is… I know it is a silly gift, since you do not need a key, and you are already living here, but...”
Crowley raised a hand.
“Aziraphale. Stop rambling. I love it.”
The angel’s face lit up “Really ?”
“Really. That’s a great gift.”
“Oh ! I forgot, there’s the note too, you should read it.”
The demon looked into the box, took the cushion out, and discovered a sheet of paper, carefully folded. He read it slowly. Then read it again. Then took his glasses off and looked at his friend like he’d gone crazy.
“Angel… what the fuck does that mean ?”
“Really, Crowley ! Do you have to be that rude ? You perfectly see what it is, don’t you ?”
The golden eyes shot back to the paper, which trembled slightly in his hands.
“That’s… you can’t do that ! That’s your bookshop !”
Aziraphale huffed and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
“I just told you it was not mine any more. Now it is ours, you just agreed to it.”
“To the key ! I agreed to the bloody key ! Not to half the ownership !”
“Well, too bad, it is done and signed. Would you please get over it and let me read my poems ?”
The demon stood rooted on the spot while his friend sat back with a sigh and unrolled the first parchment.
In Hell, a young demon was hurrying along a corridor, a box wrapped in yellow paper in his hands.
“Duke Hastur ! There was something for you on the stairs !”
Hastur jumped from the shadows and gripped the lesser demon by the neck. His eyes dropped to the box, and widened as he recognised the writing.
“The angel...”
He let go of the other without a second thought, and ripped the paper off. There was a letter, and…
“MOVIES !!!!”
The Duke of Hell ran along the corridors towards the Movies Room, clutching tightly into his arms the entire Jane Austen BBC collection.
Hell was about to enter a new era.