Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Speak Of The Devil
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It had been about a week since the world had almost ended, so most people had forgotten at this point. Anathema wasn’t completely sure of what had happened at the time, but she was positive she knew even less now. Even Agnes’ prophecies, which she had spent decades studying, had begun to fade from her memory. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of freshly brewed tea, before pouring it into three teacups.
“Do you take sugar?”
“No, none for me thank you.” replied her guest, well mannered as usual.
She proceeded to put nine sugars in the other cup, and placed them on the table. “Be careful, they’re hot. I can’t believe Mr. Shadwell deluded you into thinking nine sugars is an acceptable amount to put into tea, darling.”
Newt ignored her, and took a sip of the drink, promptly burning his tongue. He put the cup down hastily, thought for a second, and then replied; “Well, there are worse habits I could have picked up from him. Be grateful I don’t prick you with a needle every day.”
Anathema turned to say something witty in response, but stopped as their guest emitted a hearty chuckle. “Oh, Crowley really is quite cunning. The whole ‘needle in the witch’ trick. Very ‘on brand’, wouldn’t you say?” He looked out to nowhere in particular, probably reminiscing about the 17th century.
Newt’s brow furrowed. “Aziraphale, who taught you that?”
“Taught me what?”
“You said ‘on brand’. That doesn’t seem to fit your whole, y’know.” Newt gestured at Aziraphale vaguely, searching for the right word. “Your whole, uh, thing. Being all old-fashioned.” Anathema kicked him under the table and glared at him icily. “N-not that that’s a bad thing, or anything!” he quickly corrected himself.
“Ah yes. Adam Young has been teaching me some of the new ‘lingo’ the kids are using these days. I think I’m cottoning on quite well, actually.” Aziraphale seemed pleased with himself.
Newt’s face suddenly lit up, and he grinned. “Ana, do you think Agnes’ new prophecies would have sounded like th-“ He was met with another sharp kick underneath the table.
“Don’t mention the prophecies,” the witch said quietly, trying her hardest to keep the angel out of earshot. Unfortunately, angels have remarkable hearing.
“New… prophecies? You don’t mean-“
Anathema sighed deeply. “Yes, Agnes left us with more prophecies. We had agreed not to mention it-“ she said mostly to Newt, “because we didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me? This is exciting news! Being able to finally study Agnes Nutter’s prophecies and see them unfold right before me!” Aziraphale began to grow more and more energetic, but stopped once he saw the woman’s downtrodden expression. “What is it?”
“Well, I actually… I…” Anathema was staring at the floor, barely vocalising.
“We burnt them.” Newt interjected. “We’ve had quite enough of prophecies for one lifetime, believe it or not.” Anathema looked up guiltily.
They were both staring at the angel, trying to decipher his reaction. He was looking down at his hands, and was still for a few seconds before looking up and smiling at the two of them. “Of course! No problem whatsoever! I completely understand!” Anathema realised she had been holding her breath, and exhaled, smiling at Aziraphale. “Thank goodness. I thought you might be a bit upset with us-“
“Not at all, dear! I mean, I went quite a few centuries without the first ones, and I managed perfectly fine!” He sounded very genuine, but a brief flicker of uncertainty flickered over his face. The witch felt he was hiding his disappointment to make her feel better.
Aziraphale noticed the girl’s regretful gaze, and changed the topic. “How have you been faring?”
Anathema looked at Newt, and back at the angel. “We’re doing very well. We’ve decided to stay here in Tadfield. After what happened, the woman I was renting from was not keen on returning, so the cottage is ours! And it is such a beautiful town.”
“Turns out the weather is still perfect too!” added Newt. “We’ve both grown quite fond of the English Countryside. No computers, for a start.”
“Ah yes, I’ve always had a soft spot for it, myself.” Aziraphale agreed. “Crowley always preferred the cities, but I do try to travel through the country every couple years or so. I suppose he enjoys the pollution and such. Definitely not the traffic, though.” Anathema wasn’t completely sure if the angel was still talking to them or just to himself.
“You do talk about that Crowley fellow a lot.” Newt said. Aziraphale seemed taken aback by this.
“I do not talk about him a lot! Well… perhaps I do, but it’s not like I’m spoiled for immortal company, now am I? Who else am I supposed to talk about?”
“Well, you’ve been alive for thousands of years, you must have some more interesting stories than that.”
“Newt,” Anathema warned.
Aziraphale scoffed. “I have plenty of stories! I just find Crowley to be… very interesting-“
A loud revving from outside cut the angel off. Aziraphale’s eyes lit up, and he stood quickly.
“Well, speak of the devil.” Newt said smugly.
“That would be my ride. Pleasure catching up with the two of you!” Making sure he had left everything where he found it, the angel carefully pushed his chair in and departed, waving cheerily.
Newt watched the Bentley scream down the quiet Tadfield street, and then winced, rubbing his shin. “Thanks a lot, Ana.” And then to himself, “That’s going to leave a mark.”
“I’m sorry, but you really should have been more careful. You know that man - ah, angel - lives and breathes old prophecies. I didn’t want him to know what he was missing out on.”
Newt pondered this for a second, and then frowned. “Well, technically he doesn’t really breathe. And he doesn’t really live either, when you think about it.”
“Please shut up, darling.” Anathema said with a smile.
She didn’t think, with all her powers and her imagination, she could have ever predicted the zany characters she hung around. These were the kind of people you only met through, well, attempts to subvert the apocalypse, she supposed.
She wouldn’t trade it for anything.