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Chapter Text

With Chloe Decker, you never know if an evening will stay as calm as it began. If she will fall asleep in your arms, or get a phone call from a new crime scene.

This evening isn’t any different for her and Lucifer. and he is okay with that. He loves solving cases with his beautiful girlfriend, as long as he can come along. But still- this is different.

“England,” Chloe says, putting her mobile onto the nightstand. Lucifer furrows his brows.
“Parden?” He asks. 

Chloe sighs. She didn’t like the call she just got.

“They ask us to come to England. We were requested- well, me and Dan were requested. But we are taking the whole team,” she says. 

Lucifer leans in the pillows of his bed, the silky blanket draped just over his hip. The tanned skin glows in the dimmed light of the Penthouse.

“But Detective! You are at the LAPD, doesn’t that mean Los Angeles, or something?” Lucifer asks. 

He gets up, face a deep frown. Chloe watches him, sitting on the edge of the bed while the Devil scrambles into his clothes.

“There is a lot of Crime in Los Angeles! This city will be lost without you! Just imagine what could happen to- to your little human!” 

“Trixie?” Chloe asks. “Lucifer, I am not the only officer here. The department will be just fine without me,” she says calmly. “But are you okay? You don’t seem to like England?”

Lucifer makes the face of a child, which was caught lying. “I- my last visit in England was not a very pleasant one.”

“Oh,” makes Chloe. She waits for Lucifer to continue. The man loves to talk about himself, so she expects a rant, or at least an explanation. But of course, she doesn’t get one.
“Lucifer, you don’t have to come along. If you rather stay-”

“What? How dare you, Detective!” Lucifer interrupts her. The idea is outrageous. “I would never let you go there alone. And I am your partner. With Detective Douche alone, you will never solve this case.”

Chloe scoffs with a roll of her eyes. “Of course-” she mutters, but there is an amused smile on her lips. 

“Then stop complaining and pack your bags, mh? The sooner we solve this case, the sooner we can home. Also, I need to bring Trixie to my mom before we go to the airport.”

Lucifers face lights up. This makes complete sense to him, and the prospect of returning soon, or just never leaving, is very appealing. 

“You are right, Detective! Very well- what do we know about the case? Who got murdered?”

“Not yet.”

Chloe slips into her shoes. As she grabs her green jacket, which lays draped over an armchair, she begins to explain.

“It’s more of a kidnapping. The son of an American Diplomat was taken. No traces of a violent burglary. They haven’t taken anything except for the boy. And nobody demanded a ransom yet.”

Lucifer makes a face. A Diplomat? No, those already sold their souls. No work for the devil. It comes with the job, he suspects. Or maybe they take the job because they already sold their soul before. That’s some stuff for thought. 

“What’s the name, if I may ask?” Lucifer asks. He began to take out a suitcase, to pack his suits and shoes. His hands freeze, once Chloe replies.

“Thadeus Dowling. The boys name is… Warlock Dowling.”

Lucifer feels the colour drain from his face. “Bloody hell-”

Chapter Text

Chloe Decker and her team of the LAPD are greeted by rain, the moment they set foot onto English ground. The sky is a dreary grey.

“This is so cool- where did you grew up here, Lucifer?” Ella asks. She begged Lucifer for the window seat. In the plane and in the car, which they were lend by the American Embassy, for their stay.

“In heaven, obviously. And then I came to Earth,” Lucifer says, not knowing what Ella wants from him.

“Ah come on- your accent gives you away. You have been here before, not?” Ella wants to know. She still doesn’t look away from the window, as if those British streets are the most amazing thing she has ever seen.

“I sometimes visited, yes. But I haven’t been here in 5 years,” Lucifer admits. He was never fond of this spot of earth. He can’t figure out what people like about it.

“It’s just so amazing. I have never left the States before. Mi Madre used to say, why leave America when we can visit my cousins instead? We actually just hadn’t got the money for a real vacation,” Ella tells. She finally pulls herself away from the window to face Lucifer.

Dan leans forward. He sits at the Devils other side. “You know, you’re old enough to do that on your own, right Ella?”

“Hey! This isn’t a vacation. Focus,” Chloe says. She sits behind the wheel, driving the car. Nobody wanted to volunteer to drive, when the wheel is on the wrong side.

“Detective Douche is completely wrong, obviously. You should never visit Britain. Just look at the weather. And at the size!” Lucifer exclaims.

Ella: “The size?”

“Yes, the size. Just imagine you meet someone you haven’t seen in 5 years, and don’t want to see for another 5 thousand!” Lucifer explains.
Ella doesn’t know what she can say to that. She looks helplessly at Chloe. Chloe looks back. What is he projecting his feelings onto now?

“Go to Hawaii. Or Greece, if you love Europe so much,” Lucifer says with a shake of his head.

Chloe clears her throat. “I think this is the house… place.”

The Mansion, of American Diplomat Thaddeus Dowling, lays two hours away from Central London. The grass on the lawn is still green, as if nobody ever walks over it. The plants are packed away and sheltered for the coming winter.

Lucifer gives it a glance. “What a chic cover for sin and guilt,” he comments, exiting the auto.

Scotland Yard was there before them. The whole house is guarded by Police Officers and the American Secret Service. A break-in like this isn’t a small issue for them.

“Lucifer! Come here,” Chloe says, waving him back. The devil sighs and returns. The team waits at the car. Chloe turns to them.

“We will be working with Scotland Yard. This is still their territory, okay? So be nice and polite. And Lucifer- don’t wander off. Please,” Chloe says. Ella nods instantly. “Of course Chloe! No problem,” she says, grabbing her equipment from the trunk.

“You don’t have to tell me, Chloe,” Dan says calmly. She gives him an appreciating smile. Lucifer nods a little bit with his head. “Whatever you want, Detective.”

“Good. Thank you. Now- Ella, I want you to look at the Crime scene. Dan, can you get everything our British colleagues found? Me and Lucifer will talk to the Dowlings,” Chloe leads her team, giving everyone an occupation to start with.

Dan forces a smile, going to find whoever is responsible for the documents.

The other three dive down under the tape and to the crime scene. They show their marks and IDs to the cops and the two officers show them inside.
“The parents are absolutely devastated. They are scared, so…” one says. She looks a bit uncertain, having pity with the family. It’s awful to lose a child and not know what happened to it.

“Okay, thank you,” Chloe says. “Ella here would like to take a look at the crime scene,” Chloe says. They are led down a corridor. Everything is so expensive and great in this Villa. The Dowlings aren’t poor. But Lucifer knows that, of course. He explicitly told the Dark Council to choose a stinking wealthy family, for his son to grow up in. To be corrupted from birth.

That didn’t work out. After all, the world is still intact and Warlock Dowling was not the Antichrist. Which, Lucifer has to admit, was the best thing that ever happened to him. Back then he was furious about it. 

This little brat just decided to not end the world. But now, it makes a proud spark burn inside of him. He rebelled against his father and decided to not be a part of his plan.

Lucifer has to admire it. It’s like looking into a mirror.

“Our forensic already looked at everything. We can give you the report,” the British officer says. Ella smiles softly at her. “I’d like a look anyway. Just to make myself a real picture.”

The cop thinks for a moment, but eventually nods. “I'll bring you there,” she says to Ella. Then to Chloe and Lucifer: “And you just walk through this door. Mister and Misses Dowling are already expecting you.” 

It is never easy, talking to a parent who is worried about their child. Especially when there is a real reason for them to be afraid.

At least we haven’t found a body yet Chloe thinks. That is even worse. For kidnapping victims, there is at least a chance of them returning. Of everything being okay.

Harriet Dowling is wailing. She can hardly stop it.

“We are very sorry Misses Dowling. And I know you already told the British officers what happened… but could you retell what happened, please?” Chloe asks. She doesn’t want to be pushy. But that doesn’t seem to be necessary.

“It is no problem. We’re glad to have some real cops here. Not those British Good-for-nothings,” Thadeus says. He has rested a hand on Harriets shoulder, but she pushes it away, not looking up. They couldn’t be more different.

“We came home yesterday evening. We had been at a gala, but the wine wasn’t good, so we went home again. Harriet wanted to tell Warlock that we are back. She’s overbearing with him. But well- he wasn’t there. And he has left his phone.

But he always leaved it behind- I expected him to get into this kind of trouble at one point and so we gave him a phone with tracker. But for some reason he will never take it with him!” Thadeus goes on.

Lucifer spent the whole explanation, looking at the family photos on the sideboard. With a huff he turns around to Thadeus. 

“That sounds more like you were a pathetic excuse of a father and the boy decided to run away. Is it that? Did you decide what his life would look like and he was sick of it, mh? Sick of being monitored by you?” Lucifer asks. “If you ask me, we are wasting our time here, Detective. The boy obviously was sick of his father forcing a plan onto him, he wasn’t okay with. He is most likely much more happy wherever he is now.”

“Lucifer!” Chloe hisses, giving him a stern look. She can’t believe it. Or actually, she can. This will cost their job at one point!

Thadeus looks baffled. He isn’t used to anyone talking to him like this. So… disrespectful.

“I- I mean… me and Warlock didn’t have the best of relationships anymore because… well, because I didn’t like his friends. But-”

“His friends?” Chloe asks. 

Harriet Dowling clears her throat. Her voice is high and small. She fears to break into new tears, if she speaks up any louder.

“His friends are- they are often spending time with those… elder men.”

Chloe looks irritated. She notes it down anyway. “Elder men?”

“Two. A… a couple.”

“I always told him Stay away from them. They are perverts. Most likely even pedophile! No guy in his 40s would spend so much time with school kids! But of course he wouldn’t listen-” Thadeus says.

“Well- we need their names. And if you have them, also their addresses,” Chloe says. She can’t tell if Thadeus is right, but Harriet doesn’t protest. 

“Of course. I can write you the names down,” Thadeus says. He grabs the pen from Chloe and writes the two names down. Then he is glancing at the watch around his wrist. “Are we done here?”

Lucifer pushes himself away from the sideboard. “Just one more thing,” he says, stepping very close to look at Thadeus muddy brown eyes. “What is it… you really desire?”

Thadeus pupils turn dark black, almost swallowing the whole iris. He swallows hard, not able to pull his eyes away from the Devil.

“I- I want to- I want to win.”

Oh- win?” Lucifer asks, not happy with the answer. Thadeus shakes his head, irritated. What just happened?

“I want to win the campaign- if I win, I can come back to the United States. It’s why I have worked so much here-” Thadeus explains. Harriet glares at him. “Our son is gone- and you talk about your campaign?” She asks, voice shaking with anger.

Chloe gets quickly up. “I think it’s time for me and my partner to go,” she says, hoping to de-escalate this. Or to get out, before a fight breaks out.

Harriet nods, lips pressed so tightly together that they appear white. Chloe grabs Lucifers hand. The devil probably wouldn’t have left otherwise, with how amused he seems by the brewing storm between the Dowlings.

“You don’t really think that the boy was kidnapped by a gay couple in their fourties, do you?” Lucifer asks, as they walk down the gravel path back to where they parked the car.

Chloe types a phone number into her mobile. Dan has to find the addresses of those two.

“People are psychopaths. But if he wasn’t kidnapped, this might just be where he is hiding out. Friends with a own place to live,” Chloe explains, in a way Lucifer might actually agree with.

He sighs. “Alright- but we can’t force him home, can we?”

“No. But we have to inform his parents at least where he is. The woman is scared to death for him,” Chloe says. 

Dan takes the call. “Hey Dan- I need two addresses. I send you the names, yes?” 

Not five minutes later, Chloe has the address of a Zira A. Fell. The one for AJ. Crowley doesn’t follow. Only an explanation from Dan, that there is nobody with that name in the system. Weird…

“Mh… one of the suspects lifes in… Soho.”

“Oh, that’s in London. I know this place,” Lucifer brags. He didn’t expect a pair of keys to be shoved into his hand. “Good job Luci. Then you can drive us there.”

Lucifer sighs and gets into the car. “Very well,” he says and starts the engine. 

“You know, Zira A. Fell sounds somewhat familiar too…”

Chapter Text

The night over Soho is young. Aziraphale isn’t aware of that. He is good at disassociating, once a good book is in his arms. Even when he read The complete works of Edgar Allan Poe at least a few hundred times by now.

He is so deep sunken into the pages, that he doesn’t even hear Crowley enter. The demon lets himself in, tossing his keys onto the dusty dresser. It’s joined by a few books bound in clothe. Nothing unusual in a bookshop, really.

“You have to start locking the door, when you read,” Crowley says casually. He doesn’t expect an answer. That Aziraphale lays on the smooth couch of leather is enough evidence that he won’t receive any answer until tomorrow morning. But it doesn’t stop him from sauntering around the huge shelves and talk.

“Seriously angel, you’ll get robbed. They’re gonna steal all those fancy books of yours.”

This actually tickles a reaction out of Aziraphale. “You’re not scaring me, my dear.”

“Not? I thought I’m absolutely terrifying,” Crowley snarls sarcastically. He hangs his black coat up and falls into the broad armchair by Aziraphales side.

“Adam called me today,” Crowley says. “Said something about Warlock not showing up to their meeting. Kids wanted to go to Hogback Wood.”

Aziraphale furrows his brows. Turns a page. The eyes underneath the tiny goggles follow the lines of black ink. It takes approximately a minute for him two say something.

“Maybe he forgot. Or something came up.”

“Okay, this is no fun,” Crowley decides. He doesn’t like to share Aziraphales attention, even when it is only with a book.

He is about to pout, but Aziraphale sighs. He puts the book aside and gives Crowley a small kiss onto the cheek. “Don’t you pout my dear,” he says. 

Another kiss lands on Crowleys lips and the demon feels a warm rush through his whole body. It’s hard to believe that everything has been so great for the past 5 years. Yet still, Aziraphale just lifts him off his feet, with every single one of his sweet angelic kisses.

“But if I pout you kiss me,” Crowley says. Aziraphale laughs softly. He cups his husbands cheek for a second. “As long as I read, I don’t pout if you scream at something very certain in the upper apartment…” 

Crowleys lips perk up. The next second he is gone. Aziraphale shakes his head. He sits down with Poe again. He is so sunken into the paper, he can’t hear Crowley from upstairs, yelling and raging against his potted plants.

~~

Chloe holds tightly against the handle above her car seat. She regrets letting Lucifer drive a car on those streets. He hasn’t adapted his style at all, so they are razing through the City with 9 pm.

“Slow down Lucifer- you can’t do 90 miles per hour in Central London!” She yells, unaware someone else said this to another supernatural being.

“What? Why not?”  Lucifer replies, instantly slowing down thought.

“Because you will kill us- well, kill me.”

“Oh- of course. Apologies Detective,” Lucifer says, seeing absolutely her point. Chloe glances around, keeping her eyes open for their destination. Her finger points at a rustic looking bookshop. Behind the display window flickers still a light. God do those people use candles?

Lucifer parks behind a Bentley. He nods at it. “This is a real car, Detective. Not this insult for an automobile we got from your boss,” Lucifer complains.

Chloe presses her face towards the window at the door. She sees nobody. Only books, stacked over each other, overflowing from the shelves and poured all over the floor, the table tops and sitting possibilities.

“Mh… seems empty,” she says, trying the handle. Surprisingly, the door swings open. A tiny bell above it rings, announcing their arrival. But no bookseller shows up to greet them, or even look that they don’t steal. It’s so silent, it’s spooky.

“Hello? Kidnappers, is anyone here?” Lucifer chirps. No response. 

Chloe can hear her own heart beat in her chest. “Something is wrong here…” she whispers, pulling her gun out. 

As if someone waited for the spotlight, a dimed shatter is to hear. Both their eyes rush to the ceiling. “Someone is upstairs,” Chloe whispers.

“Well then we should go there, Detective,” Lucifer points out, going to find the staircase. Chloe follows him in quick steps. She jostles in front of him. “I’m the one with the gun here, Lucifer,” she hisses.

Lucifer looks offended. “Well, I am the one that’s bulletproof.”

But Chloe doesn’t argue with him. Instead they climb up the creaking stairs. With every steps, it’s more evident what is happening. Someone is yelling.

“You damn piece of useless garbage! You know what I should do? I should eat you! Because that is the only way for you to be good for me in any way!” The voice howls.

“Oh god- he’s yelling at the boy,” she whispers. 

“Don’t bring my father into this,” Lucifer replies. They arrive at the top of the staircase and the yelling gets even worse.

“I will put you into the hexler! Say goodbye to the friends that haven’t disappointed me yet! Hm, how does that feel? You die at my hands! I am your creator and destroyer and nobody will stop me!”

Chloe swings the door open, gun in hand. “Police let go of the… plant?” 

The Detective lets her gun down, staring irritated and shocked at the lanky man, who holds tightly onto a potted plant with lush, green leaves. 

Behind Crowleys sunglasses, his eyes widen in pure terror. 

“Lucifer-” he chokes out.

Lucifer swallows hard. He looks aside. “Crowley… hi.”

In the next second, Crowley tries to storm past them. Chloe has hardly any time to grab him. He squirms almost away again. The panic took over his body. 

“Run! Angel run!” He screams, voice raspy from yelling at the plants earlier. Hot tears begin to burn down his face, leaving marks of fire. 

“Aziraphale! Run away!”

Chapter Text

“Now brother, there is no reason for such a harsh reaction,” Lucifer says. He stands above the demon, squirming around. He could simply miracle himself away, but maybe like this, Aziraphale still has time to run away.

Chloe is putting handcuffs on him, but stops to stare at Lucifer.

“I know our last encounter wasn’t happy, but I thought you might be over this by now,” he says.

Chloe and Crowley look both up at the devil. One confused and one in pure panic.

“Brother? He’s an angel?” Chloe asks, instantly feeling bad for having rung down a warrior of god. How is that even possible? They are so much stronger than her, usually. 

“Fallen. Crowley is a demon. And obviously a bit dramatic. It’s not like I want to kill him,” Lucifer says.

“Last time you tried!” Crowley hisses, slits in his eyes full of venom.

Lucifer gets quiet. “That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Is not.”

“Is.”

Is not,”

“It-”

“I’m not angry,” Lucifer chimes in. Chloe decides that handcuffs won’t do anything good and lets go of Crowley. The demon lays on the ground for another moment and Chloe takes a moment to actually take him in. Crowleys hair is red, long in wanna-be curls. HIs eyes are snake-like, golden, and there is hardly any colour in his face.

“You are not angry?”

“No, of course not,” Lucifer says. Crowley gets up, very slowly. He looks at Lucifer, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Why-” Crowley grits out through his sharp teeth, fingers curling into a fist. “Would you be the one who's angry?”

“Obviously because you messed up the 6000 year plan of destroying the earth, stopped Armageddon on purpose and then-”

Crowley punched Lucifer once right across the face. Instantly his knuckles split red open, blood dripping out and pain rushing up his arm. Crowley hasn’t punched anyone in a few hundred years.

“You ordered me to be killed!” He yells, mouth ripped wide open, exposing the fangs. Chloe instantly regrets that she didn’t put him into cuffs. What is it with this family?! Before Lucifer can punch back, Chloe steps between the brothers, stopping him.

“Let it be!” She scolds.

“But Detective-” Lucifer whines. He is shut up with a single look from Chloe, who is not up to any fun tonight. Lucifer holds his cheek, which is already swelling. Crowley holds his hand, the knuckles hurting.

“Mister Crowley- that is you, not?” Chloe asks, putting on her nice voice again to distract from their argument. And the few hundred questions on her mind. Destroying the Earth? 6000 year plan? And why does this guy think Lucifer tried to kill him? 

Lucifer is a lot, Chloe figured out, but he is not a killer. At least, not with humans. Why would it be different for demons?

Crowley puts his sunglasses on, quickly hiding his face. 

“Depends who asks,” Crowley deadpans. 

“Chloe Decker, LAPD. We are investigating a possible kidnapping. Do you know a Warlock Dowling?” She asks very carefully.

Crowleys face doesn’t move. He only stares at her from underneath his glasses. Then he looks at Lucifer.
“What did you do to him, Samael?” He hisses. Lucifer clenches his jaw. In 6000 years, his younger brother never dared to use this name. It was always an agreement. They aren’t Samael and Raphael anymore. Those two fell into the pits of hell, burned their wings and filled the earth with screams of pain and regret. Samael and Raphael died that night. The angels who made the sky. There is just Lucifer and Crowley left. The demons who damned humanity.

“I didn’t do a thing, Raphael. Why would I?” Lucifer asks. He can’t believe the audacity of this demon- Lucifer was… is his boss!

Crowley hisses at the name and Chloes eyes wide. Raphael- the Arch Angel?

“You know why-” 

“Oh goodness, Crowley,” Aziraphale says. He appeared in the doorframe, a bottle of expensive wine in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed any of the argument. Nor did he notice Chloe and Lucifer entering, or the huge argument. 

“Are you alright? Who are those people?” Aziraphale puts the bottle down. He steps forward and takes Crowleys hand into his, looking at the busted knuckles. He sighs softly. 

“My dear-” he says softly. Like a wonder, the skin is healed and the searing pain disappears. Crowley can’t even smile. He is still far too tense. Even when Aziraphale tucks a curl of red hair behind his ear.

“Aziraphale- where do I know that name from?” Lucifer mumbles, mainly to himself. Aziraphale turns and for the first time sees the swollen cheek. He turns his head back to Crowley.

“Do I need to get rid of them?” 

“No use,” Crowley replies dimly.

Chloe clears her throat. “Mister Fell? We are here to talk about Warlock Dowling.”

“Warlock?” Aziraphale asks with a deep frown. “But yes, of course. A good child. A wonderful and kind soul. What is it you need to know?” Aziraphale asks kindly.

Chloe decides at that moment that this guy couldn’t kill anything.

“Oh, he was kidnapped yesterday. And his father thinks you did it!” Lucifer says with a charming smile.

Crowley is only a step away from smiting him again.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into an armchair. The two of them sit tightly next to each other, the Angel resting his hand calmly on Crowleys shoulder. It’s a comforting weight, holding him on the ground with his feet.

Lucifer and Chloe sit across from them. Aziraphale made them all a cup of tea and gave them a moment to calm down. For Crowley this is pure torture. He wants his brother to go away again. He could mess everything up. They haven’t fought so hard for a life, just for Lucifer to mess it up.

Is hell back to come and kill them? Did Lucifer hurt Warlock? And what if he tells Aziraphale? He wouldn’t do it on purpose, probably. But Aziraphale has no idea who Crowley was before the failed rebellion. Crowley doesn’t want him to know. That’s not who he is anymore.

“Okay now- we would just like you to answer us a few questions about Warlock, if that is alright with you?” Chloe begins again, her voice even. She can’t have this turn into yet another argument. Lucifer seems insulted and Crowleys behaviour changes back and forth between furious and frightened. His eyes don’t leave Lucifer.

“Of course, we will do everything we can to help,” Aziraphale says. Crowley nods with a little “Ngk.”

Chloe clears her throat, searching through her questions. You could cut the air with a knife, it’s so tense. 

“How do you know Warlock?”

“I’d love to know that too,” Lucifer says.

“Oh well, we worked for the Dowlings, a couple of years ago. And then we met Warlock again, a bit later. Since then we frequently checked in on him, to make sure he is doing alright. Growing up to be a proper young gentleman,” Aziraphale says brightly.

Chloe frowns. She shakes her head. “Mister and Misses Dowling said that they don’t know you?”

“They don’t exactly like us,” Crowley says bitterly. Not that he cares about being liked by such an asshole as Thadeus Dowling.

Aziraphales hand rubs over Crowleys shoulder for a second.  The demons shoulders sack down, allowing him to relax a tiny bit. It’s like a miracle.

“We looked a bit different, back then. I had a beard and my dear Crowley was a woman.” 

Chloe blinks startled. She glances at Crowley, but eventually just notes it down. Lucifer has some explaining to do, once they are gone from here.

“Do you have any idea who could have wanted to hurt Warlock?” Chloe goes on. Crowleys eyes glare at Lucifer from under his shades.
“I have a name in mind,” he hisses. Lucifer makes an offended face. “I would never hurt a child!” He protests.

“Crowley- don’t be so hard on him. Those two just want to help us find Warlock,” Aziraphale says, but underneath his blue eyes lies a steel hard coldness. Crowley huffs and leans back.

“I guess, political rivals of Thadeus Dowling. Eventually…” Crowley falls silent. He buries the face in his hands. “Oh no-” he whispers.

“Dear? Are you alright?” 

“Hastur,” Crowley says. Of course it would be Hastur- this proud bastard is probably still angry because Warlock told him that he smells like poop.

“Hastur? Duke Hastur?” Lucifer asks. He begins to laugh. “I doubt that. The demons are perfectly under control in hell.”

“Because a dark council of demons would never betray you,” Crowley says sarcasticly.

That makes Lucifer actually stop to laugh and consider. His whole face falls, when he realises that Crowley is right. He has always been the smart one. Not as clever as Amenadiel, but he had always asked the best questions. So why would he be wrong about Hastur?

“Who is Duke Hastur?” Chloe asks, noting the name down. 

“He is a Demon Duke,” Lucifer explains. “Part of the Dark Council. He was one of the responsibles for the Apocalypse.”

“Apocalypse?” Chloe whispers. She stares at the three supernatural beings. It’s like she is the one in the room who doesn’t know about anything.

“You mean like-”

“The end of the world? The war to end everything? Yes, exactly that. And we stopped it. You are very welcome,” Crowley snaps.

“There was- why would you want an apocalypse to happen?” Chloe asks towards Lucifer. This feels so unreal. She feels her heart hurting in her chest. Does Lucifer love the world this little? Was he really ready to sacrifice her and everyone he knows?

“Ah well, that was before I came to LA and met so many unique humans! But I have to say, I got quite fond of this place. So, thank you, brother. If that is what you want to hear.” 

“Brother?” Aziraphale asks. He pulls his hand away from Crowleys shoulder and looks at his husband. His pale blue eyes are full of wonder and curiosity. The kind of eyes Crowley never lied to. But this is different. The colour drains from the demons face. Fuck! 

“Lucifer doesn’t know what he is talking about,” Crowley says, giving his elder brother a glare. Does he really think with a Thank you everything will be alright again?

Chloe gets angrily up. “I can’t believe you would try to destroy the earth!” She says to Lucifer, not understanding how he can say this so calmly. Maybe he has been to heaven and hell before, but Chloe has never left the earth. This is her home, everything she has! Dan, Trixie- how can Lucifer stay so cold?

Lucifer looks baffled. “Detective-”

“No! This is my home Lucifer! Why did you- how could you never tell me?” Chloe asks. She doesn’t care if Crowley and Aziraphale see the whole thing. The devil cringes slightly. He had never even considered telling her.

“Well- it was already stopped when we met so… it wasn’t important.”

“Not important?” Chloe asks. “I can’t believe you… this is my only home Lucifer and you wanted to take this away!” 

Lucifer looks guilty down. Crowley tips his head to the side, impressed with how Chloe can just put Lucifer into his place. It’s intriguing. 

But of course, Aziraphale has to get up. He takes her hands softly and squeezes them. “It’s a lot, not? Deep breaths,” he says. 

Chloe inhales deeply. Once. Twice. She swallows and nods, thankful when her blood calms down.

“Here we go,” Aziraphale says. Then he glances at Crowley and Lucifer. “Can you summon this Hastur?”

“No. Demon Summoning isn’t real it’s-”

“I can,” Crowley interrupts Lucifer. The elder brother opens his mouth to ask a million questions. How? Why? Bloody Hell!

“What? I’ve been here for 6000 years. I figured my shit out,” Crowley says. He goes to the stairs and skips them down in quick steps. “Let’s do it. The sooner you can leave.”

Chapter Text

“Well, that is something, not?” Aziraphale asks with a sigh. He closes the door behind Lucifer, turning back to Chloe. He decided the beings from hell should deal with the demon on their own, so they are left in Crowleys improvised nursery.

“I didn’t know he did that- how can he just act like this is nothing?” Chloe asks. She feels her eyes burn and sniffs softly. She isn’t a big cryer, holding it back.

“Maybe he was scared to do so,” Aziraphale says. He goes to sit down by Chloes side. Softly he pats her hands. “He loves you. I can feel it.”

Chloes lips perk uncertain up. She swallows hard. “I know he does just- I didn’t know that. It- it changes everything.”

“Oh dear, this is nothing the two of you couldn’t fix. If you really want to be with… Lucifer,” he has a problem chocking out the name. He isn’t scared of Lucifer, unlike Crowley. Good always wins over evil, after all, but this is still Satan. “You will find a way. Just like me and Crowley did, mh?”

Chloe nods softly. “You’re good at this,” she says, wiping her eyes. Aziraphale only smiles angelic. He takes his tea cup and takes a little sip from it. Since the Armage-didn’t, he feels so much better. And he began to truly love his miracles again. He can be good. He can help the humans and build them up, without being supervised at all times.
“Thank you. I like to think the right thing is always easy to do,” Aziraphale replies.

Chloe chuckles, still a bit hoarse. “So you two are- you know?”

“Married? Oh yes, very happily.”

“Oh. I wanted to say an Angel and a Demon”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says. He laughs softly. “Yes, of course. That too. But we are- we are both not very welcome in the head office. If you understand what I mean.”

Of course Chloe does. Heaven and Hell. She didn’t even know that it is possible to be thrown out of hell. On the other hand, she is sure that she once heard a story. An old legend about a boy who was so awful that he was banned from heaven and from hell. She can’t recall the name though, or any of the details.

“Why did Crowley say that Lucifer tried to kill him?” Chloe asks. She does her best to bring all the questions into order. Maybe this way she can figure them out quicker. 

Aziraphales smile falls. He clears his throat and becomes serious. “Hell was not very… happy about us stopping the apocalypse. It was an incident with holy water but- we tricked them. Since then we have been left alone.”

“We?” Chloe asks. Aziraphale shrugs. “Heaven might have been unhappy about me too.” 

Chloe nods, as if that would make fully sense. It doesn’t, but that seems to be expected. She tries to change the subject.

“You have a beautiful bookshop, Mister Fell.”

“Oh please, you can call me Aziraphale,” Aziraphale allows her. “It is wonderful, not? I started it during the French Revolution. A wonderful time, if you ask me. A time of great food inventions.”

Chloe chuckles and looks more around. Plants and books are laying around everywhere. It’s obvious that this place is well lived in. 

“Do you know how long they will need to… summon, this guy?”

“Well- I suppose they will call us when it is done.” Aziraphale takes the bottle of wine he üreviously put down. It would be a shame to put it away again, so instead he opens it. Chloe raises her eyebrows with a little chuckle, as Aziraphale hands her the second glass.

“And in the meantime, you can tell me a bit about how the Devil got here.”

~~

The lower floor of the bookshop lays in flickering golden light. Lucifer looks around it, mostly wondering how anyone can like being in such a lonely and messy place.

“This place is hell-” Lucifer says. “I can’t believe you would spend your time here. And the smell-”

Crowley rolls his eyes behind the shades. He pulls a big book out of a shelf, filled with sigils and demonic symbols. He clamps it underneath his arm. His brother has been here for less than 20 minutes, and it is already giving him a headache.

“Pull the carpet away,” Crowley says, keeping it as short as possible.

Lucifer turns around, seeing the circle carpet in the middle of the shop. Instead of doing as he is told, he keeps strolling around the shop. He stops right in his tracks, taking a framed photograph from the sideboard. He stares down at it, mouth opening. 

“Holy dad- you’re married?!” Lucifer asks. His head pops out between the shelves, looking at Crowley. 

The demon instantly rips the photo from his hands and puts it away. “That is none of your bloody business.” 

“Oh I think it is. My baby brother, married to an angel. And Aziraphale, out of all people. Remember how we always hated the Principalitys? Annoying little shits,” Lucifer says. 

Crowley grits his teeth. He snips his finger and the carpet flies off to the side, giving them space to draw the summoning circle on the ground. 

Lucifer huffs when he doesn’t receive an answer. “Hey- Crowley, hey are you ignoring me?”

He is. Crowley draws the circle with white chalk onto the ground. Lucifer couldn’t be more offended by that. He has been Crowleys boss for centuries. Shouldn’t he get at least a bit of respect?

“Now stop playing the victim Raphael-”

“Shhht!” Crowley jumps up, stopping right in front of Lucifer. “Don’t use that name here!”

“Uh, is someone sensitive?” Lucifer asks, face lighting up again. 

“No, I’m not. But the Angel doesn’t know,” Crowley says. He shakes his head and grabs the candles. He can’t stand another moment of looking at the Devil, just trying to not feel guilty about never telling Aziraphale.

“Now now- you lied?”

“No. I just didn’t tell him. Which is none of your business either.” Crowley says. Patience isn’t his strongest suit. And with his family he needs a lot of it.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I am your brother!” Lucifer says. Crowley snaps again and the candles flickers on. The lights go out.

“You haven’t done a splendid job being that, in the last 6000 years.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? Nothing has changed!”

“Everything has changed, Lucifer,” Crowley says. It hurts. It hurts so bad to look at the brother he used to love so much. But he hasn’t been that in a long time. He was Crowleys boss. And then he was the monster in his nightmares. The one that might come and snatch Aziraphale away. He just can’t make himself trust Lucifer, after so little time.

He clears his throat after a moment. TIme to get this over with. “Let’s summon him now. Then you can go again.”

Lucifer wants to say so much more. But Crowley already begins to speak the latin words.

Chapter Text

One by one, the chalk lines between the candlesticks begin to glow in the darkness of the bookshop. The demonic brothers stand side by side, watching the miracle take it’s tribute.

The white glow turns into a bleeding red, seemingly seeping through the floorboards.

The flames flicker and slowly a body fades into the empty space.

Hasturs voice booms down on them: “You have summoned me, mortal soul-”
“Duke Hastur, how very pleasant to see you again. No need to hold you up longer than necessary. So one easy question: did you kidnap a child?” Lucifer asks.

Crowley doesn’t move. His eyes lay on Hastur. The dirty white hair, the slimy suit. He hasn’t changed a thing, since their last meeting. Crowley would bet that he is still out for blood too. If nothing changes, it is hell. 

“Lord Morningstar-” Hastur startles. He had never been summoned like this, by the Lord of hell. Only ever by- his eyes find Crowley and he stumbles back. 

“Crowley-” he chokes out, wanting to dissolve into thin air again. Crowley enjoys the scared look of his bully. Hastur and Ligur always enjoyed picking on him. Now Ligur is dead, and Hastur scrambles to get away from him.

He waves his hand slurry, a grin on his lips. “Hi amigo,” he says coolly. 

Lucifer looks irritated at Crowley. He is the least frightening and spooky demon he knows. If at all, Crowley is an inconvenience. There are reasons he was never kept in hell to torture souls, like Maze was.

“Lord Morningstar he is a traitor a- a- he changed sides,” Hastur warns him. Lucifer simply laughs, the thought amusing him. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Crowley,” he points out. But Hastur is still horrified. Maybe he remembers how I attacked him with a spray bottle of holy water, Crowley thinks.

“He is immune to Holy Water! No demon is that!” Hastur stutters panicked. Lucifers laugh stops. He glances at Crowley, furrowing his brows. “Immune to holy water?” His head spins back to Hastur. “How would you know that?” 

“After the apocalypse- he was sentenced to death by Holy Water and he-” Hastur scrambles for an explanation.The thought, that he might have done something wrong, doesn’t even cross his mind.

“And who gave this sentence?” Lucifers voice trembles with anger. No wonder Crowley reacted to badly to him! And here, he thought the demon was only angry about what happened at the airbase. 

“Lord Beelzebub said- they said you ordered a punishment,” Hastur answers. He stands at the far corner of the summoning circle, trying to bring as much space between himself and Crowley. 

But the demon doesn’t even try to come closer. Instead the ring around his finger suddenly became very interesting and he plays around with it. 

“Well you can tell Lord Beelzebub that I will have their head for this! I told them an appropriate punishment. Like- like doing paperwork for a week, or something like that,” Lucifer says. If he recalls, those were the exact words he used: Find an appropriate punishment for my little brother. Give him some paperwork, or make him clean up the basement.

Obviously Lucifer should have double checked this. 

“Of course- of course Lord Morningstar,” Hastur nods. Crowley scrunches his nose. He breathes a little bit more freely, knowing that Lucifer didn’t order him to be executed. He can’t lie, right? So obviously it must be true. 

One burden less on Crowleys shoulders. By now, Lucifer might be the only sibling who doesn’t hate him. Michael and Gabriel definitely do. The others he has hardly seen since the fall. His time on earth was pretty lonely, actually. Most of the time. 

“Now, answer my question. A human child. Do you have one?” Lucifer asks impatiently. Hastur nods very serious. “We have a lot of them here in hell, actually. Do you want a specific one?” 

“We are searching for Warlock Dowling,” Crowley says. It makes Hastur quiver in fear. He still isn’t over the whiplash that Crowley could have killed him with the spray bottle, after all. He might do it again, if he isn’t careful.

“No- I think that boy is still alive,” Hastur says. Lucifer looks at him. “Good. It better stays that way,” he says. Then he waves his hand, a glue for Hastur to go. “You are dismissed. Make yourself disappear.”

“Yes Lord Morningstar,” Hastur replies and is gone in the next second. The candles are blown out and the brothers stand in darkness. 

For a long time it is silent. Lucifer doesn’t like that they actually tried to kill Crowley. Is he angry with him? Should he say something?

“We need to find the boy Lucifer,” Crowley says after a moment. He isn’t happy with Lucifer, of course. But Warlock is a lot more important to him, than some petty argument between him and his brother.

“We?” Lucifer asks, lips perking happily up. Crowley almost instantly regrets it. Or he knows he will regret it, soon enough. 

“I like the boy, alright? And when we find him I’m getting rid of you.” 

“That’s a splendid idea brother mine! In that time we can bond some. I changed a lot since I came to earth, you will see. I’m going to show you how well we will get along now!” Lucifer promises, walking up the stairs to get Chloe and Aziraphale.

“Wahoo,” Crowley says sarcastically, following Lucifer back to their partners.

Chloe and Aziraphale lay on the couch. The wine bottle stands on the table and their glasses are empty. The two of them are getting along great. Both loosened up and talk giggling. 

“And then I actually shot him in the knee! And guess what? He started bleeding and cursing-” Chloe tells. Aziraphale snorts, face resting sideways on the cushion. Lucifer huffs when he realises that she is retelling how they have met. The story of the necklace.

Crowley takes the empty bottle and looks at it. He frowns. “I thought we wanted to drink the Chateau Lafite together?” He asks. 

“Oh, a good wine. You have excellent taste, Crowley,” Lucifer admits. The compliments don’t get him anywhere with Crowley. 

Aziraphale stumbles up to cup Crowleys cheek. His palms are soft and warm. “I’m sorry, Love. I have another bottle downstairs?” His big blue eyes look pale at the demon. His lips perk up and for a second he flutters a kiss to his Angels lips. 

“Not today. We have to find Warlock, mh? I’m giving Lucifer a ride.”

Aziraphales smile disappears just as quickly as it came. He glances at Lucifer, not having a good feeling in his stomach at that. Crowley wants to spend time with Lucifer? It makes his stomach swirl in an awful way. Have they been friends before? Maybe more?

No. Come on, jealousy is stupid. Especially with Crowley, who is basically wrapped around his little finger. 

“Alright. Do you want me to come too?” He offers, thumb swiping over Crowleys prominent cheekbone.

“No. Sleep out your alcohol. I’ll be back before you wake. Promise,” Crowley says. Aziraphale lets his hand down. He nods and then turns to Chloe. She is drifting off to sleep already. They drank more then they wanted to, it seems.

“Oh the poor woman- I will keep my eyes on her,” he slurs a bit. Crowley forces a smile. “Of course you will.”

“Wonderful! Then we can spend some quality time together. Just the Devil and his little-” he stops himself. Crowley looks alarmed, Aziraphale confused at him. He clears his throat. “His little demon,” he saves it.

Crowley exhales, just relieved Lucifer didn’t say  brother. He can’t use any more drama right now, with Warlock kidnapped. They need to find him.

Crowley grabs the keys for the Bentley. “So, what's the plan then?”

Chapter Text

Crowley throws the empty wine bottle into a basket with old glass. Aziraphale brought Chloe into bed, offering her to stay the night to sleep it all out a bit. 

Lucifer didn’t seem very happy about that, scrunching his nose up. He waited for Crowley to say something, but the demon didn’t even bother. 

“So, you work with the police?” Crowley asks, finding something new to pick on, to keep his hands busy while they try to figure out the next step.

“I did indeed,” Lucifer says, happy to finally be able to talk about himself. And Crowley even asked! “It all started a few years back after the-”

“So what is the normal procedure? How do you find a missing child?” Crowley interrupts. 

Lucifer sighs loudly. “Well- normally we catch murderers. There you don’t have to search for the victim because the body is there,” Lucifer explains. Crowley feels suddenly icy cold. 

“This will not turn into a murder case, Lucifer,” he makes clear. Lucifer begins to miss the silly Crowley. The one in a good mood. 

“You are acting like Amenadiel,” Lucifer points out. Crowleys eyes begin to burn golden, skin about to turn into a brownish scale. Lucifer lifts his hands defensively up. 

“It will not turn into a murder case, promise.” Crowleys skin and eyes fade back into something more human. 

“Didn’t you say you are an expert?”

“I’m a Consultant. Normally we- we go to Ella now!” Lucifer says, finally finding an idea. Just do what the Detective would do! He worked alone before, not? And this time he even got another supernatural being with him. 

“Ella?” Crowley asks, eyebrows rising.

“But yes. You will love her. Come on,” Lucifer says, taking Crowleys arm and dragging him along. Somehow I doubt that, Crowley thinks secretly.

Crowley doesn’t protest. He just glances at the sleeve of his black leather jacket, hoping Lucifer will not rip any holes into it. They step out into the cold street. The rain stopped and was replaced by thick fog. Crowley rips his arm away from Lucifer and struts to the Bentley, hips swinging all the way. Pros of not having any hip bones. 

He slides into the drivers seat. Lucifers eyes glimmer in delight as he sits down next to him. 

“Now brother, and here I thought I’m the only sibling with good taste,” Lucifer comments. 

This actually makes the demons lips perk up, even when involuntarily. 

“Best invention the humans ever had. Right after Queen, of course,” Crowley says. With a snap of his finger, the radio turns on and Freddy Mercury blasts through the stereo. 

Lucifer makes a bit of a face. “Which Queen are we exactly talking about?”
“It’s a band. But whatever- this Ella, she will be able to help us?” Crowley asks, navigating the vintage Bentley through the nightly streets. Lucifer nods his head. 

“Of course, of course. Miss Lopez works at the forensic. She most likely found something extraordinary at the crime scene, which will lead us to our suspects,” Lucifer explains. Obviously, Crowley is new into this. He needs a leading hand to crack the case. And who would be better then his generous elder brother?

“Listen, Lucifer-” Crowley begins.

“Oh, I’m a good listener now. Thanks to the time I spend on earth. What is bothering you, brother?” 

Crowley inhales deeply. It feels far too unreal, sitting here with Lucifer. For the past 6000 years he imagined how this would go. He expected that he would rip Lucifer a new one. Only that now, that it is actually happening, the words are stuck in his throat. And he isn’t even angry. Just so, so disappointed.

“Okay Lucifer- I get that you think you are a new person, or whatever this is supposed to be,” Crowley begins. “But you cannot show up, after you didn’t give a damn about me since the Fall, and expect us to be buddys again, clear? I’m here because of Warlock. Not because of you.”

Lucifer looks resentful at Crowley. In the dim light of the car he could almost be an angel again. His face hasn’t changed much, really. The red hair is the same, at least in texture and colour. Only the eyes. Those damned eyes. And how thin he is.

“Why would you think I didn’t give a damn about you? It’s not like you tried to stay in touch either,” Lucifer points out, even though some guilt is tugging on his sleeve. 

Crowley scoffs. “Because your little watch dogs would have let me through to you? The other demons didn’t exactly like me, remember?” 

Now Lucifer feels really bad. He hadn’t really thought about Raphael, after the Fall. He expected him to be furious with him, wanting to keep his distance. And honestly, he was busy enough with leading a new kingdom full of vengeful demons and fallen angels. Raphael was the last thing on his mind.

“I- I want to apologise,” Lucifer says. Crowley steps so hard onto the breaks that they are both pressed hardly into their seat belts. Lucifer curses. “Bloody hell-!”

“Did you just say you apologise?” Crowley asks, staring at Lucifer. He tries to figure out who exactly is sitting next to him. Who is that and what did they do to his brother?

“Yes I did- Is it that hard to believe?” Lucifer asks. Crowley nods.

“It’s like dad coming down to tell us how sorry he is for kicking us out,” he deadpans.

Now Lucifer is really offended. “That- is so not true! I am nothing like our father and that you say so is a right out lie!” 

Crowley raises one of his brows, a corner of his lip rising into half a smirk. “Really?”

“Really. I have layers. And I am very capable of apologising. I am sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

Crowley doesn’t response. Instead he slowly starts the car again. A miracle they didn’t crash, after that pause. Lucifer wiggles impatiently around in his seat. He looks forward. Then back at Crowley. He repeats that twice before giving up and breaking the silence. 

“Don’t ignore me!” 

“Ouch!” Crowley swats Lucifers hand away, when the Devil pinches him right under the rips. Lucifer tries it again and this time Crowley aims for his face instead. Lucifer ducks away and laughs. 

“Still not a good fighter, are we?” he teases.

Crowley tries hard not to grin, but it’s visible on his face. The way his eyes pinch a bit together and the tiny rwinkels around his lips become more prominent. 

“Still annoying, are we?” He retorts.

“Oh, I am still your favourite brother. Admit it,” Lucifer says, lazily. Crowley parks the car smoothly in an empty spot, in front of the New Scotland Yard. It’s where Lucifer lead him. He said Ella should be there, since they lended them an office for their stay.

“You are the only one was lazy enough to not try and kill me himself. So the bar is pretty low,” Crowley says.

Lucifer gets out of the car. “I take that as a yes.”

Chapter Text

“Miss Lopez-” Lucifer chirps, swinging the door to her improvised lab open. The young forensic flinches slightly, startled by the sudden burst of the door. She smiles brightly, once she sees it is Lucifer. 

“Hi Lucifer. You will not guess what I found- oh,” Ella stops mid-sentence, eyes landing on Crowley. He stands behind Lucifer, his dark skinny self perking over his shoulder. “Who is that?” She asks interested, eyes sparkling with interest. 

Lucifer pushes Crowley a bit forward, pats his shoulders as if he is showing off a new car. He tries to be encouraging. 

“Miss Lopez, I want to introduce you to my baby brother. Crowley, this is Ella Lopez,” Lucifer sayes. Crowley instantly cringes. Baby brother , seriously? He is on the verge of complaining, when Ella already pulls him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Crowley! What a nice name. I didn’t know Lucifer has even more siblings,” she says. Crowley rubs his palm up and down Ellas back for a moment. She loosens the hug, eyes still hanging on him. “You’re a good hugger, Mister.”

“Well thanks,” Crowley says amused. It’s hard to be moody around Ella, so much is evident.

Lucifer watched them, making a face. “Alright alright- he is married Miss Lopez,” Lucifer says, squeezing himself between them. Ella turns red while Crowleys face stays cold.

Lucifer nods at the desk. “We are here because of the case so maybe you will-”

“Oh. Oh yes,” Ella says, quickly going to the desk. Crowley follows her, leans with his hip against the table. 

“Don’t mind Lucifer. He’s always jealous when he isn’t the centre of female attention,” Crowley says. Lucifer stares at Crowley in utter betrayal. This little shit.

“More when he isn’t the centre of Chloes attention. He is utterly whipped. Did you see them together?” Ella asks as she is searching the file out from under her experiments and tests. 

“Not a lot. So he’s under control?” Crowley asks. He is only doing it to tease Lucifer a bit. It’s the instant need of every sibling, to embarrass their counterpart. Lucifer huffs. 

“The case, Miss Lopez!”

“Oh yes- right,” Ella opens the file to show both men. 

“You will not like this boys- but there wasn’t much in the room. No signs of a violent break-in or fight. But I checked Warlocks phone. And I found out that he had a lot of haters, thanks to his father. I printed them all out. We are currently checking who was in Britain during the crime. I can give you the list, if you already want to start interviewing some?” 

Lucifer really doesn’t like it. “This can’t be the best we have,” he says. 

“It is, unfortunately,” Ella says. Crowley takes the file calmly from Ellas hands. The devil keeps arguing, as Crowley goes through the pages, one by one. 

“It could take weeks! Maybe until then the boy is out of the country and then-”

“Maybe not,” Crowley says. He flips the page around, so Ella and Lucifer can see. The blackhaired cocks his head. 

“Parden?”

“This guy, Joseph Wickerd. I know this name. Dowling had to get a protection order for him and his family, because he kept showing up at his house. A few times also at Warlocks school,” Crowley explains. 

Lucifer takes what he can get. Better then working down this list. 

“Ahh- you know the victim?” Ella asks, holding onto her clipboard. Crowley has something dark and mysterious about him. Nothing Ella should like, but it is intriguing. And too much her type. Maybe he is married, but she is allowed to look, not?

“Yeah, I worked for his family for a while,” Crowley says. He is keeping it vague, before waving the file a little bit. “Can I take this with me? Maybe another name will look familiar.”

“Oh- yes, sure. Of course, I have copies,” Ella says. Lucifer watches the whole interaction with so much annoyance. Crowley grins and nods. “Thank you very much, Miss Lopez,” he says, turning to Lucifer. 

“So? What do we do with the guy?”

“Mh… how about, give him some hell, brother?” Lucifer asks, holding the door open as they leave. Crowley likes the sound of that plan. Very much.

“Good. Nobody hurts my kids.”

~~

Joseph Wicked lives in a tiny village near the Scottish border. Crowley drives like a madman, making the journey more enjoyable and also a lot shorter then it should be. Lucifer wonders if he taught himself how to navigate the Bentley. Nothing else makes really sense.

It’s still completely dark. Crowley worries a bit about Aziraphale. After all, he promised to be home when the Angel wakes up. He hadn’t planned that they would drive up to Scotland thought. He will need to call him, once they are done with Wicked.

“Now, you still owe me an explanation,” Lucifer points out. Crowley huffs a little bit. Is he serious right now? 

“I don’t owe you anything, Lucifer.”

“But I am curious! Why Aziraphale? I don’t see it.”

Crowley sighs. He is visibly uncomfortable with this whole chat. He would much rather be alone in the car and drive to beat Joseph Wicked up. Instead he got a sapping older brother next to him. But being annoying seems to be their job anyway. Crowley should know, he is always annoyed by all his siblings.

“He was on earth just as long as me, okay? He’s the only one who is immortal and also loves humanity,” Crowley finally says. “I didn’t plan to fall in love with him. But he isn’t as angelic as you might think he is. He is- he is such a damn bastard sometimes.”

Crowley falls silent. Who is he fooling? He has been in love with Aziraphale since the moment he gave away his flaming sword. It wasn’t even the gesture. It was that nobody had asked him to. Heaven didn’t tell him to protect the humans inside the Garden. He just could’ve let them die, after they ate the apple. But he is generous. And for once, he is good. Not the heavenly definition of good, but just a good person.

Crowley hadn’t known that this was even possible.

“Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about this,” Crowley decides. Lucifer always ever asks something when he wants to tell something himself. But Lucifer shakes his head.

“I do. After all, I haven’t seen you in a while. I want to fix things.”

“Sure you do,” Crowley says sarcastically. Lucifer sighs. “It’s like talking to a wall.”

“Oh, when did you turn into dad?”

Lucifer opens his mouth. “I didn’t!” He protests.

“You sound a lot like him thought,” Crowley teases. 

“I don’t!”

“You do,”

“Don’t!”

“Do!”

“Don’t!” 

“Do!” 

Lucifer groans angrily. But Crowley smiles.  Abit tiredly, sure. Not as brightly as he used to when they were just made. But it is a start. Lucifer grins a bit himself. 

For a long while it is silent. Only the radio plays, David Bowie singing:

Stars are never sleeping

Dead ones and the living

We live closer to the earth

Never to the heavens

The stars are never far away

Stars are out tonight

Lucifer leans forward. He looks out of the front window, eyes scanning over the black emptiness above them. His eyes find Orion, finger pointing at the three especially bright stars.

“Didn’t we make those three?”

Crowley doesn’t even have to look up to know what stars Lucifer is pointing out. Memories of a more peaceful time flood his mind. 

“Orion, sure. Mom loved them. We made them for her, remember?”

Lucifer thinks back. “Yes. Yes I think I do.”

~~

“Okay- okay Sammy I think we did it!” Raphael says. He folds the hands behind his back, kicks himself further into the blank space behind him. The nothingness of space flees through his toes and slowly he allows himself to take in the new constellation.

“We did it Raph?” Samael asks, proudly regarding the glowing dots of light. Stars full of light.

“We did it!”

“Did it!” Samael laughs too, holding his youngest brother tightly as he falls into his arms, hugging him. “Yep! Totally nailed it,” Raphael says. 

Together they keep staring at their work. “Mom will love it,” Raphael says. 

“Mh. I only wonder who’s going to tell her that he did it,” Samael replies.

“Raze you?” Raphael asks. Samael can only scoff. “As if you would ever win against me, Raphael. I’m a few millennia older and also fitter. You are a healer, not someone with special talents in the sports and- and he is gone. Little shit wait!”

Samael has to hustle and hurry, seeing only the tips of Raphaels wings as he rushes at full speed back home, laughing out of full lungs at how he ditched his brother with his own ego.

“First one calls the dibs!” He calls over his shoulder, face full of laughter.

Chapter Text

The morning sun creeps shy over the waking Soho. A certain bookstore lies in its usual golden glim.

Chloe drags herself out of sleep. She instantly knows that something is wrong. The sheets under her don’t smell like home, and they aren’t silky enough to be Lucifers. Her head throbs awfully, mouth dry as a desert. What happened?

With a little groan the Detective rolls onto her back, eyes opening dreary. Instantly the light burns in her eyes. “God…” she croaks out. Chloe needs 4 attempts, before she finally sits up and her eyes are open enough to take in the room. 

She is in a bedroom. An old one, with plants at the window sill and a couple of books stacked up on the nightstand. On top of it stands a glass of water, a white little pill and a neatly written note saying: 

Good Morning Miss Decker. Feel free take the pill against

 the pain and join me for breakfast whenever you feel like it.

AZ. Fell. 

Slowly the memories of yesterday return. She met Crowley and Aziraphale. She and the latter drank a whole lot of wine. He brought her into bed at one point. 

How could she only do this? They are in the middle of a case and she got drunk with a stranger!

Chloe is thankful for the pill anyway, drinks the whole glass of water and then taps downstairs to find Aziraphale. 

The Angel sits at the window, a book in front of him. With white cotton gloves he turns the pages, eyes glued downwards. Chloe stops at the lowest stair, peaking curiously over. She doesn’t want to lurk thought, so she clears her throat. 

“Aziraphale?”

“Oh my- I didn’t expect you this early,” Aziraphale admits. He carefully closes the book and puts it away. The gloves disappear in a cabinet next to them. 

“I’m a bit of an early bird,” Chloe says with a shrug. Comes from working so hard and long, for so many years. 

Aziraphale nods in agreement. “I see- well, breakfast it is.”

He steps to the table and snaps his finger. Instantly food is shooting out of the kitchen, landing precisely on the table with all the cutlery and plates. Chloe takes a little step back. Why did Lucifer never do that? Even when Aziraphale isn't the usually definition of cool, this definetly is.

“Where did you sleep? I think that was your bed, wasn’t it?” Chloe asks guilty. She didn't want to ban Aziraphale onto the couch or something.

But Aziraphale simply waves it off with his hand, making some coffee near the sink.

“I’m not really sleeping. I just got the bed after Crowley began to stay over more frequently. He enjoys sleeping, so I try to participate. But when he is gone I don’t really do it,” Aziraphale says. Which he would never tell Crowley. The demon seems to think it is healthy for him to sleep a lot. Almost like a human. But that’s silly, not? After all, Angels can’t get sick… right?

“What? He just sleeps because he likes it? I thought Angels had to do that. Lucifer sleeps too,” and so did Amenadiel, she thinks. Not that Chloe ever asked him if he did. 

Aziraphale hums thoughtfully. “I think he said it is like a free trial of death,” he says. Chloe chuckles softly. She can imagine that well on Crowley.

Chloe wants to sit down at the table, but stops when her eyes land on a framed photograph. She picks it up and looks at it. Aziraphale in white tartan suit, a green carnation pinned over his heart. Crowley in a black wedding gown, victorian style and hair in wanna-be curls, half pulled into a braid. They are standing in some garden, surrounded by blooming flowers.

They look at each other like they couldn’t be more content. 

“Is that your wedding?” Chloe asks. Aziraphale comes closer, puts the kettle of coffee down. He peaks at the photograph and smiles. 

“Oh yes! What’s that doing here? I’m sure it was somewhere else,” he says with a  little chuckle. “One day I will forget my own head,” he explains.

Chloe looks at it for another long moment. She never considered marriage, after Marcus died. She hadn’t thought it would be in the cards, with someone like Lucifer. He had already such problems adjusting to a relationship. How could he ever marry her?
But Chloe knows that part of her wants this. And here are Crowley and Aziraphale, living proof that even a demon can love and an Angel can return this love.

“May I? I put it where it belongs,” Aziraphale says.

“Of course,” Chloe says, handing the frame over. Aziraphale gives the photo a dreamy smile, before putting it into it’s rightful place.

Chloe has so many questions about this. How did they even work out in the first place? But she doesn’t ask. Instead she waits for Aziraphale to sit at the table.

She takes a seat across from Aziraphale, hesitatingly filling her plate. Aziraphale doesn’t hold back, filling his plate up. The choice is definitely interesting. Bread with cheese, strawberries, tomatoes. Eating like a king. 

“Crowley already wanted to be back by now,” Aziraphale points out. He frowns worriedly. He wouldn’t normally be. Crowley can very well handle himself. But he is with Lucifer.

“Those two are probably just bonding or something,” Chloe says. Aziraphale frowns. “Bonding?” He asks, scrunching his nose up. That thought makes him feel sick. Crowley will have to give him an explanati- No. No, that is stupid. Those doubts are unfair and stupid. Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves him. More than anything.

“Yes. After all they are brothers, not?” Chloe asks. Lucifer called him that, at least. And he never called Maze his sister, or any other demon Chloe knows of.

Aziraphale laughs. “Brothers? But no. Crowley isn’t an Angel. Not every demon has fallen. Most of them were made in hell,” he explains. Chloe frowns softly. 

“I know that. I just thought- well, it’s probably nothing. Lucifer called him his brother, is all,” Chloe says.

Aziraphales laughter dies slowly down. He shakes his head a little bit. “No. He wouldn’t- I would know that,” Aziraphale says. He trusts Crowley. They have come a long way in trust. Aziraphale isn’t good at sharing his emotions and Crowley isn’t good at sharing what happened to him in the past. But they are working through it. Surely Aziraphale would know if…

“Did he say anything else?” Aziraphale asks, clearing his throat uncomfortable. Chloe picks softly on her egg. She furrows her brows.

“Just a lot of things I didn’t understand. Something about Lucifer trying to kill him and a 6000 year plan,” Chloe tries to recall. Her head is still killing her, so it is a bit hard to pull it all together. She drinks some of her coffee and Aziraphale nods. He knows what she is talking about. The Armage-didn’t and its consequences.

“And that was all? Nothing… extraordinary?” He asks. He knows he shouldn’t. Crowley would never lie to him. Not if it wasn’t to shelter him from something awful. But a tiny voice in Aziraphale still isn’t trusting enough to let it go. 

Chloe wrinkles her forehead. “I- he called him a different name, if that is what you mean. Lucifer called him not Crowley, but Raphael.”

Chapter Text

The Black vintage Bentley is parked at the end of Joseph Wickeds street. The beeping off the free speech phone fills the silence between the two passengers.

Crowley taps his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting patiently for a reply. After some long seconds, the line crackles. 

“Hello?” Aziraphales voice asks, as if he doesn’t know already that Crowley is the only one calling him at this time on his private phone.

“Hey Angel. Listen I- I know I promised I’d be back by now. But Lucifer kind of forced me to come interview a suspect with him. Are you alright? We are driving home right after we’re done,” Crowley says. Lucifer rolls his dark eyes. He sits still in the passenger seat, watching Crowley stare out the window, as he talks to his spouse.

“Me?” Aziraphale asks. “Yes. Yes of course, everything is tip top. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Hey I’m just checking in. Are you hung over?” Crowley asks. He can imagine that he does, if he didn’t make himself sober before it set in. That’s the huge curse of alcohol. The hangover has to be Gods worst creation. Or well- at least one of them.

Aziraphale speaks quickly, a bit higher than usual. “No. Like I said, everything is perfect, Cro- Crowley.” 

The demon makes a weird face. “Alright… so, I will call you when we are near London again, alright? I love you my sweet-”

“Yes, I gotta go. Goodbye,” and with that Aziraphale hangs up. Crowley blinks irritated down at his mobile. What in the name of Christ was that?

“Very romantic, I must say,” Lucifer comments. He opens the door and gets out onto the street. Crowley has a bad feeling about all of this. Maybe he is just being paranoid again, but he feels like something is up. That’s not an unusual feeling though, so Crowley decides to ignore it.

He follows Lucifer outside and together they walk along the village houses. “He’s probably just busy, scaring away a possible customer,” Crowley says. Aziraphale can get really grumpy when someone tries to purchase one of his beloved books.

“Isn’t he owning a bookshop?” Lucifer asks. 

Crowley laughs. “Doesn’t mean he actually tries to sell anything. Actually- he tries to do the opposite.”

Lucifer shakes his head a little bit, an irritated look on his features. “That’s nuts. Why wouldn’t you like to share what you love? I’m always glad when the LUX is full and-”

“LUX?”

“Oh yes. I own a nightclub. Great alcohol, nice dancers,” Lucifer wiggles his brows. He nudges Crowleys side playfully. The demon doesn’t react. “You should visit some time.”

“I wish I could say I’m surprised but honestly? I’m not. That’s as close as you can get to hell,” Crowley says as they climb the stairs of Joseph Wickeds front porch. “Parden?” Lucifer asks.

“Crowded, loud and with an awful smell? Full of sin? Of course you’d like nightclubs,” Crowley says. Lucifer tries to talk himself out of this. After all, he left hell to not be there anymore. 

“And you don’t like clubs?” He asks instead, once he can’t find a good reply. In return he receives a shrug. “I did. In the eighties. But you are older so- it’s okay if you like old things. Out of date, like you.”

Lucifer opens his mouth in disbelief. This sassy little- 

Crowley grins broadly, knocking on the door. Lucifer begins to pout and slowly Crowleys smile fades again. He tries to remind himself that he is still angry. He doesn’t want to forgive Lucifer. Maybe he already did, he thinks. But that is irrelevant.

When nobody opens, Crowley knocks again. He sighs a little bit. “I guess nobody is home,” Lucifer says.
He knows that the Detective would just go back now. But all this driving for nothing? Crowley seems to have other plans anyway. He snaps and the door creaks open. He steps through and in quick steps disappears inside the house.

“Crowley!” Lucifer hisses. He follows the younger demon. The house is old. Inside it smells like chicken soup and rain water. Their steps are dimmed through the thick carpets all over the floor. 

“This is a possible crime scene, you can’t just walk in here!” Lucier scolds. He can’t believe that Crowley is so reckless and would just do that!

“Relax, I’m not 2 millennia old anymore,” Crowley deadpans. Someone rumbles down the stairs 

“Hey! What do you think you redoing in my house, hu?!” The middle aged man with the silver hair asks. Lucifers face lights up. “Joseph Wicked?”

“Yes?” Joseph asks.

Lucifers lips perk up. Now they really aren’t a bad team hu? “We have a few questions,” Lucifer says.

“Are you guys cops? I’m not talking to cops,” Joseph makes clear. Crowleys face becomes cold as ice. “We aren’t cops. We are worse,” he promises.

He isn’t sadistic per se, but he likes the fear in Joseph Wickeds eyes. This guy might have his godson! It’s a wonder Crowley is so calm at this.

Joseph stumbles a bit back. “What do you want then?” he asks. 

Crowley gives Lucifer a little nod. The devil grins and leans close to Joseph's face. “We want to find a boy. But… What is it, you truly desire?” He whispers.

The suspects eyes are bug-like glued to Lucifers face. He doesn’t even blink, being pulled fully in by Lucifers question.

“I want to… I want to be a cook.”

Crowley groans. “6000 ears of your mojo and it is just as useless as it was on the first day,” he comments. Lucifer glares at him. “Could you stop being so judgemental? It was worth a try,” he defends. 

Crowley steps forward. He leans angrily down to Joseph Wicked. “Where is Warlock Dowling?” He asks him.

“Dowling? Hell no- I haven’t seen the kid since his father decided I’m some kind of stalker or something,” Joseph says. “Why, what happened to him? Did he steal a gun again and shoot himself in the foot?” He sneers. 

Crowleys hisses dangerously. Lucifer isn’t used to seeing his brother so moody. He must be serious. Softly he puts a hand onto the youngers shoulder. “Deep breaths, brother.”

Croley huffs. “We are still working for the police. We need to be at least a little bit professional,” Lucifer says. Crowley scrunches his nose in distaste. 

Joseph has sweat standing on his forehead, stressed out from Crowleys outburst and the whole situation in general.

“I thought you aren’t cops?” He asks. 

“Shut up!” Both brothers say at the same time. They look back at each other, Lucifer in delight, Crowley in horror.

Joseph Wicked does actually shut up. Lucifer turns back to him, giving his brightest and most charming smile. “So Mister Wicked- why did you bother the Dowlings in the first place?”

“Most likely because he’s a psychopath,”Crowley says disgusted. There is a special place in hell for those kinds of people. The ones that hurt children to get their political opinion through, or kidnap them to hurt their parents.

“No! No I never would have done anything to the boy! You have to believe me!” Joseph protests. Nervously he clears his throat. “I hoped to talk to his father, is all- Because of the frogs.”

“Okay, he’s useless. He’s insane,” Lucifer says.

“You don’t understand. I’m talking about Hyalinobatrachium.”

“And now he has a stroke,” Lucifer adds. Crowley quinches his eyes slightly underneath the sunglasses. “No. That’s a glass frog.”

“Exactly,” Joseph agrees. “We found them in one of the national parks, Thadeus Dowling is trying to defund with his campaign. We just can’t proof it now, so I tried to talk him into giving us more time, before he destroys their habitat.”

Lucifer looks at Crowley like he is some kind of alien. Once he notices, Crowley stares back. “What? They are threatened with extinction.”

“You are such a nerd,” Lucifer says, full of glee. Crowley keeps his face calm and instead turns back to Joseph. 

“So you got angry and kidnapped him. Now Dowlings gonna listen, not?”

“No I didn’t!” Joseph protests, pure panic in his eyes. “When did this happen? I was visiting my family in the past 3 days, they will tell you!”

Crowley was about to transform his head into a snake and scream a bit. That is usually a good way of getting people to be honest. But this lets him stop. 

He looks at Lucifer and the Devil sighs. “Alright I guess… call at Scotland Yard and give them the name and address,” Lucifer grabs Crowleys arm to drag him out of the house. This was a failure, mh?

Crowley still looks pretty pissed. He was convinced it was Joseph Wickeds. Now they have to restart at zero and not knowing where Warlock is begins to drive him crazy. They could do Go- Satan knows what!

Crowley stops for a moment. A wave of numbness rushed towards him since the moment he first saw Lucifer yesterday. Now it is crashing over him and he can’t breath. The air is sucked out of his lungs and he stops walking. 

Time slows down and Lucifers steps on the pavement are too loud. He stops, looking over his shoulder. “Crowley?” He asks. 

No reaction. Lucifer turns irritated around. He takes a few steps closer. Crowleys golden eyes are glazed over by tears. They don’t fall over his cheeks, but the glossy look makes him seem so much older and weaker. 

Lucifer puts his hand uncertain onto Crowleys shoulder. The demon tenses up, muscles shaking from how hard he clenches his fists.

Jesus, what is wrong with him? Lucifer wrinkles his forehead in doubt. “Okay brother- come on, we get you home,” Lucifer decides. He carefully hooks his arm under Crowleys, leading him back to the Bentley. This can be a long drive…

Chapter Text

Aziraphale walks through the bookshop. It’s the ninth time today he is dusting every single surface. The shop is sparkling like it hasn’t since he bought it. It's a stupid tick, to pick on everything, when he is being nervous, or has to deeply think about something. 

And since he had breakfast with Chloe Decker, he has a lot to think about and all of those thoughts are running in a circle. Or a spirale. With every passing hour it is getting worse.

He nearly had a heart attack when the phone rang. Thankfully he was quick in hanging up again, once Crowley assured that he was okay. Of course he is okay, Aziraphale thinks bitterly. He survived things no other demon would have. He used to be an Archangel for bloods sake!

Aziraphale stops dusting and picks nervously on the silver buttons on his shirt. An Archangel. Raphael. The guy who made the stars. The literal stars. No wonder Crowley loves them so much! 

So many things are suddenly falling into place. Things Aziraphale never questioned, because he simply thought it’s what Crowley is like. How much he knows about creation (he was there), how he always tries to take care of everyone (how could he not, when he spent millennia being the Angel of Healing?) and over and over, how he looked up at the sky, as if he might fly every second. 

Aziraphale freezes in his tracks. “Why didn’t he say anything?” He whispers into the empty store. He receives no answer. Not that he expected one. God doesn’t talk to anyone ever, and the store is empty.

He is about to sit down and think about his life for the hundredth time this hour, but he stops when the tiny bell over the shop door rings. Aziraphale wants to go and see who it is, but Crowley and Lucifer are already turning the corner. 

Before Aziraphale can say anything, Crowley falls into his arms. The angel blinks overwhelmed, as Crowley presses himself tightly into a hug. He buries the face on his husbands warm chest, long fingers playing with the curly hair in Aziraphales nape.

“Oh-” he makes. Hesitatingly he rubs Crowleys back. “What happened?”

“We didn’t find him Angel,” Crowley mutters, not picking his head up. He is a bit sleepy, after falling asleep on the way home. Lucifer had taken the keys from him without even asking, and told him to just sit and watch the landscapes a bit. 

He actually calmed down after driving by a field with sheep.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says again. He clears his throat a little. “We- we will find him, Crowley. How could we not?” 

Even using Crowleys name makes his tongue burn. Should he even use that name? Does Crowley actually like it? He has no idea. It’s like he doesn’t even know the man. 

“We have Anathema. I already asked her for help. And we won’t stop until we find him again,” Aziraphale adds. He endlessly trusts that. They stopped the apocalypse once, they will find Warlock again. No criminal has a chance against them.

Crowley pulls away. He smiles sadly. Somehow Aziraphale makes it so easy to believe him, even when everything seems hopeless. 

“Thank you my Angel,” Crowley says. He cocks his head, pressing a greedy kiss against Aziraphales lips. They are soft and warm, and Aziraphales aftershave smells good.

When Aziraphale doesn’t react, Crowley pulls away. He furrows his brows. This is odd.

“Everything alright Angel?”

Aziraphale makes his face perform a tight-lipped smile. “Of course. Everything is perfectly fine, Crowley. I’m just not very in the mood for physical affection, right now” he lies. 

Crowley doesn’t reply for a long time. He stares at Aziraphales face and Aziraphale stares back. A second long he worries that Crowley might know. That he got caught because he is such an awful liar and it always makes him feel guilty. But this once he can be selfish, not?

It’s Lucifers laugh, which stops the tense air. “The regrets of drinking hu? That was dads worst idea. Give us the most wonderful drug, but make us regret it the next day,” he says. Lucifer pats Aziraphales back hard when he passes by, putting the car keys down on the table.

“Where is the Detective?”

“She went to the Scotland Yard, to detect Warlock,” Aziraphale explains. He folds the arms behind his back, turning his back to Crowley. The demon blinks irritated, but eventually brushes it off. Lucifer is right, Aziraphale is most likely hungover from yesterday. 

“Well, then I go there,” Lucifer announces. He is about to go, but Crowley takes his arm. “Wait- you call me as soon as you know something new, right?”

Lucifer looks over Lucifers shoulder at Aziraphale. If the Angel could, he would try to set Lucifer on fire with his mind. The devil glances back at Crowley. 

“Of course I will. And when this is all over, we all go to dinner. See it as a double-date,” Lucifer says. Crowley lets go of the devils arm, who then turns on his heels and marches out of the bookshop.

Crowley sighs softly. If he wants to admit it or not, it is a relief that Lucifer is gone. For now, at least. 

Aziraphale doesn’t move from his spot, standing frozen in the middle of the store. His pale blue eyes lay on his husband. His lanky figure and the long, fury hair. Raphael, Aziraphale thinks. 

He tries to compare him to the monument they build for him in Heaven. The biggest one with a Rod in his hand, supporting him. Patron Saint of the Pharmacists and Sick, of the Sailors and Hikers. 

He hardly looks like this piece of marble. So much taller, his face not a cold and proud masc. He believed Raphael had fallen in the Rebellion. That’s what everyone in Heaven was told. He died when he tried to end the war, by stabbing Lucifer with a sword.

“... Angel?” Crowley is snipping his finger in front of Aziraphales face. He snaps out of his thoughts. When did he come so close?

“Uhm yes- pardon?” 

“I asked if you want to make us some tea? I want to call Adam and tell him what happened. I’d put water on in the meanwhile,” Crowley says. 

Aziraphale nods timid. “Yes. I’d like that very much, indeed.”

Crowley smiles. It’s a wonder his eyes aren’t hearts. “Okay. Sit down a bit, alright? I also make you something for your hangover, Loverboy.”

“Heh-” Aziraphales tries to laugh. Crowley disappears inside the tiny kitchen. Aziraphales hears him work. He swallows. Jesus- how can he approach this? Should he approach it at all? Obviously Crowley doesn’t trust him enough with that information. 

The demon begins to talk on the phone. The kettle whistles. Somewhen the mixer starts to hum. Aziraphale picks on his manicured nails. 

More talking in the kitchen. Water gurgling. Some goodbyes. 

Crowley returns with two cups of tea and a big glass of a smoothie. Aziraphale can’t even tell what kind of a colour that is supposed to be. He scrunches his nose when Crowley puts it down in front of him. 

“What’s that?” He asks. Crowley falls onto the couch across from him, stretching out. 

“A smoothie. Everything against hangovers. Ginger, Mind, Bananas, Coconut and Rosemary,” Crowley explains. Aziraphale scrunches his nose up even more. “Icky.”

“It helps,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale doesn’t touch it. What for? He isn’t hungover. He just isn’t okay. This isn’t okay. His eyes scan further over Crowleys face. What can he say? Should he even say something?

To be, or not to be? That is the question

Wether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. 

“I didn’t know that you know Lucifer,” Aziraphale bursts out. Crowleys head pecks quickly up from the cup of brown tea. He furrows his brows.

Shit- “Well, we’ve both been in hell. He’s my boss,” Crowley explains slowly. He is a better liar than Aziraphale, but he hates it. Of course this all had to come up again, now that his past is catching up with him.

Aziraphale just stares him in the eyes. “He doesn’t treat you like an employee.”

“Okay okay- we have a bit of history,” Crowley admits. Everything in him wants to look away and avoid Aziraphales eyes, but that would be a dead giveaway.

“And why didn’t you mention that, in 6000 years?” Aziraphale asks, lifting one of his brows. Yeah, awesome question. Crowley wants to curse.

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear about Satan,” Crowley says. “And after Tadfield, I didn’t really want to talk about him.”

“How do you know him?” Aziraphale finally asks. He has to know, even though- he already does. But this is outright a question Crowley can’t avoid.

“I- uhm…” Crowley scrambles for words. “I just- do. He’s Satan. Everyone knows him. You know him.”

“Right,” Aziraphale says, voice hurt. He is hurt. He knows the truth. And Crowley lies to his face. When else did he do this? When did he begin to be dishonest like every other demon?

And what… What did he do to fall? Lucifer was the only angel who fell, even though the whole heaven fought. So which sin did he commit to be struck with such a punishment?

Aziraphale gets up. He slowly steps closer to Crowley. “It’s one thing to not want to talk about something,” he says, a mix of hurt and betrayal on his face. “It’s another thing to outright lie to the face a man who loves you.”

Crowley looks trapped down. After a second he changes his mind, face rising to look at Aziraphale. The angel is almost up in his face. 

“Don’t you ever- ever lie to me again, Crowley. Or- or Raphael. Or whatever even your real name is!” He exclaims half yelling, sucking the air deeply in. His body shakes with dry sobs. 

Crowleys eyes widened and he looks up at the angel, still leaning above him on his feet. After a second of no repl, Aziraphale turns around and walks away. As quickly as possible away from this awful place. 

Crowley hears how he slams the bedroom door shut.

Chapter Text

The bureau, lent to them by the Scotland Yard, is a little square room with two desks. Ella keeps switching back and forth between one of them, and the lab. 

When Lucifer enters, Dan and Chloe sit at the other desk, going through files. On the whiteboard are some pictures from the crime scene. 

“Ah Lucifer, you finally decided to show up too?” Dan asks. Lucifer folds his arms in front of his chest. 

“Detective Douche, I was working all the time. What are you onto?” Lucifer asks, a bit touchy at the subject. The whole drive back and forth, for nothing. 

“I’m just saying this isn’t a vacation. We’re here to find a missing child. Bad enough Chloe got drunk with a suspect,” Dan explains. Chloe wears her big sunglasses to shield the hurting light from her eyes.  She makes a groaning noise. 

“He is not a suspect,” Lucifer points out. 

Dan raises his brows. “Because he’s your brothers husband?”

“Well, yes. Unlike you two, my family is able to make good relationship decisions,” Lucifer says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. He comes closer to see what they are exactly doing. 

“What have we got?” 

Chloe huffs and pushes the file over to her boyfriend. “We are stuck,” she explains. 

“Already?” Lucifer asks. That was quick. Were the List the only suspects they had?

“Yes. Misses Dowling let us take a look at their security tapes and the alarm system. Both are the best existing ones currently. It’s probably easier to break into a bank. And normally security guards are everywhere too. But for some reason, that night, the cameras were turned off, the alarm system didn’t react, and none of the guards noticed anything. So either it is a profession or-”

“Or someone close to the Dowlings,” Lucifer finishes the sentence. That is cruel. Kidnapped by someone you see everyday. The nice gardener who always waves when you come home, or the neighbour who brings cookies over on Christmas.

“We were just thinking of asking his friends a bit. Maybe he had problems his parents didn’t know of,” Dan then adds. Contact with the wrong kind of people, an issue his parents try to hide to not get a bad image in the news. 

“Do we know this friends?” Lucifer questions. Ella instantly waves around with a list. “All their addresses. They live in this lovely little village called Tadfield. Wonderfully peaceful from everything I’ve seen,” she explains, sighing dreamy. “Wouldn’t that just be the place to live?” 

Lucifer frowns. 

“Well- why don’t I and Miss Lopez go there?” He offers kindly. Obviously Ella wants to go there, and he is putting in a big effort into making her happy. After all, that is why Azrael send her to him. It’s a bit like having a little sister again.

“Are you sure?” Dan asks. But when he looks at Chloe, there is hardly another option. So he agrees and Ella almost vibrates with excitement.

“Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” She says beaming, but then quickly changes her face. “Uhm- sorry. Kidnapping isn’t a reason to be happy, sorry,” she says, but then quickly runs out the door. 

“I get my equipment!” She calls over her shoulder.

~~

Crowley draped himself over the couch. He looks out of the shop window, hissing when people look inside to glance at the books. They don’t seem to notice him. Which…. Isn’t a surprise. He hardly moves in his spot.

Bookshops are supposed to be quiet. But that’s a reason why it is so unfamiliar. Aziraphale does everything to get rid of customers, including noise. But now everything is silence.

The Angel hasn’t left the bedroom since their argument in the morning. Now it’s already late afternoon, and just like Lucifer, Crowley isn’t the most patient one. He didn’t knock at the door though. When Aziraphale needs space, Crowley does his best to provide him with exactly that. 

He even acts like he doesn’t know that Aziraphale doesn’t actually sleep. 

The phone at the register rings. Crowley ignores it, burying his face sideways in one of the pillows. Can’t the world just leave him alone?

Aziraphales old phone has the most annoying ringtone ever. Crowley ignores it two times more, before his own mobile phone screeches “We will rock you!”

Crowley has hopes that it might just stop, but eventually gets up. If someone calls that often, it better be important. If this is about some old ancient book, Crowley will snap and murder someone, for the first time in his life. 

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning with his arm on the register, where he had left his mobile. He is about to bury the face in his arm, when a familiar voice speaks. 

“Mister Crowley? Thank god we reached you- it’s Adam,” the voice says. Crowley frowns.

“Misses Young? What happened?” He wants to know. In the time since the Almost-geddon, Misses Young called him only ever to invite him and Aziraphale to Adams birthday. They are too polite, really. 

But now Misses Young doesn’t sound good at all. “I didn’t know who else to call- I think Adam ran away. He was supposed to be home two hours ago and Dog is gone and his friends haven’t seen him all day, even though he was supposed to meet them at Hogback Wood,” Misses Young explains, sniffing. 

At the other end of the line, she wipes her tears away. She tries not to sound completely hysterical to Crowley, but the demon knows better, because he is starting to get it too. 

“I’m already on my way. Me and Zira will find him, I promise Misses Young,” Crowley says, pulling himself together. He hangs up, noticing his fingers shaking.

He buries them deeply inside his pockets. “Fuck. fuck fuck you fuckers!” He yells, kicking hard against the register. The wood under his shoe splits unexpectedly and he stumbles forward, panting. 

Hot pain lashes up his skinny leg and he holds onto the knee for a moment. Desperately Crowley leans his forehead against his kneecap, telling himself to breath.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In-

“What are you doing?” Aziraphales soft voice asks. When Crowley looks up, the Angel stands on top of the stairs. His eyes are red and the face milky pale. He definitely cried, but right now he feels strong enough to face the real world again. And in that world, if he likes it or not, Crowley has a past he doesn’t know anything about. But he is still Crowley, right?

“I- Misses Young called,” Crowley explains, dragging a hand through his hair to get the flaming strains from his face. 

“It’s Adam, Aziraphale. He vanished too. We need to go there.”

Chapter Text

When Crowley asked Aziraphale for a suicide pill, they didn’t talk to each other until the 1940s. He had burned the soles of his feet up. The skin was irritated and red afterwards. Crowley had put them into a bowl of ice water and listened to the bombs exploding in the Blitz. That was lonely. 

He had thought this would be the coldest it has ever been between him and the Angel. He was wrong.

The whole drive up to Oxfordshire, Aziraphale had his nose buried in a book. Aziraphale sometimes glanced over at Crowley. Sometimes to compare him to the marble statue they build him in Heaven, other times to see if he is just as worried as he is. 

Maybe Aziraphale isn’t as good with children as Crowley is, but he loves Adam and Warlock dearly. First he just liked them because they made Crowley so happy, but over the time they grew tightly onto his heart.

The bookseller sighs. It’s already sundown when they arrive at the Youngs house. The whole street lays in the golden light of the breaking night. 

Arthur and Deirdre hurry out the front door, as soon as they hear the old-timer speed into the neighbourhood.

“Thank god you two came-” Deirdre says, hugging first Aziraphale and then Crowley tightly. Arthur steps forward and shakes their hands firmly. More the pragmatic type, Aziraphale thinks.

“Of course. Adam is like a grandson to me,” Aziraphale says with an angelic smile. 

Crowley nods, even when the idea of being that old and out of time, doesn’t sit right with him. 

“We are here to help. And we stay as long as you need us to,” Crowley promises solemnly. That seems to calm the parents down at least a little bit. Deirdre softly shoos the three man back into the house. 

“We left everything just as it was. In case- in case that helps,” Arthur explains, as they make their way upstairs to Adams bedroom. 

“I’m sure it will,” Aziraphale says gently. He wishes he could bless them and just bring Adam back, but that is far out of his angelic miracles. Aziraphale feels himself wonder if Crowley could have done it, when he was an Angel. Arch-Angel, he corrects himself. And then: Stop thinking about it. It’s not important.

The quartet steps into the teenroom. “Did you call the police yet?” Crowley questions as he looks around the room. Aziraphale follows suit, pecking interested around.

“Uhm yes- yes we did,” Arthur says, clearing his throat. Of course they did.

Deirdre looks sour, arms crossed in front of her chest. “They said he probably ran away. Teens do that, they said. Can you believe that? Adam would never run away from us! He is loved and- and he knows that… right?” 

Aziraphale folds his hands. “Of course he does, Misses Young,” he says and acts as if he doesn’t feel Crowleys eyes on him. 

You are so loved. So, so loved by me. Why do you betray me like this?

The Angel shakes the thoughts off. With a faked smile he returns to searching for hints where Adam could be. 

Crowley opened the closet. He freezes in his steps. “I think they might be right… actually.”

“What?” Deirdre asks in disbelieve. Crowley steps aside and nods at the open closet door. “Have you ever heard of a kidnapper who takes the child's clothes with him?” He asks. “Or the pet?”

Deirdre and Arthur both step closer to look inside. As Deirdre clasps a hand in front of her mouth, Arthur pulls her into a soft bearhug. He rubs her back. “Oh Deirdre- I’m sure there is a good explanation,” he promises, whispering into her blonde hair. 

“Arthur is right,” Aziraphale says. “Adam and Warlock aren’t children that just run away. They are two young, responsible men.” 

“They are. And we help you find them anyway. No matter if they choose to run away or were forced or-” Crowley is interrupted.

“Warlock Dowling? He vanished too?” Arthur asks, puzzled. 

“Of course, isn’t it all over the news?” Crowley asks. He expected Thadeus Dowling to instantly get a camera team, like he does with every part of his life. There is always a camera, so his voters see what a great family father he is. At least, when the camera is turned on.

“No. Just something about Thadeus' campaign. An awful man, isn’t he?” Deirdre asks. Arthur only nods. He hasn’t an opinion on that, but it’s better to just agree with his wife on those matters. Crowley frowns and is about to ask more, when the doorbell rings. 

Arthur lets go of his wife. “I open,” he says, disappearing down the corridor. 

Aziraphale wrinkles his forehead. He doesn’t think very highly of Thadeus Dowling either. He is the kind of guy that would have burned down the Library of Alexandria.

“What did he do this time?” Aziraphale asks, just to keep up some polite conversation. Deirdre shakes her head. “Something about national parks. I didn’t quite understand it. But he said he wants to close one of them sooner, because they found oil,” she explains with a little shrug.

Crowley stares down at his shoes. “But the frogs-” he whispers. Aziraphale has not the slightest idea what he is talking about, but decides not to ask. It looks like Crowley is deep in his thoughts. 

Arthur calls something from downstairs. Deirdre sighs softly. She puts a soft hand onto Aziraphales shoulder. “Why don’t you two get settled in? You can stay in the guestroom,” Deirdre says, before going downstairs to see what it is her husband wants. 

Crowley buries the hands in the pockets of his tight pants. How does he even fit anything in there , Aziraphale wonders.

Slowly he walks to the guest room. Crowley follows him, a few feet behind. It’s on the same floor and the walls are painted in a warm yellow. A bed stands at the middle of the broad wall. Aziraphale inhales. Of course there would be one bed. That’s exactly what he needs right now, being so close to Crowley when he is still so sad and hurt.

Is he being unfair here?

Aziraphale sits down on the edge of the bed. Crowley pulls the door closed behind him. He doesn’t move from that spot for a long time. 

“I- can we talk, Angel?” Crowley breaks the thick silence. He stands at the door like a little boy who just had to admit to his parents that he broke their window with his football. 

“What is there to talk about?” Aziraphale asks. He doesn’t want it to sound so mean, but in the end it does sound cold. Crowley winces, before stepping closer. He stops in front of Aziraphale. 

“I’m sorry, Angel. I should have told you but I- I didn’t know how to,” Crowley says, voice cracking. “I had no idea how to bring it up, because it was so long ago and I- I haven’t been this guy in centuries. You shouldn’t have had to find it out this way. You deserved better. And I don’t know how you are feeling about this but- but I still love you. And I won’t stop, because I’m still the same person I was a week ago.”

He hadn’t expected to say so much, but once the words began to flow over his lips, he stopped thinking. 

Aziraphale looks up at him, pale blue eyes and tight lips. Crowley feels like he is going to burn up, when the angel says nothing. And keeps saying nothing. 

“I’m sorry-” Crowley says again.

“I know,” Aziraphale presses out. “I know and I- I’m sorry too, my dear. I shouldn’t have pushed you but it’s just- it’s a lot.”

Crowley sits down next to Aziraphale. He takes his hands and squeezes them tightly. “That#s alright.” 

He hadn’t expected instant forgiveness. He is aware that neither god, nor any of his angels are very forgiving. And it’s good that Aziraphale isn’t either. He used to be too easy to convince, and Crowley was always furious when he just forgave people that had treated him like shit. 

Aziraphales lips perk up for a split second, when he feels Crowleys warm palms. He intervenes their fingers and rubs his thumb soothingly over Crowleys knuckles. 

“Can we- can we talk about your fall?” He dares to ask. Crowley freezes, for just a moment. He clenches his jaw, pulls the shoulders together. Aziraphale instantly notices, but Crowley tries to easy back into the presence. 

“Go easy on me. One question at a time, alright?” Crowley asks. He has no idea if he is in the right state of mind to talk about this day. It was awful. It changed everything. And even now, 6000 years later, Crowley thinks often back. Too often. 

“Okay- okay uhm…” Aziraphale hesitates, carefully picking out his question. His face relaxes into curiosity, when he finds the right one. 

“Did it hurt?” 

Did it hurt? Crowley shouldn’t be surprised that this is the first question. Not What did you do to be unworthy like this? No Why did God decide you aren’t good enough for his army?

Aziraphale is worried about him, even when this happened so long ago. 

“It-” Crowleys voice cracks. “Yes. It hurt. A lot, actually.”

 ~~

“It hurts-! It hurts help! Why doesn’t anyone help me?!” 

The words are hardly recognizable as such. They are swallowed by sobs. Hot, pained lashes of voice that rip through the unmade earth. 

Something lays on the ground, trying to fight himself to the feet. He only makes it to his knees, before another hysteric scream leaves his mouth. 

“Make it stop! Make it stop oh please- oh God please-!” The words die down into a whimper.

A dark being runs out of the shadows. Nothing but a silhouette against the glowing magma, which flows as a ball through the cosmos. Something dying, waiting to be born.

“Raphael? Raphael is that you?” The silhouette asks. It’s the voice of a brother.

“Luci- Lucifer?” the sobbing doesn’t stop. He is fighting for air, fighting to stop shaking all over his body. But he can’t- He can’t stop shaking like life is fleeing his body with every passing second.

Lucifer cups Raphaels cheeks between his hands. “Raphael what are you doing here?” 

“Luce- Luce make it stop- please. Please. Please-” the words are hardly audible. Everything is a blur of tears and sweat and this burning.

“Deep breaths Raph- hey no-” Raphael shakes his head, so hard Lucifer can hardly hold him. He is thrashing around in pure agony. 

“Raphael, if you want me to help you, I have to see what they did!” Lucifer eventually yells. 

Raphael actually stops. Lucifers hands are covered in tears, but he holds the younger brothers face firmly between his palms. 

A deep breath. The fluttering of wings, sprouting out of a back. A gasp. 

“No, Raphael-”

“Luce- please-” Raphael gravels. He attempts to turn his head. 

“No don’t- don’t look,” Lucifer yells. His own eyes can’t leave the black mess. The sunken feathers and the dark burned flesh underneath. The orange wings are a catastrophe of ripped out feathers and lost skin.

“They- Raphael they burned your wings. Don’t look,” Lucifer says. He hears his voice, as if it belongs to someone else.

Raphael keeps. “Help me-” 

“I- I can’t help you- oh god what did they do?” Lucifer whispers, voice nothing but a quiver. Raphaels head sinks down. His forehead touches the granite underneath them. A soldier, waiting for coup de grace. 

“Help me- Oh god please-”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry that it did,” Aziraphale says quietly. He shifts closer against Crowleys side. His look is far off, as if the demon sunk back into a memorie, or another dimension.

The demon turns his head. “So am I,” he says, pressing his lips thinly together. 

Aziraphale holds back from asking more. One question at a time…

They just keep sitting for a while. Aziraphale squeeze Crowleys hand, being there for him. It reassures him somewhat. They will master this. Heaven and Hell couldn’t stop their love, and this will not either. 

The warmth of Aziraphales palm keeps Crowley in the present. He rests his head against the angels shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. He came to love this smell so dearly… 

“I love you,” Crowley says. Aziraphales lips perk up at the softness. He presses a kiss to Crowleys hair. 

“I love you too, my dear.”

Not long after, Crowley and Aziraphale come downstairs. They are still holding hands, giving each other strength and faith.

It’s a lot that’s going on between them, but for now they need to concentrate on finding Warlock and Adam. It should be their absolute priority. 

The Youngs are sitting at their table, by each others side. The Angel and Demon stop, once their eyes fall onto the guests. 

“What is he doing here?” Arziraphale asks with a dimmed voice. His eyes lay untrusting on Lucifer, who seems to entertain the worried parents with his questions. He receives a frown in response. 

“I have no idea, Angel-” he whispers. Lucifer shouldn’t be here! Last time he met Adam wasn’t well. He should at least keep his distance from his son- or well, the boy who used to be his son before he changed reality, when he was 11 years old.

“Lucifer!” Crowley makes. The devil looks up, pleased grin plastered on his face. 

“Brother! How wonderful.”

“What are you doing here?” Crowley asks tensely. Ella quickly tries to fix a loose strain of hair. 

“Oh- oh Crowley you called him?” Deirdre asks. She gets up to hug him. “They offered their help in finding our baby- thank you.”

Well shit. Crowley looks helplessly over his shoulder at Aziraphale. The Angel pulls a face. That wasn’t planned. He hoped to not see Lucifer again. Crowley didn’t seem to want either. Will he have to expect this more often now? After all, Lucifer and Crowley are brothers. Real, blood brothers.

Crowley sighs. “Yes right– you’re welcome,” he says to Deirddre. 

Aziraphale steps more into the room. He deliberately stands between Lucifer and Crowley, to at least bring as much physical distance between them as possible. He doesn’t trust the Devil. Of course he doesn’t. How can anyone yell at their sibling, like Lucifer yelled at his dear Crowley at the Tadfield airbase? Aziraphale has every reason to despise and not trust Lucifer. And he will protect Crowley from any cruelty, no matter from whom. 

“So, what will we do now? We need a plan to find the boy, don’t we?” He asks. Everyone looks a bit awkward at each other, nobody has a real idea. Until Ella clears her throat and lifts her hand. 

“We should start with his friends. Maybe they know more than they admit?” She asks. Crowley makes a “ngk” sound. Ella sees that as agreement, so she keeps talking. “And if he really is off with Warlock, someone should search the streets to the Dowlings? You know, maybe they are walking there.”

“Me and Deirdre can do that,” Arthur says. 

Crowley nods at Aziraphale with his head. “I’m talking to the kids. They can’t really lie to me,” he says. Ella goes to stand next to him. “I come with you!” She says, bouncing around on her feet. 

Crowley frowns. That leaves Aziraphale with Lucifer. Fuck.

Lucifer doesn’t seem to be bothered by this at all. Instead he lays an arm around the angel in a friendly attempt to be all “buddy-buddy” with him. 

Aziraphales face is unmoved. “Then me and Aziraphale here, can search the woods, mh? You guys said that’s where he wanted to go.”

Crowley clears his throat. “Maybe I should rather go with Aziraphale, don’t you think?”

“No. I think me and Aziraphale will make a good team. Let’s go,” Lucifer says. 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a long glance, before the angel eventually sighs. “I can handle him.”

“I know you can,” Crowley replies. He steps forward and loops his arms around Aziraphale. “But if he is mean, I end him,” he makes clear, leaning down slightly. “Now gimme a kiss?”

Aziraphales lips perk up. He kisses Crowley softly. The demon deepens it instantly, leaning into the tenderness. He opens his mouth, pulling his lover in as close as he can. Aziraphale steps onto his toes, fingers buried in Crowleys soft hair. He smells like the honey shampoo he uses and they are silky underneath his touch. 

The demon can’t help it, letting the arm he looped around Aziraphales waist go down and grab his ass. Aziraphale gasps and pulls away. “Witty serpent-” he whispers breathless. 

Lucifer stands uncomfortably in the door. Crowley absolutely did this on purpose, right in front of him.

“Can we go now?” He asks. 

Ella giggles softly as Aziraphale walks past Lucifer to exit the house, not the slightest bit red. Crowley smirks. Now he is in a bit of a better mood. He smiles at Ella. After a moment she is able to pull away from his gaze. She marches after them. “We probably should go too.”

Crowley knows she is right. And so, they all disappear into the night, searching for Adam and Warlock.

Chapter Text

The cone of a broad flashlight flits over the branches and trunks. Lucifer swings it around in his hand. He and Aziraphale walk side by side through the blackness of the nightly woods. Not even the moon shines through the leaf roof anymore.

“Hogback Wood should be a bit more west,” Aziraphale points out. That might be the most he has talked to Lucifer yet. 

The Devil hums softly, swaying the flashlight the other way. He begins to walk a bit more towards the west.

“So you and Crowley, mh?” Lucifer asks. He doesn’t want to be overly protective of Crowley. He might be his baby brother, but he handled himself quite fine over the last centuries. And he deliberately messed up an Apocalypse, so any kind of judgement is wrong.
But he is still curious what kind of guy made his brother fall so head over wings.

“I already know you are brothers, Lucifer. Anything you ask me, you might as well ask him,” Aziraphale only replies. He wants to keep Lucifer as many arm lengths away as possible. And while Aziraphale isn’t good in being rude, he is good in being cold. Thanks to Heaven.

Lucifer sighs. Crowley couldn’t even lie for one day? That should be a record…

“Well, maybe I want to talk to you?” Lucifer suggests. Aziraphale scrunches his nose up and looks down. HIs shoes will be ruined after this walk…

“Word is, you spit hell fire at Gabriel. Impressive,” Lucifer continues.

Aziraphales lips twitch for a second. Not entirely, but we definitely had a blast that day… 

“He deserved it, I suppose. I only wanted to make sure they knew to stay in their place and not touch my husband.”

Lucifer still grins. He would have paid a lot of money to see Gabriels, or any angels, face after that.

“Gabriel definitely deserved it, if he is still anything like I remember him.”

Aziraphale holds back from rolling his eyes. Lucifer doesn’t notice and keeps talking. “He and Michael have both issues. Maybe because they never were dads and moms favourites. I already warn you, Crowley is a momma's boy…”

Aziraphale begins to march past Lucifer. “That is their playground. Hurry.” 

Lucifer rushes quickly after Aziraphale, having a hard time to keep step with him. Jeez what a prick…

~~

Ella keeps glancing sideways at Crowley, as they walk under the streetlights. They illuminate his edgy face in a pale yellow. She smiles curiously at him. It’s a bit hard to see his semblance with Lucifer, but after Amenadiel, nothing seems surprising anymore. 

They are probably adopted, or half-siblings. 

“So… so you are Lucifers brother? I didn’t think you would get along. He always talks so awfully about his family. Especially about his father,” Ella babbles. 

Crowley glances over at her. Ella can see her own reflection in the polished black glasses.

“Oh yeah- I’m definitely the favourite sibling,” Crowley explains. He has always been. The younger Angels liked him because he was actually liking them, unlike his brothers. Lucifer always enjoyed his company in general.

Ella frowns. “I thought that is Amenadiel?” She asks.

Crowley stops to stare at Ella in disbelief. For an endless second it is deadly silent between them. Then Crowley breaks out in a fit of hysterical laughter. 

Ella looks irritated. That far off?

“What is it?” Ella asks, looking a bit like a kicked puppy at being laughed at. 

Crowley stops, wiping away the tears in his eyes. “Nothing nothing just- you really believe that?” He asks. 

“Amenadiel and Lucifer don’t exactly… get along, most of the time. SUre, he isn’t as bad as Michael or Gabriel, but he is… well, not exactly Lucifers best buddy.” 

“They get along really well, actually,” Ella says with a little frown. “Especially since he had a child and they spend a lot of time together. He is married to Lucifers therapist and-”

“Amenadiel is on earth?” Crowley asks. He furrows his brows together. Ella nods. “Yes- I mean, of course he is. Where else would he be?” She giggles nervously.

Crowley simply shakes his head. He can still ask Lucifer about that later. Because it seems like he missed a whole lot of things in the past 5 years… 

“Nevermind. That’s Wensleydales house,” Crowley says, stepping up to the door. He rings the doorbell.

Ella straightens up behind him, trying to look professional. After a moment the door creaks open. Wensleydale looks out from underneath his glasses. His eyes widen when he recognizes who it is. 

“Crowley!” Instantly a pair of arms wrap around Crowley and pull him in. The demon hugs back for a second. 

“Hey pal,” Crowley says. He pats Wensleydales back and lets go again. “We’re here because of Adam. Can we come in?” 

Wensleydale tenses a bit up at that, but he steps nodding aside. “Yes- yes sure. Come in.” 

Peppa and Brian sit in the livingroom. Crowley is a bit surprised to see them here that late. Last time he was here, they all had a curfew to be home when it’s getting dark.

“Hey kids,” Crowley greets them. Both of them perk up, baffled at Crowleys unannounced presence. Ella comes to a stop behind him. She smiles warmly. 

“Hey guys! I’m Ella. Me and Crow are here because of Adam. We want to help you find him!” She says brightly. 

Peppy frowns. “We don’t know where he is. We already told that his parents.” 

“I know Peppa- but we have to find him. And everything will help. He could be in trouble, right?” Crowley asks. He puts a hand onto Brians shoulder and looks him in the eyes. “Do you really not know where he is?” 

“... No. He hasn’t told us where he is going…” Brian mumbles. Crowley looks coldly over at Peppa. The girl, of course, doesn’t buckle.

“What has he told you then?” 

No reply. Crowley feels his patience run out. Ella feels it and smiles warmly, comforting. “Adam is not in any trouble. But he and Warlock Dowling are both gone and we really need to find them. The Youngs are worried for their son.” 

Wensleydale clears his throat. He looks guilty at his feet. “Well he- he was acting weird lately…” 

“Wensleydale!” Peppa scolds. They had agreed to not tell anything! 

“Weird?” Ella asks. Wensleydale nods. “Yes he- he and Warlock spent a lot of time together. They worked on something, but they said it’s a secret…”

“Okay can you be any less concrete?” Corwley asks sarcastically. 

“It was about biology, okay? Adam said, that he has to find an expert for… for plants and endangered animals like-”

“Like glass frogs?” Crowley asks. They all look at him in stunned silence. 

“Yes,” Peppa eventually breaks it. “How do you know that?”

“Just a feeling… I think- this fucker. I know where Adam went!”

Chapter Text

Deirdre and Arthur Young are driving down a country road. They keep their eyes open for any sight of a young boy with brown, curly hair. And a dog.

They almost drove all the way up to the Dowling house, but there is no clue of their precious boy.

“What if we can’t find him?” Deirdre asks, teary eyes and quivering lip. Arthur puts a hand over onto her knee. He rubs gently up and down. 

“Don’t say that, Deirdre. We will find him,” he assures her. That’s all he can do, as they drive through the night. 

~~

Aziraphale walks up to the Youngs house. As he expected, the good white shoes are ruined. And he really kept those in such a good condition since the 1920s… it’s a shame, but even more that they couldn’t find Adam. 

“Can’t you find him somehow? He is your son, after all,” Aziraphale points out. Lucifer huffs, trailing behind him. 

“Was. He was my son, before he changed reality. So… no, nothing I can do,” Lucifer replies, as if it is the most obvious thing. Maybe it is. If Lucifer could, he might have just done it by now. 

“Maybe the others were more successful without having to walk through the woods,” Lucifer says. He stops at the porch, sensing something unusual. He looks over his shoulder, but there is only blackness. 

Aziraphale opens the door and looks back at Lucifer. “Are you coming?” 

“No. After you.” 

Aziraphael shrugs it off. He goes inside, instantly hearing the steps from upstairs. He follows the faint noises, until he stands behind Ella in the bedroom. 

Crowley is on his knees, searching through the room like a madman. 

“My dear- what are you doing?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley stops in his tracks to look up for a second. 

“He is searching for a key,” Ella says, not fully understanding either. Crowley didn’t seem to think it necessary to let her in on his plan. 

“Did you abandon Lucifer in the woods?” Crowley asks, opening a new cupboard. Aziraphale shakes his head with a little sigh. 

“I didn’t. He is outside and smokes, I suppose,” Aziraphale says. 

“What exactly are you searching Crowley?”

“I gave Adam a key to my flat, and enough money for a train ticked to London, after the- after what happened 5 years ago. 

I told him, if he ever needs a place to lay low, he can come and let himself in,” Crowley explains, giving his search up. Aziraphale frowns. 

“And when the key and money aren’t here…” Ella concludes slowly. 

“Adam has taken it. Exactly,” Crowley finishes her sentence. 

“Wow- Crowley how did you find that out?” Aziraphale asks impressed. Crowley feels his skin warm up under those adoring eyes. 

“It uhm- was pretty easy. The Them told me that he searched for an expert in biology and- well, here I am.” 

Aziraphale chuckles softly. He steps closer, looping his arms around ’Crowleys neck. “I’m proud of you, dear boy,” he says, kissing him gently. Crowley swears, he melts in that moment. 

He kisses back, pressing himself tightly into the softness and warmth that Azirapahle is. The angel is half a space heater… 

Ella squeezes. “God you two are so cute, I swear,” she says. 

Crowley chuckles softly. He takes his mobile out. 

“I call my flat then. Maybe he takes it,” Crowley suggests. He types the number in, praying he wont end up in the voicemail. 

After some seconds he sighs, his own voice telling him to do it with style. “Listen Adam, I know you are in my flat. Just take the phone, I’m not angr-” 

Crowley stops himself when the line clicks. “Crowley! I searched everywhere for you,” Adam says. 

Aziraphale exhales in relief as Crowley puts the phone on speaker. Ella grins all over her face, once she realizes they actually found the boy.

The angel steps closer to the phone. “Adam Young, you are one to talk! Your parents are worried sick. We have searched all of Tadfield for you!” 

Adam whines softly. “I’m sorry Mister Fell-” he says. 

Crowley puts a hand onto his husbands shoulder, hoping to keep him calm. “It’s alright. Adam- what happened? Is Warlock with you?” Crowley questions.

Adam is silent for a moment. “Uhm… no. I don’t know where Warlock is. But after he disappeared- Crowley, I think someone is following me. Like- like everywhere I go, there are those guys in black suits and I think I saw one of them carrying a gun so…” Adam says, the fear evident in his young voice. “So I thought I come to you because- well, I didn’t know whom else I could go to.” 

Crowleys brows furrow in worry. “What? Now the Men in Black are stalking you?” 

“I know it sounds crazy Crowley, but that’s what happened,” Adam says.

“No- no it’s good. I believe you,” Crowley says. He rubs the bridge of his nose. Shit- and now? He looks helplessly at Aziraphale. The angel smiles kindly and takes the phone from his hand.

“Adam, we both believe you. But we need you to tell us more. Warlock might be in danger,” Aziraphale says. They can hear the hesitation through the phone. The long silence. 

“It- it’s because of those National Parks. Warlocks father tries to close them because they found oil there,” Adam explains, fidgeting around with his hands. 

“But there is this Doctor and he found out that there are endangered frogs. And he told Thadeus, but he doesn’t care.” 

“The glass frogs…” Crowley whispers. Azirapahel exchanges a look with him. Slowly the puzzle pieces fall into place. 

“Yes, the glass frogs. Warlock said we should try and find good evidence. And he did find something in his dads office! He gave me a copy but then things got weird and he disappeared. Do you think they did something to him?”

Aziraphale closes his eyes. Oh bloody God…

“I don’t know Adam. But I will send someone to you. You can’t be alone anywhere when you are followed by… be the secret service or something.” 

“Okay…” Adam says weakly.

“And I will tell your parents. They are worried sick Adam!”

“I didn’t want to bring them into danger…” Adam defends himself. In that moment it seemed like the logical thing to do. 

“I know you did,”Crowley says. “But I still tell them. They have to know.”

“Alright…” Adam mumbles. Crowley allows himself to be relieved. At least something… “Good. You take good care of those papers too, yes?” Aziraphale asks. “That is your special job.” 

Adam tries not to be annoyed at being treated like a little child. He knows that is just Aziraphales way of showing love. “Of course, Mister Fell. Goodbye.” 

The line clicks again and Adam is gone. 

~~

Lucifer feels the unusually sensation tingle under his skin. He waits until the door is shut behind Aziraphale, before clearing his throat. 

“Come out, Come out. Wherever you are,” he says. It’s not a big surprise when Amenadiel steps out from behind the wall. 

“Brother- what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Charlie, playing Daddy?” Lucifer asks. He is actually not displeased to see him. They get along a lot better then they used to. 

“I was about to ask you the same. What are you doing in Tadfield? Last time you tried for the Armageddon,” Amenadiel says, coming closer. 

Lucifer grins a bit. Oh he will be so happy to see Raphael again! 

“It’s for the case… but I’m not alone here,” Lucifer says with a mischievous grin. Amenadiel furrows his brows. 

“You mean Chloe is with you?” He asks. 

“Nop, someone else.”

“Dan?” Amenadiel asks. 

“Nooo~”

“Ella?”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean her.”

“Okay, I’m running out of guesses. Who do you mean, Lucifer?” Amenadiel asks. He is in general too serious for those kinds of guessing games.

Lucifer smirks still. “Raphael,” he says. 

Amenadiels face falls into something a lot more serious. He looks at Lucifer. The devil waits for a reaction. A smile or a few happy words. Instead Amenadiel looks.. Disappointed?

“That’s not funny, Lucifer,” Amenadiel says. Lucifer is a bit baffled. “What?” He asks. 

“It’s not funny, alright? I know we never talked about it. And I assumed you wouldn’t want to, but don’t make fun of it like this. Because guess what? We miss him. All of us miss him. And I- I don’t blame you anymore. It was an awful time and you didn’t do it on purpose but-”

“Brother, I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about,” Lucifer says. Amenadiel sighs annoyed. “Stop it Lucifer!”

“Stop what? I thought you would be happy to see him again,” Lucifer defends himself.

“I would be happy to, but we both know it isn’t possible!” Amenadiel protests loudly. Lucifer makes a face of pure confusion. What in the name of.. Dad is going on?

“I don’t see why not. Go inside and do it.” 

Amenadiel pulls his brows together. He pulls the face a bit backwards. For several seconds it is silent and then it sinks in. 

“You are being serious,” Amenadiel says.

“Well thank you for noticing. Of course I am. I can’t lie, remember?” Lucifer asks. But Amenadiel hardly hears it anymore. 

He runs into the house, through the corridor and up the stairs. It’s like a dream, when he pushes the bedroom door open. The three people inside look up. Aziraphale instantly straightens up, like a Soldier seeing his commander. 

“Amenadiel-” he chokes out, about to salute. But Amenadiel already pushed past him. 

“Raphael!”

Crowley is about to stumble backwards, but Amenadiel already grabbed him. Before Crowley knows it, he is pulled into a tight hug. “Brother… you’re alive.”

Chapter Text

The children's bedroom lays in silence. Amenadiel has his arms tightly wrapped around the thin body. His cheek is pressed hard against a bunch of red hair. He never wants to let go again. 

“Raphael-” he whispers. The Archangel doesn’t move. He stands frozen and stiff, hardly daring to take another breath.

Amenadiel lets go again, still holding the sharp shoulders firmly in his hands. He stares into the eyes, not a beautiful gold anymore, soft and sweet, but the pupils formed into slits and a burning underneath. 

“Raph it’s me- Amenadiel,” he says, for just a second assuming his brother might not recognize him anymore.

Crowley balls his hands into fists, the nails pressed painfully into his palms. “I know who you are-” he grits out between clenched teeth.

Amenadiel feels the hope and happiness drain from him. Something is wrong. Something about his baby brother is awfully wrong.

“Broher-”

“Don’t- Don’t call me that,” Crowley hears himself say, distantly. He pushes Amenadiels hands away. 

“What do you- what the fuck do you think you are doing? You abandoned me! All of you abandoned me so you have not the right- you have no right to come here and hug me and call me that !”

Crowleys voice trembles. He swallows hard, blood pumping hot through his veins. And then there is Aziraphale. A warm hand on his side, palms calming him. 

Amenadiel stumbles for words. Ella begins to sneak out, deciding to leave them to their family drama.

Lucifer stands in the door, from where he watched everything. “He got a point, you know.”

“Well you are both awful!” Aziraphale eventually snaps. “Look at what you are doing! You- you should be ashamed of yourself!” He scolds. 

Lucifer cringes softly, but Amenadiel still tries to wrap his head around everything that happens. 

“Raphael I- I didn’t abandon you.”

“Yes you did!- You left me! Both of you left me!”  Crowley protests. There was so long only loneliness, cast out from everywhere he could have belonged. Nothing but darkness and suddenly an angel said let there be light.

Amenadiel has to pull himself together to even get the words out. “Raphael I didn’t abandon you- everyone in Heaven thinks you are dead!”

There is  a pause of silence. Then a whisper. “What?”

Amenadiel searches for words. They are so hard to figure out. How couldn’t they? Raphael was the last person he expected to ever see again.

“We had a memorial for you. We built a monument.” 

“No- no you’re lying,” Crowley says. That is too cruel to be true. Things like that just don’t happen. Not to him. He was cast out of heaven and so none of his siblings ever cared for him, or even spoke to him again. He is just as bad as Lucifer. A fallen one. Forever unworthy. 

“I’m afraid he isn’t, my dear,” Aziraphale says. He had expected Crowley to know, and didn’t want to push him any more, after they talked about his fall. They had decided to take it one question at a time, after all. 

“You really think I- why would you think I’m dead?” Crowley asks, hardly able to believe it. It’s not like he was in bad health. And yes, there was a war going on in the Silver City. But Crowley wasn’t a soldier. He was hardly ever on the battlefield as a healer.

“Gabriel told everyone. He said that Lucifer had killed you and- and burned your body to cover it up,” Amenadiel says. 

Lucifer looks completely offended. 

“He what?” Both Lucifer and Crowley ask like one mouth. 

Just step into the fire and die already, he had said into Crowleys face. Sure, he thought it was Aziraphale, but Gabriel just didn’t change. 

“I would never, ever lay a hand onto my little brother. Why would I even do that?” Lucifer asks. Crowley is going unusually quiet. His finger search Aziraphale. The angel instantly intervenes their fingers, squeezing gently. It has something grounding. Something keeping him on the ground. What would he only be without him?

“Everyone knew that Gabriel was trying to convince Raphael to end you,” Amenadiel answers calmly. 

“He did?” Lucifer asks, turning to Crowley.

“He did,” Crowley says.

Lucifer is a bit baffled. Raphael used to be the most neutral guy in the whole Silver City. Exactly that was why they stayed so close, during the rebellion. Crowley told him when he had messed up, he yelled half the City together when he hurt someone too badly. Because in the end, Raphael healed everyone. The Loyals, the Rebels, the Neutral ones. 

Amenadiel glances at Raphael, so full of pity and regret. “What happened to you?”

“”I-” Crowley stops himself. “It’s a long story,” he says dimmed.

“We got time, brother. And we are all here,” Lucifer says. He is trying hard to be soft. People really thought he had killed his own brother? He wasn’t even so cruel to Michael. 

Crowely swallows hard. Aziraphale leans over his shoulder. “You don’t have to, my dear. If you aren’t ready…” he doesn’t finish the sentence.


Crowley holds even tighter onto Aziraphales hand. His own palms are sweaty. 

“No- no it’s alright. I- I guess if this is true then… then you deserve to know.” Aziraphale lets go. Instead he rubs his husbands arm. What else can he do to support him? Almost nothing. This is a walk through hell, and he can’t even fully walk beside his love.

Crowley takes a lot of silence. He wants to prepare himself, but this is like standing on the edge of a cliff without a parachute, waiting for someone to kick him down.
He will never be ready. 

“It all started during the war-”

Chapter Text

“Look, find something against the pain, that is all. There isn’t much more we can do. That’s mainly Lailahs’ place” Raphael says, a kind smile on his lips. Avacyn smiles back, nodding in excitement.
“Of course Raphael,” she says, on the verge of going. 

“Wait Avacyn- careful with the father, yes? I think he was about to faint when we left” Raphael advises with an amused chuckle. They fight a whole war and grit their teeth, but when their wife gets into labour it’s over for them. But Raphael doesn't mind. How could he? Today is a good day. A warm one and one in which there is no bombing, no patience coming in from the battlfield, covered in blood.

The angel of hope nods, once again. Obedient and considerate of Raphaels decisions. 

As soon as she is gone, Raphael hurries into the opposite direction. There isn’t as much to do anymore, now that the war stopped raging through the Silver City like a fire. No regular bombings or angels being carried in, on the verge of death. He hardly knows hat to do with all that free time, and with so few Angels being hurt. They can't get sick, after all.

But Raphael is still quick on his feet. It’s almost foreign how calm the hospital is. 

He is about to run over and visit some of the patience for the probably 20th time today, asking how they are doing and if they need anything, when he stops dead in his tracks. A group of 3 Angel walks towards him down the white corridors,two siblings and a foreigner. 

“Oh there he is!” Gabriel exclaims, happy and bright as always. He wears a grey suit and a tie, matching his purple eyes. He hasn’t aged a day, during all these hard times. 

He pats Raphaels back hard, laughing. Michael forces a little smile. 

“Hello brother,” he greets politely. 

“What is it guys? Broken wing?” Raphael asks, all professional. He hadn’t really talked to them since the rebellion stopped. In that time, Gabriel showed up at least once a week, to complain about how Raphael shouldn’t heal the rebels, just how he heals the ones loyal to God. 

He tries not to show, but Raphael is bummed since his eldest brother isn’t in the picture anymore. He takes Lucifers fall far too hard, probably. He should be happy it is only that, and no a more severe punishment.

Gabriel lets his hand down, smiling still as unbothered. 

“We are just here to see how our little brother is doing. Spend some time with him,” Michael says, held back. He wears a grey turtleneck, hiding the cuts underneath. Word is that he and Lucifer fought like animals, until they could hardly get up anymore. But isn’t that how it has always been?

Raphaels lips perk up into a sunny smile. “Oh- oh thanks. That’s really kind of you,” he says. They hadn’t seen each other a lot, in a long time. Probably too long. Gabriel steps aside and motions for another angel to step forward. 

“And I want to introduce you to Uriel,”  Gabriel says. Raphael steps forward too and holds his hand out. “Oh nice to meet you. You’ve been here before, haven't you? Angel of fire,” Raphael says. He definitely remembers the face. And the name is familiar enough to make him remember something.

They smile back, but cold and distant, without shaking the hand back. Instead they look him up and down. The white toga, soft and velvety on his slim features. The naked feet and legs. Raphael holds back a sigh, pulling his hand back instead. 

“I was. Not too long ago, actually,” Uriel says. A cold and even voice comes with them. It’s like speaking to a robot. (If anyone knows what a robot is, at that point in time).

Raphael has no idea what to make of Gabriels newest toy. He looks a bit helpless, as the silence gets awkward.
“Now… Fancy a walk, brother?” Gabriel asks.

“Sure! I’m gonna get Azrael. She’s waiting in the breakroom,” Raphael says, filled with relief. He flips on his heels, long hair and orange wings fluttering as he does. Instantly Michael is in front of him, the grey feathers stretched far enough to keep Raphaels way out of reach. 

“We need to have a chat with you, Raphael,” Michael says.

“Alone,” adds Gabriel, his purple eyes watchful on the young angel. Raphael impulsively pulls his wings back, half a step away from Michael. After a second he obediently nods. Better not to get anyone else involved, when Michael uses that kind of voice.

“Of course, brothers. A walk, yes?” Raphael asks, carefully. He feels that something is off. He should have guessed, Gabriel and Michael aren’t the most caring older siblings. They normally mean some kind of trouble, and they certainly wouldn’t just visit him without a good reason.

“Indeed,” Gabriel replies. He puts a hand onto Raphaels naked shoulder, leading him down the corridor and towards the exit. Raphaels lips perk up a little, at the warmth radiating from Gabriels palm. To him, this much physical contact almost equals a hug. Gabriel doesn’t hug. 

The four of them stroll for a while through the Silver City, down the sidewalks. The Hospital gets out of reach and the peacefulness surrounds them. Everything greens or sparkles. the City is a dreamland.

“They really build it up again, hu?” Raphael asks, searching for traces of the previous war. No sight. Just like there isn’t a sight of Lucifer. Of course there isn’t, but Raphael still misses him like crazy. So does Azrael.

At least they still have each other. Healing and Death. There is a certain Balance between them, just like there was supposed to be between Lucifer and Michael. Light and Darkness. Death and Healing. Two sets of twins. Bt whatever they did differently with Raphael and Azrael, it works.

“Things return to an ordinariness, yes,” Michael agrees, arm fold behind his back. They stop walking underneath a big Willow, placing its shadows upon the angels. It’s a nice day.

“So… what is this all about then?” Raphael finally asks. Gabriel clears his throat. He dims his voice, as if he is telling a secret. 

“Father… spoke to me.” 

Raphaels brows lift up, a feeling of fresh hope washing over all of him. “What? He is back?” 

“No, he is not. But he gave me instructions,” Gabriel says calmly. Raphael stands fully still. That their father didn’t say a peep while hundreds of his children died is one thing… but now he is back? That doesn’t seem fair. Almost nothing that happened seems fair. 

“Well- what did he say Gabriel?”

“He congratulated me and Michael on winning against Lucifer. He said it was about time he got a proper punishment for his deeds,” a pause. “He also said, he will forgive the ones that fought alongside this bad apple. If they earn it.”

Raphael frowns. “And what does that have to do with me? Did  he say anything about me?” 

Michael, Gabriel and Uriel exchange a long glance. Raphael feels left out. Are they speaking some secret language he doesn’t understand?

“Raphael,” Michael eventually says calmly. “That includes you.”

Raphael lets his eyes wander between the three Angels in stunned silence. “Me?” He utters. This has to be some kind of sick joke. “What do you mean, me? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even- I killed nobody. Ever! I hurt nobody.”

Michael makes an understanding but sad face. He lays an arm around Raphael in comfort. “We know. But Raphael- you still helped those… those terrorists,” Michael says. 

Raphael shoves his arm softly away. “I did what father told me. I did exactly what he told me Michael and that was- that was to help everyone.” 

“They were ready to hurt all of us, Raphael. I told you back then,” Gabriel says calmly. He doesn’t see the point of this sentimentals. Raphael messed up and now he has to pay the price for it. What isn't there to understand?

“They are still our siblings. All of them,” Raphael says, his brows furrowed. This isn’t fair. None of this is fair. Father told him to heal the angels. So he did. And now he is supposed to grovel at his feet for forgiveness, without doing anything wrong?

Michael sighs. “Raphael… Okay listen. I want you to imagine that heaven is… heaven is a garden.”

“Heaven is a garden?” Raphael repeats.

“It is. Now- if a gardener sees a weed, no matter how much he loves plants, will he get rid of it, or will he allow them to stay unpunished and take over the whole garden?”

Raphael is stunned. He opens his mouth slightly. That is a dumbass comparison.
“We aren’t talking about plants, Michael. We’re talking about living, breathing angels! About sisters and brothers we grew up alongside with!”

“Just admit you made a mistake, Raphael. As I said, he will forgive you,” Garbiel says a bit snappy. He is running out of patience here. 

Raphael feels a burning sark inside his chest. Something angry, waiting to break out. He swallows it hard down. 

“What do I have to do?” Raphael questions. 

Another long glance between he three angels. Michael and Gabriels eyes stay on each other for a long moment. 

In the end, Uriel speaks up. “You are to kill Lucifer.”

“No,” Raphael says, cold as ice. “Raphael-” Gabriel begins, but he is already interrupted.

“I said no. I’m not doing that.”

“You have to, Raphael,” Michael responses. 

“No I don’t. Wasn’t he already punished? Dad banned him, remember?” Raphael asks. This can’t really be something that is expected of him. He knows that their father likes to test them, but not this far- not to kill his previous favourite.  It doesn't see like something their father would expect of him. But on the other hand, he and Raphael were never as close. He rather sticked to their mother, while the three others beat each other up for the slightest bit of attention from their father.

“What a punishment, to be gifted a whole kingdom, don’t you think? Father regrets this deeply. He says he should have stopped Lucifer once and for all,” Michael says. Raphael wriggels with his hands. 

“Why don’t you do it?” Raphael questions. He tries desperately to find a way out. He knows that he will not hurt his brother. He just isn’t able to. Not even physically. Raphael is long and thin, not practised with the blade. Or any weapon at all, in that matter.

While Michael, Lucifer and Gabriel learned fighting, battling each other to try and impress their father, Raphael mostly stood at the side lines. He didn’t like fighting and put no real effort into learning it either.

“Me and Gabriel are still asked to not be on earth. He wants it to be a present for us. A loan for winning over evil,” Michael says. Everything he says sounds so true, but Raphael doesn’t want to believe him. 

“I won’t. I really can’t, brothers…” Raphael says. The fear has taken all over his body, mixed with a stubbornness. Gabriel looks serious and angry.

“Are you disobeying fathers direct orders?” He asks. 

“A father wouldn’t ask his son to kill his brother,” Raphael replies. Yes. Yes I am disobeying… and everyone knows the kind of consequences coming with it. 

“Fathers ways are inscrutable,” Gabriel says. The chat begins to get out of control, more heated with every passing word. 

“What bout you, hu? Would you kill me, just because father said so?” Raphael asks. 

“That isn’t so easy to answer, Raphael-” Michael begins. But Gabriel interrupts him instantly.

“It isn’t. Of course I would. He has his reasons.”

Raphael closes his mouth. The spark inside his chest flames up. He grits his teeth. “I will not- murder my brother, who trusts me after everything, in cold blood! And if father wants me to, he has to get down from his fucking throne and bloody talk to me! Because he never talks to me!”

Before he knows it, a fist hits him. Raphae stumbles a couple of steps back, a steel pain breaking through all of his face. The archangel gasps, hands flying up to the nose. Warmth flows over his palms and he shakes softly. 

“Gabriel!” Michael scolds. 

“No, he deserves it. He should maybe begin to choose a side,” Uriel says with a cold mechanic voice. Raphael doesn’t hit back. He lets his hands down and looks at the blood, dripping onto his toga. 

“I am on my own side,” Raphael grits out. Even his teeth hurt from the impact of Gabriels knuckles. 

“There is no /you own side/. Either you are for us, or against us. One last chance: Obey your orders, Archangel Raphael.”

Raphael swallows. Something inside of him shifts. Something he can’t take back. “No.”

Michael closes his mouth. They stand like statues, frozen in marble. Gabriel translate to MIchael, holding his hand out.
“Give me your sword,” he demands. The Angel doesn’t answer. He only loosens the sword from his belt, handing it over. 

Gabriel already grabs it with perfect expertise. Raphaels eyes follow the movements of their hands. Gabriel throws the weapon between himself and Raphael, right at his nacked feet. Raphael stares down at it, no intention of taking it from the lawn.

But Gabriel already draws his own sword. His forehead is wrinkled angrily. 

“Archangel Raphael, pick up your weapon. I challenge you to a duel.”

Raphael feels his eyes burn. He can’t go back nor forth. It is like he is stuck in this moment and it just won’t be over. He looks at the sword in the green grass. Its blade glims polished and silver under the sun spots, falling through the willow. He has to hold back from crying. Gabiel is being serious, and weakness won't help him yet.

“Pick it up!” Michael calls, when Gabriel is already swinging for him with the blade of his own broad sword. It’s long and bronze. Raphael sees it coming and stumbles helplessly back, almost falling over his own feet. 

“No Gabriel!” He calls. He is sure that Michael calls some tips for him. This fight isn’t fair at all. Gabriel is one of the best swordsmen to exist, and Raphael hardly knows how to hold a weapon properly.

Gabriel swings his sword like a madman. Raphael is hardly escaping the deadly sharpness. He feels himself slip underneath Gabriels arm. He tries to grab Michaels weapon from the ground, but stumbles downwards. Raphael catches himself on the elbows. The soft earth makes his arms dirty and grazes the skin open. 

He hisses, rolling onto his back. He holds he sword in front of him with both hands, the tip pointing towards the blue sky. Gabriel is instantly over him, ready for another blow. 

Raphael squeezes his eyes shut, pulls the knees up and sends a kick forward. He doesn’t aim. But obviously he has to hit something. The pressure against his soles is enough to let him know. He kicked right against Gabriels knees and the Archangel falls forward. 

Raphael doesn’t move as the body falls over him. He still has the sword tightly grasped in his sweaty palms. Gabriel screams. The blade went right through his right wing, the purple drained in red now. The feathers are falling out. Raphael feels sick. Oh god. Oh God…

“You- you little-” Gabriel has to hold back from swearing. Raphael swallows hard, pulling the sword out. He still lays underneath Gabriel, letting the blade fall down next to him. With huge golden-brown eyes he blinks paralyzed up. 

Gariel grits his teeth. Full of anger he lets the shaft of his sword rush down. Raphael groans in pain. Over and over it hits his head, falls against his temple until he is dizzy and his eyes fall shut. 

All he hears is the drumming of the weapon beating him. And over and over, his brothers voice, cursing him out.

Chapter Text

“Next thing I remember- everything just hurt,” Crowley ends his tale, voice still distant and small. He can’t face up anymore, with all those eyes on him. Aziraphale has taken his hand, halfway through. He can feel how cold and sweaty the Fallens palms have become. Aziraphale can’t say that he is any less nervous. Alone telling this must have been a torture for him.

Has Crowley carried the weight of this, all the time? And he never felt like he could load any of it onto him… How could Aziraphale never catch onto this? He feels awful, even though he knows it is pointless.

“Oh my Love- I am so sorry,” Aziraphale says. Crowley can feel his angels heat through the layers of fabric between them. They sit together on the couch, pressed against each others sides.

Amenadiel tries to keep up his calmness. It’s hard, with all the emotions washing over him. Lucifer gritted his teeth angrily. Angry at Michael. Angry at Gabriel. And angry at himself. 

How could he be so stupid and not ever check on Raphael? He should have known better. As if his baby brother would have ever tried to cut ties with him. He gets the disgusting feeling that he messed up, and he doesn’t like it at all. 

“They burned you with Hellfire,” Amenadiel concludes. Crowley nods stiffly. “I know.”

Lucifer clenches his jaw so hard that he thinks his teeth might crack every second. “I will kill them. I will kill both of them. How dare they-”

“Lucifer,” Amenadiel says, side-eying the devil. “Not the moment,” he whispers, nodding his chin at Crowley. Not that Amenadiel feels any different. The moment he gets his fingers on Gabriel or Michael those two will have to pay for what they did. But this isn't the moment.

Crowley holds so tightly onto Aziraphale that he can hardly feel his fingers anymore. But Aziraphale doesn’t mind. He would let Crowley squeeze his hand forever. And while AZiraphale might not be the most physical being, when Crowley is, he doesn’t mind.

“They lied, didn’t they?” Crowley dares to ask. He has to take all his bravery together to look up again. His older brothers stand in the room, towering above him with their height. 

“They lied. Father never wanted me to- to hurt you. Didn’t they?” 

Amenadiel doesn’t want to answer. It is so obvious. But when he doesn’t, Crowley nods. “I thought so," he admits.

It feels strangely like salvation. So many nights he spent thinking and wondering. Now he knows at least.

Amenadiel furrows his brows. A thought crosses his mind ans his eyes widen. 

"Just wait until the others know- they will cry when I tell them. Raphael they mourned you so-"

"No!" Crowley interrupts, a look of horror written over his face as he jumps up. Aziraphale is startled for a second, but then shakes his head. 

"Dear boy…" he says. Crowley inhales deeply and sits down again. "Sorry Angel…" he whispers. 

"You can't tell them, Amenadiel," Crowley says, voice a lot calmer. 

"What? Why not?" Lucifer asks, outraged. "Maybe they kill Gabriel and Michael right then and there. They should pay for how awfully-"

"Lucifer! Let him speak," Amenadiel says.

Lucifer falls silent, almost pouting. Crowley is a bit surprised that he does without a fight. 

"Because I- I'm not Raphael anymore. So even if they want to still see me after all this time… I can't disappoint them. Not like that, Ame."

"Raph-" Amenadiel begins softly. How long hasn't he been called that nickname even? Amenadiel hasn't heard Ame in half a life. 

"They wouldn't be disappointed. They were so sad when you were gone-"

"What about dad?" He asks. 

"What about him?" Lucifer asks with a raised brow. 

Crowley bites his lower lip and glances off to the side. He feels bad enough for loading all that ballast onto anyone. And now Azi has to sit through this awful kind of family meeting.

"Because he knew. He had to know, right? So if he didn't want me to fall… why am I here?" Crowley questions. 

Lucifer remembers how it was. He always felt like half an idiot next to Crowley, not able to satisfy his hunger for answers. He used to ask so much and overthink everything.

"I don't think he… Raphael, I don't know," Amenadiel admits. 

Raphael swallows. Nods. 

"Don't tell them Ame- I don't want them to- I don't want them to see who I am. Or that they… that they have to choose between loyalty to heaven or to me."

Besides from the fact that this decision won't be very hard. Crowley doesn't admit it, but deep down he is endlessly scared. What if Amenadiel tells them… and they don't even care? If they moved on and they only see a demon in him? Crowley doesn't know if he could handle that. 

Amenadiel sighs. "If that is your wish…" he says. “I will respect it, of course. But Raph- you are always welcome home again,”

“By you, you mean?” Crowley retorts. It’s mean. He knows it is and he shouldn’t say it, but he can’t hold it back. Why else would want him back there? He isn’t holy anymore. It’s too late… right?

“And Azrael,” Amenadiel says, trying not to look hurt. Raphael has never been one to be upfront, but he will have to get used to this. He had to change, with everything, not? He got older and grew up.

“The Angel of Death?” Aziraphale asks with a soft frown. He isn’t very familiar with heaven anymore. He spent 6000 years on earth too, after all.

“Rae Rae is my twin,” Crowley explains. Aziraphale nods softly. Crowley will have to tell him more, later. The way his lips perk up, even for only a second, are evidence enough for him. 

“You must have really loved her,” Aziraphale points out. 

Crowley nods. How could he not have? They did everything together. They both adored Lucifer to pieces. They were a heart and a soul. 

“I did. How is she doing?”

“She is… well, still the same,” Lucifer says. He smiles too for a moment. An unusual sight, Aziraphale thinks.

“That’s good,” Crowley decides. He yawns softly, leans his head against Aziraphales shoulder. His eyes are almost pulled close. All these emotions are exhausting. Last time he was so sensitive he slept for a hundred years and afterwards everything was a bit more okay. 

“Let us rest a bit, hm my Lover? We can still talk when you are a bit more… ready to,” Aziraphale suggests. Crowley makes a sound of agreement. He is glad Aziraphale did it. Crowley most likely wouldn’t have suggested to call it a day, with both his brothers unsatisfied with the few answers they got. But Crowley has more himself, and doing that tomorrow would be kind on all of them. 

Aziraphale and Crowley get up. The demon lets himself be pulled along softly, by his hand. He stops in the door though. 

“Lucifer- one more thing. Can Miss Decker check in on Adam? I promised him. He is in my flat,” 

Lucifer forces a smile. “Of course, brother-mine! You two enjoy your night and- and tomorrow you answer everything else,” Lucifer says. He tries to see the broad side, which is that Crowley just asked him for an actual favour. If he was still so awfully angry, he wouldn’t do that. But the demon seems to cool down. 

Crowley tries to smile back. It’s half-assed and exhausted, but it still is an attempt. Aziraphale softly lays his arm around Crowleys shoulder. “Come on dear…” he says. 

Crowley puts his own arm around Aziraphale, walking up to the guest room with him. “Thank you, angel… for everything,” Crowley says. He stops for a moment, holding him close. The smell of tea and books is all over Aziraphale and the demon allows himself to kiss the white curls.

“No- dear, thank you. For telling me all of this. I had no idea and- I shouldn’t have exploded, when I found out who you were. It has to be… to be awful.” 

Crowley can hardly stand so much kindness. He leans forward and presses a deep kiss to Aziraphales lips. They are so soft and balmy. Crowley sighs into it.

“I love you so much, Aziraphale,” Crowley says. Aziraphale doesn’t smile. But he presses a last kiss to his cheek. 

“I love you too… now hop into bed. If you faint I won’t carry you,” Aziraphale teases. It’s a rightout lie. Of course Aziraphale would carry him into bed. Even if Crowley only begged enough. 

“Alright. Are you coming too?” Crowley wants to know. He kicks his black dress shoes off. The soles are a dark red and Aziraphale knows exactly that Crowley will need at least 5 minutes to peel himself out of those tight pants. 

“I will read a bit,” Aziraphale replies. He takes Frankenstein and then goes to lay down besides his husband. 

Crowley puts his head onto the broad chest. Aziraphale puts a hand into the red hair, tangling his fingers. 

“Read to me?” Crowley asks sweetly. Aziraphale smiles. “Of course, my Lover.”

Chapter Text

For Adam Young, the noise of London is unusual. In Tadfield, there are no cars driving by his window every minute, even at night. Luckily thought, Crowleys flat  is on the 5th floor and far above the ground. The rush is simply a dimmed noise.

The previous Antichrist strolls through his godfathers flat. He sat in his throne-chair for a bit, watching some boring tv, before he began to peak interested through all his stuff. He is pretty sure that the painting on the wall is an original Mona Lisa.

He has never been in Crowleys flat before, but he thinks it is very interesting.

In the kitchen he finds nothing but a few wine glasses, a box of battles underneath the granite sink, and a weird grail with JC carved into it. He is about to try and fill some water into it, to drink, when he hears a knock at the door.

He is instantly on edge. It might as well be one of the suit wearers that followed him around. Or someone dangerous.

He taps over to the door and looks through the spy. A woman stands there, blond hair in a ponytail.

“Hello?” Adam asks, making a weird voice. Maybe the she doesn’t think it’s him, if she isn’t good intentions. 

“Adam? Here is Detective Chloe Decker. Crowley send me here,” she says. 

Adam frowns. He opens slightly and looks through the split. "You're Crowleys friend? Are you supernatural?" Adam asks. He knows that Crowley and Aziraphale don't have many human friends. Sometimes they mention people they were friends with, but half the time Adam can't say if those stories are true. 

"I- I'm his brothers girlfriend," she says and nods softly at the entrance. 

"Can I come in?"

Adam nods and steps aside. "Did you bring any board games? It's really boring in here. There isn't even a laptop or anything," Adam says.

Chloe steps inside. "No, I didn't think of it," she says, frowning at the weird question.

"What are you doing here, Adam? Were your parents mean to you?" Chloe questions. She can’t imagine any child running away without a reason.

Adam shakes his curly head. “Oh no- my parents are great. I mean, my father likes to smoke a bit too much, and mom always tells him that it’s gonna kill him one day, but no- no they are awesome. They are just… they wouldn’t understand,” Adam says, his voice going lower towards the end.

Chloe frowns. “And you got all the way down here, on your own?”

Adam shrugs a little bit. He sits on the edge of the grey couch, hands on his knees. “I took the train all the way from Oxford. It was pretty easy actually. Crowley had given me money when we first met, if I ever needed to get here,” Adam explains. 

“He was a bit worried, I think. I had almost caused the Armageddon and he and Mister Fell had worked really hard to stop it.” 

“Oh- oh yes, my boyfriend told me. I think he was involved too,” Chloe says, still uncomfortable with the knowledge that the world she knows and loves had almost come to an end. 

Adam scrunches his nose a little. “Your boyfriend is not Beelzebub, right?” Adam asks. “Cause she tried to talk to me at one point and she was reallyyy~ really bad at it.” 

“Oh no. His name is Lucifer,” Chloe says. Adams mouth opens slightly. Not unhappy, but full of childlike recognition. “Of my ex-farther! He isn’t here to destroy the earth again, right?” He asks, his  voice turning bothered. Not that he could. Adam has no powers anymore and he changed reality, so that he and Lucifer aren’t even actually related anymore. But it confuses him a little that Crowley called him a friend. Are they befriended?

Chloe is stunned. “What do you mean, your father?” 

Adam bounces excited around. “Oh- oh! They haven’t told you? Can I tell you the story?”

Chloe nods softly. His hyperactive character is sweet and charming, but she also feels like she can’t fully catch up with what he is telling her. 

Adam clears his throat putting on his “story-telling” voice. “So- once upon a time, there was this hospital, led by nuns. Only that it were satanic nuns and they wanted to bring the Antichrist into the world and then…”

~~

“Comfortable?” Mister Young asks. 

Lucifer sits on the edge of the couch, face scrunched up a little bit. He wears a pyjama, far too big on him, and socks with a weird pattern on it. Amenaiel looks a bit similar, trying to put a sheet over the air mattress on the floor. 

“Yes, very. Thank you so much,” Amenadiel says politely. Lucifer grumbles a bit. 

“We couldn’t have just let you pay for a hotel could we have? And it wouldn’t be hospitable if we just kicked you out,” Mister Young says.
Lucifer rolls his eyes. “You very much could have.” 

Mister Young doesn’t hear it. He nods at the brothers. “I go to Deirdre then… you just get us, if you need anything. Goodnight, Gentleman.” 

He clicks the light out. The streetlight throws a dark glim into the living room. It’s stuffed, with the couch clapped out and the mat on the floor. 

Amenadiel moves onto the mat, laying down. It’s awkwardly silent between the brothers. There is normally always something to talk about. Something about a case or about Maze and Eve and Linda. But today isn’t like any other day. 

Lucifer sighs and lays down on the couch. He pulls the blanket around his shoulders, freezing. It never gets this cold in Los Angeles. One of the many reasons he choose that place, out of all the kingdoms of the earth. 

Lucifer shifts onto his other side, his arm growing numb. The couch is uncomfortable. 

“Luce?” Amenadiel asks into the darkness, after 20 minutes of neither of them saying a word. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Lucifer replies. He tries to stay still, even when Amenadiel pushes himself sideways up onto his arm. 

“I think we messed up, brother.”

“We?” Lucifer asks. He flips around to stare at Amenadiel. His dark silhouette is like a shadow in the darkness. Only the white of his eyes stabs out of the night. 

“You thought he died. I know that I ignored him for years. Can’t you talk him into forgiving me? He likes you,”

“Since when?” Amenadiel asks and huffs bitterly. Most of the angels look up to him, but not his siblings. For some reason, Azrael and Raphael always ran after Lucifer or their mother. It was almost funny to see how their father boiled from anger, when they would hardly look at him and instead cling to the tip of their mothers skirt constantly. Only for Lucifer thought. 

“Well since- since today, I suppose.”

“I can’t do that, Lucifer. If you want to fix things, you are the one who has to do that,” Amenadiel says.
Lucifer sits up. “I need to speak with Linda. Amenadiel you are so absolutely unhelpful! Even I expected more of you,” Lucifer snaps.

He is about to turn his back on Amenadiel again, when he says something else. “He has no idea what happened how- how can we tell him?” 

“You are speaking in riddles. What do you mean?” Lucifer asks.

Amenadiel sighs. “I have a son. Mother and Father split up, she went to hell and then escaped to create her own universe. You are with Chloe and Eve is back on earth- that. All of that. He needs to know,” Amenadiel says. It doesn’t sit right with him that Crowley has no idea of those things. He has a right to, not?

“Well for now- if you don’t want him to walk in up there and get himself killed, we tell him nothing about mother and father. And the rest- he will figure out,” Lucifer tries to find an easy answer. Because Amenadiel is right. Of course he is right, he’s the thoughtful and smart one… 

“You want to lie to him,” Amenadiel says. He doesn’ has to question it, that’s obviously what Lucifer suggests. 

The devil is still offended. “I try to protect him!” 

Amenadiel opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted. 

A disembodied voice dooms out of the darkness, making both brothers flinch in horror. 

“Then you better don’t hurt him again. Or I will make you regret it. And I will not be kind during it,” the voice roars. In the next second, a million pale blue eyes blink open in the blackness. Lucifer almost falls down the couch.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” he breaths out. Amenadiel frowns softly. 

“Aziraphale?” He asks softly. 

“You don’t hurt my husband again. And you don’t leave him in pieces again. Am I making myself clear, dead boys?” The voice asks. 

Amenadiel glances over at Lucifer. Then he nods. Not that he planned on harming Raphael. “Of course. We will take good care of him,” he promises. 

The eyes all stare at Lucifer. The devil swallows. “Obviously. He is my baby brother. I won’t hurt one of his precious hair,” he says. 

The eyes blink closed again. Lucifer lets himself sink back into the pillows. “I forgot how creepy they are…”

Amenadiel sighs. “Be glad you did.”

Chapter Text

The birds chirp their first songs, over Tadfield. In the kitchen of Arthur and Deirdre Young, stands a demon at the counter. He cooks breakfast. Eggs and bacon and the toast is already in the toaster. 

Ella Lopez is seated at the table, glancing at the laptop. 

"She says that they have already tried that," Ella says, reading the answer out to Crowley. 

He hums. "Sounds like there is really a higher power on it, not?" Crowley asks. Ella frowns. "Hard to believe there was no uproar about this. If I had known this- the poor babies!" Ella exclaims. 

Crowley grumbles. "Everyone cares about themselves, first of all," he says. 

Ella shakes her head. "No. That's bullshit. People can be very kind," she says. 

Crowley wants to believe that. And it's hard not to, with Ella by his side.

"They weren’t to me,” Crowley says. Or to all the ones they killed in the inquisition, or the holocaust, or… well, too many times. 

Ella instantly gets up. She pulls Crowley down into a bone crushing hug. “I’m sorry- you’re too sweet for that.” 

Crowley feels himself grin. He hugs her back. “Says you? I wish I could look at life like that,” he replies. 

Ella giggles. She turns around with a little “oh-” when the laptop plings with a new E-Mail. She goes to check it and Crowley puts all the food onto some plates. 

Amenadiel comes in tiredly. He looks at the two beings, both working. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. Ella shifts aside to show him. “Me and Anthony are doing this great thing- because those frogs keep showing up in the case he asked a friend of his. Some biology expert and I’m helping him,” Ella explains. She is beaming, happy she found someone who is just as interested in science as she is. Normally it’s hard to not go through as nerdy, as a woman in that field.

Amenadiel frowns. “You have a friend who is a biology expert?”

“Of course. She always tried to invite me to her parties so I would talk to her about my essays. But well… she also offered to help here. So I let Ella chat a bit with her,” Crowley explains. She wanted to help and Ella is just as competent as someone with a biology degree.

“Your essays?” Amenadiel questions with a little frown. He hadn’t thought Raphael would be a big writer. Isn’t his husband the one owning a bookshop?

“I have a job. A real one, unlike Luci. A lot of essays you can write, with 8 different degrees.”

“Oh holy moly-” Ella suddenly says. Crowley turns around, filling the sink with water and soap to wash the dishes.
“What is it?” Crowley asks over his shoulder. Ella grew pale. “I asked her how much they expect the oil they found in that National Park to be worth…” she says softly. “2 billion.” 

“What?” Crowley turns around on his heels. He marches over to look onto the screen. Amenadiel raises his brows. “That’s a lot of money,” he says. Crowley blinks at the screen. He even takes his sunglasses off for a moment. Considers. 

“No wonder they can’t bring anyone to care about the glass frogs,” he says. Amenadiel frowns. “Would someone really kidnap a child just because of money?”

“Of course. Absolute greed corrupts. Have you never seen Macbeth?” Crowley asks. Aziraphale made him watch the sad plays by Shakespear. Which was always hell. A  good chunk of those speeches were just his own rants about how he will never be able to life up to his potential, how he can’t be with his angel because of their stupid family feud and how humanity keeps disappointing him over and over again. Aziraphale thankfully never found that out. Crowley wants to keep it that way. 

“No, I actually haven’t,” Amenadiel replies. Ella looks confused. “And here I thought all you Brits are crazy for those Shakespear stuff.”

“Mh, my Angel is. Loves all the classics. Where I have to say… I felt flattered when he wrote me some of his sonnets. Billy was a sweet guy, when he wanted to be,” Crowley says. 

Ella frowns. Oh not another method actor…

Amenadiel takes a look at the food. “You did that?”

“Serve yourself. Just leave something for my Angel,” Crowley says. That’s why he cooked in the first place. He doesn’t eat.

Amenadiel can’t stop the smile. “So, Aziraphale, yes?” 

Crowley peaks over the upper edge of his laptop. He searches for judgement in his brothers face, but he seems unusually happy. “Yeah. He’s cute,” he says, feeling as if he has to defend himself for loving him. He never felt like this before, but Amenadiel is from heaven. And Crowley is still… well, fallen.

“I like him. He seems very protective of you,” Amenadiel says. Crowley makes a face, as if he doesn’t like that at all. “When did you speak to him?”

“Yesterday. Listen I don’t want to tell you anything, brother-”

“Good. Don’t. Because I don’t care what you think of us. I love him. I have loved him since the first moment I saw him on earth and I will not let you be rude to him, or try and order him around because you used to be his boss, or make him feel unwelcome. He is my family and-”

“And I won’t. I’m happy for you two. And I want to congratulate you,” Amenadiel says calmly. Crowley stares, waiting for a but. It doesn’t come though. 

“Okay… thank you, brother,” Crowley says, the term unfamiliar on his tongue. Brother. He grew up with so many of them, and then they abandoned him. No, not abandoned. Crowley swallows a bit. 

“What are you even doing on earth?” Crowley begins to wonder. Amenadiel was never a big fan of coming down to earth. Too much filth, isn’t there?  

Amenadiel is relieved that Crowley is asking about him. He can’t tell if the Archangel is upset with him or not. But it seems like he takes a step towards him. 

“Long story, actually. Father sent me here to bring Lucifer back into hell but I- decided to stay. I began to love earth,” Amenadiel says. 

“And all its wonderful sins,” Lucifer says, coming through the door. Suit perfect and hair already made. 

“Such as?” Crowley asks, doubting that Amenadiel got corrupted in any way. He has always been deadly loyal to their father, just like Zadkiel, or Gabriel and Michael. 

“Such as sex,” Lucifer says. Amenadiel looks like he wants to sink into the ground. “Lucifer!”

“Oh yeah?” Crowley asks, a sly grin appearing on his mouth. Ella shakes her head. “Don’t be so mean, he’s your brother. You have to love him.”

“I do love him. I’m just intrigued. So sex yeah?” Crowley asks, just to tease his brother a bit more. Amenadiel sighs loudly. How can those two be so old, yet so childish? 

“Yes, he thought he had a STD, after sleeping with a prostitute. And Mazikeen. And my therapist,” Lucifer continues. 

Crowley breaks out laughing. Three faces lay on him, as he giggles loudly and holds onto the counter. It takes him several moments to calm down. Lucifer looks serious and Crowley sits up again. 

“Wait- you are being serious?” 

“Of course I am. I can’t lie, how do you keep forgetting that?”

The ginger demon rubs the bridge of his nose. “I dunno what’s more unlikely. That Lucifer is actually in therapy or that Amenadiel slept with more than one person.”

“He also got a son with said therapist,” Lucifer points out. 

Crowley becomes more serious. Amenadiel sees his own reflection in the round sunglasses. “Congratulations, Amenadiel. I wasn’t aware you…”
“Thank you, Raphael. I appreciate it,” Amenadiel only says kindly. The name feels like a little pin stabbed through Crowleys heart. He will have to talk about this with him.

“So he is…?” 

“He’s wonderful. You have no idea Raph… I would happily die for that little guy,”  Amenadiel explains. “Awww~ you’re such a good father Ame,” Ella says. 

The computer plings again with another mail. Crowley sighs softly. He clicks it open and then stops. “Oh,” he says. “ Oh shit-” 

“What is it, brother?” Lucifer asks, trying to look at the laptop. 

“I- I think I know who has Warlock. And why there wasn’t a ransom,” Crowley says. He clicks himself through another website, tapping his foot. Three pairs of eyes lay on him. Then Ellas own face falls. 

“The father?” She asks. Ella shifts closer, following the websites and Mails. “The father?” Lucifer repeats. 

“What, would you not make your son disappear if it would give you 2 billion pounds?” Crowley questions. 

“I wouldn’t,” Amenadiel deadpans. 

“Of course not. Just like you wouldn’t sleep with Maze or a Prostitute?” He asks with a shit-eating grin. Amenadiel opens his mouth, staring in disbelief at that burn. “When did you get so sassy?”

“When did you start asking questions?” Crowley replies, even more sassy. 

Lucifer is fishing the mobile from his pocket. “I’m calling the Detective.”

“What? No!” Crowley is in an instant around the corner. He snaps the mobile from Lucifers hands, holding it out of reach. Lucifers eyes widen. He holds his arm out to grab the phone back. Without success.

“Give that back!” 

“No!”

“Give me that-!” 

Lucifer tries again to grab it. Crowley is standing between him and the phone, his skinny arm stretched out to the side, far enough to not give Lucifer a chance. 

“The guy is a diplomat and you want to get a cop involved? Then they know we know,” Crowley points out. 

“Give my phone back!” Lucifer says, not even listening.

“Stop it, or I'll put it into the blender,” Crowley threatens. Lucifer huffs. “Yes, as if.” 

They stand frozen for a moment. Lucifer tries to use the surprise and grab it again, but Crowley already has it out of reach instead. In one quick jump he is at the blender, stuffs the expensive smartphone inside and starts blending. 

Lucifers face falls in horror. “You fucking little brat-”

“Spare me, brother-mine. So I have a plan. What we are going to do now is…” Crowley stops. He turns his head, frowning deeply. He feels weird, out of nowhere. He stares down at the ground, just in time to see two hands grab his ankles and pull him down, right through the tiles. In the next second he is gone. 

“Raphael!” Amenadiel yells, trying to grab him. But there is no way. Something just made him disappear into thin air.

Chapter Text

“Lord Beelzebub, Prince of Hell, what do you want?” Beelzebubs voice crinkles through the landline. Lucifer raises his brow angrily. 

“In the future, you better answer your phone immediately, Beelzebub.” 

The Prince of hell is immediately alarmed. Lucifer sounds not amused at all. “My Lord- I apologise. How can I help you?” He instantly scrambles for forgiveness. Better not to make their King and Boss upset. He knows how Lucifer can get, and doesn't want any of that anger to be let out on himself. 

“You can help me, by telling me why you summoned my brother to Hell,” Lucifer says frustrated. He has no time for this idiocy. Ella is sitting on the couch and Amenadiel tries to somehow calm her down, after she just realised that Lucifer is actually… well, the Lucifer, and not a method actor. And that a demon just got summoned away before her eyes. And a proper Archangel is talking to her in a British living room. 

“Who?” Beelzebub asks. Lucifer growls.

“Now, don’t act stupid. My brother. Crowley. He got summoned. Which of you guys did it and why?”  He demands an answer. 

Beelzebub drags a hand down his face. “I gave no orders to do so- we don’t have him.”

“Don’t you lie to me,” Lucifer snaps. He is furious with Beelzebub, not only because of this summoning. 

“I am not, my Lord- I would never. My loyalty is all yours and-”

“Don’t lie to me. You lied to me, Beelzebub. Don’t act like you didn’t, after you ignored direct orders regarding Crowleys punishment after the… the apocalypse that didn’t happen, and keeping him away from me for over 6000 years,” Lucifer says loudly. Ella flinches. She and Amenadiel both look over at him. Amenadiel makes a downward motion with his palms. Keep it down, brother.

Beelzebub sighs softly. “The demons demanded blood after the Apocalypse and-”

“And they will get blood. Your blood, when I put your head onto a spike,” Lucifer threatens coldly. Beelzebub is unmoved by it. They are a prince of Hell, not some low demon!

“And I did it to stop another rebellion from happening. The job you gave me, when we first fell,” he says.

Lucifer grits his teeth. “We will talk about this later. Find out if Crowley is in hell. I find out he is, and you knew about it, I will have your head.”

With that, Lucifer hangs the phone up. Great. This is fucking awesome…

~~

Crowley feels himself fall through the air, pulled quickly down by a pair of hands. With a thud, he lands on his feet, the gravel crunches underneath the soles of his dress shoes. Instantly, the streaks of grey rain pour over him.

He blinks irritated, the sky almost white and blinding him. Once his eyes get used to the brightness, the pine trees surrounding the site come into view. 

His snake eyes trace around. Groups of people stand around him, wearing uniforms. At a second glance, he recognizes that they are mostly kids. From preschool kids to young adults. All of them stare at him. Crowley tips his head to the side and looks back.

“Nanny!” A voice yells. Crowley turns on his heels. Warlock stands, only a few feet away. His fingers are smeared with soil. Underneath Crowley, a pentagram is drawn into the ground. Damn smart kid, summoned me… 

Crowley hisses dangerously. Warlock is pale as chalk, wearing the same grey uniform. An adult holds his wrist tightly, gawking at Crowley.

“Let him go,” Crowley grits out between clenched teeth. 

“What the hell-” the man says. He is a big guy, hair shaved off his head. Warlock tries to rip himself away, but the man holds him even tighter, pulling him roughly closer.

Crowley sees red. 

Those present begin to scream, jumping out of the way, when suddenly a 3 meter long snake slides over the floor. It’s dark red, coming closer and closer towards Warlock and the uniformed man. He makes big eyes, about to stumble backwards too. What he doesn’t see coming, is that the snake straightens up, until it looks in his face. And suddenly rips its jaw open, screaming with full lungs. 

He lets go of Warlock, backtracking. Crowley turns back into a human, in a split second. “Boo!” He screams in the mans face. He falls backwards into a puddle.

The people still run around, screaming in fear. Only Warlock stands calmly by his nanny's side, a relieved smirk on his thin lips. “Nanny!” 

“Warlock!” Crowley pulls him into a tight hug, holding the American boy to his chest. Warlock wraps his arms around Crowleys thin figure, the rain draining them through.

“Oh my baby bat- we were so worried about you. There is a whole kidnapping investigation going on. Are you alright?” Crowleys palms cup Warlocks face to inspect it. His cheeks have fallen in and he looks wan. One of his cheekbones is blue, a bit swollen. Oh Crowley will make them pay for hurting his boy-

“I am, now that you’re here,” Warlock says and swallows. The surrounding children got calm, peeking out from their hiding places. The whole plateau is surrounded by a big wall, the barbed wire on top of it stretching into the sky.

“Where are we?” Crowley asks. “This place looks like a prison.”

“I think it’s a bootcamp. Dad sometimes talked about them, you know? Where they send kids that don’t behave,” Warlock explains, looking a bit ashamed downwards. Crowley freezes. Shit- shit shit.

“Okay well- we get you out of here. Come on,” Crowley says. Warlock tries to smile faintly. Crowley begins to walk, and for a moment Warlock follows, but eventually he stops to look over his shoulder. They are still watched. 

“Wait Nanny! We can’t leave them behind, right?”

Crowley turns around, cringing when he looks at the others. He leans his head back. “Of course- right. Leave that to me, my little Demon.” 

~~

Ella slaps Lucifers chest angrily. “Why did you never say anything?! I trusted you!” She angrily yells, her little fists stopping after a moment to hammer against his chest. Lucifer looks horrified. “Miss Lopez! I did tell you, you just never believed me!” 

“I- I thought you were a method actor!” She defends herself, pouting. And here she trusted Lucifer! She had thought he would do the same with her. After all… he is a bit like an older brother. And she loves him as such!

“I really don’t want to disregard your feelings Ella, but- we have some more severe problems. Like Raphael,” Amenadiel says in a smooth and calm voice. 

Lucifer nods. “The big guy is right, of course. Beelzebub swears up and down that Hell does not have him. Which means what is left would be-”

“Heaven,” Amenadiel says. 

Ella frowns deeply. “Why would Heaven steal an Angel?” She asks and chuckles in disbelief. “That sounds unlikely.”

“Oh-” Aziraphale says, clearing his throat. He fiddles nervously around with his hands. “Heaven is- well, sometimes a little bit different from the Bible. We are, of course, still the good guys, mainly but-”

“Well, fortunately you don’t know our siblings.” Lucifer interrupts. Aziraphale glares at him for that. He clears his throat. “What I wanted to say, before I was so rudely interrupted is, that just as Hell can be strict with its rules, so is heaven. And demons aren’t exactly their best friends,” Aziraphale continues. 

Ella looks uncertain. She tries to understand it. At least Aziraphale puts an effort into it. “Oh- alright. I guess I get that, Azi” she says. 

“I say we try to contact them. Not?” Lucifer continues, not even noticing the angry look Aziraphale gives him. The bookseller fixes his tie with a huff. 

“Alright, we have hardly a better plan,” Amenadiel agrees. They take their jackets, leaving the Youngs house. Aziraphale puts the hands into the pockets of his tartan coat. His brows are deeply furrowed in worry about Crowley. They better find him, before someone dangerous does…

He wants to believe that Heaven wouldn’t just hurt him, but Aziraphale knows better. Especially now that he found out about Crowleys past. They would fully destroy him and-

“Brothers!” A loud voice calls gleefully. The four beings stop in their tracks, turning around. Gabriel walks down the pavement, arms open happily. It becomes forced, when he notices the human and Aziraphale. But eventually he just looks at Amenadiel again. 

“Gabriel- what are you doing here?” Amenadiel asks, calmly as always. But there is something dangerous in his eyes, as he glances over at Lucifer. Then Aziraphale. In both their eyes stands murder. 

“I was told you are both in Tadfield, and I wondered if the little brat changed his mind, and will now finally start the war to end all wars?” Gabriel asks, tipping his head with a charming smile to the side. 

Ella makes a disgusted face. That’s the guy she learned about in catholic school? 

“No, we are here because of something else. Say brother- heaven hasn’t kidnapped a demon, did we?” Amenadiel keeps asking. Gabriel makes a thoughtful face. 

“No, not that I know, brother.” 

Amenadiel nods. He looks at Aziraphale and Lucifer. He motions his hand towards Gabriel, as if to invite them to something. “After you,” he says. 

Aziraphale lifts his chin, balling his hand into a fist. “It’s my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

“And there is nobody else who could have kidnapped your brother?” Ella asks curiously. For the whole car ride she has asked questions. Lucifer tries to be patient, but Aziraphale is a lot better at that, answering every absurdness full of kindness and understanding. Questions like: What is God like? or Will I go to heaven? or What about sin? 

Lucifers answers were: “ An ass. That depends on your guilt . And Without those, life wouldn’t be fun .” Aziraphale sighed at every single one of them. He sits on the backbench of the Bentley with Ella, shaking his head in disapproval. He begins to see where Crowley got his opinions from… 

“No, of course not. There aren’t that many supernatural beings, able to kidnap an Archangel,” Lucifer says. He didn’t even know that you can summon them, until two hours ago. On the other hand, he wasn’t aware that you can summon a demon either. He has to pay better attention to his subjects.

“Not that many?” Ella questions. “Well, you know, a few other Gods. But most of them are retired, and the Norse’ are busy celebrating,” Lucier says. He never had much to do with the other gods. The Egyptians were no fun, the Native Americans were not very outgoing and the Greeks… well, too much drama. Even though he and Zeus had some good nights, before Amenadiel dragged him back to hell.

Ella keeps poking. “And they all like him?” 

“As much as I know, he never even met them,” Lucifer replies. Amenadiel nods in agreement. “Raphael was on earth, not in some afterlife, or a world of Gods, for the past 6000 years,” he says softly. Even though it’s bad they have no more suspects right now. Better to ask Chloe and the Detective Douche for assistance.

Aziraphale looks uncomfortable. “Well- I mean…”

“Spit it out, what is it?” Lucifer asks directly. Aziraphales face scrunches in, as if he bit something bitter.

“I mean… his divorce with Hades was pretty messy but… that was 2000 years ago. You don’t think he is still angry, do you?” The Principality wonders. Lucifer glances at him in the mirror. “Divorce?”

Amenadiel: “Hades?”

Ella: “Like the- like the Greek God of the Dead?”

Aziraphale shrugs. “Crowley was the goddess of spring for a while. He has a very green thumb, you know? The most stunning flowers in the world. And don’t get my started on all the fruit back then- I never ate a fig that good ever again,” Aziraphale digresses, eyes filled with yearning for that wonderful sweet taste. He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. “Someone mistook him for a goddess and he just rolled with it, I suppose.

“Focus, Aziraphale. What do you mean with a messy divorce?” Amenadiel asks gently. Lucier shakes his head. “Can we come back to the point where our brother was the Queen of the Underworld?” He questions in disbelief. How much more did he miss in his brothers life?

“I mean- it wasn’t pretty. They had a huge fight. When I found Crowley again he was drunk in a tavern. I took him for a walk and then some oysters, so he could sober up. But he was in no good state. And from what it seemed like well- Hades was very angry with him- her, back then. Not that Crowley wasn’t angry, of course. He later told me that he threw a plate at him and broke his nose- Hades had grabbed her and it was- god, you can’t imagine. It was ugly,” Aziraphale says with a sigh. Crowley has a temper, that is no secret to him. Especially when he decides something is unjust, or a child is hurt. It’s seldom that he fights that awfully for himself, though.

Lucifer and Amenadiel both make a face. “Sounds like he might still be angry, after all that time, not?” Lucifer asks. The idea to return into an underworld doesn’t sit right with him. But the suspicion that this guy hurts his little brother is even worse.

“So we go into the underworld?” Ella asks, shifting uncomfortably around in her chair. Amenadiel is confused. “If anyone has an idea how we can get there, of course,” he says. Personally, he has none. 

“Well-” Lucifer begins, glancing at his brother in the passenger seat. “We killed me for a case before, didn’t we?”

~~

The mud already soaks through Crowleys dress shoes. The pine needles under his feet are dimming the steps, just like the dimmed voices of the children. They walk down the mountain, making their way through the woods. 

The demon made all the kids find a partner to hold their hand, just to make sure nobody gets lost. They put on rain jackets, filled some rucksacks with food from the kitchen and then got on their way. There were no phones or landlines in the facility, and there has only been one car. So now Crowley leads an army of children away from the boot camp, Warlock set on fire the moment they left.

He smells like smoke, walking by Crowleys side. A little girl holds onto the demons hand. She is maybe 5 or 6 years old. He put her into a jacket with camouflage patches, that is actually too big for her. But she doesn’t complain, her warm hand tightly in Crowleys cold palm.

“So, you still have to tell me what happened,” Crowley points out, looking at Warlock. The teen shrugs with a sheepish grin. “Guess I messed up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t say that, sweetie. We all make mistakes, hu? Some maybe more than others,” he teases. Warlock tries to hold back another smirk. 

Crowley sighs. “I know about your father. And about- about how you stole from him. Is that it?” 

Warlock looks pale down. He shrugs. “Yeah… but I- I did it for a good reason!” He says upset, on the verge of defending himself for something Crowley doesn’t even accuse him of. He does that a lot, and Crowley knows it’s because of his parents. It pains him how all of this influences him. Only human, after all… 

“I believe you, Warlock. But you still have to tell me what happened. We have to fix this, alrighty, Baby Bat?” 

Warlock swallows hard and nods. “Okay,” he breathes out. The rain turns more into a drizzle.

“I was at school to pick Adam up, you know? And then- this old guy suddenly talked to me,” Warlock says.

“Professor Wicked?” Crowley interrupts. Warlock nods. “He asked if he could talk to me and well- me and Adam said yes. He got us some hot chocolate and then he told us about the glass frogs. You know, he said my father would try to destroy their habitat and that he would try to stop that. I asked dad about it and he said he has no idea what I’m talking about and to stay out of this, and I- me and Adam suspected that he might already know about and ignore it…”

“So you snooped through his office?” Crowley asks. Warlock swallows hard and nods. “And we were right. He had made evidence disappear and- well, we didn’t know what to do with that information. But then things escalated and I gave Adam the files and then- one night I just fell asleep. I woke up in some private plane and then I was… brought here.”

Warlock doesn’t pick his eyes up from the muddy ground. Crowley inhales deeply. It hurts. How can a father hurt his own child like that? How can any parent sacrifice their flesh and blood so carelessly? 

It’s that moment when it sinks in. His father did the same. He had to know, right? There is no way God didn’t know that his sons had burned him and shoved him out of heaven. But he didn’t do anything. He stayed silent, made sure that nobody would find out. And what for? Gabriel and Michael had just won a revolution for him. Of course he wouldn’t go around, telling anyone that they had killed Heavens favourite. 

Crowley presses his lips to a thin line.

“I’m sorry-” Warlock mumbles, full of guilt. Crowley stops. He grabs Warlocks arm, looking down at him. 

“No- don’t be. You did the right thing, Warlock. The only right thing you could have done,” Crowley assures him, so much earnestness in his face. Warlock looks up and swallows. “You think?” He asks. 

“I do. And I am so proud you did it- Warlock I am so proud of you,” Crowley says. Warlock feels his lips twist into half a smile. Crowley looks serious. 

“Come ‘ere, Baby Bat,” he says, pulling Warlock into a tight hug. The boy chuckles and hugs Crowley back. “Thanks Nanny…”

He rests his head over Crowleys heart for a moment. He heart it beat and feels Crowleys stiff fingers in his brown hair. 

The demon holds him tight. Just a moment more…

Chapter Text

Crowley leans over the counter of the kiosk. He glances into the darkness, eyes searching for a salesman. His hand rings the tiny bell and after some moments an elder man with grey hair and a baseball cap steps into the light. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, showing his yellow teeth. Crowley doesn’t even try to force a smile. “You sell bus tickets, yeah?”

“Yeah, I sure do. Where you need to go?” The man asks. Crowley has no time to consider very long. They spend the night sleeping on the ground in the woods. It felt like a blessing when they stopped seeing only trees and a little suburb came into view. 

“Los Angeles. 48 people,” Crowley orders.

“48?!” The guy exclaims. He leans over the counter to see onto the street. All the kids sit on the pavement, or stand in the shadows. After it rained all day long, yesterday, today it’s far too hot.

“Are you some human trafficker or something?” The old guy asks. Crowley looks coldly at him from underneath his glasses. He is not in the mood for someone to ask questions. He has to hold back from performing a miracle. Ever since he was thrown out of hell, he worries that they will run out one day. 

“I’m their teacher,” he deadpans. Not too wrong. He tutored Warlock after the Apocalypse was stopped. He felt like the boy could need some less abusive and manipulative influences in his life, with his parents. 

“You are a teacher?” The salesman looks Crowley judging up and down. His dress shoes are still soaked through, pants full of mud too. He looks like something the cat dragged in, right now.

“Worst school trip ever,” Crowley says, keeping it short. The salesman nods, not believing it. Nevertheless, he begins to search the tickets out. “What do you teach?”

“History and Biology,” Crowley says, first thing coming to mind. The guy nods and looks up, the tickets in his hand. 

“You got money?” He questions. Crowley picks some hundred dollar notes out, he simply miracled into his back pocket. He puts them onto the register. The salesmans eyebrows rise up. He whistles softly. He scrambles to put the money away and then hands Crowley the tickets. 

“Keep the change,” he says, turning around and walking back to the kids. So… Los Angeles it is. 

~~

“Okay can you please repeat that?” Linda asks. Her eyes lay on Lucifer, Amenadiel, Ella and Aziraphale. They stand in the living room of Crowley's flat. They arrived not too long ago. Amenadiel flew off to grab the only medic they know. Meanwhile, Chloe was giving Lucifer a very passive-aggressive speech, about how she can’t believe that he has a son (who now isn’t his son any more) and could never tell her. 

Adam didn’t seem too bothered by it though. Instead he chatted with Aziraphale, showing him the files he and Warlock had stolen from Thadeus Dowlings office. The angel couldn’t make much of it. Too many professional terms he isn’t fully familiar with.

Crowley would understand, he thinks with a little sigh.

“We did it before,” Lucifer says with a shrug. “I kill myself. You bring me back.”

“No, I understand that Lucifer but- isn’t there another way to do this?” Linda questions. She is against killing her patience. Especially twice.

“I’d prefer to drive there myself, Doctor. But unfortunately you can’t just walk to the gates of the underworld and knock,” Lucifer says.

Adam blinks softly. He and Aziraphale sit on the couch. Adam still wears pyjamas, a blanket over his legs. 

“But won’t you just go to hell, if we do that? The Greek underworld is not a hell. Anathema said the Christians just made it look that way so people would think it’s something bad,” Adam points out. Anathema has explained a lot of things to him over the years. Especially about the occult, religions and history.

“I’m gonna- and I can’t believe I say this- say a prayer. A Greek one. Ancient one. And then we just hope for the best outcome. And I’m gonna take hemlock,” Lucifer says. It’s not like they have a big choice. Crowley might be in danger and they have to find him, before anything gets even worse.

“They executed people that way, in Ancient Greece,” Amenadiel explains, when the humans (and half an antichrist) give them questioning looks.

Nobody in the room looks convinced. Eventually Aziraphale gets up though, plucking the hemlock. Good thing his husband has basically every kind of plant in existence in his flat…

“So will you just eat it or..?” Aziraphale doesn’t finish the sentence. Lucifer grins, trying to be offended.

“Don’t sound so impatient. I might start to think you dislike me, brother-in-law,” he jokes.

Aziraphale pales at the nickname. He puts the hemlock down by the table, between him and Lucifer. The devil sighs. Never up to a joke, is that guy? Worse than Zadkiel…

“Alright. What about the Antidote?,” Lucifer asks. Aziraphale puts them right next to the hemlock. Lucifer nods. He folds his arms and closes his eyes. 

After a moment, his voice floods the room, Greek words in a soft dialect. It catches Chloe off guard. It always does. He sounds so beautiful, no matter which language he speaks. Lucifer just has a nice voice.

She takes Lucifers hand, needing the warm reassurance that he is not going to die. Not really. They will bring him back, soon enough. 

Lucifer feels the Detectives soft skin, holding tightly onto it. He will never get used to dying, no matter how many times he does it. 

He brings the hand up to his mouth, putting the hemlock in. He makes a face, chewing. Disgusting… 

The moment feels long and sacred. Lucifer swallows. Then Amenadiels phone rings. He winces. 

“Seriously brother? I’m executing myself here and you can’t even put your phone on silent. I can’t believe you-” Lucifer complains. Chloe gives Amenadiel a scolding glance as well, while the eldest angel searches his phone out. 

He looks frowning at the screen. 

“Oh- it’s Maze?” He says, confused. Lucifer frowns. “Well- put her on speaker,” he demands. Amenadiel looks a bit annoyed, but does as he is told. 

“Hey Maze, why do you call?” Amenadiel questions. Maze instantly replies in quick words. 

“This demon broke into the LUX with a whole army of children. Can Lucifer tell me how in the hell to handle this? Can I murder them?”

“Excuse me- what?” Amenadiel asks. All of them stare at the black phone in his hand. There is no way- 

“This demon-”

“Crowley?” Linda asks. Maze is silent for a second. “Yes. That one, why?” 

Lucifer clenches Chloes hand hard. He is deathly pale. “I- I think I’m sick-” he whispers, before falling to the side with a thud. His breath doesn’t move anymore.

Chapter Text

Crowley kicked the dirty pants off his long legs. Stepping into the penthouse, far above the rushing city, was a relief. The quietness suddenly took him in and Crowley allowed himself to relax and take a while to himself.

For some reason the children get along great with the Barkeepers of the LUX, so there is no need to worry about them. It’s noon, the club is closed and the kids are either sleeping or running around. 

Maze had angrily glared at him at all times. Once he had picked the lock, she attacked him with a bunch of knives. She only noticed who he was, once he was laying beneath her and staring up in horror. 

Looking back, Croley should have expected this. Lucifer had told her that Maze is in LA. Where else would she be, when she isn’t in hell? The demon had called Lucifer, to demand an explanation. Once she ended the phone call she was only huffing.

“He better give me a good explanation when he’s back…” she had grumbled. Maybe she hasn’t met Crowley before. Not personally, at least. But she heard the stories. Traitor. Immune to holy water, for some reason. The one who destroyed a thing they planned for 6000 years. And Lucifer just spares him. 

Crowley sighs, shaking his head. He knows those thoughts too well, no need to repeat them. He turns the water on, admiring how nice the bathroom is. Really, Lucifers whole flat has a certain charm to it. 

The Serpent steps under the hot water. It’s almost boiling and he sighs happily, leaning his head far back to let it flow over his face. He can almost feel how the dirt is washed away from him. 

He lets some shampoo soak in, which smells like “men” says the package, and then a body wash which sells like “manly men”. Humans and their labels. It’s silly, really.

Crowley turns the water off after a bit. He wraps a fluffy towel around his hips and slithers out into the living area. His dirty clothes lay in a heap on the floor. He takes a look around and opens the closet, once he finds out which of the doors is the right one. Crowley is faced with a collection of different suits. 

He frowns, carefully taking one out to inspect it. Too colourful, he decides and tosses it over the couch. It’s the same with the next 5 suits, until he finally finds a black one with a dark purple shirt. Better than nothing, he supposes. 

Crowley puts it on and fixes the fabrice as good as he is able to. Then he brushes his red hair out, until it falls damp onto his shoulders and he can pull it into a little bun. He even finds a ribbon in the bedroom to use for this. He doesn’t even want to know where this is from.

He gives himself a once-over in the mirror, before skipping around on his heels, ready to either take another long look around, or go down to the children again and call Aziraphale. He was finally able to charge his phone. Not that he thought a lot about calling anyone. He was a bit too busy for that. 

Crowley stops in his tracks, looking down. A little girl stands across from him, one of Mazes knifes in hand. She makes a fight pose. 

“Surrounder burglar!” She calls out. Crowley holds his palms up, brow rising with them.

“Tell me why you’re here or I shall show no mercy!” She yells. Crowley feels his lips perk up at the way she speaks. Looks like Maze got a soft spot, or else she would be dead for even trying to touch that knive.

“Oh I’m just a humble wanderer, begging shelter in my brothers chambers. You’re the keeper here?” Crowley responses, using the same old language. The girls face lights up, dimples building on her brown skin. “You’re Lucis brother?”

“Well- his sibling, actually,” Crowley responds after a moment of awkward silence. She cocks her head. After a moment she grinning holds her hand out like a little buisnesswoman. 

“Trixie Espinoza. And your name is?” She asks, feeling very grown up while doing so. 

Crowley shakes her hand, squeezing it kindly. “Anthony J. Crowley Fell,” he says, giving her a little smile. She seems sweet, looking at the black nail polish on him. “But just Crowley is fine.”

Trixie pulls her hands away. “That’s so cool. Are you an Angel too?”

“Uhm- no. I’m a demon. But I used to be an angel. A long time ago,” Crowley says. The words feel foreign on his tongue. But no need to hide anymore, right? It’s just a shame he has to carry. And now the secret is already out.

Trixies mouth forms into an O, not catching on with his feelings . “Just like Lucifer!”

“I suppose,” Crowley says. He never saw it like that. Lucifer was banned from heaven and got a kingdom in return. He was burned and thrown down the deep end, told to learn swimming on his own. 

“But I have been on earth longer than he has,” he continues.

“How long?”

“Bit more than 6000 years,” Crowley answers her questions patiently. Trixies face fills with delight. “That’s awesome! What did you do in all that time? Every job in the world?”

“Not every job. But a couple,” Crowley says with a chuckle. He feels a lot better, in the fresh clothes and with such a chatterbox as Trixie by his side. He allows himself to sit down on Lucifers couch, not wanting to know what happened on that piece of furniture before. His muscles are still stiff from sleeping on the ground and then having an uncomfortable bus ride. 

“Teacher?”

“If tutor counts, yes.”

Trixie frowns. “Farmer?” 

“Gardener.”

“Uhm… mh actor?” 

“Yes, actually,” Crowley says. Trixie jumped next to him onto the couch. She knees by his side, inspecting the demon with curiosity. “I used to play for William Shakespear, for a while. I stopped after his plays got a bit more depressing,” Crowley continues with an explanation. Poor man. Getting over your son isn’t something anyone should have to go through. 

Trixie jumps off the couch. “Lucifer has a real Shakespear play too!”

After some moments she returns, holding a black bound map up. Trixie is proud to show it. She already likes Crowley more than Amenadiel. And he doesn’t act as weird as Lucifer either. “It’s Hamlet.”

Crowley makes a face. “I made that one famous,” he recalls. The lengths he goes for his Angel… As if that is a sign, his phone begins to ring. Crowley fiddles it out of the suit pocket. The screen shows Aziraphale, and Crowley instantly feels himself smile faintly. 

“Excuse me,” he says to Trixie and then holds the mobile to his ear. “Hey angel, whazup?”

“Crowley, are you really in LA?” Aziraphales voice asks through the speaker, in a way that can’t be happy. Crowley bites his cheek nervously.

“I didn’t know where else to go. I found Warlock and took him here,” Crowley replies. “He is safe, don’t worry,” he adds, once the silence grows too thick. Aziraphale inhales deeply. All this worries for nothing…

“Why didn’t you call?” He asks, before dimming his voice. “Lucifer died for you.” 

“What?!”

“Do not worry, he is alive again. Just a bit… well, ran over by the bus, is the saying, yes?” Aziraphale questions. He is still not very up to date with the newest vocabulary, but Adam teaches him a lot. All of the kids do.

“What happened?” Crowley wants to know. He stood up and paces around the room.

“Well- we suspected you might have been kidnapped by Hades and he wanted to reach the Underworld and- well, not so important. You are alright my dear?” Azirapahles voice grows gentle. Crowley feels caressed and nods, even when the angel can’t see it. 

“I am. And so is Warlock. Just a little shaken, but he will be fine. Does Adam still have those… the files with the glass frogs?” Crowley wants to know. It was pushed into the background, but the whole thing hasn’t let go of Crowley anymore.

“He does. I read them, but it’s very complicated and I did not understand a lot. Are we supposed to come and let you take a look?” Aziraphale asks. He plays with some nicknack on Crowleys desk.

“Would be good, yes. We also have another problem but- you’ll see when you’re here. I love you,” Crowley says. Said problem would be the whole bunch of children, downstairs in the bar. What are they supposed to do with them?

“Oh, I love you too, my sweet boy. Fare thee well,” Aziraphale says. They hang the phone up and Crowley sighs. So much about that…

The demon turns around. Trixie sits with Hamlet on the cushions and thumbs through the handwritten pages. She puts it aside when Crowley faces her. 

“This is boring,” she decides. 

Crowley puts it onto the table, before falling next to her. “Is it or do you not understand it?” 

“You think it’s interesting?” Trixie asks and scrunches her nose a little up. Crowley shrugs. “Yeah. It’s interesting. Doesn’t mean I like it though,” Crowley says. Trixie looks not convinced. She scrambles closer and hands Crowley the book. 

“Tell me! But make it interesting,” she demands. The demon raises unconvinced his brows, thumbing the first page open. He clears his throat and lets his eyes skip over the paragraphs. 

“Alright, I suppose-” he says. For a second he is in another place, telling a different story to a different child. 

An arch and outside the thunder growls. Anger of the Almighty. The one who can’t do anything wrong, even when outside the people plead to be let in. Just lock you door and-

Crowley has to swallow hard. Pull yourself together… 

“It… it was a cold and stormy night, in theState of Denmark-” he begins. His voice slowly flowing into the silence.

Chapter Text

Lord Beelzebubs steps leave black prints in the thick ashes, covering all of hell. It snows down, trembles in heaps onto the ground. The burned flesh.

The Prince of hell falls to their knees, head lowered in obedience and subjection. “My Lord, Morningstar-” she begins.

The devil is leaned far back in his throne, red and gold glowing eyes lowered onto the Lord of Flies. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, noticing how they are alone. Even the guards at the door left, after a swipe of Lucifers hand.

“I told you to bring my brother here,” the devils voice fills the room. Booming loud and deep. It sinks into Beelzebubs marrow. Makes them shudder.
“My Lord-”

“Why isn’t he here?” Lucifer demons to know. His eyes are wide open, desperate for company. For real company. Someone who understands. Someone who won’t fall on his knees and beg for attention. A brother.

“He refused to see you, my Lord,” Beelzebub says. She picks her head up, dark eyes looking at Lucifer. He only makes a motion of his hand and Beelzebub gets up from her knee. “I explicitly told him- Lucifer Morningstar desires his company and he-” they hiss softly, stuck on their Ss’.

Lucifer clenches his jaw hard. “He refuses to see me?” 

Of course he does. Of course Crowley has to be so- so damn resentful. As if it is Lucifers fault that he fell! Maybe he should have picked Michaels side. Obviously he thinks he is a villain either way. Unable to even come here and face him. Instead he hides like some- like some coward. 

“Shall I punish him?” Beelzebub interrupts Lucifers thoughts. The King of hell looks down from his throne. He narrows his eyes dangerously and gets up. In lazy steps he comes forth to look into the dark, mirrored eyes of their Prince.

“Nobody- nobody will ever lay a hand on Raphael. Am I making myself clear?”

Beelzebub presses her lips to a thin line. She swallows and then softly nods. “Yes. You won’t hear anything, my Lord.”

Lucifer already turned around again. He slurps back to his throne, falling into it. His white wings flutter for a second and he sinks into the cushions. 

“You’re free to go,” he says. And Lord Beelzebub obeys.

~~

“Lucifer- Lucifer, wake up,” a soft female voice says. The devil flinches up from his sleep. Blearily he turns his head around, which feels like someone hit him over with a hammer. After some seconds his eyes get used to the light. He sits in the back of a taxi, boxed in between the door and Aziraphale. Chloe leans over the seat, so she could put a hand onto his knee. 

Lucifer yawns. 

“We are there, Lucifer. Crowley said he will wait inside,” Chloe explains. Lucifer looks out the window and they are indeed standing parked in front of the LUX. 

He searches through the pockets of his suit and hands the driver a few hundred dollar bills. The driver makes a surprised face, when Lucifer already gets out. Amenadiel stands next to the car and from the bench behind them, Linda, Ella, Dan and Adam get out. It was  a really tight drive from the airport. And Lucifer already fights the Jetlag.

Aziraphale scrunches his nose up, looking at the posh building. Lucifer smirks proudly. “Home sweet home. Impressive, not? You will love the LUX- or not, but you should,” Lucifer says, leading the way inside.

Aziraphale huffs with a shake of his head. “I will certainly not-” he makes sure, marching after the Devil. But only to see what his husband has been up to. And to make sure Warlock is alright, of course. 

He doesn’t feel welcome in a club. Last time he visited a ball was when he was still a member of the Discreet Gentleman's Club . What a merry time… Aziraphale is only happy that the club isn’t open for business when they step inside.

Lucifer stops at the top of the stairs. He looks down. His Piano, the bar and the seating possibilities are all in view. They are filled with his bar keepers and a lot of small children. The devil looks baffled down. “What in the name of hell?” He asks.

As if it is a sign, Crowley comes out of the elevator. “Ah, there you are. Hey guys,” Crowley says. He presses a kiss to Aziraphales cheek and the angel allows himself to fix Crowleys black tie for a second, before taking his hands away. 

“Is that my suit?” Lucifer asks, stepping closer to inspect it. A flash of horror passes over his face as Crowley wiggles around in it. “Suits me, not?”

“No it doesn’t- how could you?” Lucifer asks, still shocked that Crowley even dared to open his wardrobe. The youngest brother only huffs and shakes his flaming hair out. 

“Did you bring the file?” Warlock asks. Lucifer turns quickly around to look at the young American. He is still inhuman pale and looks out of place, but he stands like a cliff against the waves. Not moving. 

“Warlock!” Adam exclaims. He runs forward and falls into his friends arms. All the worries he had are shifting away, making room for relief and happiness. Crowleys only shoulders sink a bit. A faint smile lays on his lips. It fades soon enough, when Aziraphale opens his suitcase and gets a file out. It’s made of brown paper and the angel dims his voice, as if not to bother the boys. 

“I already read through it but- the vocabulary seems to be more academic then I am able to understand. Will it be useful?” Aziraphale asks. He stands onto his tiptoes, looking onto the lines of ink. Crowley holds them opened up in his hands, snake eyes tracing over the lines. 

The faint smile disappears from his features. He gulps softly. 

“Jesus-” he whispers under his breath. Aziraphales face raises to Crowleys. “What is it, dear boy?” 

“This is- I can’t believe this,” he says. On the other hand… humans are sometimes just so godawful selfish and- “Or no, I can believe it. I’m gonna- Dowling is so dead,” Crowley growls, sharp teeth clenched. 

“Why? What does it say?” Adam pipes up. The boys step forward. “I’d love to know that too, brother,” Lucifer snarls. 

Crowley inhales deeply. “It says that he knew. That he knew about the glass frogs and did everything to ignore it-”

Ella balls her little hands to fists. “So he was just gonna let those poor babies die?” She asks, upset. Crowley nods. “That’s what it means, yes.”

“But then we have to stop him! People need to know, right?” Adam asks. Chloe is already taking her phone out. “I call my boss and he will keep it safe,” she says. 

Crowley instantly tries to grab her phone, but Lucifer is quicker. He is still a bit hurt over how his little brother put his mobile in the blender. 

“Dowling will get it from your boss. He’s a politician and not a complete idiot,” Crowley says. Aziraphale puts a hand onto his shoulder. “Love…” 

“What do you suggest we do then, Sherlock Holmes?” Lucifer asks. Chloe angrily takes her phone back from Lucifer. She puts it huffing into her pocket. 

The group looks at a certain demon, who scratches his brains out to come up with a solution. He clears his throat and then puts his head near Aziraphales. 

“Say-” he whispers softly. “Are you still friends with that reporter of The World?” 

“Andrigo? Oh yes, I am indeed. We exchange letters and he is very interested in my Wilde collection and-”

“Angel,” Crowley nudges him softly. Aziraphale nods. “Oh- of course. Focus,” he says sheepishly. It warms Crowleys heart and he hooks his arm under Aziraphales. “Can you call him?”

“Oh- Oh! Yes, what a great idea,” Aziraphale says. He holds his hand out. “Give me your electronic communication device, please.”

“You can just call it mobile, you know?” Crowley asks, giving his husband his black phone. Aziraphale smiles. “I know, but I won’t,” he explains, typing in his friends number. A moment later they are talking.

Chapter Text

Sylvester Smith is a journalist whose career started off in ‘69, after he covered the Stonewall Riots in New York. Back then he did little jobs and sold his articles and photographs. In the 70s he founded his own journal, which soon found plenty of queer readers. One, which began a long friendship via letter. A Zira Fell.

The elder journalist sits at the bar of the LUX, nervously pushing the glasses up his nose. A demon sits on top of the bar, long legs stretched out and a brown paper file in his hands. He keeps his fingers moving over the page. 

Aziraphale, sleeves rolled up and jacket abandoned on a seat, keeps talking. 

“This is a huge scandal, my dear friend- we depend on you,” he says. He is obviously the calm part of the couple. Crowley keeps pointing out passages of the scientific paper he was given. “And see- here it says that Thadeus Dowling was warned months before the first plans even came up and-”

“Enough,” Sylvester says. He sighs loudly and blinks at the Angel. “Aziraphale those are government secrets- they won’t make this easy on us. Once this is published- can you life with that backlash?”

Aziraphale looks down, folding his fine manicured hands. That actually makes him hesitate. There is so much change going on. And he isn’t one that changes a lot. He likes things how they are- how they were. But he can’t go back, can he?

His pale blue eyes find Crowley. The demon doesn’t face him, sensing the thick air. They haven’t had a lot of time together, since their argument and the resolve in Tadfield. But this is Crowley. He said it himself, didn’t he? In good and bad times and- this is important. This is creation and it’s important to Crowley, who never dares to ask for anything. 

“Of course we can. We did not survive this long by not developing, did we now?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley feels how a heavy weight is lifted off of his heart. 

Sylvester nods earnest. “Good. We need to be quick, before they find out where we are and what we have- Mister Fell, interest in helping me?”

Aziraphale presses his lips together. “Of course, my friend.”

The Angel gives Crowley a meaningful look. The demon instantly understands and swings his long legs from the bar. He lands on his feet. “See me as banished back to hell,” he jokes flatly. For a second he puts his hand onto his husbands arm, squeezes the biceps in a comforting way, before fleeing like faint dust.

Aziraphale watches as he disappears in the elevator and then cracks his knuckles. “Well- to work we get…”

~~

Night sunk down onto LA. Lucifer is glad to have his City back. Good old home… a real home, not heaven or hell. He keeps flicking his lighter around. On. Out. On. Out. 

Maze stares down at the passing cars, the wind blowing over the balcony. “So Beelzebub kept him from you?”

“They all did,” Lucifer replies, teeth gritted in desperation. How hadn’t he known? This feeling is eating away on him and he can’t even name it- he should have been there. Raphael was his responsibility. He was… wasn’t he?

“Do you want me to hurt them?” Maze questions, hand already on the handles of her blades. Lucifer has a hard time shaking his head. He desires revenge. To hurt the demons that betrayed him, just like the angels once did but-

“We had to promise him not to,” Lucifer says. And you can’t break a deal with the devil, can you? Those things are pretty binding. Maze leans her head back. “No. No, you promised him. But I’m not asking you to order me,” she says. “I’m just asking if you’d mind if I went down there and made some trouble? Or- are they still protected by you?”

“Of course they aren’t! Do whatever you want with them, Mazikeen. They are no longer my problem,” Lucifer pushes it away from him. Maybe that is exactly what they need. Maze to hurt them and remind them where they belong.

She grins at the devil, ready to respond. But they both turn their heads when they hear a shatter. Lucifer groans. “But that is my problem!” 

He marches in quick steps into the penthouse again. “Child put that down! Who of you threw the whiskey down? That was a bottle from Charles Dickens and-” Lucifer is already fuzzing around. 

All the children from the Boot Camp sit or run around. Most of them don’t dare to move much. What did Crowley call them? Traumatised. Whatever that means.

“Stop yelling at them,” Crowley says, annoyed, coming out of the elevator. He makes a movement of his hand and suddenly the full bottle stands unharmed on the bar. The devil blinks. 

“How did you-?”

“You learn, when you are on your own for so long,” Crowley only says. He opens the bottle and pours himself a glass. 

Lucifer makes a face. “This should not be possible to do, even as an archangel and-”

“Aziraphale and Sylvester are writing that article now, by the way. Thought you oughta know,” Crowley interrupts him. He isn’t interested in having to explain himself. 

Amenadiel has watched the whole thing from the couch. He has a deep frown on his features. Only slowly clearance runs over him. “You invented yourself…” he mutters. 

Crowley and Lucifer turn both to him, standing exactly the same way, hips out and arms fold. “What?” the demon asks. 

“Angels invent themselves. I once lost my wings, just because I believed I was not worthy of heaven anymore but then I gained them again. Did you figure this out too?” Amenadiel asks, a knowing little smile playing around his lips. 

Crowley furrows his brows, pity and regret filling him. “You lost your wings?”

“Don’t get so dramatic, he got them back. Big boy is all the old again,” Lucifer says dismissively. 

Crowley lowers his head. “I didn’t know that, brother. I- I’m sorry,” he admits softly. Shouldn’t he have been there and helped him? He heals, isn’t that his purpose? At least it used to be. But it isn’t him anymore, right? He decides his own faith. He and Zira are on their own side.

“Thank you, Raphael. I appreciate that,” Amenadiel says balmy. Crowley lets his arms sink. “But I didn’t know that we- well, we become what we think we can achieve. I just tried to see what I can teach myself and I- ended with a lot of miracles. Which I then taught Aziraphale too. Useful little tricks. Nothing more,” Crowley says. He figured that all out when he accidentally miracled himself out of a situation which would have discorporated him. He stood suddenly a street over, completely unharmed. He wondered what else he could learn and.. Here he is. 

Amenadiel nods softly. Lucifer huffs. “Either way, it seems useful. Care to teach me?” 

“Ask the Dowlings to send you my rates,” Crowley replies with a cheeky smirk. Lucifers face falls. 

“Rates?”

“Of course. If I tutor you,” Crowley says, a teasing grin hiding behind his eyes. Lucifer looks like Crowley just insulted his Italian Suits. “I am your brother!”

“Oh right- then you pay double the price,” Crowley says, nudging Lucifer in the side and giggling amused. 

Amenadiel swallows softly, a glimpse of another life flashing before him. He hasn’t changed that much now, has he? Raphael is still somewhere in there and-

“We are done, down there. Do you want to join us in uploading?” The Elevator doors opened and Aziraphale stands before the entrance, fiddling around with his hands. The trio of brothers look at the angel. Lucifer turns on his heels. “I get the Detective,” he announces. 

Ella gets up from the armchair, where she had kept asking Amenadiel about all her religious questions over the last hour. Adam and Warlock get into the elevator and wait. Aziraphale steps in behind them, Ella right on his heels. 

Amenadiels face slowly grows worried. He stops walking and furrows his brows. Crowley feels his steps hesitate and turns around. 

Aziraphale pushes the button and Crowley shakes his head. “Give us a moment,” he says. 

The bookseller huffs softly. “You better hurry, witty serpent,” he teases. 

Crowleys lips instantly turn into a proud smile, full of love and adoration. How deserves he someone like this? The doors slide closed and the white face of his dear Angel vanishes. 

“What is it?” Crowley asks, looking at Amenadiel. They stand eye to eye and Amenadiel lowers his head. 

“Zadkiel just prayed to me,” he informs Crowley. “My presence is demanded in Heaven.”

“Now?” Crowley asks in disbelief. “We are just about to solve this. You’re not really returning now, are you?”

Amenadiel stays silent in guilt. Crowley swallows. “Of course- yes, of course, go.”

“Raphael I-”

“My name is Crowley. You ought to remember my name, at the very least,” Crowley snaps at him. There is a burning in his voice. He is all fire and rage and something that aches so bad inside of him. 

Amenadiel inhales deeply. “Brother, I have to go when it is demanded. I don’t expect you to understand since-” he stops his words. But he doesn’t has to finish them.

“Since I’m not an angel? Not anymore?” Crowley asks. Amenadiel shakes his head. “That is not what I wanted to say… Crowley.”

They fall silent, watching each other like two foreign animals. Testing. Waiting. 

“What do you expect me to say to this, Amenadiel? Something- something obedient? To start crawling after Heaven again and go running to dad? Or- or something loyal to the ones that tried killing my husband with hell fire? My loyalties shifted a lot when I came to earth. I had expected that yours did the same, but it seems like I was wrong. Still waiting for the throne, are you?” Crowley taunts. He is good at that, Amenadiel has to give it to him. He feels shame wash over him and it makes him angry- something Raphael had never achieved.

“What are you waiting for? My permission? Flutter off to wherever the hell you’re needed,” Crowley says. He turns around and disappears in the elevator.

“Jesus Christ-” Amenadiel whispers. He sighs softly, letting his wings out. In the next moment he is far away.

~~

Crowley struts down the stairs to the bar. Aziraphale shifts on his stool, face lighting up like the sun. “Crowley!”

His blue eyes look around. “Where did you leave Amenadiel?” 

“He had to run to his holder,” Crowley deadpans. He leans over Azirapahles shoulder, resting the chin on it. His snake eyes run to the screen of the laptop. “Is that it?”

Aziraphale looks puzzled at Crowleys unclear answer. Still he nods. “It is indeed. We just wanted to wait for you to upload it,” Aziraphale says, rather proud of the work they did. 

Warlock looks bothered. “And this will really work?” He asks. Adam seems a bit more sure about this, but even he hesitates. Crowley steps behind the two boys and puts  a hand on their shoulders. 

“Of course. Boys- the press is unbelievably powerful. And the people need to know, so we have a chance. You’re brave enough for that, right?”

The boys exchange glances with each other. Eventually Warlock nods. “Yes Nanny,” he says.

“Yes Crowley,” Adam agrees as well. Sylvester takes the laptop and Aziraphale smiles warmly at Crowley. Good job my dear,

“Ready?” Sylvester asks. Crowley groans. “Now do it!”

Sylvester nods very seriously. Finger hovering over the “sending” key. Inhales. Presses down.

“Did it work?” Aziraphale asks excitedly. Sylvester swallows hard. “We did it,” he says softly. 

Crowley lets go of his boys. “It's not that hard now, mh?” He asks, trying to lift their moods a little. 

“And you think they won’t hurt us? I mean, this was a pretty big secret Nanny and-” Warlock stops. He looks next to Crowleys head, dark eyes widening in horror. 

Crowley turns on his heels, just in time to see the bullets fly his way and disappear inside his stomach.

~~

The first thing he feels is fear. No pain. No anger or regret. Just pure panic, pumping through his veins. Crowley is under so much pressure it almost crushes him. Just an insect underneath Gods boot. 

A scream rips from his lips, wings spreading out. A nightly black, the orange of his wings just a far away memorie. 

He faces the Secret Service Agents, eyes mad with all the feelings breaking down over his head. They stare back from behind their guns, shooting round after round. Every single bullet puts new holes through his wings and body, leaving red dots of blood.

“What the hell is that thing?!” One of the men yells frightened. “Find this file! The terrorists have them!” The commander yells back. But nothing moves. 

Adam and Warlock sob. They are cowered together on the ground, holding each other. Aziraphale got numbly up. He walks around Crowley, pale eyes an ocean of tears. He clasps a hand in front of his mouth. “Crowley-” he whispers muffled out, voice high. 

The demons eyes trace down himself. He tries to swallow hard, feeling blood fill his mouth. As he stares at his shirt, Crowley can’t tell if the wounds were there before, or if he spit it out. Either way, in the next second everything goes black.

Chapter Text

There is no way of telling what is reality and what a dream. Crowley keeps floating back and forth between those two worlds, numbed by medication and drugs. Whatever it was the Doctors gave him, it’s strong enough to keep him passed out. When he does wake up, he simply groans and keens until they up his dose. 

Maybe it’s not the doctors…

He is sure that the pain is not an illusion. And Aziraphale caring for him neither. But everything else is harder to tell. Lucifers voice, or his hands above his arms. Amenadiel, speaking calmly and telling him about creation and the Big Bang and all the little wonders. Azrael comes crashing through a window and tumbling on the ground. Zadkiel letting stars explode behind his eyes and gush open in the sky.

He is floating in a tin can through the cosmos.

None of that makes sense. And when Crowley fights his eyes open, the window is unshattered. When he looks through it, not a perk is seen in the sky. It’s sunny. Autumn, he thinks numbly.

The demon cracks his dry lips open, groaning. He wants to sink back into sleep, but he knows that this won’t happen too soon. He is in the bedroom, on the upper floor of the bookshop.

Crowley can’t recall how he was brought here. But he won’t question it now either. Instead he turns his head a little.

His black wings are spread out, taking in a huge part of the room. One of them is bent and leans against the wall at which the bed stands. All over the black feathers spread white bandages and plasters. They look awfully attached.

“Oh dear boy-” Aziraphale gets up. Crowley is startled. He hasn’t seen him, but the angel sat indeed at the foot of the bed, legs folded underneath him and a book on his lap.

“You frightened us Crowley! I-” Aziraphale stops. He cried enough over the last weeks. No need to get this emotional right when Crowley woke up. 

“I’m sorry,” Crowley whispers with a hoarse voice. His throat is dried out. He lets the side of his face rest in the pillow, still looking at his patched wings. 

“Who tried to heal me?” He asks. 

Aziraphale wipes under his eyes. “Lucifer. He- he also flew you here. He- he had this theory. That you- that you can only die when you are close to me and- well, it appears he was correct,” Aziraphale says guiltily. 

Crowley doesn’t react. His brain is mushy and every thought takes him great concentrations and effort. Aziraphale doesn’t say what happened right after Crowley collapsed. How Lucifer took all the gunmen down, growing over himself and turning into the most twisted version of the devil. How Aziraphael turned fully hysterical, trembling and screaming and crying while kneeling by his husbands side. 

“You’d be worth dying for,” Crowley replies after the silence drags on forever. Aziraphael inhales deeply. Now just don’t flip out… 

“You scared us half to death, Crowley! All of us! You can’t just- play the martyrer and leave us here!” Aziraphale says. Crowley looks like Aziraphale is a terrified cat, giving him warning swipes. “You can’t leave me here…”

“But I have to protect you,” Crowley says brokenly. Aziraphale shifts closer, taking Crowleys hands into his own. They are both wearing the silver gleaming wedding rings on their fingers. A white diamond in either one. 

“No. You have to be with me. I can protect myself plenty,” Aziraphale argues. Crowley lowers his head ashamed. As soon as he does his eyes almost slip shut again.

The Angel sighs, turning his head to the stairs, where a faint knocking is heard. “I think I need to take this. Sleep,” he orders sternly. 

“Yes Sir,” Crowley says teasingly, but he is on the verge of sleep again. Before Aziraphale even leaves the room, Crowley is softly snoring. 

Aziraphale makes his way down the stairs. He takes his time, not in the emotional state to scare off a possible customer. He keeps the shop closed a lot more in general. It’s too important to him to sit by Crowleys side. He doesn’t want him to be alone, and it is giving him time to get over all the changes.

The knocking doesn’t stop but only gets more irritating. The angel opens the entrance and looks out. “We are very much closed at the mo-”

He stops himself and straightens a little up. “Remiel,” he says surprised. 

The angel is younger than him and her dark hair looks almost brown in the morning sun. She stands on the threshold, spear in hand and eyes laying on the Principality with usual seriousness.

“Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate-” she begins. Azirapahle looks nervously around. Did they come to finally get him? Another coup on his life?

“We came to see the Archangel Raphael. To see the truth with my own eyes,” she ends her speech. Aziraphales heart sinks between his knees.

“Remiel- why would you think he is here?” Aziraphale asks. Last thing Crowley can need right now is a curious sibling bringing God knows what kinds of new problems.

“Amenadiel was put on trial by Gabriel- he announced where we can find Raphael,” Remiel proclaims. Aziraphale presses his lips to a thin line. Of course Gabriel would do that to poor Amenadiel. Who else? 

“Sister, he is not in the right state to be visited,” Aziraphale tries to get rid of her. But the hunter doesn’t buckle. “We came all the way.”

The word We catches Aziraphales attention. Remiel makes a hand motion towards the street. Aziraphale pecks his head into the cold and as far as his eyes reach, there is a queue of angels. Oh dear.

“Well I… I suppose you can wait inside. But, ” Aziraphale has to stop Remiel from stepping inside, “he is asleep. So do not wake him up. You can go up when he is feeling a bit better.”

Remiel bows her head, showing she understands. “Of course Aziraphale. Raphaels recovery is the most important thing to all of us.”

Aziraphale swallows. He feels like he is making a big mistake, as he steps to the side and lets one angel after another enter into his precious bookstore.

~~

To say it is a nightmare would be an understatement. Aziraphale hates people in his book store. Normal People. Humans. But the angels are worse. They touch everything, look around and question him about absolutely every human relict he owns. 

Why do you showcase this? One asked, pointing their finger at the bowl of fresh fruit. Aziraphale had tried to smile. Because it tastes good. Because food is wonderful and Crowley always plants the sweetest fruits.

They looked at him like he is fully insane now. Aziraphale has not a single calm moment, walking around and trying to get the heavenly beings to stop messing his shop up. Watching a sack of fleas would have been easier , he thinks bitterly. 

Aziraphale just wants to make himself a tea, to calm his nerves down, when he hears a shattering sound from upstairs. Crowley, goes through his mind. 

Quickly Aziraphale wants to skip up the staircase, making sure his husband didn’t fall out of bed or hurt himself. But Crowley is already half down the stairs, wearing boxer shorts only and his hair a tangled mess. His eyes are half opened and tired. 

“Crowley dear, what do you think you are doing? You can’t just get up,” Aziraphale scolds him with a dimmed voice.

“Bullshit angel- I just want to use the bathroom… and get a tea,” Crowley says, pausing to yawn. Azirapale nervously folds his arms. 

“We have guests, Crowley… how about I make you that tea?” 

Crowley blinks, a bit more awake. His wings are stretched out, since he can hardly move them. It was hard enough to exit the flat and make his way this far. “Guests?” 

The bookshop became spooky and quiet. Crowley frowns a bit, taking another step down to try and see over Aziraphales shoulder. “What kinda guests?”

“Uhm-” Aziraphale makes, hands fidgeting around in panic. He makes space to have Crowley pass him by. The demon looks around the corner, freezing instantly at the sight. He stares into the bookshop and angels of all kinds stare back at him.

He breathes flatly, as if he might dissolve into thin air if he just doesn’t make any quick movements. Actually, he doesn’t make any movements at all. Instead he gulps. Aziraphale winces softly behind him. 

“Raphael-” a voice breaks out of the stunned silence. The Goddess steps out of the mass of people. Aziraphale instantly holds his breath. Oh- oh when did she get here?

Crowley almost retreats a step, when she stretches her hand out. He has to stop himself from fleeing for good. He heard Alpha Centauri is nice around this time and-

She cups his face, eyes carefully feel over it. Crowley looks back, eyebrows furrowed. Jumping off the cliff without a parachute… 

“Oh my baby,” she whispers and before Crowley knows it, he is caught in a hug so tight, he almost doesn’t know what to do with it. But hesitatingly he hugs her back. Maybe this is right. Maybe it isn't. But he has yearned for this kind of hug since he fell. For a sign that he isn't a disgrace, that he isn't really fallen and abandoned by the family that loved him so dearly. And here they are, and he can hardly realize it.

“Mom…” he breathes brokenly out, holding her as tightly as he can.

And he knows Aziraphale is behind him, ready to catch his fall this time. And his family is waiting to see him, and for a second, it is enough. He doesn't worry that they will hate what he has become. For a moment, he knows he is the happiest person in the universe. 

And he never wants to miss this again. Maybe, in the end, everything is okay.