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He strode on, holding to the basket tightly. Another basket. Another baby. This one didn’t have figurative horns, he hoped. Although Adam had turned out fine in the end. Because he was left alone… but he wasn’t going to think of that.
He put the basket in the front seat of the Bentley. Then reconsidered and put it in the back. Basket was no place for a baby. What was with all the babies in baskets?
He gripped the wheel and willed the car to start. He got on the road and drove on, faster than was safe, but miraculously not hitting anything or anyone.
---
The bookshop was quiet, but he saw a weak light through the windows. He knew Aziraphale was there. He pushed the door open – the lock miraculously unlocking – and locked it behind him. He followed the faint light to where Aziraphale was reading, glasses low on his nose and a cooled mug of cocoa next to him.
“Angel,” he said quietly.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale responded with a bright smile. “It’s lovely to see you! Would you like some tea? Cocoa perhaps?”
“Maybe later. Listen. We have a situation.”
Aziraphale stilled, wary. His gaze wandered and zoomed onto the basket.
“Crowley, why do you have a baby with you?”
---
“...and they left him at the doorstep! In the cold! The prophecy child! And with the worst kind of people imaginable!” Crowley gritted his teeth.
“So you need my help in finding him a loving home?” Aziraphale asked. He stared at the child in the basket, fingers worrying the hem of his sweater. “I do know a couple who can’t have children and-”
“No. I want you to help me raise him,” Crowley said, taking off his sunglasses and rubbing his eyes. “I- I don’t think I can do it alone.”
Ariraphale covered his mouth with a hand. “Crowley, this is – we are not human. The child needs-”
“The child needs guardians who will take care of it. Who will feed it, raise it and won’t run away at the first sign of trouble. And there will be trouble, as soon as the Dark Lord’s troops find out where the prophecy child is. Or the Gandalf-wannabe who left him at a freaking doorstep in the middle of the night! Without a warming charm!”
“I see,” Aziraphale said, twisting the hem. “I don’t-”
“Angel, please,” Crowley whispered. “I- I really could use the help. You know I’ll teach him all the bad habits. He’ll need someone who will teach him what is right.”
“I think you know very well what is right,” Aziraphale responded with a small smile.
He stared at the slumbering babe in the basket, its smooth brow marred by a scabbed over lightning-shaped wound. The wound felt wrong, likely remnants of the dark curse cast.
“I did always want a child,” he confessed. “It just- didn’t feel right to raise one.”
“This child needs you,” Crowley said. “He’ll have many enemies.”
“I know,” Aziraphale said, standing up. “Good thing he’ll have us to look after him.”
He bent down and carefully lifted the babe out of the basket. The child’s eyes opened halfway and closed again. It snuggled close to his soft sweater and slumbered on. It felt small and fragile, yet so precious in his arms.
He turned to look at Crowley. “When will you move in?”
“What?” Crowley’s eyes were wide and his cheeks reddened. “I didn’t- I mean-”
“We can’t raise the child together if we do not live together. I cannot leave the bookshop, so it makes sense for you to move in. You know you are always welcome here, Crowley.”
Crowley closed his eyes. “I- how will we explain-”
“We can think of that later. Now, let’s find a place for the child to sleep. A basket is no place for a baby.”
“Damn right it ain’t! Lead on, angel.”
---
They walked together deeper into the shop and up the stairs to the flat above it. An angel, a demon and the little prophecy child. An unlikely family, a united force against all about to come. Lord Voldemort would not know what stared at him disapprovingly before it smacked him in the face.
The child slumbered on, held in sweater-clad arms, getting passed on to rest against creased leather while his room was arranged. Crowley brushed a finger against one tiny cheek and held onto the babe. This was their child. The prophecy child. It would survive all life threw its way, no matter whom he had to make disappear to make sure of it.
This time, they didn’t have to pretend – to be the nanny, to be the gardener. This time they were parents, guardians, caretakers – and fierce protectors. No Death Eaters would get in their way.
The child yawned and opened bright green eyes.
“Hello little one,” he whispered.
The child stared at him, his snake eyes, and giggled, reaching a hand towards his long hair.
“Oh no, that is not a toy,” he said. “Angel, I need help!”
A fluffy sheep flew through the air and hit Crowley’s chest. He managed to grab it before it fell. The baby reached for it, gurgling happily.
“Thanks, angel,” he said.
“You’re welcome, dear. Judging by the smell, it’s time to change the baby. Did it come with nappies?”
“Oh no.”
---
He left Aziraphale and the baby to open up shop and took the Bentley back to his apartment. He stepped in and looked around at the place he had lived in for many years. It was home, but it had never felt like home – home was where his angel was.
He’d gather up the plants and a few more things – they would fit in the Bentley fine. Then he’d go back and settle in with his angel and his baby. Maybe they could even get a cat. He’d have to ask Azi about that.
Whatever was to come, they’d face it together. And the baby would be loved, and sleep in a real bed. With a cuddly kitten. Not in a freaking basket.