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He finally found her sequestered against the bole of a tree. An apple tree no less. Their apple tree. He smirked a little at that and approached her hiding place cautiously. It was a good one really. A few surreptitious miracles had allowed the tree to grow far bigger than most would. The combination of heavenly and hellish influence had given it an imposing, gnarled, and aged appearance for all the tree was only a year older than the child currently using it as a hiding-place. The trunk had impressive roots, and it was in amongst these; in a sort of dip amongst them, that the child had tucked herself out of sight: arms locked tight around knees that were pressed to her chest and her head lowered so that her long, dark hair obscured her features; blending quite remarkably with the bark of the tree. The child’s natural predilection for darker colours (much like her mother), further masked her presence from any casual observer.
Crowley was not a casual observer.
The demon’s gaze narrowed slightly as he took in the tableau before him and scented the air more for confirmation of his suspicions than anything else.
Yup, she was upset… and frightened?
A wave of protective anger shot through him so intensely that it almost stole the breath he didn’t need.
He crouched beside her, a gentle hand resting atop her hair momentarily before he spoke. “Alright, Mini-Witch; who do I need to curse, damn, or devour?”
“Nobody.” The voice was tremulous and a little sniffly but resolute.
“You sure? I could do it y’know. Just go full ssssnake and unleash some vengeance,” he wheedled.
The nine year old may have been frightened when he found her but was not at all alarmed by the sudden change in his tone. The way the sibilants hissed uncannily and his voice dropped into a menacing demonic growl only made young Estrella Agnes Device-Pulsifer raise her head in interest and offer him a watery smile in thanks and then actually giggle when Crowley flicked his snake tongue out between his teeth to make a rude noise.
“’m sure.”
It was testament to how focused he was on his charge that Aziraphale’s voice actually came as a surprise. He’d not noticed the angel approaching from the back door of their cottage.
“ There you are! You shouldn’t just disappear like that, darling. Your parents would skin us alive if you went missing.”
Now here was a thing. The fear that Crowley had initially felt from Estrella that had just begun to ease with his antics suddenly returned with alacrity at the appearance of his husband.
Crowley knew deep in his very being that Aziraphale was a dangerous and formidable force should the occasion arise, that his true form would probably scramble the mind of an unsuspecting human, and that he was in fact a fierce warrior when the chips were down, but in his human corporation Aziraphale was probably about as intimidating as a buttered crumpet (well, maybe a buttered crumpet to a coeliac if his books were in jeopardy). So, why on Earth was Estrella suddenly acting as if the angel were about to smite her?
“Aziraphale,” Crowley’s tone held a warning and he raised a hand as a signal to prevent his husband from approaching any further.
Aziraphale looked a trifle offended but stayed exactly where he was, confusion emanating from him.
Estrella, perceptive little thing that she was, let her eyes dart between them both and then whispered: “It’s okay, s’not his fault, not really. It just reminded me when I saw him…” she trailed off, bringing a thumbnail to her lips to nibble on nervously.
Reminded her? Crowley tried to parse the meaning behind all this. They had been fine . Estrella had come to stay with them for a long weekend whilst Anathema and Newt had some ‘ us time ’ and they had been chattering away about this and that at the dinner table: Estrella’s school, her friends, how the school was putting on a play (an age appropriate adaptation of Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It’ ), and how excited she was that she had been cast as the lead!
Aziraphale, being Aziraphale, had then enthused: “Oh! How wonderful! Brava , my dear girl. What an honour it is to get the lead! Such a responsibility too! You’ll be carrying the play, you know. I do love theatre. So improving! Perhaps we could attend the show?”
Crowley, of course, had been too busy rolling his eyes fondly at the angel’s dramatics to realise just how quiet Estrella had become after all that.
Following dinner the youngster had excused herself from the table and then… disappeared.
Oh dear.
“S’alright, angel. You can come on over,” he glanced to Estrella for confirmation who nodded, still nibbling a thumbnail but no longer suffused in panic as she watched Aziraphale approach. Crowley gently grasped her wrist and pulled the poor abused thumb away from her mouth, handing over his sunglasses for her to fiddle with instead. “I think you might owe our goddaughter an apology dance though.”
“I-I do?”
“A what ?” Estrella’s interest was piqued at that and she carefully set aside the sunglasses.
Crowley nodded solemnly, but a mischievous grin playing about his lips put Aziraphale’s fretful worries that he had done something truly wrong at ease.
Aziraphale sighed heavily, and then (despite the words to their apology ritual not being precisely relevant in this circumstance) set about showing off the silly little dance that both he and his husband had performed for one another over the millennia.
Estrella clapped her hands to her mouth; eyes alight as she tried valiantly not to burst into fits of squeaky little giggles at the sight.
There’s a win.
“Oh, rubbish effort, sweetheart. You need to give it a bit more oomph after the scare you gave her. Like this-”
Crowley leapt to his feet and, in a truly atrocious flailing of limbs, did the apology dance himself in the most ungainly and over-the-top way in all their shared history.
Estrella’s eyes were apologetic, but the helpless guffaws of delight could no longer be suppressed and she doubled over, hands pressed to her stomach, eyes leaking with mirth as both Aziraphale and Crowley did the dance again, and then again. Then finally, the pair pulled a still laughing Estrella to her feet so that she could join in on the final attempt.
“What was that?” Estrella squeaked once she’d composed herself and regained her breath.
“An apology dance,” Aziraphale was flushed and smiling, though his eyes still looked remorseful. “Crowley and I have done that for each other many many times over the years, and now I have done it for you, my dear. I really am sorry, for whatever it was that I said or did to scare you.”
Estrella fidgeted, and then launched herself at the angel to give him a tight hug. “Wasn’t you… not really. S’just… you were saying how amazing theatre is and how much of a ‘sponsibility bein’ the lead is and well…”
“Oh… oh my darling . I am sorry for that. I just got… carried away.”
“S’okay… It’s just that then I started thinking too much and started wondering: what if I’m no good? What if I mess up and ruin it all?”
“You won’t!” Aziraphale’s voice was firm with unshakeable belief in his goddaughter’s abilities, even though he could not honestly promise such a thing with one hundred percent certainty.
Crowley, who was a little more realistic in his expectations of a bunch of nine year olds performing Shakespeare added, “and so what if you do? ‘As You Like It’ is one of the funny ones anyway. A bit of chaos here and there will only add to the enjoyment, I reckon.”
Estrella looked grateful but not entirely convinced. “I don’t want to make any mistakes on stage though.”
“Mistakes happen,” Crowley shrugged lazily. “You can just style them out usually, and folks’ll be understanding; especially since you’re all kids.”
Estrella huffed at being referred to as ‘a kid’ but smiled again when Crowley retrieved his sunglasses from the base of the tree to place them on her face and ruffle her hair affectionately.
She tipped the lenses up with a finger-tip so she could see her godparents better and asked quietly: “You really think it’ll be okay?”
“What I think,” Aziraphale replied, swooping in to heft Estrella up into his arms as he had done countless times when the child was younger, “is that we could help you with your lines, maybe even with the costumes and so on if it’s not overstepping some kind of parental boundary.”
Estrella gave a happy yelp and, much like she had done countless times when she was younger, scrambled around to cling to Aziraphale’s back instead of remaining in his arms.
“Ah, the possum of the Eastern Gate makes a come-back appearance.” Crowley snickered as they turned to walk back toward the cottage.
“For one night only I’m afraid. Estrella is really rather too grown-up for these kinds of shenanigans now, I fear.” The angel lamented.
“’m not that grown-up,” Estrella pouted the fears of her impending stage debut now entirely forgotten. “Unless… am I too heavy?” She peered over Aziraphale’s shoulder in concern to try to get a look at his face for any signs of discomfort.
Crowley barked a laugh. “Too heavy? Aziraphale lugs bookcases around when it suits him, you’re nothin’ more than a feather to him, Els, trust me.”
Estrella relaxed again before recalling what Aziraphale had suggested. “I’d like it if you could help me with my lines. Mum n’ Dad are great at helping and all, but you two were there weren’t you? I remember Mum saying how you’ve met Shakespeare before, so you know how it’s all meant to be done. Oh, and I could ask Miss. Adams if we want help with the costumes. Dad’s alright at sewing, but there’s going to be lots of costumes I think.”
Crowley gave a little salute. “If you need help with the sewing, then I’m your man-shaped-being.”
Estrella gave her demonic godparent a curious look which he returned with a wink. “I know, I look too cool to sew things, but you pick up a few skills over the centuries.”
“Especially when you’re more leg than torso and shops simply don’t supply clothes that cater for those measurements… or in all black.” Aziraphale drawled.
“Thought you said you just made your clothes out of raw firm- firmam- firmywhatsis.” Estrella put in.
“Firmament,” Aziraphale supplied as they entered the kitchen and Estrella hopped lithely down from his back and ran to snag a biscuit off the plate in the centre of the table that she had neglected earlier.
“N’yeah, I used to but… there has been er mishaps because of that in the past… if I fall asleep too deeply or lose consciousness n’ stuff,” Crowley waved a hand expansively to avoid going into further detail, a faint flush high on his cheeks. “So I learnt to make my own clothes centuries ago. As Aziraphale said, they don’t always sell what I need. So it sort of became a hobby after a necessity.”
A hobby that would make damned sure that his little star was the best dressed Rosalind and Ganymede since old Wills’ penned the thing back in 1599. Well, providing Newt didn’t mind him taking creative control of course.
Estrella looked impressed as Crowley snapped his fingers and spirited one of his shirts from upstairs into his hands, showing it to the girl so she could see that this was one of the pieces he had made from scratch.
“Can you teach me to make clothes too?” Estrella beamed up at the demon as Aziraphale placed a mug of cocoa before her at the kitchen table (another peace offering, to apologise for worrying her so). “Aziraphale said he was going to teach me to bake as well. I wanna do all those things!”
“’Course I can,” Crowley would never admit it, but he was flattered. “First though, let’s start practicing for that play, yeah?”
Estrella looked slightly concerned again until Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a copy of the script Miss. Adams had written for them materialised in his hands. “My dear girl, you don’t need to fret when you have us and your parents cheering you on, all the world is a stage as they say, and you are certainly going to live up to your name-sake. You will be an absolute star .”
It will of course please the reader to learn that Aziraphale was entirely correct in his own attempts at prophecy. Estrella was wonderful in her role as Rosalind and Ganymede, and with both Newt and Crowley taking charge of costumes, there had never been a better dressed cast for an amateur production of William Shakespeare’s work. Anathema and Aziraphale spearheaded the props and set design, which looked stunning and Crowley couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased at the envy he felt coursing through a lot of the parents on opening night. It was well balanced though, Aziraphale rambled on afterwards about how there had been so much love in the room as well, so they didn’t have to worry too much about any influence they may have had on mortal souls.
As for Estrella, she is now looking forward to her next class production. They have voted on Macbeth, and Estrella is adamant that she is going to be one of the witches.
Somewhere her ancestor is smiling. A witch… Just as it should be.