'JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH.'
In which an angel, a demon, and their adoptive daughter decide to stop Armageddon. Except it's days away, they've lost the antichrist, Heaven and Hell are both breathing down their necks, and th...
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Armageddon is approaching fast, and Freddie is less than excited about the big event.
***
"Freddie!" Crowley called out for his adoptive daughter. He received no answer, which was quite unusual. Normally, the girl was curious and full of energy. And she never gave her parents the silent treatment, so he doubted that she was angry with him. If she was, she would have said something. (Freddie was fairly honest about that sort of thing.) Frowning, the Demon strode down the hall of his flat to where his daughter's bedroom was.
He knocked on the door, knowing that barging in wouldn't go over well. (Though he would never admit it to anyone, Crowley had read several books on parenting when he began to raise Freddie, to best understand how to care for a Human child.)
"Come in," came the reply, in a worrying, uncharacteristically small voice. Crowley opened the door.
Freddie's room was cozy and personal, unlike most of Crowley's minimalist apartment. The walls had been painted pale pink, back when the girl was eight and considered it her favorite color. There was a large bookshelf chock full of books and little trinkets (Aziraphale's influence was strong) a bed with a black and white checkered comforter, a dresser for clothes, a thick, fuzzy red rug, and a desk and chair at which Freddie did her homework. A few loose items of clothing were scattered around the room, hanging off the chair, and the pink curtains were drawn shut, though the lights were on, so it was clear Freddie wasn't napping. This was despite the fact that she was curled up atop the bed, laying on her side, and hugging her knees to her chest.
"Kiddo." Crowley sat down on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"
"I dunno," Freddie said with a sniffle.
"Are you feeling sick?" Crowley asked, parental panic starting to settle in. He had learned the hard way that Human children had a tendency to get sick. Cold and flu season would not be stopped, not even by the power of miracles. "Do you need me to check your temperature?"
"No," Freddie answered quickly, knowing that her parents tended to fuss if they thought she was ill. "I'm not sick, Dad. I'm just, like, freaking out, I guess."
"Why are you freaking out?" Crowley questioned, reaching for the teenager. Freddie sat up and instinctively curled into his embrace, wiping fiercely at her eyes.
"You know, teenager stuff. Getting all the practice I need to take my driving test. Probably taking advanced English next year."
"You're a real smartie, Fred, you can totally handle advanced English," Crowley protested. "And you're an absolutely stellar driver, you're the only one allowed to drive the Bentley besides me. I don't even let Aziraphale do that."
