This hospital's got lots of crying kids
A minute ago, I did not exist
It's nice to finally meet my relatives
I bet it's always gonna stay this fun
I bet it's easy staying 'way from drugs
I bet our parents always stay in love
(Always stay in love)
***
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
(2008, England)
"Oh, quit crying."
The demon glanced at the basket in the passenger seat, which was jiggling uncomfortably with every bump in the road. Inside the woven fibres, the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness was wailing quite loudly.
The demon, who in question was named Anthony J. Crowley, though he usually just went by Crowley, grumbled loudly as the wailing continued. The black car, a Bentley, which was also the cars given name, sped along the quiet paved road, the softly twinkling stars being the only lights to lead the way.
At this time of night, there was only an occasional tourist that Crowley passed on his way to the hospital. This hospital, however, was secretly run by an order of satanic nuns, who were going to switch the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness with a perfectly normal human baby.
That was the plan, and Crowley intended to follow it.
The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness, also known as the Antichrist, for short, exhaled a loud, ear-piercing shriek, which made Crowley jump in his seat before giving up on ignoring the crys and pulling over to the side of the road in a curt movement.
"Alright, alright." He left the car running, but leaned over to open the hatch on the basket that revealed a tiny face, currently wrinkled in its efforts to permanently make him deaf. "What do you want?"
If the baby could talk, it would probably say something along the lines of 'this basket is not very comfortable, and you speeding down this potholed infested road in the dead of night is not helping ether, and I'm getting quite a headache'. However, babies can not talk, so it had resorted to screaming out his frustrations, to the demons annoyance.
"Okay, okay, okay." Crowley removed the top of the basket to get a better look at the Antichrist. It was waving its tiny feet and hands around as if swimming, making the blanket it was swaddled in tangled. "Shush, shush. Shut it, now. I can't concentrate on driving if you continue on like this. I won't be able to avoid the bumps, for starters, which I guess is why you're yelling this loud."
The Antichrist kept screaming.
Crowley sighed, and brushed his fingers on the baby's forehead. It stilled, the crying ceasing into small whimpers as it stared up at Crowley with baby blue eyes. The demon raised an eyebrow at the now quiet child, and removed his hand. After a moment, the sobs built up before erupting in the full-blown wails again.
Crowley quickly replace his hand, gently stroking the baby's head so it calmed down. He scowled half-heartedly, mostly for appearance sake, but continued until the baby was gurgling happily.
"Now I can't drive like this, can I *?" Crowley said softly, staring at the baby behind his dark sunglasses.
* He could drive one handed, but this gave him the excuse to continue stroking the baby, which he kinda liked doing.
The baby mummered and leaned into the touch. Crowley sighed again and retracted his hand, but before the screaming began again, he reached over to slowly lift the baby from the basket and hold it in the crook of his elbow.
"Oh, there you go. Yeah, you good now?" Crowley bounced the baby in a way that was totally demonic and not parental in the slightest. "You're not gonna start crying on me again, are you?"
The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness, did not, in fact, start crying. Instead, it snuggled unconsciously closer to Crowley's chest, content know that it was warm and would not be jiggled anymore by things in the road.
Crowley, however, looked down at the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness, cuddled into his chest, and uttered one brief word.
"Shit."
***
Sister Mary Loquacious was a Satanist, but you never would have guessed if you had met her in passing. She was a bit absentminded, but tried her best, and was quite intuitive if she put her head to something.
While she had been a Satanist since birth, but her time in the Chattering Order was limited. She had only joined a few years ago, and soon there would be no Chattering Order left to speak of.
She didn't know that yet, though.
Sister Mary walked down the freshly washed halls with a soft 'click clack' from her heels against the tiled floor. Currently, in Room 3 of the hospital-that-wasn't-really-a-hospital, a young woman named Deirdre Young was giving birth to a baby boy that we'll call Baby A.
Her husband, Arthur Young, is waiting outside, smoking a cigar. They had not been planned to arrive to the hospital, but have been driving by when Deirdres water had broke and, in a blind panic, Arthur pulled up to the first building he saw, which happened to be a hospital. How lucky.
In Room 4, Harriet Dowling is giving birth to a son we'll call Baby B, who is the child of an American ambassador. This American ambassador was meeting with the US President at this current moment, conversing through FaceTime with his wife.
Crowley has just arrived to the hospital, with the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness, who we'll call Baby C for the time being, nestled in the crook of his arm.
The plan of the Order of Chattering Nuns is for Crowley to hand Baby C over to a nun, who will wait with it as Baby A and Baby B were born. Once the births were finished, Baby A and Baby B will be taken to be washed and weighed, where Baby B will be switched with Baby C, and all will be good.
The unexpected Baby A will be with his parents, the Youngs, Baby C, aka the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness, will be with the Dowlings, and Baby B, the biological son of Dowlings, will be shipped off to who knows where.
Crowley, however, has other plans.
See, when Crowley has held The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, Lord of Darkness, he realized that he did not want this child to destroy the world in eleven years time.
He liked the world, and some of the people in it, so he wanted the child to have a good influence in its life to help sway it towards keeping the Earth the way it was. So, he didn't want it growing up with an American, because from what he had seen and heard since America came into power, they were nothing but trouble.
So, the only viable option was taking the baby home with him to raise alongside his partner.
He was, of course, somewhat confident that he and his partner knew how to take care of a child, and that after the initial shock his partner would agree to the totally safe, fool-proof plan on avoiding the apocalypse, but that still left the problem of the Chattering Nuns and the demons who expect the Antichrist to be switched the American ambassadors kid.
So, Crowley developed a plan. Well, not a plan, exactly. Just a serious of complicated lies. Still a plan, he argued.
***
The door of the Bentley slammed shut as Crowley nudged it with his free shoulder. At the loud bang, the baby let out a small yelping sound, which Crowley quickly dispersed with a small brush on the forehead.
"Yeah, that's it. All quiet and sleepy now, good boy." He muttered quietly.
Crowley looked up from the child to the main doors of the hospital. There was only one man standing outside, from what he saw smoking, so he quickly walked forward, ignoring him.
"You've left your lights on," The man spoke up helpfully, making Crowleys attention snap towards him. He had dark hair and a round chin, and kept glancing at the child in Crowleys arm.
Crowley stopped, giving him a cold stare, then used his free hand to snap his fingers together. The lights of the Bentley went out, letting the yard fall into darkness. The man nodded in admiration.
"That's neat." he said. "Infra-red, is it?"
Crowley titled his head, and ignored the question. "Which room is it?" He waved his hand vaguely.
"Well, we're in Room 3." The man said. "My wifes delivering, so they made me go out. Are you the doctor?"
The mans gaze averted to the baby, and Crowley tightened his grip. "Sure, I guess."
"Oh, okay." The expecting father shrugged. "Good luck."
Crowley hummed a bit, then started to head inside. Before he could open the door, however, the human stepped forward, cutting Crowley off, to pull it open for him with a small smile. The demon, not realizing it was a kind gesture at first, felt his lips curl up into a snarl and unconsciously pressed the baby further into his chest. The man didn't seem to notice.
"You look like you've got your hands full. I'm Arthur, by the way. Arthur Young." The man said. He glanced at the baby. "Cute kid. Is it yours?"
Crowley looked down at it, slotted perfectly into his arms as it slept soundly, and felt his heart burst a little at the sight. "Yeah. I guess he is."
He stepped inside the warm building and left Mr. Young behind, heading towards Room 3 by following the gleaming signs tacked on at every corner. However, slowly he came to a stop to think his plan through.
Yes, he was doing this. He was going to steal a baby.
He shook his head and looked around, eyes falling on a delivering crib placed hazardly in a closet with the door slightly ajar. One-handily, still keeping the baby as still as he possibly could, pushed the door open with his foot and placed the baby in the crib.
At the loss of contact, it began crying again.
"Shush shush shush shush." Crowley said as he wheeled the baby out and into Room 3.
The baby did, in fact, shush, but mostly because it was tired and out of tears left to cry. The wails turned into soft whimpers as Crowley took in the small white room. The lights inside were brighter and harsher then the ones in the hallway, and made Crowley blink behind his sunglasses as his eyes tried to adjust.
The only person in it was Mrs. Young, asleep and confident that she could rest now that her job was done. Quietly, as to not wake her, the demon placed his cart side-by-side with the one next to the sleeping woman, currently holding her sleeping son.
He hadn't even taken a step back when the door was thrown open again, and Sister Mary Loquacious stumbled in. At first, she didn't noticed the demon standing next to the babies, but as soon as she did she gasped quite loudly.
"Mr. Crowley." She bowed her head in greeting, and Crowley squirmed uncomfortably. She looked at the two babies "Is that - which one is he?"
Crowley shrugged, and pointed at the baby closest to the bed. "That one. I delivered it to Americans already, no need to thank me." At the weird look the nun gave him, he raised an eyebrow "These are the Americans, right?"
She nodded vigorously "Yes, I do believe so. I'll inform everyone else the babies have been switched, al-already. That's what you meant, right?"
He nodded.
"But sir, may I ask?"
He waved a hand for her to continue, hiding his cringe at the 'sir' bit.
"Why are you still here?"
"Oh." He blinked. "I'm here to take the extra. You know, dispose of it."
She looked upset for a moment, but it disappeared quickly. "Of course. I'll just...take this baby to be washed and weighed."
Crowley stepped back to let her wheel the normal baby away, muttering under her breath. "Oh, now look at you! You look...normal. No little hoofie woofies or hornie wornies. Ah, fancy me with the Antichrist." *
* When Sister Mary informed the other Nuns that Mr. Crowley had already switched the babies, they were quite shocked, as no one had seen him exit or enter the Americans room. However, they quickly brushed it aside, as, one, he was a demon, after all, and two, it wasn't good to go around questioning what demons do.
She bustled out of the room with the cart, and Crowley followed a moment later after picking up the Antichrist. Before leaving, however, he stopped to look at Mrs. Youngs sleeping form.
"You're welcome." He muttered softly, before quickly fleeing the scene.
***
"Angel, before you say anything, I do have an explanation."
Aziraphale looked up from his book as the door to the bookshop was unceremoniously flung open. Peaking over the edge of his glasses, he gave his partner a confused stare as he stepped around the many bookshelves to reach him.
"I'm not going to like this, are I?" He asked. When no reply came, he sighed, and put his book down and removed his glasses, folding them on top of the book.
Crowley stood awkwardly in front of him, half-hiding behind one of the bookshelves. However, what he immediately noticed was that the demon was holding a closed wicker basket, and that he could sense ... something inside, shifting and mummering.
"Crowley." Aziraphale said slowly, as if he was talking to a startled cat. "What's in the basket?"
Crowley just adjusted his grip on the basket handle. Starting to get nervous, the angel stood up and padded over to his partner, who was uncharacteristically silent, and gently opened the lid of the basket.
There was a small, round face staring back up at him.
Startled, he immediately dropped the lid and stood up, sending Crowley a befuddled expression. Crowley swallowed, nervous. "Like I said, I have an explanation."
"Crowley —" He said, shocked, if a bit accusing. "That is a baby."
Crowley rolled his eyes behind his black sunglasses. "I know that, angel."
"Why do you have a baby?" He asked in a horrified whisper. As if on cue, the baby in the basket began whimpering softly. Aziraphale only watched as Crowley set the basket down, opened it, then gently lifted the baby into his arms and started making shushing noises. *
* Of course, Aziraphale had known Crowley for 6000 years, at this point, so he knew that the demon always had a soft spot for children. Aziraphale liked them too, of course, as he was an angel, but he preferred them when they were old enough to mostly take care of themselves and wouldn't accidentally spit all over his books.
"Crowley, please answer me." He pleaded, making the demon look back at him and not the fussing baby. "Why do you have a baby? I thought you were called for - for work."
There was a small pause as Crowley tried to figure out the best words to explain what he had done, then just decided to put it simply. "This is the Antichrist. I stole it."
Aziraphale blinked at him. Then blinked again. "Pardon me?"
"I said I stole the Antichrist, angel." Crowley said, not quite looking at his partner and instead pretending to be completely absorbed with the baby in his arms. "Hastur and Ligur gave it to me to deliver, but I just ... didn't. It was suppose to be switched with an American ambassadors kids, but I just made them think it was switched instead."
Aziraphale shook his head, not quite believing what he was being told. Well, he believed that Crowley would mess around with orders given to him by the other demons, but the fact that this was the Antichrist set to bring about the end of the world ... he recalled his cryptic conversation with Gabriel earlier *, and nearly shuddered.
* The archangel had showed up in the bookshop just as Crowley had left (after being called in by the people downstairs), and had startled him so much he almost dropped the cup of tea he was holding.
"He looks normal." He said dumbly. Crowley arched an eyebrow.
"Well, duh, of course." He replied, starting to gently rock the aforementioned baby as well. "He only comes into his powers on his eleventh birthday."
"Eleven years?" Oh, goodness. That wasn't very long away at all.
"Yes, which is why ... which is why I stole it." Crowley said. He took a deep breath * before continuing. "I don't want the world to end, and I know you don't, either, angel."
* Which he didn't really need, but it was one of those pesky human habits you pick up on after years of living on Earth.
"Obviously." Aziraphale said, prompting his partner to go on.
"So, I was thinking we - we raise him." Crowley said. "As our own. You know, give him a bit of demonic and angelic influence in his life, so hopefully, when the time comes, he ... doesn't end the world, obviously. Just keeps it the way it is."
There was another moment of quiet in the bookshop as Aziraphale stewed over those words. Crowley occupied himself with the baby, before being snapped back by Aziraphale saying softly, and a little bit dazed. "We'd be parents."
"Yes, we'd be ... parents." Crowley said the word slowly, as if his tongue wasn't use to it.
Aziraphale looked at the baby again, once again quiet and now gripping Crowleys jacket in a lazy fist, and he felt his heart clench. This was happening fast, but really, you should expect that if your partner is one Anthony J. Crowley.
"Yes." Crowley looked up at him, startled, and Aziraphale gave him a smile. "Yes, then. We'll raise him. Together."
Crowley was frozen for a moment, but melted when the angel leaned over to kiss him on the lips. When he moved away, Crowley didn't say anything, as he wasn't entirely sure his vocal chords were working at the moment, and instead his gaze dropped to the bundle in his arms. Aziraphales eyes followed his, and they both watched the baby sleep.
It wouldn't be easy. The baby was the Antichrist, after all, and they were an angel and demon who still needed to report to their higher-ups and weren't, technically, suppose to have this baby. Not to mention all the other things that came along with taking care of a human child. However, Crowley forgot about all of that when his angel leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the babys — their babys — forehead.
"Hello, my dear boy." Aziraphale said, and it was the softest Crowley had ever felt.
***
PRESENT DAY
(2018, England)
Adam C. Fell woke up slowly as if from a very pleasant dream. The sun was shining in through the gap in his curtains, and he squinted his eyes against the onslaught. He had hoped to sleep in on this particular day, but it appeared that those plans were now ruined.
Pushing himself up to his elbows, he yawned and rubbed sleep from the corners of his eyes. However, he didn't appear to be the only one awake, as he heard shuffling in the hallway. If he laid back down quickly, maybe he could pretend to be asleep and wouldn't have to get it up.
"Good morning, my dear." His dad greeted through the crack in his doorway. He had a book tucked under one arm, and was almost smiling bright enough to match his pale hair.
Too late, Adams brain grumbled.
"I'm sleeping." He said, trying to feign a droopy voice. "It would be rude to wake me up."
"Oh, and have you taken to sleep talking, then?" Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but kept smiling at the boy none the less. "Well, if you're sleeping, then I might as well go tell pops to stop making breakfast."
Adam sat up in bed, suddenly a lot more awake. "I'm coming."
Aziraphale just chuckled, knowing how well that trick worked, and moved out of the way so Adam could patter downstairs to the kitchen. His frown fell when out of view of the boy, however, as he followed him down, clutching his book a little tighter to his chest.
The smell of pancake batter wafted through the air. When Adam entered the kitchen, he saw his pops at the stove with a spatula. At the sound of his footstep, he turned, showing off a bright pink apron that was a gag gift was Adam that last Christmas and shiny black sunglasses perched in his nose.
"Oh, the birthday boys awake!" Crowley said as he entered.
Adam swallowed thickly, remembering it was, in fact, his birthday. Usually, those were times of celebration, for every kid, but this particular one was special for a different * reason. However, he smiled before his pops could notice his doubt.
* In this case, different had a secondary, secret meaning of 'absolutely horrible'.
"Dad said you were making breakfast." Adam explained as he sat down at the table. Because of school, and his parents angelic-slash-demonic work, it was rare when they all had time to sit down and eat together *, so whenever their schedules did line up, Adam forwent his usual cereal and milk for whatever Crowley had decided to make.
* With family meals, Crowley usually cooked, but didn't eat, sticking to drinks and leaving the actual chewing and swallowing to Adam and Aziraphale. When he did consume food, he had a bad snake habit of swallowing things whole, which horrified Aziraphale but enraptured Adam.
Besides, it was his birthday, after all.
"You never wake up over my breakfast." Aziraphale teased as he entered the kitchen. He pressed a quick kiss to Crowley's cheek as he passed, then sat at the end of the table, opening his book to the last marked page.
"Look, angel, don't take it the wrong way, but your cooking skills stink." Crowley said. "I have no idea how you manage to mess it up, you're just following the recipe."
Adam added to Aziraphale. "And you're an angel. Between you two, I feel like you should be able to cook more."
Said angel rolled his eyes good-naturally and flipped a page of his book. "It's a good thing I don't cook, then."
"Yes, or we'd all get food poisoning." Crowley said.
He glared at his husband. "Now, I wouldn't say it's that bad."
"It is." Adam said, hiding his growing grin behind his fist. Aziraphale turned his glare upon the boy, now, but there wasn't any malice or parental anger behind it, so Adam wasn't in trouble.
The kitchen then fell into comfortable silence as Adam waited for breakfast, Crowley cooked, and Aziraphale read. When Crowley announced the pancakes were done, Adam grabbed a plate and utensils and let the demon stack the food. They were his favourite, ones with so many chocolate chips it wasn't even really a pancake anymore, but when he sat down at the table again he found his hunger was replaced with a knot in his stomach.
He stared blankly at his food for a few minutes before his parents notice. His pops did first, and when he saw, he walked over and leaned across the table that would have Aziraphale scolding him ("It's not polite, my dear.") if Adam didn't look so dejected. The demon reached over and tapped the boy on the forehead to make him look up.
"What's wrong?" Crowley asked. "You usually have your breakfast done in minutes."
The boy fiddled with his utensils, previously waiting untouched on the table. "I'm not that hungry."
"Are you sure? It's your favourite." Aziraphale said, noticing the conversation. Of course, he had a brief idea of why Adam didn't want to eat, but he was hoping the breakfast would have cheered him up.
"Maybe you'd feel better with some cake, yeah?" Crowley said, ever the tempter. Adam shook his head, which made the demon frown.
"I'm ... I'm really nervous." Adam admitted, dropping his gaze to the floor.
"It's gonna be fine, alright?" Crowley said softly. "We know what's coming, and we know what to do. There's nothing worse then going in unprepared." His voice became lighter. "Besides, it's your birthday. You can't be dreary on your birthday."
Adam cracked a small, if bitter, smile. "I don't want it to be my birthday."
"Are you sure?" Aziraphale asked. He stood up and came to stand beside the boys chair, placing a hand on his soft bedhead and briefly brushing a few strand curls away from his eyes. "Because if it isn't your birthday, then I wonder whose presents are in the living room right now."
Adam looked up hopefully. He hadn't noticed anything in the living room when he came down, but he must have been too caught up at the prospect of food to realize. Or Aziraphale had miracled the presents into the living room. Either one. "Can I ...?"
"Finish your breakfast first, dear." Aziraphale said with a laugh, patting Adam on the shoulder. "You'll feel better with food in you."
Adam didn't admit it, but once he ate some of his pancakes, the knot in his stomach did start to shrink. He could almost pretend it was a normal birthday as he cleaned his dishes and let his parents lead him to the living room, where he saw the brightly-coloured boxes on the table.
He sat down on the carpet, his parents coming to sit beside him, and grabbed the first present. Small, with blue wrapping paper. He could see lots of tape and ripped edges, which probably meant his parents had tried wrapping it themselves. He giggled at the thought of that.
"What's so funny?" Crowley asked, nudging his shoulder with his own.
"Nothing." Adam replied, and he started ripping apart the paper.
The boy grinned when he saw his first present. It was just a plain grey shirt with the logo for the band Queen on it *, but he felt the material between his fingers and it was incredibly soft. "Oh, cool."
* Adam loved the band ever since he was introduced to it, and he was introduced to it at a very young age, seeing that the only car his parents ever owned, the Bentley, only played Queen. Crowley had a love-hate relationship with the band. On one hand, he heard it every time he put a cassette tape in or turned the radio on in his car, but on the other, he had some particularly fond memories of a young Adam trying to sing along to Bohemian Rhapsody while missing his two front teeth.
"Come on, there's more." Aziraphale prompted. Adam put the shirt down and continued unwrapping.
From his parents, he got a few more shirts with various band, tv shows, movies and book symbols on them, a pair of earbuds to replace his old ones that only worked on on one side, the newest book in the series he was reading that he hadn't gotten a chance to read it yet, and a Doctor Who LEGO set. However, he frowned in confusion at the box when he realized something.
"How'd you get this?" He shook the box, hearing the bricks clink around inside. "I thought it wasn't out for another few weeks."
"I have my ways." His pops said. If he wasn't wearing his glasses, he would have winked. Instead, he settled to nudging Adam with his elbow. "Demon, after all."
Adam hummed in agreement, but his thoughts began to drift about to what was going to happen later at the mention of 'demon'. His parents must have noticed his sour look, however, because both shuffled closer so they pressed up against him. Squashed in the middle, Adam didn't move when Crowley wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and his dad grabbed his hand.
"It'll be fine, my dear." The angel said. Crowley was rubbing soothing circles along his back, soft and gentle as if he didn't exactly know how *. "We'll be fine."
* To be fair to Crowley, the demon usually left the more 'physical' aspects of comfort to Aziraphale.
He swallowed thickly before he spoke, voice shaking a little. "I'm worried I'm ... not going to be ready." His parents had plans for every possible scenario that could go down, but planning for something was different then being in the middle of it.
"Look, the Hellhound will arrive at three." Crowley said. "You'll have plenty of time to prepare."
"I don't need to prepare." Adam said. The word 'Hellhound' made little bells ring in his head. "I know what to do. I just don't have to name it, right?"
"Let's hope is that simple." Aziraphale said, almost wistful.
"I'm just ... scared, that's all." Adam said. "If I come into my powers, I wouldn't know how to control them. What if I accidentally hurt someone? I could hurt you guys, or my friends."
"You're not going to hurt us, Adam." Crowley said. "Or your friends. You're a good kid, I don't think you could hurt us, even if you wanted too."
Adam only sighed, and leaned his head against Aziraphales shoulder. The angel was soft and warm, a perfect pillow, and he let his eyes drift shut for a moment as his pops reached over to card a hand through his hair.
The thing about Adam was that he ... wasn't normal, to put it lightly. On his eleventh birthday, which happened to be this birthday, a Hellhound would arrive to him and signal the end of the world. Adam was then expected to come into his destructive powers and, well, bring about Armageddon. He was the Antichrist.
However, his parents — adopted, obviously — were an angel and a demon, and had informed him of what was to come. So, hopefully, altogether they could stop the apocalypse and save the world. That was a lot of pressure for a young boy, which is why he was feeling so, for lack of a better word, nervous. Though, really, nervous didn't even begin to describe what he felt.
The family sat there for a minute in silence, basking in the others presences and trying to calm their nerves. Eventually, Aziraphale broke it by shifting over enough to press a kiss to Adams hairline, before saying;
"Now, dear, if you're feeling up to it, I have an inkling of suspicion your friends are waiting for you down in the woods."
At that, Adam started to beam. "Can I go?"
"You just need to be back home before three o'clock. That's when the Hellhound is suppose to arrive." Crowley warned. Adam felt his heart skip a beat just thinking about it. "And get dressed first."
"Okay!" Adam exclaimed, excited at the prospect of playing with his friends. He had been nervous that his parents would want him home all day, and that he wouldn't be able to celebrate with his friends. Usually, they would organize a sleepover for his, or anyone one of theirs, birthday, but because of the Hellhounds scheduled arrival, Adam decided not to have one.
He grabbed his presents and rushed upstairs to his room to get changed, barley remembering to brush his teeth before racing back down the stairs.
"Remember, three o'clock!" Aziraphale cried as Adam barrelled into the room. Him and Crowley had now moved to the couch, the angel reading and the demon scrolling through his phone while taking up at least two cushions.
"Alright, I remember. Three o'clock." He confirmed as he grabbed his running shoes from where they sat at the front door. He barley had them on and tied before he was opening the door and waving goodbye. "Bye! Love you!"
"Love you too." Aziraphale said, waving back.
With Adam gone, both of his fathers sighed and looked at each other. It was going to be a long day, for everyone, and they just hoped that Adam would manage to find some enjoyment with his friends before the hellhound arrived.
"I should be heading off too." Crowley pocketed his phone, got up and stretched in a way most humans would describe as 'boneless'. "Got to go visit the Dowlings. * Warlocks having a birthday party and I get to go as a waiter. Joy."
* The Dowlings, of course, were the family Adam was suppose to be delivered too, and Warlock was the boy everyone believed to be the Antichrist. He was an okay kid, if a bit bratty from his rich upbringing and absent father. Crowley checked up on the family every few months or so, posing as many jobs such as a babysitter, repair man, and, on one memorable occasion, a noisy neighbour.
"Be careful, dear." Aziraphale said. Crowley clicked his tongue absent-mindedly and leaned down so his face was inches from the angels, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his blue eyes.
"Kiss for good luck?" He asked.
Aziraphale arched an eyebrow but did as asked. Crowley hummed into the kiss and pulled back quickly before he could get distracted. He had a job to do, after all. However, Aziraphale didn't seem to mind, smiling up at him. This close, Crowley could was delighted to see the crinkles in the corner of his eyes. "I love you, darling. Have fun."
His heart did the funny little flip that always accompanied those words. He stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Love you too, angel."
He then sauntered out the door, if you could call it that, and Aziraphale smiled softly to the empty room before placing his book down. The wrapping paper from Adams gifts was still on the table, and the dishes from breakfast needed to be washed. Of course, he could always miracle it clean, but there was something ... domestic about doing it by hand that made him feel fuzzy all over.
He had already decided the bookshop would stay close that day *, but he did also need to stay in Tadfield for when the Hellhound arrived. Thinking about it made his thoughts drift to his family, and their talk with Adam early.
* Like it did every year in Adams birthday.
He was scared. Of course he was. Everything him and his family had built could come crashing down at a moments notice. Heaven and Hell would be watching them like hawks as the apocalypse dawned, and if even one thing slipped, they could be discovered and he couldn't even begin to think of what would happen to Crowley and Adam if the other angels figured out what was going on.
He sighed and started cleaning up wrapping paper. Hopefully, it wouldn't be that dire.
***
"Adam, do you think you'll get a dog for your birthday?"
Adam was currently in the woods that were located behind his house. The official name was 'Hogback Woods', and the boy and his friends had taken it over as their kingdom, where they could play unbothered by adults and destiny and stupid things. The gang called themselves The Them, gaining the ability to strike fear * into the hearts of adults.
* Not fear, really, more just overgrown annoyance.
Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, known mostly as Pepper, was the only female member of the Them. She was also the most headstrong, stubborn, and ambitious of the group, who was always ready to defend them again rival students and adults alike at a moments notice.
Jermey Wensleydale, more commonly just called Wensleydale or, for short, Wensley, wore glasses which complimented his interest in math well. He was the quieter of the bunch, preferring to stay in the back, but no less curious or meaner than the others.
Brian was the third member of the Them, and on a good day, you could probably recognize that he was a child and not a walking pile of dirt. Not to mean that in a bad way, at all, he just had a habit of getting, well, dirty. Besides that, he was sweet and loyal to fault, which makes him an all around good friend.
And Adam C. Fell, the last member, was their leader. He found their hideout in Hogback Woods, came up with the best games, and his friends would probably describe him as 'creative', 'nice' and 'a little bit of a jerk, but only to those he didn't like'.
However, currently, Adam was sprawled across the 'throne' they had built out of old wood planks scavenged from their houses and old fabric from clothing they had grown out of. It was his turn to sit in it, as it was his birthday, and he had been idly playing with a discarded rope when Wensleydale had asked him the question.
Before he knew about his destiny and the Hellhound, he always bothered his parents for his dog. He had mentioned his wish to his friends more than once, and a few days earlier they had bugged him into asking his parents for one for his birthday *. He had said yes to appease them, and to seemed it was coming back around to bite him.
* None of them had had any pets, expect for Wensleydale pet turtle Seashell who died a few years back, so the prospect of one of them getting a dog was exciting to everyone.
"I don't know." He shrugged "I'm - I wanted a dog."
"You never get what you want." Pepper branded a stick she was using as a pretend sword at Brain. "I wanted a bike, and I asked for it. And I told my mum I wanted a razor blade saddle, and 12 gears and everything, and do you know what she got me? A girl's bike." She paused to stare at Adam to emphasis her point. "With a basket."
"But you are actually a girl, Pepper." Wensleydale pointed out.
"That's just sexist." Pepper rolled her eyes.
"I'm getting a dog." Adam said, willing his voice not to betray him.
"Oh, right." She bantered back "And your dads are just going to get you a big old Rottweiler, then, Adam?"
"It wouldn't be a big dog." He said. "Just a little one."
"What would you name it?" Pepper asked curiously.
He frowned. He hadn't thought about it at all, mostly because his parents said once he named the Hellhound it would his own, and, thus, trigger Armageddon, so all he had to do was just not name it, right? "I dunno."
"You've been talking about wanting a dog for ages now!" Wensleydale exclaimed, while Brian and Pepper just made faces. "You have to have some name picked out."
"What about ... Spot." Brian suggested.
"That wouldn't work if it didn't have spots." Pepper shot back.
"How about you just do what Pokémon professors do." Wensleydale said. "Just name it 'Dog'."
"No, Pokémon are named after the sounds they make." Pepper said. "You would name a dog 'Bark'."
"That's a stupid name." Brian said. "Just name it Dog."
Pepper sighed and rolled her eyes. Before she could reply, Wensleydale piped up, adjusting his glasses by the rim. "Well, it's not gonna be your dog. It's gonna be Adams."
"Okay, yes, but ..." She trailed off, clearly annoyed at not having the last word in their argument, then turned to Adam. "Okay, Adam, what's the better name? Bark or Dog?"
Without hesitation, he answered. "Dog."
Brian groaned. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Saves a lot of trouble, a name like that. It's easy to remember, and besides, it's kinda of funny, isn't it? Just ... look, here's my dog! 'Oh, what's its name?' It's name Dog!"
"Great way to confuse people." Wensleydale said. Pepper and Brian nodded in agreement. Adam smiled, feeling some of his tension melt away as he laughed with his friends.
However, to his absolute horror, he heard barking.
Fear shot through his heart like an arrow, and he suddenly piped up, nearly falling off the chair in the process. All his friends turned to give him strange looks as he got to his feet and started to rush down the fort to the soft earth below. It wasn't three o'clock already, was it? "I need - need to go."
"Wait, why?" Pepper asked, dropping her stick and running after him. There was another bark, closer this time, and he sped up to an almost jogging pace.
"My dads told me to be home by three." He said. "I'm late. They'll be mad if I'm late."
"Oh." Pepper stopped following him, and he heard Wensleydale and Brian jump down from the fort to stand beside her. "We'll see you later, then?"
Probably not, if his parents reacted badly, but he sent a hopeful. "Yeah!" over his shoulder as he rushed into the trees. The rest of the Them shared confused looks. They had known Adam, and therefore his parents, for most of their young lives, and both men seemed like pretty chill people, and wouldn't be mad if Adam was a little bit late.
Whatever. Maybe they had plans, or something. Adam had already been weird this week by refusing to have their usual birthday party sleepover *, so there was probably something going on.
* Their 'birthday party' sleepovers which the same as any normal sleepover, expect they ate lots of cake and watched superhero movies the entire night until they got scolded by an older sibling or parent.
"Did anyone else hear a dog bark?" Wensleydale asked. Pepper and Brian shrugged, and started to climb back up the fort to continue their sword fight.
***
This was a disaster.
He remembered what his parents had said. Once he named the Hellhound, that meant the end of the world was coming. The four horsemen would be summoned, then Heaven and Hell would clash in a battle that overtook the Earth. And Adam, the Antichrist, was suppose to lead them.
He shuddered. He already lead the Them, he didn't want to lead an army. And what about his dads? They didn't want to fight in a war, he didn't want them to fight in a war. And what would become of Tadfield, and pops Bentley, and dads bookshop?
He didn't want to come into his powers. He didn't want them at all.
He kept up his quick pace through the forest, the sound of wind whistling through the trees and the crunch of leaves under his shoes not calming him like it usually did. His hands shook too much so he stuffed them in his pockets, however, when his one hand brushed the thin card * inside he removed it, letting it swing by his side in a fist.
* Since they weren't have a 'traditional party', Pepper, Wensleydale and Brian had all chipped in some of their allowance to get him a joint gift of a 25$ gift card to the bookstore, and then all made a silly homemade card together, completed with tacky stickers and way too much glitter glue.
A dog barked, closer this time. He quickened his pace. Could he just have imagined it? Oh, please, let it just be his overreacting imagination playing tricks in him —
And then a small, black-and-white dog bounced up to him through the trees.
He yelped and stumbled back in surprise, falling to the dirt with how much he back-pedalled. He groaned at the bruise that began to form on his tailbone, but then realized he had much bigger problems. The dog just barked at him, mouth filled with too sharp teeth and eyes tinged red, that didn't really match its appearance.
The first thing he noticed from his position on the ground was that the dog was small. Weren't Hellhounds suppose to be big? It was suppose to signal about the end of the world, and this dog was small enough to fit in a bike basket. When someone said the word 'Hellhound', the dog in front of him wasn't what came to mind.
"Uh, hello." He said, not entirely sure what else to say.
The dog tilted its head and barked. He winced at the noise. "You're very loud." But you should expect that, with a Hellhound.
However, the dog — Dog, he reminded himself, but he felt putting a name to it, on it, would make it permanent, but he had already done that, hadn't he? — whined pitifully and didn't bark. It was oddly smart for a dog. But it wasn't a normal dog. He had to remind himself of that.
"Please go away. I don't want you." He muttered. It whined again, as if he had just scolded it. "I said I don't want you. Go home, do whatever Hellhounds do."
Adam got up to his feet, brushed dirt off his jacket, and marched back into the woods. However, his annoyance was faux, covering up fear. He stared very intently as his shoes as he walked away, hoping the Hellhound would follow his orders. Unfortunately, he felt his heart skip double time when the sound of small, quicker footsteps began to follow him.
"Stop following me. Go away." He said without taking his gaze up from his shoes. The dog didn't make anymore noises, but didn't stop moving. He sighed. "Look, I don't want you, okay? I don't want to end the world. So just ... go back to Hell or wherever you came from."
It didn't.
His blood started to boil and whipped around to pin the dog with his most withering stare as if he was a teacher who found a student cheating in a test. The dog whined, but stopped moving and didn't make any other noise.
"I told you. Go. Away." He growled at it. The dogs eyes flashed and he gritted his teeth. He didn't swear often *, but he felt the situation called for it. "Fuck."
* Couldn't exactly, with one of his parents being an angel. The first time he said 'shit' (picked it up from his pops, obviously), Aziraphale had banned sweets for a week and showered so much praise on Crowleys plants that the demon particularly discorporated on the spot when he saw what had become of his garden.
And then a flash of horror drove through him. He had never gotten that angry before — yes, he got angry, it was a normal human emotion — but it had been, well, hot. Burning. Enough to boil the sea. And, strangely enough, for one, simple, tiny second, he almost felt fine with it.
Horrified and scared and still a little bit annoyed at what was going on, he broke out into a run. The dog barked, clearly happy at the exercise, and quickened its pace as well.
***
Adam had all but bolted back through the village and to his home, and anyone who realized it was him and not a brown-and-grey blur would have probably thought he was being chased by the devil himself. And, in a way, it was.
The boy slowed when he reached his house, forcing himself to open the door slowly and not just rip it off its hinges. He barley registered it slamming behind him when he saw Aziraphale. The angel was alone in the living room, reading his book like he alway did, but looked up as Adam entered.
He barley felt the burn in his legs from his run, but his breathing was still ragged when the words tumbled out of his mouth before his dad could ask what was wrong.
"I named it. I'm sorry, I didn't realize - I didn't even know it was three o'clock, me and my friends were just talking —" Tears begin to spring in the corners of Adams eyes. Aziraphale, who couldn't stand to see anyone cry, especially his son, immediately put his book down and bustled over to where the boy stood, trying to contain his sobs.
"It's okay, my dear." Aziraphale said softly, dropping to his knees in front of him. Adam copied, then let the angel gently pull him into his arms. The boy felt safe, all the sudden, and pressed his face into his dads jacket to try and stop the tears from rolling down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He kept mumbling. Aziraphale only made soft shushing noises and ran a hand through his curls. Adam just cried and dug his fingers into the angels shirt.
They sat like that, in the middle of their living room, for what could have been minutes or hours as Adam calmed himself down. Eventually, he managed to swallow back his tears and stopped his body from shaking. However, he could still feel the pit in his stomach, and loosened his grip on his dads shirt so his hand didn't cramp up.
"Where's pops?" He finally asked, pulling back and wiping his damp cheeks with the back of his hand.
"He's visiting the Dowlings." Aziraphale answered. "The family who everyone thinks has the Antichrist. He won't be home for awhile."
Adam nodded. He wondered how Crowley would react to the Hellhound, and how the Hellhound would react to the larger demon. Thinking of that, it reminded him. "It's - I tried to leave it in the woods, but I think it followed me home."
Aziraphale hummed. "Yes, of course." He thought for a moment, than said. "Now, we might as well go see the darn thing. Come on."
Aziraphale got up from the floor and tugged Adam up with him. The boy wasn't too keen on seeing the dog, but, after all, he couldn't just ignore it. Eventually, he would have to face it and he should probably just get it over with before someone noticed it outside.
He followed his dad back to the front door. Slowly, he opened it and saw the Hellhound laying on the front steps. It looked like a completely normal dog, which he guessed was kinda of the point, if a bit small. Maybe that was a good thing.
His dad stayed in the doorway, hesitating. It was a demon, after all. However, Adam, feeling drawn to the Hellhound, stepped into the garden. Immediately, the dog lifted its head and whined at him. It's eyes flashed with something red, and he frowned.
"What did you name it?" His dad asked, still not moving from his place inside.
"Dog." He answered. At its name, the Hellhound barked.
He heard the angel chuckle. "Well, that's not the name you would expect for the Hellhound. Well, it is quite small."
"That's one good thing about this." Adam said bitterly. Finally, Aziraphale braved stepping closer, hoping to comfort the boy again, but startled when the Hellhound growled and bared its teeth threateningly.
"Hey, no! That's my dad, leave him alone!" Adam snapped at the Hellhound immediately. To his surprise, the dog compiled, stepping back with its tail behind its legs while whining. "Oh."
"It listens to whatever you say." The angel said.
"Can I tell it to go away?" Adam asked hopefully. However, based of what had happened in the woods, it wouldn't work.
"Not that, unfortunately." Aziraphale confirmed.
The boy frowned, then turned back to the dog. It looked up at him with big eyes, as if it wanted a treat and not to bring about the end of the world. Slowly, as if he couldn't help himself, Adam bent down to his knees. His dad didn't object, so he reached over and scratched it behind the ears. It's tail starting to wag.
"He seems normal." Adam said after a moment. "Not evil at all."
Aziraphale didn't say anything *, only hummed. Adam continued to pet the dog, before his legs eventually became cramped at his position and he stood up, glancing back at his dad.
* His first immediate thought was that that was what he thought when he saw Adam for the first time, but he didn't think the boy would appreciate a reminder of his destiny at the moment.
"Can we go back inside now?" Adam asked.
Aziraphale nodded. "Of course. If my memory is correct, I do believe you still have a cake left to eat."
Adam smiled at that, and went to follow his dad back inside. However, when he went to step into the house, he heard the 'trot-trot' of dog claws on the ground and turned. Dog had stood up and went to follow them inside. Aziraphale glanced at Adam, but the boy was already pointing a stern finger at the animal. "No. Stay outside."
It whined, but did as told. When it laid back down, it rested its head on its paw and sighed through its nose. It looked positively sad.
Adam and Aziraphale looked at each other, then the angel shook his head in disbelief at the 'mighty' Hellhound. "Well, at least we know it follows your orders."
***
By the time Crowley pulled up to the house, it was nighttime.
The sky was a dark, deep blue, and dotted with small pinpricks of light far off where humans couldn't reach. The demon spent a moment staring up the night sky when he stepped out of the Bentley, the soothing voice of Freddie Mercury cutting off as he closed the door.
Crowley knew Adam had named the Hellhound, obviously. He could feel it, being a demon after all. Besides, Aziraphale had called him on his way home to explain what happened. The angel had talked softly and shakily, as if he was afraid of breaking. It made his heart hurt.
The dog had moved into the backyard, so Crowley went through the front to avoid it. He had already called Hell to confirm the Hellhound had arrived, in all its large and slobbery glory, but Aziraphale had said the dog had become tiny little mutt which almost made him giggle.
When he stepped into the house, he could see Aziraphale sitting on the couch, reading from the book he had started that morning. However, at the sound of the door opening, the angel looked up with hopeful eyes and his face softened when he saw Crowley.
"Hello, dear." The angel greeted with a small smile. "How was the party?"
"Lousy." He replied. "A food fight started. I got cake in my hair." He liked a good little chaos now and then, but he didn't actually like being in the middle of it. He had gotten rid of most of the cake, but he swore he could still feel wisps of icing holding locks of his hair together.
"Oh, poor you." Aziraphale teased. He frowned * and walked over, discarding his glasses in his pocket. The lighting was dim, and besides, he almost never wore his glasses in the house anyways. He wasn't trying to hide anything.
* Aziraphale would call it more of a pout, but Crowley would deny it to his last breath, because demons don't pout.
Crowley stopped in front of his husband, about to fire back another snarky remark that would make the angel stifle an exasperated and soft smile, but he was looking up at him expectantly with pretty eyes and an adorable face so Crowley leaned down to kiss him hello.
When they parted, the angel was still smiling brightly so Crowley averted his gaze, as if he could get burned if he looked too long, and collapsed beside him on the couch. Surprisingly, the angel didn't turn back to his book, instead sighing and grabbing Crowley's hand, which rest lightly on the couch cushion between them.
"How is he?" Crowley questioned after a moment.
"Asleep." Aziraphale replied. He traced a finger lightly the back of Crowleys hand, drawing patterns on the skin. "He was a wreck when he got home, but we had cake and he started his lego set, so I think he's feeling a bit better."
Crowley knew the angel had tried his best, but, knowing Adam, he was probably still worked up over. "What'did he name it?"
"Dog." Aziraphale smiled when he saw Crowley stifle his own smile. "He said his friends were asking him what a better name for a dog would be and he answered. I guess it counted."
Crowley snorted. That seemed like exactly the kind of trick that the universe would pull on you, even being as vague as possible brought upon the apocalypse. Then, he sighed. The poor boy was probably tearing himself up over it. A habit he was trying to get him to unlearn, but wasn't particularly succeeding in.
"I'm going to go say goodnight." He told Aziraphale. The angel nodded, stole another quick kiss, then let go of his hand to turn back to his book. Crowley, smiling a little, stood up and trotted upstairs to Adams room.
He slowed as he came to Adams door. It was cracked open, which he knew was still a habit from when the boy was little and eavesdropped on Crowley and Aziraphale when he pretended to be asleep. Though he would never admit it to the angel, Crowley was proud that Adam had figured out how to do so for at least a little while before they noticed.
Snapping back to the present, Crowley slowly peaked inside. Adam was cuddled up in his bed, curled into a small ball, with only his wild curls and closed eyes above the blankets. He looked so, so incredibly young and it made his heart clench. It seemed, that despite the whirlwind of today, he had managed to relax enough to sleep.
"Pops?" Adam asked, voice tired and still laced with the warm tone of sleepiness.
"Oh, hey, Adam." He said softly, afraid to break the peaceful tranquility that had settled over the room. "I didn't think you were awake."
"I was waiting till' you got home." He mumbled, pressing his face deeper into his pillow. "I love you."
No matter how long Crowley continued to raise Adam (alongside Aziraphale, of course), his heart still did a flip whenever those words were exchange. Throat suddenly tight, thinking they might not have many more chances to do so, he replied. "I love you too. Goodnight, Adam."
"Goodnight." Adam replied, then Crowley shut the door and headed back downstairs. He was surprised to see Aziraphale watching him, smiling softly with his book in his lap.
Crowley smiled back. However, for some reason, that made the angel frown and it immediately sent off warning bells in his head. "Everything alright?"
His partner sighed. "I'm worried for him."
Oh. Crowley swallowed, aware that his eyes were entirely bare. "I am, too. He's - he's too young to have this much responsibility."
"I know." Aziraphale breathed. Slowly, he put aside his book and stood up. Crowley met him in the middle. Feeling calmer when pressed up close with his angel, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphales middle and felt him do the same as well, fists gripping his jacket.
"We're going to help him, though, and he has his friends. They don't know what's going on, but they can offer some distraction. And we'll be there." Crowley said, then sighed again. "Maybe that'll be enough."
"Maybe it will." Aziraphale mumbled into his shoulder, and they held each other tight, and pretended there wasn't a Hellhound outside, and that everything wasn't starting to fall apart.
***