Chapter Text
He named them Beau. Because they were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Crowley walked with purpose through the outskirts of Hell. Every demon he encountered immediately turned and ran away just at the sight of him.
Good.
He wasn’t nervous like he was last time, his resolve steadied by the weight of what he planned to do. He had dressed the part, of course. He was a vision in black; gold tipped black boots gleaming, jacket sharp-edged, sunglasses glinting ominously under the broken lights.
Maybe he had gone a little over board with the full slimfit black suit, but it suited his mood of righteous defiance toward Hell. He was also very much enjoying being back to his willowy, serpentine self. He wanted to be intimidating. So he dressed accordingly. He was vain, but it suited his purpose.
He had waited six months. Six months. Six months after the birth of his child before he was fed up with Hell and Heaven trying to test the defenses he and Muriel had put in place.
They obviously had no idea who they were messing with.
Aziraphale still hadn’t regained consciousness since he collapsed after Beau’s birth. Being asleep for months was no big deal for Crowley, but not for Aziraphale.
He hadn’t known during his labor that Aziraphale was struggling. That, according to Nina and Maggie, he had cauterized his stab wound with his own flaming sword.
That may have been what saved his life. It had purified the demonic wound— but not before it had done some damage.
Those first weeks they all believed that they would check on the angel and he’d just be gone. It had been terrifying. Until, he slowly started to improve. Now he just looked like he was sleeping. He regained some color and didn’t have the deathly gray hue he had those first weeks.
He was going to make it. He would wake up, eventually… hopefully.
All because he stayed behind to protect them when he shouldn’t have. He almost went somewhere again to a place Crowley couldn’t follow.
Crowley didn’t know what he was going to do when the angel did wake up.
His thoughts were interrupted by Shax shrieking as soon as he entered the bull pen, sending a ripple of panic through the surrounding demons as they scrambled up the stairs to sit in the throne in the center of the room.
“You’re not welcomed here, trai—“
“Shut up, Shax. I am doing the talking then I’m leaving.”
“I am Lord Shax—“ Crowley took the stairs two at a time and pulled Aziraphale’s flaming sword from a sheath strapped to his back. It ignited just as he pointed it only inches from Shax’s face.
“I said shut up. You are only alive because you will be the messenger. Got it?” Shax barely nodded and Crowley let the swords flames extinguish as he resheathed the blade smoothly.
“Alright. From this day forward I will be one of two representatives of Earth. To be fair it will be me, a demon of Hell and Muriel, an angel of Heaven. The two of us, and no one else, will be in charge of the well being of Earth. Nothing happens on the surface without our approval. Earth will no longer be subject to demon incursions, harassment, or plagues at your behest from now on. All incidents will have to run through the representatives of Earth, the Angel Muriel and myself. That also includes trying to kidnap or kill my child.”
“What gives you the right to dictate terms to us, Crowley?!” Shax barked, their trembling voice belying their attempt at bravado. “Give us the spawn and we will consider your terms.”
“I say just kill it and be done with it. Crowley has always just been talk.” Hastur sneered as he stood next to where Shax sat.
Crowley felt sparks crackle around his hands as he fought to keep himself calm. He had a plan and he needed to stick to it. If he killed Hastur with Aziraphale’s sword it would be satisfying but would not show what he was capable of. Though not attacking the demon standing in front of him that almost killed him, Aziraphale and Beau was extremely difficult.
He pulled out his phone and hit the call button. They stared at him as he waited for someone to answer.
“Hello Muriel? Strike the demon Hastur from the Book of Life.” Within seconds, Hastur's form began to shimmer, his edges blinking with white-hot light, as every demon in the room froze in horror.
“The Book…?!” Shax’s voice was shrill as they looked over at Hastur.
“W… WHA—“ Hastur didn’t even finish before he just faded from existence in front of them. Shax gaped before turning back to Crowley with terror in their eyes, suddenly uncertain whether their own name might soon be called next. The room was dead silent, then Crowley shifted his stance, his eyes sweeping over every face before landing back on Shax.
“Thank you, Muriel.” Crowley said coolly as he pocketed his phone, never breaking eye contact with Shax. “THAT is what gives me the right to dictate terms to you. Follow the rules and you won’t be wiped out like a typo. Don’t feel special either, Muriel already did this visit with the assholes upstairs.”
Crowley dusted off a lapel as he waited for a response, tension thick enough to cut through in the anxious stillness. Shax’s fingers twitched against the armrests of the throne.
“We agree.” They said hoarsely and Crowley’s face broke into a wide, predatory grin.
“Oh good! I would have hated to disturb Muriel again. Well, with all that sticky business taken care of I do have to run.” Shax visibly relaxed when Crowley turned to leave. Then Crowley stopped and looked at Shax again, his eyes glowing gold as the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. “I’ll leave you with one more warning, Shax. If I find out you even looked at my kid— I won’t strike you from the book. I’ll boil you in Holy Water, one appendage at a time…. Anyway, toodaloo!”
Crowley walked away from the bullpen smirking, leaving a sick looking Shax behind.
It was the sound of a giggling baby that made him finally start to regain consciousness.
He was warm and comfortable, but he had no idea where he was.
Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly as afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft gold patterns across his face and bedspread.
He slowly cast his eyes across the room until they landed on a baby sitting on the rug, surrounded by brightly colored stuffies and blocks. Their hair was a mass of strawberry curls that glittered in the sunlight as they rocked and babbled to themselves.
They wobbled a little when they lunged forward, squealing in delight as they hugged a soft looking pink rabbit to their chest. Aziraphale was surprised when a small set of dove gray wings fluttered behind their back, shimmering with a pearlescent gleam in the sunlight.
“…Bean?” Aziraphale said as he slowly pushed himself up, his voice rough from lack of use. The baby looked up and locked eyes with Aziraphale, and they were the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen.
“Actually Crowley named them Beau, but we do still call them Bean sometimes.” Muriel said from the doorway as they walked into the room and scooped up the giggling baby, bouncing them gently while offering Aziraphale a reassuring smile. “I had a feeling you were waking up, your aura has been more vibrant this week and Beau refused to play anywhere besides by your bedside. I think they knew too.”
Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes away from Beau as they babbled something to Muriel as if they would understand them.
“How… I mean, I saw them just after birth… they are so big already— how long was I…?”
“Over six months.”Muriel said gently, as if trying to soften the blow. Aziraphale felt a dull ache in his chest. He missed six months of watching them grow, missed first smiles, all the tiny, irreplaceable milestones that Beau would never have again. “Aziraphale… you’re alive and the plan worked.”
“Yes.. it did.” He cleared his throat as he could feel it tighten in emotion, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill. He reached out to run his finger down Beau’s cheek. “They are the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”
“Aren’t they?!” Muriel cooed at Beau who just squealed again. They turned so Beau was facing Aziraphale. “I think your dad could use a hug from the prettiest baby in the whole world.”
“O-Oh… I, well—“ Aziraphale flustered but went still as Beau launched themselves out of Muriel’s arms and straight into Aziraphale’s chest. They hugged his neck so tightly Aziraphale lost his words, overwhelmed by the innocent trust and love radiating from Beau’s tiny arms.
He melted and hugged Beau back. They made no move to stop hugging Aziraphale and just clung to him. Soon, Muriel quietly sat down on the bed as Aziraphale rocked the baby and ran his hand down their back between their wings.
“The wings… are they out all the time?”
“Oh, they normally pop out when they are excited or up to mischief.” Aziraphale was curious what mischief entailed for a six month old, but Muriel continued. “I think they are too young to control or understand they shouldn’t have them out all the time. Crowley wants to keep them out of public view so we don’t attract attention when he takes them outside for fresh air. The cottage is pretty secluded and Crowley and I warded it from Heaven and Hell both. The book shop too. We are all safe here. The book is too. Crowley has it in a pocket dimension connected to the attic. I know it was hard won, but we succeeded.”
Aziraphale nodded as he hugged Beau a little tighter.
“Where is my little Cherub?!”Muriel and Aziraphale jumped as Beau squealed in pure delight and started to flap their wings frantically at the sound of Crowley. “I hear them, but I don’t see them! I demand cuddles from my little bitty bean!”
Muriel covered their face from laughing as Crowley stomped through the house like a monster, and Beau started to reach toward the open door in anticipation.
“I’m here to demand my cuddles from my little hummingbird—!”Crowley appeared in the doorway, sunglasses askew, arms wide open, grinning wild at the wriggling bundle in Aziraphale’s arms. When Crowley realized who was holding Beau he flushed red all the way up to his ears. “Oh…”
Muriel picked Beau up and handed them to a very shocked and embarrassed Crowley.
Crowley’s eyes darted to Aziraphale nervously at first, but softened when they returned to Beau. He cradled them close and smothered them with kisses. Beau batted at Crowley’s glasses, smearing tiny handprints across the lenses as they shrieked and giggled.
“Oi! My glasses, you little fiend!” Crowley bark-laughed, though he made no move to stop Beau.
“They haven’t slept for a few days, so I was thinking of making them a bottle and putting them down for a nap?” Crowley gave Beau one more snuggle before handing them over to Muriel.
“I can do that—“
“Let me, that way you two can have some peace to talk.” Muriel didn’t wait for an answer, just patted his shoulder and left Crowley there to stand awkwardly in the doorway.
“Uh… bottle? Does Beau need to eat?”
“Oh.. no. A bottle of sugar water soothes them. They sleep, but kind of like I do? Just shorter bursts. I think it’s because they are growing. I’m not sure. Growing a half occult half ethereal baby is kind of new territory.”
“Right… of course.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with uncertainty, so Crowley began to clean his sunglasses before putting them back on.
Aziraphale looked around the room for a moment, trying to gather the nerve to bring up the difficult conversation they'd been struggling with for months. Finally he met Crowley’s gaze and opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley spoke before he could.
“I forgive you.” Aziraphale’s breath caught as their gaze held. He wanted to rush to the demon and wrap his arms around him, but then Crowley cleared his throat and continued. “But, you are still the Supreme Arch Angel of Heaven. We figured.. that it would be beneficial for you to keep that position.”
After a pause, Aziraphale frowned, fingers tightening around the blankets in his lap.
“And you decided my place should be there.” He said softly and Crowley answered with a shrug, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes, as if the words brought back memories he wished to forget.
“Yes. We need to keep tabs on them to make sure they behave, and you are an angel that goes along with Heaven. Further than I ever could.”
Yet another long, tense pause as Aziraphale glanced at the window, Crowley’s statement stinging a bit more than he let show. He steadied his voice before replying so Crowley wouldn’t notice the hurt in it.
“Of course. It makes sense. What about Beau? Am I allowed any type of visitation?”
“Yes! Yes, I figured you could stay in the bookshop when you are not in Heaven and we would stay here. You can be part of their life. I… I want you to be.” But the note of hesitation in Crowley's voice made Aziraphale inwardly wince.
Just not part of yours, Aziraphale thought miserably. He shifted his weight so his legs hung over the bed, forcing a polite smile, masking his heart cracking in his chest.
He had been a selfish being when it had come to the demon. With Beau being born, he didn’t need Aziraphale’s protection.
He should be thankful he was being given the chance to at least be as close as the bookshop. He could be part of Beau's world in some small way, even if never truly close to Crowley again.
It had to be enough. He finally forced himself to nod in agreement, though regret rose bitter in his throat.
“We will figure out how I can be of help, without… being underfoot. I know I have been enough of a burden these past months and I’m sure you are needing some peace. The bookshop seems like it would be the best place for me. Yes, alright— I will see you.”
“Aziraphale, you don’t have to rush—“
“No, I believe it’s better if I go. So if you’d please— I just need a few moments to gather a few things before I leave.“ Aziraphale gestured toward the door.
Crowley nodded and lingered just a moment before he turned and left the room.
Aziraphale’s shoulders collapsed as soon as the door clicked shut, hands covering his face as he tried to steady his breathing, willing his tears not to fall, knowing Crowley could probably still hear him.
They were all safe. He needed to just focus on that or he was going to fall apart.
He just left. No arguing. No begging. No yelling. No tears. Just prim, polite responses with plastered on angelic smile.
It’s what he wanted, right? Aziraphale could go back to Heaven on a whim like before.
He was protecting himself and gave the angel an out. So why was he feeling like his chest was burning as if something precious had just been lost forever?
Aziraphale did exactly what he asked him to do and he did it with a smile.
Crowley walked down the hall leading to Beau’s nursery to peek in. He paused, hand on the doorframe, watching the infant sleep in their bassinet. With their schedule they would more than likely be asleep for a few days.
As tempting as it was, he didn’t need to wake them up just to have a distraction from his stormy thoughts. Instead, he lingered silently, the soft snuffles soothing but unrelenting in their reminder of what he was also protecting. He didn’t want Beau to feel abandoned like he had.
He was making the right decision… right?
He sighed and stalked back to the den to pace some more. But with every turn, anger fizzed beneath his grief.
“Crowley. You could just go talk to him if you’re this upset.”
“No. I said what I had to say. He agreed. It’s done.”
“Is it?” Crowley shot Muriel a sour look before he started rummaging through the bookshelf for anything interesting enough to distract him. Then his hand hovered over the copy of Pride and Prejudice Aziraphale had brought over from his flat. The angel must have forgotten it when he collected his things earlier that day.
He wasn’t going to cry over that dusty old book, but the weight of memories clung stubbornly to his fingers as he picked it up. He flipped it over a few times and stared at it for a long time.
“…why didn’t he care? Why didn’t he at least fight with me about it?” Crowley spoke quietly and Muriel frowned a little before they replied.
“Well, from what you told me you said to him, I’m pretty sure he is under the impression that what you said was exactly what you wanted. He may be withdrawing to give you peace after trying so hard to respect your wishes, even though it may be hurting him more than he’s letting on.”
Crowley tossed the book down onto the coffee table then crossed his arms and huffed.
“I doubt that. Every time, Muriel— every time I gave him an inch, he’d run away or turn me down. Not running away with me, running off to Heaven— twice, then almost dying—“ Muriel guffawed, cutting Crowley off.
“Are you really going to count him almost dying as a personal slight?” Crowley pointed at Muriel indignantly.
“I can and I will! The point is, he is going to run off to Heaven every time he thinks they need him for something, so why not just let him do it? Cut my losses and let him fulfill the need he has to carry out Heaven's will instead of expecting him to pick me over everything he's ever known or believed in, because expecting more only leads to disappointment every single time.”
Crowley slumped down onto the sofa and stared at the floor. Muriel watched him for a few moments before they got up, walking to their desk across the room. They opened a drawer and pulled a letter out.
“I think it’s time you read this.” Muriel dropped the letter on top of the copy of Pride and Prejudice. Crowley looked at it warily.
“What is it?”
“The letter Aziraphale left me before he went back to Heaven. He never intended to stay in Heaven. His mission from the beginning was also to get the book so he could protect the Earth.”
“I thought… I thought that you came up with that plan?”
“No Crowley. Aziraphale had been trying to get the book and bring it back to Earth since the day he left over a year and a half ago.”
“That can’t be right… he?” Muriel sat next to Crowley, and nudged his shoulder gently.
“Read it.”
He was going to be the Supreme Arch Angel of Heaven from his home on Earth. He would keep the job, but he’d do it his own way. He couldn’t stomach being in Heaven more than a few hours anyway.
It wasn’t his home.
He looked around the flat and he hated how quiet it was. He stood in the middle of the room, listening to the sound of the clock ticking on the wall as he looked around. It had always been so cozy and peaceful, but now it felt incredibly lonely.
The flat didn’t feel like home anymore either. He knew that peace would always be missing unless Crowley was there to share it with him.
Vavoom— laughable, He thought while he moved to the window and looked out at the street below the flat. He just stared unseeing as he felt the weight of his decisions press heavily on him.
He knew he was a fool. It was greedy of him, selfish to want more than he deserved. He had still hoped that Crowley would give him more. He should appreciate that he had at least forgiven Aziraphale. One day perhaps they could be the friends they once were and he could go back to silently loving the demon so dearly it ached. That was all he could hope for now.
The finality of that thought made his eyes burn so he quickly turned to the little kitchenette.
He needed to do something with his hands. He would make tea. A cup of tea and he’d sit down and read a book. A distraction.
When he picked up his normal mug, the one with angel wings, it slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
His hadn’t noticed that his hands were shaking. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, gathering the jagged shards as hot tears blurred his vision.
He hadn’t broke down while he carried out his self appointed mission. He managed to keep his composure, but now the mask was slipping, exposing every raw nerve he had tried to hide.
At least he was alone so no one would see.
That thought had him shooting to his feet, snatching another mug from the counter and hurling it across the flat as he screamed out in frustration, feeling the terrible emptiness swallow him as shattered porcelain scattered everywhere.
He sobbed and wailed into the empty room as he stumbled over and dropped onto the small loveseat.
He rocked forward onto his elbows, face buried in trembling hands, heart pounding so fiercely he could feel it against his teeth.
He felt broken as the tears wouldn’t stop, spilling over his fingers as if his hurt wouldn’t be contained anymore.
How was he going to heal from all of the grief he was feeling?
“Aziraphale…”
He froze, a cold spike of recognition piercing his despair as he heard Crowley’s voice gently whisper his name from the doorway leading to the cottage.
“Oh! Oh—no, Crowley! I didn’t—“ Aziraphale stood up quickly and turned his back to the demon, furiously wiping his eyes. He laughed wetly as he continued. “I was making tea, had an accident, you know I’m not the most coordinated!”
“I can see that.” He could hear Crowley quietly stepping over the shards in the kitchenette as he made his way further into the flat.
“Uh.. would you like some tea? I just need to clean up this mess—“ He tried to turn and walk around the room to avoid Crowley, but the demon reached out and held onto the Angel’s sleeve.
Neither spoke for a moment, the tension vibrating in the charged air.
“Why were you crying?” Crowley murmured, the grip on his sleeve anchored Aziraphale in place.
“I—I wasn’t— I was upset about my mug—“
“Even you wouldn’t cry like that over a mug.”
Aziraphale stood silently for a moment before he sagged a little in Crowley’s hold as he stared at the floor.
“I don’t think this is a wise conversation to have, Crowley.”
“Tell me anyway.” Aziraphale held his breath, he could still feel Crowley’s eyes on him while he stalled to answer.
“I wanted you to be safe, and you are. I can’t ask for more than that. Let’s say they are tears of relief and let it rest.”
“Don’t give me that shit answer. It’s worse than the mug excuse.” Aziraphale tensed as his eyes snapped back up to Crowley’s face.
“It’s not!” Crowley scoffed and tugged on his sleeve.
“Out with it, Aziraphale.”
“Fine… I was crying because I’m upset with myself. I had to make a choice because— well… I made choices. You suffered for it and I regret that. All I wanted before was your forgiveness, and you gave it to me. That was so selfish of me. I realize now that you have forgiven me that I do not deserve it. Not with how I have acted through this whole ordeal. What I want is for you to be happy.” Aziraphale stopped himself and quickly looked away again. The frustration in his voice faded as his shoulders slumped.
Again, Even if it’s not with me, he thought sadly. He cleared his throat and tried to gently tug his sleeve free of Crowley’s hold.
“I—I’m sorry, Crowley. I am not the best company this evening and don’t think I am in the best of moods to have a constructive conversation.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Crowley fixed him with a steady look and everything in Aziraphale wanted to scream for him not to go, to please stay. He gave a gentle nod instead, not lifting his eyes to the demon.
“That would be the best.”
“Not what I asked.”
“I was.. I was agreeing that it would be for the best.”
“And I asked if you wanted me to leave. You’re not as good as Muriel with avoiding telling the truth while still not lying. So go ahead and answer.”
The ghost of a smirk played at Crowley’s lips. It was torture to see. He backed up a step, but Crowley only matched his movement, blocking his escape.
“Crowley, don’t be cruel.”
“Me? Never. Now answer my question.”Aziraphale hadn’t realized he had been steadily backing away till his back bumped into the wall. He felt cornered and didn’t know how to respond.
“W-What I want is to not infringe—“
“I read your letter to Muriel. I know what your plan had been when you left.”
“…oh. Well… I thought I had told them to destroy it.” Aziraphale babbled as he felt a flush creep up his neck at Crowley’s unwavering gaze. He leaned toward Aziraphale, placing a hand on the wall beside his head, Crowley’s eyes glinting with something unreadable.
“Do. You. Want. Me. To leave?” Crowley’s face softened ever so slightly. It made Aziraphale’s chest tighten.
“I…" Aziraphale managed, voice shaking with conflicted longing he couldn't hide.
“You…?”
“…I don’t want you to go.” He let the words rush out with his breath.
Crowley leaned back to look at Aziraphale. For a moment, neither of them moved, tension thickening in the silence. Then, Crowley let out a shaky breath, eyes searching Aziraphale’s face for certainty.
“I wanted to stay angry with you. To stay bitter. I convinced myself keeping myself separate from you I would be protecting Beau. That was just an excuse though.”
“Crowley.. I respect your feelings and don’t expect anything from you. You have every right to still be angry with me.”
“That’s the thing, though. I’m tired of fighting it, Aziraphale. I missed you too much. I missed Us.”
Aziraphale could feel his heart flutter in his chest, unable to look away since Crowley still kept him caged against the wall.
He couldn’t hold back anymore, the words stumbling out of him as he reached out to rest a trembling hand on Crowley's arm.
“I know.. well, before when I had said— that I had told you to forget it—“ Aziraphale babbled.
“What?” Crowley looked amused as Aziraphale tried to collect his thoughts.
“What I mean to say is… I told you before, to forget that I had said anything. When I had told you that I loved you. That I was in love with you.”
“Was?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale shook his head.
“No— I am. Still am. I don’t want you to forget I said anything, because.. I am very much in love with you, Crowley. I believe I have been for a long time. I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t lie to you. I missed being an Us too. I don’t want to be apart from you. I am alright with loving you and knowing you may not be able to return those feelings.” Aziraphale took a breath and spoke faster, realizing what he had just said might sound like. “Not that you can’t! I didn’t mean— I am so ashamed what I said before. Your capacity for love puts any Angel to shame! I was just.. just jealous—“
“Angel…” Aziraphale’s breath stuttered out at the nickname. He stared at Crowley in shock as a smile spread across the demon’s face. “Vavoom.”
The moment pulsed between them, shimmering as Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale.