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daughterofcain-67 · 8 months

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𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱.2)

(Dean Winchester x Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Sam and Dean are on the road looking into a lead that Castiel had given them. Sam is hoping that this will get them a step closer to getting Dean some help. Meanwhile, Dean is reluctant because the lead doesn't sound promising in aiding Cass in the hunt for Metatron. He thinks this will be a waste of time, but little does he know what he and his brother will find waiting for them in Cincinnati. Meanwhile, you are on a mission to find out why exactly Crowley has sent a demon to come and find you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SPN spoilers, the usual supernatural violence, torture and gore that may not be suitable for all audiences.

Sam was riding in the Impala beside Dean while he was driving. Castiel asked them to go to Cincinnati, Ohio to look into a lead. There was a report that a demon went to some sort of tattoo parlor and hadn't been seen again.

No one was sure if it was related to Metatron, or if an angel under him had something to do with it. Dean was a little skeptical at first but in the end he agreed to go with Sam, hoping this wouldn't be some sort of wild goose chase. It's like they've left every stone unturned when it came to locating the former Scribe of God but they would come in empty handed every time and it was really getting under Dean's skin.

"This had better be worth it, other wise we're just wasting time when we could be looking into an actual lead, not to mention it's a waste of Baby's gas." Dean said with a bit of a grumble. Sam rolled his eyes at the last part of the remark.

"With the amount of credit card frauds we've undergone, I think the car's gas is the least of our worries." Sam said with an arched brow and Dean shrugged a bit, gaze still transfixed on the road.

The constant burning in Dean's arm was relentless with the mark. He knew that he had the urge to kill. Something needed to be done, he needed to kill something on this hunt to get some sort of relief, even if it was temporary.

Sam had told Dean not to bring the first blade along. At first, Dean complied but the second that Sam wasn't looking, he tucked it into his jacket for safe keeping. After all, what if Metatron just showed up spontaneously? What if they ran into more than just a handful of demons on this 'new lead' Cass sent them on? Bringing the first blade was a necessary precaution even if Sam didn't see it that way.

"Dean? You alright, man?" Sam asked. Dean perked up when he was broken from his thoughts. But the older brother nodded a little.

"Yeah. Just hoping that this lead won't be a waste. If we don't take care of this mess soon, who knows what that bastard will do. Metatron has to die and we can't afford any more screw ups. Not when we've lost enough people over it." Dean said.

"Then there's the fact that Cass is obviously having trouble finding what he needs. I should be over there helping him out. He needs some answers and those stupid angels don't know how to get it out of the other angels they capture. they don't know a damned thing about interrogation and who knows when things will get worse on his end." He continued on.

Sam frowned, understanding where Dean was coming from. He couldn't blame Dean for feeling bad about Kevin. Nobody wanted something like that to happen. He was just a kid. And Kevin didn't deserve Gadreel killing him like that.

"Dean, if they need help with some interrogation tactics then I'm sure that Cass will give us a call. Especially considering your... experience. And I'm just as angry as you are about what happened to Kevin. I get what you're going through. But unless we have any other leads to follow, this is the best one that we've got for the time being." Sam said.

Dean took in Sam's words and his jaw tensed, his grip tightened on the steering wheel as his brows furrowed together. The mere mention of what happened to that kid was enough to make his blood boil.

"How could you possibly understand what I'm going through, huh? There's been enough shit in our lives, this mark is the only thing that has brought any hope in this whole damned disaster, and you do nothing but nag about the so called effects you think it gives me. It's always one argument after another over the one thing that can bring all of this shit to an end." Dean practically snapped.

Sam was a little shocked that he'd burst like that, yet he wasn't really surprised at what had been eating at his brother. He knew Dean wasn't one to open up about how he felt, but he didn't to a good job at hiding the fact that he was bothered either.

"Okay, wrong choice of words. But putting an end to this mess is a part of why we're out here right? As long as it's a step forward, then it's at least a step closer to the goal. It's a Hell of a lot better than taking five steps back, right?" Sam said with that typically optimistic tone that he seemed to have most of the time. The tone that Dean didn't always understand when things seemed to be at its darkest.

The real reason for coming to Ohio right now was because Cass had a hunch that it wasn't one of Metatron's angels that may have killed that demon. Maybe this person would be able to assist in killing Metatron. But what Sam was hoping for the most was that this would be the break they needed. That this lead would be the foretold, missing daughter of Cain. Dean needed a win, and Sam was hoping that this would be some kind of win for the both of them. Someone to help ease the suffering, help Dean gain some kind of control.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, Sammy. But if this thing turns out to be a disaster then you won't be hearing the end of it."

"Yeah, I've already gathered that." Sam said with a slight smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes a little before he leaned forward and pushed a button on the Impala's radio to play one of his cassette tapes. The next thing they knew, they were listening to Would by Alice in Chains.

"Well this is kind of different from your classic rock you normally play isn't it?" Sam asked and Dean shrugged.

"Nothing wrong with a little variety once in a while."

But once there was silence in the car again, outside of the music that was being played, Dean focused on the road. It would be another day before they'd get to Ohio. Then they could get this little 'lead' over and done with. Then he'd be able to kill some sort of monster or he could check on Castiel and see if he needed help with gathering information from Metatron's angels.

Either way, the mark was thirsting for blood, and Dean was trying his best to hold it together to keep Sam off his back.

You were growing antsy. The burning mark on your arm was more intense than it had ever been before. And somehow, you were sensing that there was another barer of the mark. They hadn't killed in a while and you could almost feel the thirst that person was going through as well.

But you were having enough of it. You had to know who this person was and you were willing to do anything to get to the bottom of it. Because surely this person, this mortal, had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Needless to say, your little shop was closed for the day and your appointments were cancelled of course. And now, you were in your own cellar beneath your store.

There you had a summoning circle, an iron chair, and there was a demon trapped inside since the devil's trap was engraved into the iron shackles attached to the arms of the chair.

"What do you want with me? We know you killed one of the other demons just for stepping here. If you don't want to be found then why did you summon me?" The demon asked.

"Oh, Sweetie, who said that you were the one in charge of asking questions?" You asked with a chuckle as you moved your rolling table. On top of that table was your, what you liked to call, interrogation utensils.

You stooped down to the demon you had in a bind and you held your blade up to its chin. Now, this was no ordinary blade. Granted it wasn't as legendary as the First Blade, nor was it the demon blade that Ruby used to carry, but it was something similar that killed demons, angels, and monsters alike.

"Now, don't make this easy on me. It's been a while since I've enjoyed a good, slow kill." You smirked and the demon's eyes widened. The rumors were right. You were just as menacing as your father before you.

"But what if I don't know anything?" The demon asked as it regained its composure and attempted to be as unphased by you. You cocked your head to the side and shrugged a little before placing the side of the demon's cheek and watched the steam appear from the vessel's flesh since the blade was previously dipped in Holy Water. The demon hissed and gritted his teeth as if he tried not to scream.

"Well then, I get to have my own kind of fun. It's not like I can let you go now that you know where I am." You said.

"Now. Why is your pathetic king searching for me, hmm?" You asked and the demon's eyes shown black as he glared at you.

"If I'm going to die anyway, I'll never tell you." But then you slashed his cheek, causing him to wince as the wound started to bubble up due to the Holy Water.

"Oh, but I think you will. Now I'll ask you a second time: Why is Crowley looking for me."

"I will not betray the King of Hell."

Your brows narrowed. You had told him not to make it easy, but you needed to know why you were being sought after. You had to know what Crowley already knew incase you needed to go into hiding again.

So, you took your knife and cut off one of the demon's fingers before you dipped the wound in salt. Hearing the cries of the demon was a little annoying but you had to admit, there was finally a soothing feeling in your arm from the mark you were born with. It was finally some sort of release.

"Y-Your mark! He wants to know more about your mark to help a Winchester." The demon said.

You perked up when he finally gave some kind of information. You supposed losing a finger would have that effect on almost anyone.

"So your King that's too good to get his hands dirty is helping a human? Who is this Winchester?" You asked as the demon's head hung low.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance and you lifted the blade to his chin to make him have eye contact with you.

"If you have that much of a problem looking at me, I'll gouge those eyes right out of your skull. Now talk." You said as your eyes started to glow red.

"His name is Dean. Crowley was having trouble with the Knight of Hell, Abaddon. He went to Dean for help and they found your father. Your father gave Cain the Mark and Crowley wants to know more about it to hold the information over the Winchester's head to get what he wants, I assume." The demon spilled.

You lifted a brow as your eyes changed back to their normal color and you stood upright.

So, Crowley wanted some leverage, huh? You supposed that he couldn't exactly find the information he needed from some kind of book outside of the fabled Book of the Damned. No one seemed to know where that book was and that would have at least some kind of information Crowley could be after.

"That's all I know. let me go. I won't tell anyone where you are. Just spare me." The demon pleaded and you looked down at him again.

"Oh, Sweet Cheeks. I can't go around trusting demons not to give away my location. I'm sorry but you're just going to have to suffer." You said.

And with that, you placed your hand on the demon's head and your eyes glowed red once more. Suddenly, the demon started to let out a bloodcurdling scream and his eye sockets were glowing red. Blood started dripping from his eyes and the drops started rolling down his face like tears. Red droplets came out of his pores like sweat before turning into a black ooze.

Yet you looked at the demonic scum without a hint of expression in your eyes. But finally, finally there was a relief from the constant pain in your arm.

Once the demon was finally dead, you looked at the body. That has been the second demon you killed. But at least you got the information you wanted.

"Dean Winchester.." You muttered the name before looking down at the mark on your arm.

It hadn't even been two minutes but the pain was back like you needed to kill yet again. You placed your knife on the table and let your thumb graze over your mark.

"Dean, you don't realize what you've done."

Thank you guys so much for reading! I know I got this out a little later than I would have liked to've published but I had a friend from Germany come and visit me. I am hoping to get Part 3 released soon! Thank you for your continued support! If you would like to be tagged let me know! Wishing all of you the best!!

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @alternativeprincess @doctorlexilouwhosblog

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #jensen ackles #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #spnfandom #mark of cain #sam winchester #castiel #spn fanfic #spn rewatch #supernatural family #supernatural fic #moc dean #moc!dean #dean winchester fanfiction

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theangel-aziraphale · 8 months

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*grabbie hands*

gimme the [REDACTED] story

I think Crowley won't forgive me for this one, but alas. The people want what they want!

So this was all the way back in the 18th century.

Crowley and I had made our ways to a small english village for work, nothing grand, just a minor miracle and the smallest demonic intervention. You can imagine my surprise when we realised that we were staying in the same lodgings! His room, just down the hall from mine!

Anyway, I digress. After work, we would visit a local tavern to discuss how our days went and have some downtime before eventually turning in. Pretending to be human so the locals weren't startled by our staying up all night to do... well, angelic or demonic things.

It was then we had the unfortunate luck to be approached by a gang of ruffians, saying they didn't like seeing "mollie boys" in their town. I knew what they meant, of course, and thought it'd be best if we just left with a quick miracle for them to forget about us so we could leave and head back to our rooms

Crowley, of course, had other plans.

With a scrape of his chair, he stands up and glares at the human in charge. I do remember the hairs on my corporation raising as I felt the static between them. The leader cowered away rather quickly and said all this nonsense about not wanting to start any trouble.

And that's when Crowley said: "If you don't like "mollie boysss" so much, why don't you fuck off and leave us alone then?"

I'm quite certain the chap saw Crowley's eyes then. They were close enough, and the tavern was rather brightly lit...

The leader took his squadron away rather quickly after that, saying we weren't worth the trouble after all.

Crowley was loathe to be praised about it. And I thought that would be the only instance we'd see of their horrendous manner.

But no. Now, this is where Crowley's acts of kindness come in.

On our way back to our lodgings, we saw that same gang again. Only this time, they were stalking some poor fellow off behind a house. At first, I thought perhaps we ought not get involved, free will, and all of that, and humans will do what they want outside of our gaze. But then they started chasing the poor boy!

Convinced they were not only going to bark, but bite the stranger we followed after them. Before they managed to hurt him, we stopped them all in time, frozen while we discussed what to do.

Now. This village was rather close to a bog. Not too deep, but it was deep enough that one would have a somewhat hard time getting out.

Crowley had suggested we send them there. Stuck and waist deep in muck, having to wait till someone passes by on the road to help them out.

I thought perhaps that was going easy on them.

In my... annoyance I commanded their attentions and spoke to them with all the grace and wrath I could muster.

"This night, you have done a disservice to God. In your hatred of your fellow man, you have forgotten to love him as your neighbour. To hate man is to hate God. You will think about this and you will weep. Till you can't anymore, and your eyes will sting with the pain that your hatred caused. Only when you repent will you be free of this misery. Only then, perhaps, God will accept you into their kingdom once more."

Really, it was an unnecessarily long speech. But I cannot help but monologue.

I sent them away with a miracle, their eyes already shedding tears when they saw my true form. Regrettably, I was so upset it had come out on its own.

Meanwhile, with the grace of... someone. Crowley woke up the human that had been targeted by the gang. Poor thing had been startled by the disappearance of the other humans, and Crowley had to make him calm with a soothing miracle.

It did help. The way he spoke to the fellow, whose name was Thomas, you'd have thought he was an angel.

We figured out where the poor thing lived, and we walked him home, learned about his life and his family.

Thomas was the sole carer of his elderly father, who can no longer walk or really take care of himself as he used to. His sister had skipped town to avoid the responsibility of it and had told Thomas their father hadn't deserved it. But the boy had only love in his heart, and we could see he had a difficult relationship with him. Of course, when humans are this sad about things, they tend to seek joy to make up for it. This is when he met Ben. It turns out he had been caught by the gang before, when he had been kissing Ben behind the stables just outside of town.

Of course, we pitied him, and Crowley, lovely demon that he is, gave him a rather hefty amount of money and told him to leave town one day. When he was ready to and when his father had passed on. There are places that are safe. They just need to be found.

I don't think Crowley was expecting the hug.

Needless to say, that was one of the many times Crowley's shown kindness to someone other than me. He likes to say he isn't, but don't let him fool you.

#cw homophobia #long post #just in case any dearies would rather not read about it but it has a lovely ending I assure you!#aziraphale posts #good omens #good omens rp #good omens roleplay #good omens asks #good omens askblog #go aziraphale #aziraphale #aziraphaleposting #good omens aziraphale #good omens 2

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kaywinchester · 3 years

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Last Resort

anon asked: Hey! I love your work! Do you think you could do a sister!reader fic where Dean, Sam and Cas are away on a long hunt, and the reader (younger, maybe between 11-14) has a panic attack? Since her brothers nor Cas can help, Crowley shows up... Thank you!

Word Count: 1,762

A/N: I know panic attacks can be different for a lot of people, so I kind of just made the panic attack in this story how mine usually are. I also set this before the boys found the bunker since Crowley is still around. *Also not my gif*

“Hey, wake up.... Y/N c’mon wake up.” Sam said as he shook your sleeping form.

You rolled over to your side and blinked your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light shining in from the hallway.

“M’what?” You mumbled.

“Y/N, Cas called us. Dean and I have to leave to go help him, it’s important.”

“What’s going on?” You wondered, looking over at the clock on the nightstand to see that it was 2:30 in the morning.

“We’ll call you and explain everything later, but we have to leave. We might be gone for a few days but I wanted to let you know.” Sam said frantically.

“Okay, call me in the morning.” You said, still half asleep and not really understanding what was going on.

Sam nodded and shut the lights off as he and Dean gathered their things before leaving the motel room. You rolled to your other side and fell back asleep within minutes.

....................

You woke up the next morning and sat up in bed, looking around, you were confused as to why Sam and Dean weren't there. It took you a minute but you remembered Sam waking you up. Just as you were thinking about where the hell they went, your phone rang.

“Sam?”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Uh, where are you guys and when are you coming back?”

“Sorry for leaving in such a rush. Cas called us about some other angels that are going around taking people out. Normally he’d be able to handle this himself but they're moving pretty fast.” Sam explained.

“When will you be back?”

“Not sure, but this one might take a few days. Maybe a week at worst, but we’ll keep you updated.”

“What about food?” You asked, glancing at the small motel kitchen.

“Dean went on a supply run after you fell asleep last night, the fridge should be stocked. We wouldn’t leave you alone if we thought you couldn't handle it.” Sam said.

“Okay, well, hurry back.”

“We will. Gotta go, we’ll talk to you later.” “Stay safe, Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say in the background.

....................

It had been 4 days since the boys left and you were bored out of your mind. You had opened snack after snack, watched way too much tv, and even snuck two of Dean’s beers. You knew he would notice and be pissed off but you didn't even care at the time.

Just when you thought you would be fine by yourself, you weren't.

The paranoia started to set in, which happened often when the boys would leave on longer hunts and not take you with them. Sometimes, you were able to brush it off and be patient until they got back. Other times like this, it was like a nagging feeling of terrible thoughts that would set off a panic attack.

There was a string of bad thoughts that kept rushing through your head. Wondering if Sam and Dean would be okay, if they were going to make it back safely, or if they were already dead and you just didn’t know it yet.

These thoughts sent you pacing back and forth around the motel room. You chewed your lip as you imagined Sam and Dean walking through the door with their bags, trying your best to calm yourself down.

You sat down on the edge of the bed as you felt your breathing picking up, feeling so panicked and uncomfortable, being alone for longer than you were okay with. You wanted to call Sam and Dean to check in but you didn’t want to be a bother. Your brothers knew that you had occasional panic attacks, but they didn’t know the extent of them. It was also a little embarrassing, so you decided to keep it on the low.

That’s when your phone rang, seeing it was Sam, you answered almost right away.

“Sammy?” You breathed out.

“Hey kiddo. What’s up?” Dean answered instead.

“Uh, hey.... nothing much.... Is Sam there?”

“Yeah, he just fell asleep in the passenger seat. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, just um.... when will you be back?”

“We just finished up actually. We were able to track down the last string of dickhead angels so were on our way back right now.”

“How long?” You asked a little too eagerly.

“Should be there in about 4 hours, could be less.... You know how I drive.” Dean let out a chuckle.

“Ok great, hurry back.” Was all you could think of saying before hanging up the phone.

....................

Sam stirred in his seat, waking up and turning to Dean to see his phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Y/N called, she was just asking where we were.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“Good... sounded a little weird though.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I dunno. She’s probably just getting impatient.”

Sam took a moment to think about how Dean worded that, realizing you might've been having an episode.

“No more stops tonight, let’s get back as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“She might be panicking a little bit, we’ve been gone for almost a week.”

“She’ll be fine, she just needs to get used to being on her own.” Dean started being insensitive.

“Dean, I don’t think you know how panic attacks work.”

“She doesn't still have those, does she?”

“Yes, as far as I know she does, and depending on the person, they can get pretty bad.”

Dean didn't say anything after that and continued to drive faster.

....................

You sat on the floor up against the motel bed and talked to yourself in your head, praying to Cas since your brothers were still a long ways away. You repeated the same message over and over, expecting to see Cas pop up in front of you, but it never happened.

You started to panic even more that you started to repeat your cry for help out loud, not to anyone directly, but in hopes of feeling like someone was listening.

You weren’t expecting it but someone was listening.

And that someone was Crowley.

Crowley appeared after minutes of you talking, it scared the shit out of you, making you spring up from where you were sitting.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Well, someone is a little uneasy from what I heard.” He glanced back at you.

“Why are you even listening to me?”

“You clearly wanted someone to, and I was in the area.” Crowley said jokingly.

“Sam and Dean aren’t gonna like it when they see that you’re here.” You said as you backed up out of habit.

“Sam and Dean aren’t going to be here for a while now are they love? I might as well give you some sort of company.” He smirked, as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs to sit down.

“Why are you acting nice?”

“Who said I was acting? The king of hell can’t do little Winchester a favor?”

“Why would you want to though, it’s pretty unlike you.”

“Let’s say I owe you and your brothers one, I can’t always be ruining things can I? That would just be bad for my reputation.” Crowley sassed.

You scoffed at his sarcastic remarks, then realizing that he did a good job of distracting you from how you were feeling.

“Thanks” you gave a small smile, accepting the nice gesture Crowley gave.

“No need... Well, I guess my work here is done.” Crowley sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.” Before you could turn around to hear what Crowley was talking about, he was gone. Moments later, you heard a familiar car engine pull up in front of the motel room.

Perfect timing.

You drew the curtains to reveal your brothers emerging from the car, with Cas already walking up to the door.

You let out a sigh of relief as you welcomed all three of them inside.

“Hello Y/N.....” Cas paused and looked around with suspicion growing on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had a sense that one from the opposite side was lingering in this vicinity.”

“Okay, I literally understood none of that.”

“There was a demon here at some point. I’m sure of it.”

“Y/N, what’s he rambling about?” Dean asked as he hauled in the last of the things from the impala.

“Uh, I don’t know.” You lied.

Sam could see right through you face and knew something had happened. You didn’t look okay.

“Y/N, was there someone here? Did something try to hurt you?” Sam asked, grabbing Dean’s attention, stopping him from what he was doing.

“Well, Crowley...”

“Crowley!? Was he here?” Dean’s voice boomed.

“Dean, can you please not make a big deal...”

“Big deal!!?”

“Dean, dude seriously chill out. Just tell us what happened, Y/N.” Sam interrupted.

You told the three boys everything that happened. Sam immediately felt bad that he wasn’t there. Dean was worried that his little sister dealt with panic attacks this bad, but he still wasn’t happy that the king of hell just decided to pop in without warning.

“Y/N/N, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, you were too far anyways.”

“Well next time that happens, you call us, no matter where we are. I promise, you mean more to us than our work, we’d drop everything, even if we were miles away just to get to you.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, what he said.” Dean chimed in.

“Wow, I love how much you care.” You joked.

“You know I love you Y/N/N..... but I’m gonna have to lay down some rules with Crowley, and one of them is no dropping in when I’m not here. I don’t trust that shady punk.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged his arms, motioning for a hug which you gladly accepted.

“Nothing but chick flick moments over here. Get a room.” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up!”

“So, where is Crowley now?” Cas asked innocently.

“Were you even listening the whole time?” Sam asked confused.

“No, there is many things being said over angel radio.”

“God dammit, Cas.” Dean said as he got up to grab a beer out of the fridge. “Who drank my beers?”

“Wasn’t me...” Sam shrugged.

You knew you were in big trouble, forgetting about the choices you made earlier. So you slipped out the front door to let Dean cool down, but he had other plans. Sam quietly ratted you out as he motioned to the door that had just shut.

“Y/N! Get back here!”

Requests are open again!

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui @hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming

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twsted-princess · 3 years

Text

"Come on come on let's play!! I know a reeeeally fun game!!"

(picrew linked here)

Bio

Name: Annie Belladonna Muller

Nicknames: Raggedy Ann, (Samuel) Dolly, (Hecate) Platyfish, (Floyd) Mademoiselle Poupée, (Rook) Demon/Brat (All other students not in Terrovania)

Voice Actor: Misaki Kuno

Gender: Female

Age: Looks to be 11 (real age unknown)

Height: 138 cm/4'5

Race: Human with demon blood

Homeland: Hell (originally Rose Kingdom)

Birthday: 10/3

Starsign: Libra

Family: Father, Leaga (@just-an-otakus-blog/Aunt)

Occupation: Student

Based off: Annabelle from the Annabelle series

Professional Status

Dorm: Terrovania (@crestbaby)

School Year: First

Class: 1-B

Best Subject: None

Club: Gargoyle Appreciation

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Chocolate chip cookies

Hated Food: Broccoli

Likes: Her Papa, Samuel, All of Terrovania, Kitties, Pretty dresses, Getting headpats, Teddy bears, Receiving new toys

Dislikes: Boredom, School, Crowley, Being alone, When everyone's too busy to give her attention

Hobbies: Being cute and playing with everyone

Talents: Tricking people into letting her break rules (not Terrovania rules....except for the candy one)

Unique Magic: Magical Fun-time!!

She can bring toys, dolls and and any inanimate object to live with their own personalities and thoughts but all of them follow Annie's wishes. They're also tied to her emotional state so when she becomes angry they'll turn demonic and even attack the source of the problem.

Backstory

The smallest and most cutest member, Annie is Chaotic Gremlin 2: Electric Boogaloo. Being kid-sized she prefers to spend time playing games and running around the dorm with her BFFL Samuel, being pampered by Auntie Hecate, or getting piggy-back rides from Big Brother Maxwell. Of course most people in the dorm have a soft spot for her and see her as a little angel while anyone else thinks she's a hellspawn who uses her tiny size and puppy dog eyes to get away with crimes. Since she is a little girl she has the attention span of a chipmunk and when she gets bored trouble is bound to happen, like shooting fireworks outside of Crowley's window or eating all of Riddle's tarts and blaming Ace. Of course things don't always go her way but for the love of everything holy don't get her mad. Then she'll either tell on you making a target for the Terrovania big-shots or sick her army of terrifying toys on you. As for her past she had seem to grow up happy in a loving family, being their only child. However that all changed for a hit-and-run left her an orphan at the tender age of 5. Taken to an orphanage that believed in God's holy might she was told by nuns and priests that she's a wicked demon that needed to be broken in. The time she spent there was terrible as no family would take her, blaming her whining or unruly nature which wasn't her fault, everyone was just really mean. She was punished for any misstep, no matter how small it was she would be sent to a dark room for hours on end. No talking, no interaction, no light, just a bible and her tears. During one of these times she prays, prays that God will send her a family that would take her far away from her. There was only silence for a while but then...she heard a voice. A man's voice telling her to dry her eyes, that everything will be ok. He'll be her father. She then saw a creature, with goat horns and greenish yellow eyes but he wore a warm smile. He told her his name is Malphas and that she won't ever be sad again. Taking his hand, he guided her out of that dark cold room and out of the orphanage, to her everything seemed to move to slow-motion and lights flicker around as she begins to skip happily alongside him. Of course she didn't need a reason to care about the bad people bursting into flames and dying all around her, she has a new papa and once she meets Samuel a new family!!!

#my work #oc's #twst oc's #Behold a babey

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d-hasselhoff · 3 years

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That’s Not My Cass 1/?

Castiel x reader

Warnings: Power Hungry God Cass, some swears I think, mentions of heaven&hell + god and angels, by the way I literally hit the max number of text blocks so this’ll be a multiple part thing

Y/n stood next to Bobby and Dean, trying not to let Cass know she was scared of who he’d become. This new Cass, the power hungry god, terrified her. But she couldn’t tell him. Cass’ hand touched Sam’s forehead and Y/n knew what had happened. Castiel took down the wall.

As Cass mumbled about the power he would now hold, Y/n was able to sneak behind him. She closed her eyes for a moment, the Cass she used to know, used to love, flashed in her mind. It hurt her to realize she had to do this, she had to do it for Sam, but she knew it wasn’t really her Cass. so, she raised her arms, the angel blade striking down into Cass’ back. She squeezed her eyes shut, slowly opening them when the bright light that was supposed to emerge from his body never came.

A deep, rumbling laugh emerged from Cass’ chest. “You really think an angel blade will work on me anymore? I’m a god, Y/n a mere angel blade will do me no harm. You can’t kill a god.”

Her eyes widened and she stepped back as he turned to her, pulling the blade from his chest. “You foolish, foolish girl. I hope for your sake I never see you again.” The blade dropped as he flew away, the brief whoosh of his wings left behind.

She collapsed, her knees digging into the cement floor. Sam rushed over, picking her up off the ground, aiding her in standing up, allowing them to walk out of the building and to the vehicles.

“I’m sorry Y/n/n. I didn’t think this would happen. It didn’t seem like Cass could get this way.” Sam gave her a sympathetic smile as they sat cleaning each other’s wounds.

“I don’t know who that was, but that was not my Cass.” She murmured, carefully pulling the thread tight on his chest, cinching the wound.

“I know. Turn your head for me? I can’t quite get to the gash in your hairline.” The gash covered the exact spot Cass used to kiss on her head before they left each other, easily helping her anxiety before cases.

As the four of them, Dean, Sam, Y/n, and Bobby stood in front of the water reserve they watched, perplexed, as Cass pushed himself into the water, a whirlpool taking him under. The only thing left of him was his beloved trench coat.

Y/n picked up the coat, folding it gently and carrying it out.

“He’s really gone, huh?” Bobby asked, more to himself than anyone else.

“I guess so. Rest in peace, if that’s even an option.” Dean replied, opening the door to his impala.

Lucifer had taken over Sam. He hadn’t slept in days, Lucifer constantly nagging at him, not letting him sleep even a wink. Y/n felt horrible for the man, especially when she was able to sleep soundly. Of course, she would never sleep the same, not without Cass next to her. But at least she was able to sleep some. Poor sam.

Now, as Dean and Y/n stood in the office of Dr. Kandinsky waiting to see Sam after his accident, the two were made aware of the efforts put in by the doctors to help Sam’s “issues”.

“Relatives of Sam Smith?” Dr. Kadinsky asked as the two of them stood impatiently, waiting on the whereabouts of their brother.

“Yeah. Where is he?” Dean asked, flailing his arms.

“You have to calm down,” she turned her attention to dean before facing the doctor again. “Sorry, he gets a bit temperamental.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Can we see him? He’s recovering from the accident, right?”

“So you’re aware of his car accident.” The doctor mentioned.

“Yeah, is he alright?”

“Sam was admitted. He was treated for a busted rib and minor wounds.” Dr. Kadinsky explained.

“Alright, we’ve seen worse. And?” Dean’s exasperation flooded the room.

“And… he’s locked on our psychiatric floor.”

Dean scoffed. “He’s had trouble before, but nothing major, why now?” Y/n asked.

“So you’re aware Sam’s experiencing a full blown psychotic episode?

“Psychotic?” Y/n raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s freakin Norman Bates!” Dean shouted, causing Y/n to pull on his shoulder, calming him down slightly.

“I’m sure he isn’t. But, we need to determine whether the episode is brought on by insomnia or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition.” The doctor explained. “So we can figure out how to treat him.”

“The uh, the sleeping issue is new.” Y/n told him.

The doctor pulled in a large breath. “Well, we’ve pumped him full of sedatives as much as we safely can, but he won’t go under.” This caught their attention. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The doctor led them through the psychiatric ward, leading them to Sam’s room. “Hey, how are you feeling?” Y/n asked, knocking on the door lightly.

Sam seemed to pick himself up when he saw the two of them. “I think you should cancel my ufc fight.” He snickered, patting the spot next to him for his sister.

Dean and Y/n looked at each other, communicating without speaking. This was worse than they thought.

“We’re gonna get you help Sammy.” Dean smiled, patting his leg lightly.

Sam scoffed lightly.

“I don’t think that’s out there, Dean.”

“We don’t know that.” Y/n protested.

“As good as anyone.”

“Last faith healer we hooked up with had a reaper on a leash, remember?” Sam looked up at the two of them, eyes droopy. It was clear he hadn’t slept in days. “I’m just saying”

“What that you don’t want our help?” Dean asked.

“No, don’t waste your time on me.”

“If- If we don’t find help-“

“I’m gonna die. I know. Cass warned us about this, putting my soul back.”

“Screw cass!” Dean shouted.

“It’s really hard to keep the motivation to help you when you accept this so quickly Sammy.” Y/n smiled lightly at him, trying to make him understand.

“I know. I’m just exhausted. Death sounds good right about now.” Sam pleaded. “This is what happens when you throw a soul in Lucifers dog bowl.” Sam laughed pathetically. “There’s not just a cure out there.”

Dean stomped out of the room. Y/n shook her head lightly, lightly grabbing Sam’s head with both her hands and kissing his hair.

“Hey, we’re going to help you.” She gave him one last smile and followed Dean out the door.

Now, as Dean sat on the couch of Bobby’s old place, calling you every number he could think of to help him, Y/n stood opposite of him, researching anything that could help them.

Dean abruptly stood up, mumbling to the fridge to grab a beer. Bobby’s book whooshed off the table. “What the hell?” He turned his attention to his sister.

“What? I didn’t do that,” she motioned to Bobby’s book on the ground. “I assumed you threw it on the ground when you got frustrated.”

“No I didn’t- what is that?” He furrowed his brows as he picked up the card, flipping it around to “call 605-555-0102” written on the back.

So, Dean picked up the phone and called the number. “Hi, uh, my name’s Dean, a friend of Bobby Singers. I, uh, was looking for some info and a card with your number popped up. If you could call me back, thanks.”

“Well, let’s hope, huh?” Y/n asked, standing up from the table and wrapping her arms around her ‘brother’. He closed his eyes and let his head drop into her neck.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. They might not be blood but they were the closest thing to two had to family right now.

They sat at the small table, looking at whatever when Dean’s phone rang. “This is Dean.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raised. “Mackey. Calling you back. Real sorry to hear about Bobby.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What you called about, I might have something for you.” Dean put the phone on speaker. “There’s this guy, goes by Emanuel. Kinda roams. First started hearing about him a couple months back. He healed the sick, cured the crazy. Naturally, I think something ain’t right. So, I went looking. Easiest way to get to him is through his wife, Daphne out in Colorado. So, I go. Told her I was going blind. Wasn’t a lie, my right eyes burnt out. She tells me, “go home. He’ll come.” So, I went. I set every trap, every test in the book.”

“That’s what we would have done.” Dean mentions.

“Shows up, passes every one. There ain’t nothing weird about this guy. Except… he’s the real deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“He touched me, my eye was fixed.” Mackey explained.

“I don’t believe in much that don’t suck your blood, but I wouldn’t call you on maybe.”

So, the two left for this so called “Emanuel”.

Dean knocked on the door as they approached, the door opening to a middle aged looking man.

“Hi, this is Daphne Allen’s house? We’re looking for Emanuel.” Y/n asked

“Well, you found him. Daphne’s resting if you don’t mind.” He led the two farther back on the porch.

“Yeah, Sure.”

“Um, so, we were hoping-“ Dean was cut off by Y/n lightly hitting his back. She motioned lightly toward the window where Dean caught a glimpse of supposedly Daphne tied up to a chair and gagged. The two made eye contact and he looked back at “Emanuel”, only to be greeted with a demon. The demon grabbed Dean, throwing him against the glass.

“I’d be careful, don’t you know your boss has out a hands off memo?”

“Please, what have you done to help him lately? Roman’s head on a plate? Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley’s gonna want him. A lot more than he wants you lately. So-“ The demon was cut off by an angel blade stabbing into back. He had forgotten Y/n was with, giving her the opportunity to grab him before any real damage was done. He screamed as the electricity sparked through his body.

Dean pushed the body down the steps, landing at a man’s feet. He nudged Y/n, and she turned around, mouth dropping open. Cass was back? And in a sweater? The two made eye contact, but it didn’t feel right. “What was that?” The gruff voice she had grown to love sent shocks through her system. She thought she’d never hear it again.

“That’s not cass.” She whimpered lightly, head falling onto Dean’s shoulder.

“Did that creature hurt you?” He asked his wife as he untied her.

“I’m okay.” She murmured, sucking in a deep breath as she was freed. “But Emanuel, they were looking for you.”

“It’s okay.” He comforted as he held her. She caressed his face and Y/n bit her cheek. Emanuel seemed to notice the confusion and lead his wife over to the two, introducing them.

“I’m Emanuel.” He held his hand out to the both of them.

Dean hesitated momentarily. “Dean. I’m Dean. And this is my sister, Y/n.”

“Thank you for protecting my wife.” Y/n blinked.

“Your wife. Right.” Dean nodded, casting his glance to a frozen Y/n at his side.

“I saw his face.” Emanuel turned to his wife. “His real face.” He turned back to the two.

“He was a demon.” Dean explained.

Emanuel glanced at the ground. “A demon walked the earth.” He seemed astonished.

“Demons. Whackloads of them. You don’t know about…” Dean stopped. He must have been sheltered for some reason.

“You saw the demon’s true face.” She turned toward dean and Y/n again. “Emanuel has very special gifts.”

“So we’ve heard.” Y/n spoke. “You can heal people.” Her stare seemed to bore into Emanuel’s.

“I seem to be able to help to a certain degree.” She knew it wasn’t really Cass, but god did it feel like it. “What’s your issue?”

“Our brother.” Dean explained.

The three of them sat in the impala, the tension seemed unbearable. “So, Daphne. Is that uh, is that your wife?” Dean asked, looking over to Emanuel who sat rigid in the front seat.

He nodded. “She found me, and took care of me.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s a strange story, you may not like it.” Emanuel mentioned.

“Believe me, I will.”

“Well, a few months ago she was hiking by the river, when I wandered into her path. Confused, drenched, and unclothed. I had no memory. She said god wanted her to find me.” Dean and y/n made brief eye contact. Something was up.

“Who named You Emanuel?” Dean asked.

“Bouncybabynames.com.”

The two of them nodded confused. “Well, its working for ya.”

“It must be weird not knowing who you are.” Y/n mentioned.

“Well, its my life. And it’s a good life.”

“Yeah, well what if you were some kind of, I don’t know, bad guy?” Dean brought up.

“Oh, I, don’t feel like a bad person.” Y/n nodded, leaning back against the seat.

This was going to be a long car ride.

“So, your brother…”

“Sam.”

“Sam. What’s his diagnosis?” Emanuel asked.

“Well, it’s not exactly medical.” Dean explained.

“That should be fine. I can cure illness of the spiritual.”

“Spiritual.” Dean scoffed lightly. “Well, someone did this to him.”

“You’re angry.” Emanuel observed.

“Well yeah, dude broke my brother’s head.”

“He betrayed you, this, dude. He was your friend?” Emanuel asked.

“Yeah well he’s gone.” Dean sighed.

“Did you kill him? I sense that you kill a lot of people.”

“No, I uh, I don’t know that he’s actually gone. I just know that this… whole thing couldn’t be messier. I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but I always could.” Dean sighed. “What Cass did I just can’t. I don’t know why.”

“Well it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!”

“No it doesn’t. You’re not a machine, Dean.” Dean shook his head lightly. “You’re friend’s name was Cass? That’s an odd name.” Y/n scoffed lightly from behind the driver’s side.

The impala pulled into a convenience store and Dean jumped out. “Oh, hey, just uh, sit tight, alright? And you stay with him?” Emanuel and Y/n nodded and the two walked into the store.

Dean felt a presence behind him. He turned around, about to attack, when the demon threw him into the beer fridge. He stood up, shoving the knife deep into the demon’s abdomen, sending the electricity spiraling. He pulled it out and turned around to two more.

He swung with the knife, missing and being hurtled to the ground, his knife blown out of his grasp.

He sighed, pushing himself up to fight when suddenly the one was stabbed, and the other began seizing, releasing the demon.

“Emanuel, you son of a bitch.” He looked up and was met with Meg.

“Emanuel? Yeah, not so much.” Meg smirked, pulling him up.

“Dean, Dean, Dean. You got some ‘splaining to do. Imagine my surprise when I track this Emanuel down, cozied up with you two? And he just so happens to be the spitting image of poor dead Castiel? So Dean, what’s poor dead Castiel doing in that junker out there with your sister?”

“Christmas caroling.” Dean snarked.

“Fun. But how’s he alive? Last I heard he tried to play god and went poof.” Meg drawled.

“I don’t know. And neither does he so I’d like to keep it that way. You’ve gotta stay quiet about it.”

“Oh I do?”

“He doesn’t know he’s cass.”

“Oh I know. I’ve been watching you for hours. So here’s the deal. You might remember Crowley and me were frosty back in the day? Well times haven’t changed.”

“Good.”

“That hurts my feelings. I’ve been so good to you Dean.”

“No, you’ve been good to you, sweetheart.”

“Look. Right now rumors of this wandering healer are strictly low-level. But body count’s getting high enough to change that. Folks start poking they sniff angel dust.” Meg explained as Dean shoved various snacks in his jacket.

“Yeah, they start falling all over each other trying to tell Crowley.”

“Now picture Crowley with his hands all over poor little amnesia Cass. Don’t get my wrong I’m gonna burn that smarmy dick. My time’s coming. But right now my army-of-one situation is not cutting it. It’s cold out here, there’s a price on my ass and I need friends.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I ain’t it.” Dean shook his head, starting to walk past the demon.

“That’s where you’re wrong Dean. ‘Cause I’m here to help you, and that makes us friends.”

“Help, huh? You mean see if you can turn harmless little Cass out there into an angel sized weapon?” Dean snarked.

“Like you’re taking him caroling. And by the way do you really want to keep going without any backup? Hey, I don’t trust you either. But I could really use Emanuel. And he trusts you, so for now it’s in everybody’s best interests to hold hands and cross the street together, okay?”

“We go straight to Sam. No detours.” Dean sighed.

“I love it.” Meg smirked.

“And one more thing. My knife.” Meg held the smirk, resisting lightly as Dean pulled the angel blade from her grip.

“You sure we won’t be safer traveling with a full throttle angel? I could jog his memory.” Meg offered.

Dean stared at her.

“Kidding! We wouldn’t want to upset the poor guy.”

Dean and Meg approached Y/n and Cass- Emanuel, standing outside the impala.

“Her face she’s-“ Emanuel started.

“Meg?” Y/n stared in shock lightly.

“Y/n, it’s a pleasure.”

“You scheming bitch. I can’t help but feel a weird attraction to you.”

“It’s a mutual feeling Honey.” Meg laughed. Dean rolled his eyes.

“We come in different flavors. I’m here to help.” Meg informed Cass.

“I think we’re going to be great friends.” She smirked.

“Alright, can we just go?” Dean threw his hands in the air and Meg and Y/n laughed.

“Good to see you again Meg.”

“You too Y/n.”

The drive to the hospital was, well, uncomfortable. Dean still didn’t quite trust Meg, and Y/n while she was around Meg, but Emanuel was fully shaking. It was terrible.

“This silence is very uncomfortable is there something I should know?” Emanuel suddenly asked. So many things ran through everyone’s minds, but meg settled with,

“I don’t know. Dean?”

“No. Meg has that effect. Awkward, you know?”

“That must be difficult for you.” Emanuel met Meg’s eyes.

“Dean’s making a joke, Emanuel.”

Emanuel chuckled lightly. “Oh.”

Y/n stifled a laugh, her head falling onto Meg’s.

Baby’s engine stopped and the crew rolled out, taking in the fight before them. Demons crawled around the entrance to the hospital dressed as nurses and doctors.

“How many of those knives do you have?” Emanuel asked.

“Just the one.” Dean sighed.

“Forgive me, but how else are we going to get through there?”

“Yeah Dean, got any other ideas?” Meg smirked.

“Excuse us.” Dean flashed Cass a polite smile and led Meg and Y/n away from the angel.

“Oh for the love of God. Sam’s in there! I know you two are enjoying the trip with your old pal, you especially Y/n.” Meg snapped.

“You think it’s really what cut and dry? Really? You know what he did. And you want to tell him and just hope that he takes it in stride? He could snap. He could… disappear. Who knows?” Dean’s anger cooled as Y/n tugged lightly on his shoulder.

Castiel’s voice broke the tension. “I take it we know each other.”

Meg smirked. “Just a dollop.”

“You can tell me. I’ll be fine.” Cass reassured.

“How do you know?” Dean questioned.

“You just met yourself. We’ve known you for years.” Y/n explained.

“You’re an angel.” Meg cut in.

Dean and y/n stopped, staring at Meg.

“I-I’m sorry? is that a flirtation?” Cass was utterly confused.

“No. It’s a species. A very powerful one.”

“She’s not lying. Okay? That’s why you heal people. You don’t eat.” Dean explained.

“I’m sure there’s more, we just don’t know.” Y/n gave Cass a reassuring smile.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Castiel asked, sounding almost offended. “Being an angel- it sounds pleasant.”

“It’s not. Trust me. It’s bloody.” Dean explained.

“It’s corrupt. It’s not pleasant.” Y/n finished.

“They would know. You all used to fight together. Bestest friends actually. And a little more with Y/n here.” Meg smirked.

“More? Like, love, more? Am I Cass?” Cass cocked his head slightly.

“Yeah. We had been together for years. Around three years I believe.” Y/n gave him an awkward smile and leaned back into Dean.

“I had no idea. I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.” Y/n’s breath hitched. She knew this was coming, but it still hurt more than she could imagine. Dean kissed the top of her head.

“Look. You got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot.” Meg explained.

Cass turned to face the lot. “But I don’t remember how.”

“It’s in there.” Y/n said, reaching up and patting his chest.

“I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.” Dean commented.

Cass turned toward Dean. “I don’t know how to do that, either.”

Dean turned his head and blinked dramatically and Y/n stifled a laugh. He turned to face Cass again and gave him a look. “Alright I’ll try.” He said before venturing down the hill.

“This ain’t gonna go well.” Dean sighed.

“I don’t know. I believe in the little tree topper.” Meg smiled.

Cass walked up to the guards, nervous as all hell. “Hey I know you. You’re dead!” The demon told him.

“Yes I’ve heard.” Cass replied, placing both his hands on the demon’s chest before reaching one up and smiting him. The memories came rushing back.

He stomped up to the two others and did the same, more flashes of the prior years. He remembered the god, the deals with Crowley, sam, his relationship with Y/n, everything.

“That’s my boy.” Meg smirked.

“Cool it sister. I’m still a little pissed at you for making out with him.” Y/n smiled.

“Oh please you weren’t even together.”

“Still.” She laughed. Dean rolled his eyes.

The last remaining demon tried to run, but Cass was quicker.

The three approached Cass, who seemed to have relived every moment of his past. He looked, ruffled, to say the least.

“That was beautiful, Clarence.” Meg smirked.

“Cass?” Dean asked.

“I remember you. I remember everything.” Cass seemed a little more sullen than he usually was. His attention turned toward Y/n and she could barely look him in the eye.

“I’m so sorry.” Castiel met her gaze. “I never intended to hurt you.”

Something about the odd tone Cass had taken with his ‘sister’ rubbed Dean the wrong way. He had seen too much of her pain caused by him just to be swept off her feet with one feeble apology. “Of course you didn’t! No one does! But a simple “I’m sorry” isn’t going to cut it! You weren’t around to feel the pain radiating off of her! She was in shambles because of you! She deserves so much more than that!” Castiel became dead silent. Along with the rest of the group.

“Dean- it’s okay. I’m alright. Just happy to have him back.” Y/n tugged on his shoulder, pulling him down into her embrace. “It’s alright.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in the peach shampoo, calming the rage swimming in his body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip out.”

“It’s okay, Dean. You were just protecting me. Thank you.” She smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“What I did. What I became. Why didn’t you tell me?” Cass speaking again pulled Dean from his state of comfort.

“Because Sam’s dying in there!”

“Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn’t be here.” Cass finished, marching away from the three of them.

“Cass. Cass!” Y/n shouted after him. “You two stay here.” She turned to Dean and Meg before following the angel. “Cass!”

Y/n followed him up the hill, lecturing him as they went. “If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time.”

“Don’t defend me. I hurt you. Do you have any idea the death toll in heaven? On earth?” Nothing seemed to slow him down. “We didn’t part lovers, or even friends, Y/n.”

“So what?” She argued, throwing her arms up.

“I deserved to die.” Cass held her gaze.

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek. She knew he was right. He did deserve to die. But not him. Just the corrupt part. Maybe this did it. Maybe he’d be okay now.

“Now, I can’t possibly fix it… So why did I even walk out of that river?”

“Maybe to fix it.” She argued. An idea popped into her head. It may be dumb, it may not even be helpful, but it’d at least maybe bring back a part of the Cass she knew.

#supernatural x reader #castiel x reader #castiel #sam winchester #bobby singer #dean #dean winchester #god!cas

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

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Coming Soon - Absence of Words

Great news! The new Sawdust of Words fic is finally ready! I’ll be posting it some time this week (likely Friday, but I might manage to swing it sooner if I have a day where I’m not too exhausted after work).

“Absence of Words” will pick up shortly after the ending of “Finding the Words” - with Aziraphale and Crowley having freshly established that yes, they love each other, that can definitely be a thing going forward.

However, Crowley’s difficulties communicating (as discussed in “Finding the Words” and demonstrated in “Three Little Words”) quickly land them in trouble, as the miscommunication rapidly goes from “kind of amusing” to “annnnngst.”

I mean, it’s me. Was it ever going to be not angst?

The full fic will be a little over 13k. Excerpt below (2 scenes, one of which I posted an early version of...dang...more than a year ago?!)! Feel free to leave a comment/ask/private message with your thoughts!

(Note: because some people prefer to know what kind of ending to prepare themselves for, I’ll give a brief description after the excerpt, as well as CWs for the fic as a whole).

They walked for more than half an hour, hands still twined together.

Aziraphale spoke the whole time, more animated with every step, and Crowley drank it all in. He paid no attention to where they were, how far they walked, how late it was getting. All that mattered was they were here, they were together, really together.

They’d done it. They’d done everything.

Stopped the Apocalypse.

Fooled their sides.

Won their freedom.

And then, in the garden…Crowley’s lips still tingled, recalling the brush of Aziraphale’s. He almost couldn’t believe it had happened, couldn’t believe he’d dared. His breath caught in his throat every time he remembered that he now lived in a world where he had kissed Aziraphale. A world where nothing would come between them ever again. Each time Aziraphale’s eyes drifted over to him, Crowley was certain he’d discorporate on the spot.

The angel waved his arms as he talked. He pulled Crowley’s hand along with each gesture – sudden jerks ahead of them, tugs across his chest, complicated circles as if trying to draw what he described. More than once he nearly pulled Crowley off balance; Aziraphale didn’t know his own strength.

It would have been easier to let go.

He probably should let go – his palm was warm where it had been pressed against Aziraphale’s for half an hour, his fingers stiff and itching, longing to move again. The chills running up his arm, almost more than he could bear, were the most exquisite torture he’d ever suffered. Every time their palms shifted, finding a new position against each other, it pierced him like an arrow, tore through his heart, leaving it fluttering and juddering and palpitating like nothing else ever had. Crowley really, really needed to let go.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, glancing over.

“M’fine.” He gently squeezed the soft fingers locked through his, starting another wave of bliss that threatened to overwhelm him even before Aziraphale graced him with that smile…

Yeah. He wasn’t letting go any time soon.

Crowley’s hand was in his.

Aziraphale could hardly believe it had happened, hardly believe he’d dared. This seemed, somehow, the most momentous thing to have happened all weekend, though an outside observer would probably disagree. Well. That observer didn’t understand.

They’d started walking, the impulsiveness had come over him again and he – Aziraphale – the angel who dithered over every choice, every action – the angel who likely hadn’t taken the initiative on anything within living memory – he’d run his hand down Crowley’s arm and…

Well. Here they were.

They hadn’t spoken about it. Hadn’t really acknowledged it. But neither had let go.

Once he had his bearings, it shouldn’t have taken long to get back to his shop. But Aziraphale put it off as long as he could. They paused in front of dozens of shop windows, remarking on the pastries or clothing or sports equipment on display, but in truth Aziraphale was just looking at his own reflection, a fussy old angel, anxious and overeager, standing beside an exquisite demon radiating suave confidence. Quite the mismatched pair and yet, that’s what they were: a pair.

Perhaps even a couple.

Oh, dear, that seemed far too bold.

Aziraphale stumbled over whatever nonsense he’d been saying, and quickly turned away from the window. He glanced up to see if Crowley had noticed his distress, and oh, through those black lenses he could just catch a glimpse of golden slit-pupil eyes watching him directly, not just a glance from the corner of an eye. He’d been nodding along to everything Aziraphale said, that smirk hovering on his lips, threatening to turn into an actual smile. Crowley squeezed his hand, gently, as if to make sure it was still there, and it sent Aziraphale’s heart racing again.

Finally, after forty-five minutes, they ran out of detours and excuses and reached the last intersection: Soho to the left, Mayfair to the right.

His footsteps slowed as they approached. Aziraphale didn’t want to let go, not yet, didn’t want to relinquish the warmth, the feeling of the uneven heartbeat against his palm, the tiny shiver he felt whenever Crowley’s thumb brushed the back of his hand.

They paused at the corner, Aziraphale looking left, Crowley glaring straight ahead.

“Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He glanced down at their hands. Oh, dear. He didn’t seem to know how to let go.

“Nh,” Crowley said.

“Come now, dear fellow, you know this is the quickest way home for both of us. Twenty minutes. Fifteen, if you drive like you always do.”

“Nnnnnnh,” Crowley elaborated.

Aziraphale ordered his fingers to let go. Traitorous things, they only held on tighter.

“I could walk you back to the shop,” Crowley pointed out. “Or we could pick up the Bentley together, then drive over. Quicker that way. We can grab whatever you need…”

“What part of it’s a surprise are you having trouble with?” He meant it to be teasing, but Crowley’s lips went tight anyway. Aziraphale put a bit of extra cheer into his voice. “Look, as I understand, it’s proper etiquette for the individual with the car to pick up the other, when two people are…” He trailed off, considering in fascination all the words he could use to complete that sentence. “And…it wouldn’t hurt to have a moment to, I don’t know…”

He honestly didn’t know.

But the longer he stood in Crowley’s gaze, the more certain he was that he needed to step away. A thousand emotions were bubbling up inside him, and he needed space to process them, privately, before they burst out in the most unseemly—

“Aziraphale.” Crowley turned, and his fingers hovered by the angel’s face, as if not sure where to touch. “Do you…want to be alone right now?”

“That’s not…” He swallowed, finding he couldn’t look away from Crowley’s mouth. His lips. Did he want to kiss them again? Or be kissed? Both were terrifying. Both were tempting.

Crowley took his other hand, leaning closer.

“Yes. I do.”

Crowley went very still.

He thought his heart might burst; Aziraphale couldn’t tell one beat from the next. His hands started to tremble, and he stepped back, wiping them anxiously on his waistcoat, tugging it straight. “Don’t be – this isn’t about – it’s nothing like that.” He straightened his tie. “I just – perhaps I could use a few minutes, yes, and there’s nothing – nothing of note about that, I’m sure you could too, but all in all this is the simplest solution, that’s – that’s all there is to it.”

It could be very hard to read Crowley’s expression, but just now his lips twisted, his jaw went tight, and Aziraphale felt his heart begin to ache. The demon circled him, fingers jammed in his pockets, and started towards Mayfair as fast as his long legs would carry him.

“Wait! Crowley, don’t—”

“Fifteen minutes, Angel. Be ready.”

He watched the dark figure until it disappeared around a corner. And only then did Aziraphale realize he’d let go of Crowley’s hand

----

NOTES AND SPOILERS

CWs: Mentions of past abuse (physical and emotional, very brief/implied); emotional manipulation/gaslighting (from the POV of Aziraphale, still believing what he’d been told); anxiety (low-level but constant, and building across the fic); miscommunication, accidentally hitting another’s triggers. Very brief G-rated discussion of attraction. Swearing.

Ending: This will have a happy ending. Not all communication issues will be resolved in this story, but groundwork will be laid. Future stories will deal with developing healthy communication/trauma coping strategies.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #asexual crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #emotional hurt/comfort #My writing #my wip #coming soon #sawdust of words

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zephyrofalltrades · 4 years

Text

Day 10: Legend

Hazel eyes wandered over the lush golden fields. Wisps of blonde hair tickled her dainty neck as the breeze carressed the humming angel. Aziraphale, in her cream dress and yellow bonnet swung her basket to and fro. It was a lovely afternoon and she was sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Almighty for sending her there. She was to bless the farmer and his young wife at the edge of the little town. There were no specific instructions so she did the best she could without going beyond her regular miracle limit.

The fields were the first to receive her attention. It had been almost barren and the farmer had just acquired the property. He was skilled, nonetheless, and she had very little to do when it came to taking care of the land afterwards. He was also a kind-hearted man, always ready to share his bounty. Aziraphale made sure that no one took advantage of him.

The young wife was sprightly and was never one to shy away from work. She was sweet but firm and was a magnificent cook. A simple miracle was all it took to have her conceive. She was well into her second month and Aziraphale was constantly treated to the love the family shared within the home.

She was well over two years in the town and would traverse the way to the help out in some little trifle before easing back to relax in her lodgings. In that time she saw the merchants flourish, the children grow and the old schoolhouse open and close for the seasons.

She found a sunny spot by a bubbling brook and spread her blanket on the grass. She settled down with a wiggle then froze. From beneath the underbrush, she saw two golden orbs with black slits in the middle, watching her intently. The orbs shifted and she confirmed they belonged to a snake - scales black and shiny with a scarlet underbelly. She watched it intently until it had slithered over and stretched to occupy the other side of her picnic blanket.

"Please don't tell me you're here to disrupt the peace I've tried so hard to instill," she huffed at it and got the snake equivalent of an eyeroll.

The serpent shifted into a man-shaped being with a tight white shirt, black waistcoat, jacket and breeches. Sturdy looking boots adorned his feet. It opened its mouth and said, "Yep."

Aziraphale frowned at her companion. The serpent, or rather, the demon was looking positively unapologetic. "Crowley…"

"Look, they told me I just need to start a little trouble in this out of the way town. I can do it without having to uproot all your hard work," the demon said, getting himself more comfortable on the blanket. "Maybe I don't even need to do much. Start a little mischief. Rouse a few hunts. Add to their silly ghost tales."

"They do love their stories," the angel chuckled, finally spreading her nibbles between them. "Now, can you tell me how you found me?"

Crowley's cheeks pinked before he answered, "Heard the village boys making fun of their teacher. Apparently, the guy's been lovestruck with a lass with hazel eyes, full lips, fair skin, and light cornsilk hair. Said she looked like an angel sporting the largest bosom in-"

"Crowley!" It was the blonde's turn to blush. The demon snickered but didn't look her way.

"I heard that last one from the man himself. The lust wafting off him was sickening. And then I felt this little trail of angelic miracles with the intent to 'not be found by unwanted suitors.' You know me and a challenge. Had to turn snake to find the straightest path to you."

Aziraphale hummed, taking a bite of her food, hoping the demon wouldn't notice the implications of said miracle.

"If you didn't want to be fawned over, why did you choose that form?" the demon continued.

"I had to stay with the family I was assigned to bless. The man was looking for a companion for his wife when he went out to the fields and was in search for a female boarder. And so, here I am," she gestured meekly to herself.

Crowley permitted himself to look. Not too closely, mind, or else he'll have to awkwardly explain… things. He was fond of the angel's male form as well, but it's been a while since the blonde presented as female and he hadn't much practice with restraint in this instance.

"Which reminds me," the angel perked up. "The couple would be holding a tryst next month to celebrate the harvest. Will you be going?"

"Do you have the authority to give away that invitation?" the demon tutted teasingly.

"I'm sure once you made yourself known in the town, you'll be asked to come. And besides, since when have you ever needed one?"

"Since I intend to battle the schoolmaster for your affections," he stated, watching her warily and broke into a grin when she blushed. "He needs to understand you're not available and it won't do if I crashed the party like a brute."

"We could just get married…" Aziraphale murmured softly and Crowley's heart skipped a beat.

"I'd like the opportunity to sweep you off your feet first," he made to go, eyes gleaming with hope behind colored lenses. "Goodbye, angel. I'll call on you soon."

True to his word, Crowley affixed himself as a notable figure in town. Mischievous enough to have people grumbling at his name, but tame enough to make them anticipate fun instead of fear. He was equal parts town hero and town miscreant in the span of a month. He had also made his rivalry with the schoolmaster known and it didn't take an expert eye to see who Aziraphale favored.

But the schoolmaster was an insistent man who was after not only the girl but her connections with one of the wealthiest familes in the area. During the night of the gathering, he put his best foot forward, dancing gracefully and conversing expertly with the hosts and their lovely ward, although he had to chastise himself repeatedly from ogling all the other buxom ladies in attendance.

Crowley, on the other hand, had only eyes for the angel. A fact the lady of the house commended him with, and the other girls groused at. When the evening wound down to be spent by the fire, he was surprised to find the schoolmaster fidgeting with each ghastly tale the people threw into the night. He smirked, catching the angel's eye before enthralling them with his own - heralding the birth of the Headless Horseman.

When the revelers broke off to find their merry ways home, Aziraphale was not surprised to hear of Crowley leaving early as well. She had seen the gears turning in the demon's head and knew at least one poor soul would encounter the Headless Horseman that evening.

She tracked him down before he left, noting the rather large pumpkin he stole from the gardens, and made him promise no real harm shall befall his victim. And if she sent him off with a heated kiss, it was to keep him from complaining at having to summon a hellhorse for his outrageous idea and nothing more.

The next morning, the town was abuzz with news at the schoolmaster's sudden disappearance. Countless retellings came of it. But the one constant in them all, was a wedding - that of the town hero and his loving, lovely maiden.

#racket's 13 days of halloween #good omens fanfiction #good omens ficlet #typing using a phone is a pain #my fics #much-needed fluff #aziraphale x crowley

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queeenpersephone · 3 years

Note

Hello! I’d love to see what you have written for the Good Omens/Doctor Who story! ☺️

yay! okay this is literally just copy/pasted from my doc for this fic (about 2k), so the plot probably won’t be obvious but hopefully it’s still enjoyable to read! i just don’t think i’m ever gonna finish it because i never finished good omens

without further ado...

take it up with the badlands

summary: If he wants her to stay, he’ll have to fight those who shaped the universe. And they could, he knows. He is an immortal demon, no longer bent to the will of heaven or hell. She is the Bad Wolf, Goddess of Time and Space, capable of feats even he can barely imagine. That’s not even in question. The question is: would she ever actually want to stay with him?

Deep down, Crowley knows the answer. And it’s not a happy one.

The white haired man looks her up and down, a mask of evaluation on his face, before grimacing in distaste. “Oh, I suppose I know why you’re here,” he announces when he has finished deducing. “Wish you people would leave him alone,” he adds under his breath.

Rose just smiles, playing along. Maybe the man this man speaks of is someone who can help her - the reason Bad Wolf sent her here. “Sorry, can I just wait for him here, then?” She twists one of the hoops in her ears, giving the bookseller a bright grin.

Instead of looking reassured, the gentleman looks even more unsettled.

“I've been working on this top secret project for years now,” she tells them. “The Dimension Cannon - supposed to get me back to my proper universe. Only, someone noticed I wasn’t aging that quick, so they somehow got my blood from my files and ran some tests. Still don’t know what they found, but a couple days later my stepdad was deposed. He only had the resources to get my mum and my little brother to a safe house before they killed him.” She swallows hard. “I was tortured for about four months.”

Aziraphale murmurs a sympathetic “oh dear!” but makes no move to comfort her. Crowley tries to refrain from rolling his eyes: angels have a great sense of empathy, but really know shit about showing it.

“Anyway, I escaped. Been on the run for a month or so - saw something in your window that made me think this was a safe place.” Something in her eyes tells Crowley that she won’t tell them what it was, not yet. “I figure something about this universe makes me age slower, but they thought I was alien. After all the crazy shit that’s happened in the last decade, they felt betrayed, I guess.”

Crowley shrugs. “You are, though.”

Rose starts. “What?”

“You’re an alien,” Crowley clarifies unhelpfully.

Aziraphale takes over. “What Crowley is trying to say, my dear, is that you are neither angel nor demon, but you are an immortal. Quite a powerful one, I sense.”

Rose’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Well, love,” Crowley drawls, “seeing as you’re probably going to be here awhile, you might as well come for drinks.” He drapes a loose arm over her shoulder, leading her out the door as Aziraphale closes up shop behind them.

“Are you tempting right now?” Rose teases, but he can see the shock and pain that still hide behind those golden eyes. Crowley’s never had mortal attachments, and he’s not the type to be empathetic, but he still acknowledges that it must be difficult. He’s only known this newly immortal human for an hour, but he can already see how strong she is. “‘Cause I’d rather have a friend,” she admits.

Crowley, thankfully, is saved from responding by Aziraphale’s gentle hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Ah, my dear, I’m quite sure we’ll get along splendidly! My demon friend here is slower to trust, but he’ll come around.”

“Oi, right here,” Crowley grumbles, but he manages a soft smirk at Rose as they stride off to their favorite bar. He’ll get to the bottom of this anomaly if it kills him.

To Crowley, Rose is a walking contradiction.

She has a dark sense of humor and a penchant for danger and trouble, with a generally mischievous air that Crowley has always associated with demons. Yet, her staunch sense of right and wrong and blinding optimism could only belong to an angel. Well, Aziraphale, at least. The rest of the lot are right bastards.

And she’s so far out of the rest of the humans’ league that she might as well be in another universe.

From one, Crowley mentally corrects. Then he wonders when this little goddess-human prototype began to take up so much space in his conscious thought. The space usually reserved for good tea and terrorizing plants and tight jeans - now filled up with thoughts about Rose Tyler’s bright laugh and bad jokes and uncertain fate.

“There’s something you’re not telling us, love,” Crowley observes.

“Yeah,” she admits, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I trust you.” Crowley makes an impatient shooing motion with his hands. “Yeah, okay, so in my universe, I sort of absorbed the time vortex? Long story short, I controlled all of Time for a few minutes - the Doctor said I would’ve burned, but he took it out of me.” Rose shrugs. “Anyway, the torture I went through.. that’s how I discovered I can kinda… control it, I guess.”

“Control it?” Crowley leans forward into her space, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Rose gestures around. “It’d be easier if I showed you - Aziraphale, do you have anything in the shop you’re not attached to?”

Crowley nearly loses it at his friend’s offended and very concerned expression. Oh, this girl is only proving herself to be more and more precious.

“You’re God, huh?” Rose knows, gazing intently at the shadowy figure in the corner of her dream.

The figure straightens, but Rose still can’t make out any singular feature. It’s a woman, surely, but nothing else. “Bad Wolf, you do not belong in this universe,” God says, and Rose rolls her eyes.

“Took ya kind of long to figure that out, yeah?”

God shrugs. “We couldn’t decide where you fit in with the Plan. And now We’ve decided you don’t fit, so We are sending you back.”

Rose's heart jumps at these words. “Back?” she stutters, “to the Doctor?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rose squints at Her. “You’re not doing it out of the kindness of your heart though, are ya?” God is silent, and then Rose knows. “You’re afraid,” she realizes. “You’re afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”

“We have no fear,” God says, but it is like She is shouting in Rose’s head.

Rose’s eyes flash gold. “I take your atoms…”

“ENOUGH.”

Rose wakes sweaty and exhilarated to the sweetest sound she has ever heard. To the sound of the TARDIS.

Crowley takes one look at the Doctor and the way he holds Rose’s hand, keeping her slightly behind him in a completely unnecessary protective stance that fires up Crowley’s indignation - he left her, he left her, he has no right to protect her - before shoving him up against the wall in a chokehold. If Rose hadn’t been panicking about the possibility of them killing each other, she would probably be a little turned on. The man she’s loved for years and the demon that made her smile again, both with the body and face of her dreams? It’s probably a good thing she’d only ever think about that possibility in hindsight.

“I fell,” Crowley growls, “through ash and fire. All for pride. Rose Tyler, all annoyingly empathetic and stupidly optimistic and fucking brilliant that she is - she helped me find peace. And that makes things very simple. If you hurt her, if she feels one ounce of pain that you had it in your power to prevent, I will fall to God’s feet and beg forgiveness for my sins just to travel between universes and rain hellfire down upon you.” His words have the same, ancient feel to them as the Doctor’s, the same cadence as holy scripture, as absolute truth, and Rose shivers. His voice is so low and heated that when she steps close between them and lays a hand on his chest to push him off the Doctor, even she can barely hear it. “And I’m quite good at that,” he adds, smirking down at Rose, who shakes her head at him with a soft smile on her face.

“It’s been a ride, gentlemen,” Rose says, sparing Aziraphale a friendly nod before gazing up at Crowley. “Thank you.” She rubs the fabric of the henley over Crowley’s heart, and he groans in frustration.

“C’mon, love,” he tries, “look at him! I’m sure I can give you at least twice as many orgasms.” Rose giggles, used to Crowley’s brand of humor, but doesn’t miss the sharp noise that the Doctor makes behind her. “I’ll make you see heaven,” he promises, but she can tell by his eyes that he already knows her answer.

The Doctor moves up behind her, twining an arm around her and pressing his palm to her stomach. “And with me, she’ll see stars,” his voice is low and dark, and Rose knows that they need to get onto the TARDIS before a full out brawl occurs in front of her.

So she takes the Doctor’s hand from her stomach, pressing a kiss to the back of it before shooing him back to the TARDIS. He goes, but he watches Crowley with sharp eyes.

“You’re better than you believe, yeah?” she whispers to the demon in front of her, cupping his cheek gently. “If I was meant to be here, in this universe, I’d be the one to show it to you. So you just gotta get back out there and find this universe’s match for you. I know they’re out there.” Her eyes dart to Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if something might eventually come from that. There’s history there, and they have the rest of eternity to figure it out. “Rely on your best friend, yeah?” She adds, wondering if a hint could turn into a catalyst.

“Rose-” Crowley begins hoarsely, before Rose dives her fingers into his ginger hair and pulls his lips down to meet hers.

It’s a soft, chaste peck, nothing like that drunken night, but the possibilities hit them both like a freight train. It’s not hard to imagine their endless days: going for drinks with Aziraphale, lounging at his bookshop, Rose following his angry rants at his plants with a soft touch to their leaves, Crowley tempting ordinary humans into sin and Rose tempting Crowley into bed. In fact, it’s easy, and when Rose feels the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes, she pulls away. “Bye, love,” she murmurs, borrowing his nickname before giving him a quick squeeze. His arms don’t have time to come around her before she is walking back to the Doctor, who brushes his lips against her forehead before she walks past him and into the TARDIS.

Crowley ignores the lump in his throat, but before he can walk away, a low tenor stops him.

“I’m the last of my kind,” the Doctor is saying, eyes dark and intent. “I’m the killer of my kind. I’ve spent my life trying to do the best thing for the universe, but rest assured, I’ll now be doing the best thing for Rose. Forever.”

Crowley nods in agreement with this promise, before letting a smile quirk at his lips. “Have you considered whether she’ll let you?” He asks.

The Doctor grins full on at this. “Oh,” he says, stepping into his transdimensional blue box. “I can see why she liked you.”

With a groan and wheeze, the Bad Wolf disappears from this universe. God is satisfied, but Crowley sets out to get really, really drunk.

He won’t stop living, though, he refuses to disappoint his Rose like that. No, he’ll find his match.

After a few bottles of Scotch.

“Did you love him?” The Doctor asks quietly, weeks later, when they have regained some sense of stability.

If she had been the same person she was when she started traveling with him, she might’ve lied. Been afraid to disturb the peace, the delicate tightrope that she and the Doctor always seem to balance on. But now, Rose is different. She understands relationships, understands love and trust and commitment, a little better. She knows the Doctor would never leave her, never let her leave unless he was absolutely sure it would truly make her happy. They’ve already hashed it all out, amongst tears and rage and late night nibbles, sitting at the foot of the TARDIS’ doors and dangling their feet into the cosmos. After everything they’ve been through, honesty comes easy.

“I could’ve,” she admits. She saves the waxing poetic, the memories of the dark quips and burning hugs and blunt speech, for their next visit with Jack. She’ll be honest with the Doctor, but she won’t set out to hurt him. “He’s a good man- demon, I mean,” she corrects. “Misunderstood and angry at the universe. He deserves a love that didn’t already promise someone else forever.” The Doctor reaches over, twining their fingers together. “And I’d never regret that promise, yeah?”

“Good,” the Doctor whispers, tugging her close. “Cause that’s how long you’re gonna stay with me.”

#crowley x rose #rose x crowley #rose x doctor #dw fic #good omens fic #dw #good omens #rose tyler #crowley #i'd love to finish this someday #bc i love a little bit of a darker ten #and i love the crowley rose dynamic #and the scene with her and god #BUT #clearly that's not happening soon lmao #hope it was fun to read anyways!

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sushiandstarlight · 4 years

Text

Clearing the Air

Read this story on AO3

It had been two weeks since the world appeared to be at it’s end- and then, wasn’t. Two weeks after they had shared a terrified bus ride, hands clasped on the seat between them. Scared that this was the end of all things, that it was the end of them and all that they had shared. Scared, perhaps even more so, that it may be the very beginning of all things for the two of them. Uncertain, to put it mildly, that tomorrow may put an end to this tiny sprout of a thing. Or, might create a world where they had to live with the consequences of the thing. Six thousand years they had run: from their sides yes, but ultimately from this thing between them.

And then... the world didn’t end.

They had chosen this world as the place they would stand their ground and they had chosen one another- their side, their world. They had worn each other’s skin to protect what they had- both, in the quiet tension before detainment, having thoughts that only a short time ago they’d held this hand. That they knew the shape of it, the warmth, the rough spots, and the softness. Feeling that connection to the other side.

There wasn’t time to discuss it and, really, that wasn’t something they did. Drunken nights discussing flailing Kraken or dolphins [the fate thereof] or trying to figure out if ducks had ears in the park as the sun crested the trees. Afternoons with the angel’s nose in a book and the demon gleefully stirring up trouble on his mobile.

There had been numerous times in the years spent on this world that they had gone long bouts without contact. Early on, their meetings were purely accidental. Or, at the very least, not planned on their own parts. Thwarting and miracles and stirring up trouble- it was just the job. They didn’t get a choice on where they were sent or when. And, even afterwards, when they found they enjoyed the company they moved like chess pieces: trying to keep the air of random chance when really it was anything but. In those times, they could go months or years without a sighting of one another.

There had always been plenty of time. Being immortal meant time slipped along like a quiet stream. You could take a dip and enjoy the moment, but the steady movement was really irrelevant in the long run. The sun shining down, the same way. It was still the same stream or light, all things considered. Things changed, but they also stayed very much the same.

But, being reminded that that immortality was actually only at the will of some higher power or in the hands of a capricious ruling body in Her stead? It made every handful of water, every face full of warm sunshine, feel more precious than before. One could focus on a moment of skin on skin and fixate. Moments could become worlds all their own.

That didn't mean it was easy to acknowledge them. Far from it, in fact. Because what if a moment meant more to you than it did to someone else? A moment of connection shared in a dark, stressful time might be only that: a brief need for comfort, taken when it was needed and never sought after again. Or, it could be more. Something longed and hoped for- an impossibility made real, somehow. Something forbidden and rebuked, but impossible to shake. A slow-burning ember, just waiting to be coaxed into a roaring flame.

It had been two weeks and neither of them knew which it was to the other, only what it meant in their own heart.

Aziraphale was, he thought, a patient enough being. He was usually content to be alone with his books: a millennia of human stories. The stream of time could ebb and flow outside his cocoon of a bookshop and there was very little to mark it. The thwarted apocalypse had marked it, surely, even if only because his safe place had been threatened, destroyed even, though, thankfully, he had missed the sight of it. Even that he would eventually compartmentalize, given enough time and distance from the event.

But, that bus ride. That moment of connection. That hope that blew hard on the ember that had, for so long, clung to life despite his efforts to ignore it. In another millennia, he would not forget it, regardless of whether it meant as much to both of them or not. Only, one option would hurt more. Who else did he have save Crowley? Who else would he ever find? There were no other matches- only two beings on their side. A fact recently acknowledged, but that was how it had always been. He had been truly deluded to ever think otherwise. The companionship in heaven had never warmed him the way that just sitting, side-by-side, on a park bench with Crowley had.

The slip of paper he found wedged under his shop door came as a welcome surprise. It was clearly the demon's scrawl. Even his penmanship, or the lack thereof, was enough to make the angel's heart flutter. Crowley hadn't disappeared; he wasn't done with him. Their friendship had meant more than a means to an end. Yes, it said all of that to Aziraphale, but in context. Context had been most of their communication over the years. All of it, really. Rarely had they ever spoken of the things that truly mattered in plain terms.

“The park, 11am, Tuesday. -C” was all it actually said. What Crowley would hate to know was what Aziraphale easily detected: this was the last of several attempts to write a note. The impressions of all the previous words left hills and valleys all over the paper. He couldn't read them, of course, but he knew what they meant. They meant that Crowley had been nervous about contacting him. This wasn't an assignment. It wasn't to discuss world-ending business. It couldn't, at all, be written off as work-related. Crowley wanted to see him just... because. At the very least, he missed Aziraphale. At the most... Well. Aziraphale tried not to dwell too hard on the possibilities.

Crowley had missed their time together. If that's all it was- that he got to see the demon.... That they stuck to discussing squid communication strategies over actually talking about what they were- that was okay, right? They had fought for and won the time again. They could ignore the stream and sit in the shade together. The world could go on around them and things could stay the same as they had always been. But, it was hard to shake, this feeling of mortality that shivered down his spine. He had been ended. His life that should have marched on into eternity had been over. Yes, he had returned, obviously. But, the movement of time, the way it ticked by relentlessly, that was difficult to leave behind.

The days until they were to meet seemed to stretch and ache with the wait of it. Why did Crowley need so much notice, he groused to himself. What pressing things did he have to do that meant putting Aziraphale off? But, really, he just missed the demon. A few more days shouldn't be any worse than the prior two weeks. Oh, but time was cupped in his hands now. He held it and then it slipped away. He held the next and watched it go.

Before he knew it, despite counting the moments, it was Tuesday. Absurdly, he found himself in front of his bedroom mirror, every bowtie he owned strewn across the rarely-used bed behind him. It was nearly 10:30 now, but none of them seemed right. He wasn't sure why he was worried about which bowtie to wear to see Crowley. Crowley didn't seem to actually like any of them. Still, it would, perhaps, give the demon something to comment on. Something to break the two and a half weeks of confusing silence. But, none of them seemed to be the right one and he had no time to get another. He could miracle one, of course. But that wouldn't be the same. Too much detectable effort for something that should be trivial. Crowley would know. It could spook him.

Aziraphale gave it up as a loss, going without. It felt a little scandalous: having his shirt undone at the top and exposing a little bit more of his throat. There was precedent for that, though. There had been ages before bowties existed. Terrible times. Okay times. Now was better, surely. Not just because of bowties, but they certainly helped. None of this forethought stopped him when he reached the gate of the park and paused to straighten the absent bowtie. His hands fluttered at his neck for a moment before he clasped them, resolutely, behind his back.

It wasn't nearly as hard to find Crowley as he'd thought, considering the lack of direction in the note. A demonic miracle floated on the breeze, he could smell it. Somehow, the light smell of char settled him. It was familiar, as was the prickling that went down his spine and ruffled his tucked-away feathers. That's what it felt like to be around Crowley and it was a greater relief than even he thought it would be.

He followed the sensations down a winding side-path that he was certain had not existed the last time he had been to the park. It was dotted along the sides with salvias in full bloom- red and blues mixed together. He was vaguely familiar with the flower from one of Crowley's many long one-sided, often drunken, discussions on plants. It occurred to him that they might be meaningful, but if Crowley had mentioned a meaning for them, he couldn't remember it.

The path abruptly ended and opened into a perfectly circular clearing. And there, in the center, sat Crowley. Under him was a blue and red checkered blanket strewn with the contents of a picnic basket which sat by his right hip. There was no way all the treats had fit inside that basket without a miracle- the finger sandwiches and pastries, coffee and mugs, wine in a bucket of ice with it's own glasses that perched upright on the blanket against their will.

The most arresting bit of all, though, was Crowley himself. His wings were out and spread in great arcs over the picnic. The feathers caught the sunlight as it streamed down on him, bouncing it off his black feathers in shimmers of blues and greens and even gold. And, speaking of gold, Aziraphale paused at the head of the trail when he noticed that Crowley's glasses were nowhere to be seen. When Aziraphale dared to meet the demon's golden eyes, Crowley swallowed hard, but held his gaze. The very trees in the clearing seemed to bend their leaves around he demon with a very peculiar, but not entirely uncomfortable, tension.

Here he had thought a miracled bowtie would be too much of a give-away and Crowley had miracled a secluded alcove in the park, a picnic of everything portable that he enjoyed, and he was barring himself in near public as he had never dared to do since the beginning.

Aziraphale approached slowly, hands now fidgeting in front of him, unable to tear his eyes from Crowley's. His heart hammered all the harder the closer he got, no matter how sternly he told it that the pounding was unnecessary. Finally, after just a few moments that felt like something more, he was at the edge of the blanket. He knelt across from Crowley and took in his friend, smiling genuinely if a bit nervously. This all definitely looked like... something. But, there was always, always room for misinterpretation.

“No bowtie?” Crowley was smirking and it did wonders to settle the angel's flip-flopping stomach. This was Crowley. He was safe, no matter what the context.

“No glasses?” Banter. Banter they could do.

“I thought,” and Crowley broke the eye contact they had thus far maintained, but then seemed to shake himself and resume it with purpose, “I thought we could meet here, with- without pretense.”

“No pretense?” Aziraphale settled down further onto the blanket and if his knee was nearly brushing Crowley's, well, that was okay now, right?

“Open, honest, without walls,” a ripple went through Crowley's wings and it seemed he might put them away, “I thought we could be... us. Just us.”

“Just us?” Aziraphale shook out his own wings and watched with no small amount of pleasure as Crowley's eyes traveled over them, his face going slack before smiling a beautifully genuine smile. When was the last time he'd seen the demon smile? Not a smirk, not a grimace, but a smile? It made Aziraphale want to dare the world- to leave his wings out for the rest of eternity- just to ensure that he could go on pleasing the demon, “I think that sounds lovely, my dear.”

“Ngk,” at the use of the endearment, Crowley's eyes snapped away and then, resolutely back to his, “it's not like we have excuses now, anyway.”

“Excuses, what for?”

“Don't be a complete bastard, Angel.”

Aziraphale smirked at him and cocked his head in question. His confidence was rising by the moment that his was exactly what he thought it was. Still, he wanted it confirmed.

“I missed you, okay?” Crowley bumped his knee with his own and then... left it there, the two of them pressed together. Aziraphale pressed back and watched, in wonder, as Crowley relaxed. His wings stopped shifting. He seemed to somehow melt back down into himself.

“You could have just dropped by the shop,” Aziraphale trailed off as he watched the demons eyes dart away again, “or called?”

“I'm not sure I can... I wondered if...,” Crowley cursed and took a deep breath, “Openness: I may need time getting over seeing our home in flames, Aziraphale. Knowing... knowing that you were gone. That I was alone. And, I don't- I don't just mean against the end of the world, you know? I mean, if I won? What would I really gain if you were still gone?”

“You would have gone on, darling, yes?” Aziraphale only noticed after he had done it that his hand was now resting on the demon's other knee. He left it there.

“... yeah, but it wouldn't have been the same...”

“Why not?”

Crowley gave him an incredulous look even as Aziraphale squeezed his knee in encouragement. Aziraphale was leaning closer to him now, even as Crowley sat still, starring grumpily at him.

“Obviously, you have gone to a lot of trouble here for me, Crowley. No walls, no pretenses. Whatever it is you're trying to tell me you know you can just say it, right?”

There was a long pause where Aziraphale watched the demon struggle with himself, his eyes darting down and then up, as if looking for help somewhere, anywhere. He swallowed and then shuddered, his mouth opening and then shutting again. Finally, the angel took some pity on him. He offered his hand to Crowley and the demon took it. Then he pulled it towards him slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the palm.

“It's just us, Crowley, no walls. You invited me here because you want me here and I am glad for it. I came at your summons as I always will, darling, because I wish to be with you. There's nothing you could tell me or ask me that would send me away save the direct instruction to do so. Even then, I would try to dissuade you of the notion before taking my leave.”

“I've half a mind,” Crowley chuckled damply, “to test that, Aziraphale. All the times you've sent me away. No, let me finish. I know why you did it. Really, I understand. I pushed you too hard because I was scared. I wanted you on my side- our side- I thought I was running out of time.”

“You were,” Aziraphale squeezed the hand he now held captive in his lap, “you- we- were running out of time.”

“It worked out though.”

“Yes.”

“And we're on our side now.”

“Yes, dear.”

“That's what matters,” Crowley nodded resolutely, “All of this... I wanted to celebrate that.”

Aziraphale took in the spread of food and drink again before responding.

“That's all?”

“You're going to make me say it, aren't you?”

Aziraphale stared up at him through his eyelashes, but the look was ruined when he laughed.

“I love you, you bastard.” Crowley tried to tug his hand back, but Aziraphale held it steadily in his lap, smirking as the demon struggled. Then, without warning, he stopped fighting and allowed himself to be pulled forward with all of Crowley's force. Crowley tumbled backwards, his wings stretching out to either side of him as he fell- there was no way they could catch him. Still clutching his hand, Aziraphale landed, sprawled on top of him.

“What?” Crowley blinked up at him in shock, both his hands- one just freed- hanging in the air on either side of the angel smirking down at him.

“Oh, my silly serpent,” Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley's and met his eyes without mercy, “I love you, too.”

What happened from one moment to the next was unclear. He had missed a burble in the stream of time and lost it. All he knew was that Crowley's lips were on his and his hands were in his hair. When the stream resumed, he kissed him back with fervor. He worked his hands under the demon's shoulders and pulled him over as they rolled, knocking over the ice bucket and the glasses- though neither cared. He reached behind the demon, over his shoulder blades, and into the delicate feathers that connected them to his wings. Crowley whimpered and arched into him, finally breaking the kiss.

“Why, Angel, is that a hardback novel in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me?”

“Crowley... I am always more than happy to see you.” And then to ensure no more interruptions, he kissed him again.

A breeze rustled through the clearing, combing through feathers entangled: ebony and ivory. It traveled upwards and away from them, carrying a relieved sigh through the leaves of the trees.

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fic #star light-reads #i had no idea this had become a 3k+ monster until i started typing it up #whew lol

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29-pieces · 4 years

Text

Whumptober day 21 - Good Omens

Day 21: Hypothermia Fandom/Setting: Good Omens, post Apocalypse Read on AO3 Read on FF.net For nellsnail56, hope everything’s okay, hon!

~*~

Aziraphale watched his breath evaporate into the bleak emptiness of the forest in a puff of condensation. He imagined the breath carrying all the way up to Heaven, maybe even to God's ear Herself, hearing his desperate plea for help. It didn't work like that, of course. For one thing, Heaven wasn't actually up so much as elsewhere, and for another thing, God didn't make a habit of rescuing him from these dreadful scrapes he always seemed to find himself in.

She did, however, seem to have a habit of ensuring Crowley was in the right place at the right time.

Aziraphale hoped and prayed that trend would continue today. Soon. Er, rather immediately in fact.

The angel shivered again, eyelids fluttering. He knew he had to stay awake or he would discorporate for sure... but... he was just so tired... and he was just so cold... His head lolled to the side and the jarring sight of the dead human nudged him back awake. The hunter's expression was frozen into a face of shock, marred by a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. It was so cold that the human's face was already blue, no blood trickling from the wound. Aziraphale felt only a very little bad for having killed the man, but then again not so terribly bad that he wouldn't do it again.

"C-Crowley," Aziraphale chattered, adding his pain-filled voice to the breath carrying his prayers to whoever might hear. "H-h-help... h-help me..."

Though he knew it was useless, Aziraphale tried once again to lift himself off the icy ground. Enormous white wings splayed over the forest floor on either side of him, feathers tipped in frost that might otherwise have been beautiful if he didn't hurt so awfully. One wing curled up slightly at the command of his swiftly numbing muscles; the other was useless. Aziraphale twisted his head to look at that one, the one that stretched through a small trickle of water at the bottom of the gully he was in. The ice had already frozen over the appendage, attaching him to the ground. And he had no strength to pull himself free.

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale willed a miracle to thaw the ice, warm his frozen bones, and wash away all the pain. The metal ring wrapped around his wrist thrummed, preventing him from using the slightest bit of angelic power to help himself. Aziraphale choked on a sharp sob of pain and gave up. The hunters might not have succeeded in their hopes of killing him themselves in this twisted hunt of theirs, but it was going to end him all the same. Frozen and helpless, alone in the middle of the winter woods, and oh gracious this was never how he'd imagined his end.

Aziraphale tried to force his eyes open, but his lashes were already icing over and it took too much work to fight them open. At least, he thought fuzzily, the cold was starting to drift away, replaced with a blessed nothingness.

~*~

"Aziraphale!" Crowley bellowed into the evening gloom, shivering violently and cursing everything in sight. Killing the human hunters who had kidnapped Aziraphale for their game had warmed him for a moment, but he was cold-blooded and it was actual torture being out here in sub-freezing temperatures. He couldn't turn back though, not until he'd found the angel.

Drawing a bit of Hellfire from his connection to the Pit, Crowley tried not to shudder at the evil keeping him warm. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again. "ANGEL! Where are you?"

The hunters had been only too happy to answer his questions once they saw his fangs and his fury; they'd sworn the hunter with first dibs at taking a crack at the angel hadn't come back, which at least meant he hadn't won. They were out here somewhere. Leaves crunched, the frozen forest litter crackling under Crowley's feet as he half-jogged through the woods in growing desperation. It was getting colder by the minute and he knew if Aziraphale had been more or less rendered human, out here without proper protection from the cold, he would never survive the night.

Then he'd be sent to Heaven, and Gabriel wasn't likely to allow him another body, and they'd probably toss him in a jail cell and throw away the key. Did Heaven even have a jail? Well, they'd probably build one for the angel who'd screwed up the Apocalypse. Either way, Crowley had to find him, fast.

The demon's eyes swept over the landscape, watching the colors rapidly turning cooler. A hunting blind was tucked into a little copse of trees packed tight together, traces of heat still inside from where the hunter had been sitting, waiting. So it must not have been too long ago, or the colors would have faded into the rest of the background. Crowley stumbled to a stop and looked wildly around. He was on a ridge. If the hunter had shot Aziraphale from here...

Crowley hurried to the edge to peer over. His eyes widened.

"Angel!"

Aziraphale lay on his back, unmoving, as Crowley scrambled down the embankment to reach his friend. The angel's eyes were closed, but Crowley's reptilian vision showed him the barest hint of warmth still. There was time, he told himself over and over. There was time, he could still save him. The demon splashed to a stop next to the motionless angel, taking in the predicament. The human was very dead, a crossbow at his feet and a pistol missing from an ankle holster. But there were no wounds on Aziraphale. It seemed that the hunter had missed; the angel had not. Good on him.

Nothing else was good, though. Aziraphale's wing was frozen to the ground in the pool of water, the fingers of his outstretched hand a sickly blue-grey of frostbite. His wrist still bore the metal ring that blocked his powers, which Crowley immediately ripped away and crushed into pieces in his furious grip. Carefully, the demon used just enough Hellfire to melt the ice around Aziraphale's wing, sweating with the concentration of not letting a single bit of the flame come near the actual feathers. It was ticklish business but he managed to free the wing (with a good bit of ice still attached, but they could worry about that later).

Without a second of hesitation, Crowley gathered the terrifyingly cold angel up in his arms and flew.

~*~

Bitter cold.

Mostly frozen water running over his wing, trapping him in ice.

Chattering teeth, pins and needles in his skin.

Everything fading, confusion...

...nothingness...

Crowley.

Crowley? Aziraphale blinked his eyes blearily open to see the demon hovering over him. He seemed to be saying something, but Aziraphale could only stare blankly. The words washed over him, something about miracles, something about heat. The angel considered reaching out to calm his obviously distressed friend, but his joints felt locked in place. He held still, not even moving when Crowley waved a hand in his direction. Aziraphale wasn't sure what he'd done—wasn't that the demon's way of miracling things?—though some part of his foggy mind told him the wet fabric against his skin had disappeared. His wings were still out though. They were so cold. He should really put them away, the sodden feathers couldn't be a good thing, but Aziraphale was too tired.

Now Crowley was crawling onto the couch with him, wrapping his body around Aziraphale's, which felt like it ought to be improper since Aziraphale had nothing on, but that thought was too much trouble to articulate. The demon's teeth were chattering; the poor dear, he had to be freezing, he got cold so easily, and yet his body was like fire against Aziraphale. It burned, and the angel instinctively tried to pull back with a whimper.

"S-sorry, angel, it's all I've g-got, you g-gotta warm up or you'll d-d-d... you'll d-die."

Hmm, the words were starting to make sense again. Aziraphale didn't move as Crowley pulled a heavy blanket over them, his heart sluggishly pounding in his ears as though the blood was just starting to flow anew. A minute later, he whimpered again as his fingers and toes began to burn in earnest.

"Ang-angel, will you p-please come b-back?" Crowley groaned next to him. His skin felt like it was pulsating against Aziraphale's, a current of something that felt too much like Hell for comfort. Where he made contact with Aziraphale's wings, the slightly charred scent of smoldering feathers filled the cabin.

The hunters' cabin. Yes, there had been hunters. They'd put that horrid bracelet on him, it kept his wings exposed and the rest of him helpless- wait, he'd been in the woods. Aziraphale blinked slowly, looking around again.

"Crow-ley?" he croaked.

The demon froze, then lifted himself off of Aziraphale to regard him. The absence of his warmth made Aziraphale shiver, so Crowley quickly lay back down.

"You with me, angel?" he demanded. "C-can you miracle your wings away yet?"

Oh. Yes, he really ought to do that. They were so cold, putting them back in the ethereal plane would be good, wouldn't it? Or could he just use a miracle to warm them up? Oh... oh, that's what Crowley had been saying when he first woke. Yes, he was cold, he needed to warm himself up- good lord, Crowley was freezing himself to get Aziraphale warm! The angel inhaled sharply as his mind struggled through the hypothermia-induced fogginess.

He had to close his eyes and focus with all his might, but Aziraphale finally felt his wings disappear from the physical plane, and much of his discomfort along with them.

"C-Crowley," he murmured, teeth starting to chatter now as his body seemed to regain feeling, the cold coming back with a vengeance. "S-so... c-c-cold..."

"Good," the demon said. "Good, that m-means it's working..."

"You're f-freezing..."

Crowley snorted and didn't move. "Leave it to you to worry about that," he muttered. "C-can you miracle the rest yet?"

Aziraphale tried, he really did, but he was still hazy and exhausted and after a second he slumped and jerked his head to indicate a negative. "S-sorry," he whispered. "You d-don't have to-"

"S-shut up. Is the H-hellfire too much? K-keeping it low but y-you need heat..."

Aziraphale shook his head. The Hellfire glowing under Crowley's skin did hurt, but so did his hands and feet even without that, burning worse as feeling returned.

But he was alive. The Hellfire and shared body heat did the trick, along with the more ordinary fire Crowley eventually got up to stoke, and the dozens of thick flannel blankets he procured from nowhere, and the hot tea he all but poured down the angel's throat to help warm him from the inside. Gradually the mind-fog disappeared and Aziraphale tiredly brushed the rest of the cold away. Eventually he would want to go home and get out of this awful place.

But for now, he was finally warm, and well taken care of, and Aziraphale closed his eyes to the sight of Crowley settling in beside him to watch him through the night.

#whumptober2020 #no.21 #hypothermia #good omens #fanfiction #aziraphale whump #crowley to the rescue #shared body heat

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trashboatprince · 3 years

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I’m working on a main story for my Reverse Omens au, but for right now, I really wanted to do something with Aziraphale the Demon opening up his shop.

So, here’s a little something while I work on the main story for Sour Blessings. I had to do a bit of research for this, so you’re welcome.

Summery: The opening for A.Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More is on Friday, however, the demon Aziraphale may have to put that opening on hold, indefinitely, due to an unexpected promotion.

Not if the angel Crowley has anything to say about it!

Warning: Reverse Omens, the other demons and angels are not swapped, these two fools are in love but they won’t admit it so it’s getting the ship tag.

Aziraphale (formally Azrafel) is a half-deaf, white cat demon, Crowley (formally Samael) is a rainbow boa angel and the one who tempted Eve (There is a reason for this!).

Rewrite of the infamous Bookshop deleted scene.

On with the fic!

Can’t Have That Now, Can We?

Aziraphale, formally known as the demon Azrafel until he stole back his original name, was more excited than he had been in years.

Finally, after so many hiccups, missions, and simply being absentminded about his goal, he was opening up his shop! Well, not officially, he planned on being open to the public on Friday, but he was allowing for guests today!

So far, the only person invited is his dear angel, Crowley, who he knows will be here promptly at a quarter past eleven, the redhead was also so good with time.

Proudly, Aziraphale looked up at the sign that had just been installed this morning. A. Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More, it read with a shine of silver paint on a dark blue background. It was beautifully fitting for the man-shaped being, fitting his color aesthetics. He practically purred in delight as he stepped through the doors, happily hearing a jingle of a bell above his head.

The demon hummed to himself a song from an opera he had attended a few days ago, carefully lining up some of his collection he had noticed he bumped out of place. His shop was going to house his massive collection of antiques, a term he had adored using for the collection since it was first coined during the 1400’s in references to ancient artifacts.

He finally had a place for all his stuff, things he had hidden all over the world, bought, traded, stolen, made himself, gifts from his favorite snake, all in one place now! Sure, it took him centuries to finally settle down, but 1831 was a good enough time, right?

Well, there had been an attempt a few centuries ago, back in the 1500’s, but it had been a bookshop next to a printing shop that had printed a book he really had wanted, but a mission to China had prevented that. And had also resulted in him not paying rent on the shop and having gotten in trouble with Hell for something stupid, he couldn’t pay the rent and lost the first shop.

Anyway, he happily likes to forget that happened and has instead tried again! Same location too, second time’s the charm!

Aziraphale wasn’t finished setting up though, he still had more stuff in storage that he needed to bring in, but his angel had said he’d help up with bringing that in. He wouldn’t help with the organizing though; Crowley knew from experience that Aziraphale had a way of organizing his clutter in a way that worked for the cat. Especially when it came to certain collections, like his massive library and his collection of rare snuff boxes.

As he carefully aligned a bronze statue of a rather specifically detailed and accurate horse he got as a joke gift from Crowley, he heard the jingle of the bell above his front door. He cupped his hand over his left ear, trying to hear who it was, couldn’t be Crowley, it was too early still.

Then he smelled the scent of festering mold and swamp scum, along with other unpleasant things, and he felt his skin prickle.

With a held back sigh, Aziraphale put a fake smile on his face, turning to face his fellow demons, hoping his beard hid the fact that his mouth twitched. “Hastur, Ligur, to what do I owe the pleasure of two Dukes of Hell in my shop?”

The two demons stood by the open doors, dressed in rather shoddy clothing, meant more for the lower class than the higher, as Aziraphale himself was dressed to blend in with. However, it was good to note that this time they actually wore clothing that would help them blend in, rather than how they dressed the last time they ‘visited’ Aziraphale. He would never forget those sins against nature.

Neither of them smiled, they just stared, before Hastur stepped forward. “We’ve orders from Below for you.” He ground out, making Aziraphale raise an eyebrow.

“Orders? Strange, normally Hell just burns a message in one of my books or screams at me from an envelope nowadays, don’t usually send messengers to tell me what my next job is.

“It’s not really… orders.” Ligur spoke up, waving a hand, completely bored of this already. “’s more like you’re getting somethin’.”

Aziraphale blinked, cupping a hand over his ear again. “Come again?”

Hastur made a face. “Think of it as… bad news, but not really bad news, more like good news, but we can’t say that shit, so it’s bad news, but not that bad-”

“I… I got it.” The cat sighed, holding up a hand. “Is it about the second revolution in France?” He had sent in a wordy letter to Hell about how he had helped kickstarted that event, even though he hadn’t actually done so. He and Crowley had taken a trip to the south of France and got dreadfully wasted and somehow ended up on the Isle of Capri.

“More like a bunch of things you’ve done, Azrafel.” The chameleon demon spoke and ignored the face Aziraphale pulled, hearing his old name. It has been centuries, and no one cared that he stole back his angel name, they just ignored him, thinking he was edgy or something. “Apparently, you’ve done your job to such extremes that Hell is oddly impressed.”

This can’t be good.

“And because of this, you’re going down to Hell, promotin’ you back to Downstairs. Heard you might get a cushy job runnin’ the torture department, lucky bastard.”

Aziraphale blinked, trying to register what this meant. “But… I’m opening this antique shop on Friday. If Master Hatchard can make a go of it, then I think I can really…”

“Hm,” Hastur pondered for a moment, “actually, I think that’s an idea, whoever replaces you up here can use this place as a base of operations.”

This got a look of disgust from the cat demon. “Use my shop?” The nerve! No one was allowed to use his shop; this was for him! And maybe Crowley, because he knows that wily angel will also laze about wherever Aziraphale is staying.

Neither demon seemed to give two shits about what Aziraphale thought of this. “You’re bein’ promoted,” the frog demon shrugged, “you get to go back home.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone who wanna spend more than five minutes on this waste of space.” Ligur commented, look at a bell jar on a shelf, containing a taxidermized scene of insects dancing at a ball. The chameleon on his head licked its lips.

“Azrafel’s been on this shithole for almost six thousand years,” his companion replied, “that’s some impressive patience, I can’t stand doin’ tasks up here that take longer than a day. Just plant bad ideas in a human’s head and let ‘em do all the work. Still, gotta give kudos where kudos is due…”

He dug into the pocket of his grubby coat, pulling out a box, covered in stains that Aziraphale really didn’t want to know the origins of. “Apparently, this is for all your bad work.” He said in a tone that clearly didn’t hide his jealousy and bitterness.

Hastur opened the box and Aziraphale stared at a rather lovely, shiny medal. He had seen this kind before, proudly worn by members of the Dark Council.

When they said he was being promoted… oh, oh bugger, this was a Promotion.

“I don’t want it.” Aziraphale spoke without much thought. He glanced up and nearly screamed, because right behind Hastur and Ligur, was a redheaded angel, giving a cheery wave.

The grandfather clock off to the left happily showed that it was exactly a quarter past eleven in the morning. It was the worst possible time for Crowley to show up.

With a skip in his snake-skinned step, Crowley turned a corner down a street in Soho, a box of the finest chocolates under his arm. He had dolled himself up for today, putting on his finest dark gray suit, his pink shirt clear and ironed, and a new hat sat happily on his head, decorated with a gold-plated apple blossom.

It was over-the-top, but the snake-eyed angel was known for being flashy and showboat-y with his appearance.

He spotted the shop at the corner and picked up the pace, mentally counting down the seconds. He loved being exactly on time, but he also loved putting Aziraphale on edge when he was a few minutes late.

Crowley got right up the steps at exactly 11:15, noticing that not only were the doors opened, but two figures were standing in the doorway, with Aziraphale stared past them. And right at Crowley, with a look the screamed ‘oh bugger’.

The demon licked his lips, stammering as he tried to speak to the two strangers, who Crowley hadn’t quite realized were demons. “B-But only I can properly thwart the good deeds of the angel Cr-Samael!”

Crowley stopped smiling, tilting his head, eyebrow raising over his dark shades. He held up the package, smiling, and mouthed ‘chocolates’ at his best friend.

“I don’t doubt that,” the blond-haired demon spoke, “whoever replaces you will be as bad an enemy to Samael as you are. Baphomet, maybe.”

The angel looked horrified and disgusted. He looked towards Aziraphale and mouthed ‘Baphomet?! Baphomet’s a wanker!’ The gray-haired demon shifted on his feet, trying to ignore Crowley to not draw attention to him.

“Samael’s been here just as long as I have, and he’s wily! And cunning, and brilliant, and oh…” Aziraphale was a bit flushed in the face and Crowley perked up, smiling brightly.

“It almost sounds like you like him.” Hastur spoke in a tone that was clearly not pleased with this.

“I loathe him!” Aziraphale shouted, though his face still burned red. “And, despite myself, I respect a worthy opponent! Which he isn’t because he’s an angel, and I cannot respect a demon. Or like one!” He tacked on quickly.

Hastur actually smirked, crossing his arms. “That’s the attitude that Hell likes to hear. I can see why they’re bringin’ you back.” He stepped forward, pinning the medal to Aziraphale’s dress jacket, the shorter man holding his breath at the bad smell coming off of Hastur. A quick glance over the other’s shoulder let Aziraphale know that Crowley was out of sight, hopefully he knew to stay away until these two were gone.

“So…” Aziraphale started, “we’re going straight back, now? Before the grand opening?”

“Ehh… soon.” Hastur waved a hand. “Got a job to do, then we’ll be back for you.”

The job was a simple corruption on, convince a human in charge of a respectable pub to take in bribes, sell illegal content under the counter, and convert his pub into a drug den in later years, that should do the trick.

And to help with that, they decide to plant things in the backroom of the pub for the owner to find, miracled with a temptation to put the pieces together. Ligur stood outside the backroom’s door while Hastur moved to remove the contents of his pockets in the room.

He pauses, however, hearing voices outside of an open window.

“Are you certain that we are unobserved,” it was the voice of the angel Samael, “of glorious being of God’s divine will?”

There was a strange, echoing voice that followed right after, layered as if multiple voices spoke at once. “No one is listening, oh angel Samael, the Lefthand of God.”

Blinking, Hastur steps onto a crate under the window and, using his true eyes, peeks out the window, only the top of the head of his frog looking into the alley behind the pub. He could see Crowley, standing before a cloaked figure in white, the latter having their back turned to the window. He slipped down a bit to not be seen, but still remained close to hear.

“Curses.” The angel hissed. “If only I could understand why my blessed plans are always so brilliantly thwarted! It’s as if the forces of Hell have a champion here on Earth who contaminates my blessings! Who overlaps their own dark influences on my own good ones! Who thwarts me… thwartingly…”

Unbeknownst to the demon on the other side of the wall, the cloaked figure that Crowley was speaking to was actually just a tailor’s dummy from the tailor shop just next door. Crowley was practically tickle-me-pink with delight of how much fun it was doing this. He absolutely loved when he got to flex his acting skills.

He continued the act, putting on the heavenly voice once more. “Why, Mister Crowley, you must not be downcast. I hear news that will bring joy to you and all the powers of Heaven! They do say as how the demon Azrafel, your nemesis, is being sent back to Hell!”

Crowley knew he was acting slightly to broadly, but it was the style of the time, so it was necessary.

“Can this be true?” He continued in his normal voice. “I was going to throw myself into a pit of Hell Fire in my despair at once more being beaten by the demon Azrafel! But such excellent news! Only Azrafel knows my ways well enough to…”

“Thwart them?”

“Exactly. Now, let us retire to church, and pray to the success of good on this Earth, thanks to Hell’s foolishness!”

Hastur heard the other walking off before he moved out of the room, well, he might have to have a conversation with Aziraphale it seems.

“So, I’m… not going anywhere?” Aziraphale asked, mismatched eyes staring at the two other demons, the pupils growing with possible hope.

“Change of plans.” Hastur grumbled. “We need you here, in this shop, battling good.”

Ligur slapped the Aziraphale on the back a few times, nearly knocking him over. “Carry on battlin’ that pain in the ass angel. I’m sure Hell’ll understand that you’re needed here more than down there.”

“Keep the metal.” Hastur poked at it against Aziraphale’s chest, making him wince at the pressure of the jab.

“But I don’t understand…” The cat demon blinked, suddenly realizing he was all alone in the shop now, the scent of sulfur starting to mellow out. With a snap of his fingers, the shop suddenly smelled of flowers, thanks to the lovely potted plant that just showed up next to him.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, moving around a shelf to try and return to his previous task of worryingly set up his collection.

“Well, that was fun.”

Aziraphale yelped, jumping a foot in the air as his hair and beard puffed up from the shock. He turned, finding a certain angel, basking happily in a chair that had been swiped from the King of Spain in the late 1300’s. “Crowley… w-what are you doing here?” He asked, approaching the redhead, who just smiled, holding up the box of chocolates from behind.

Aziraphale chirped in joy, taking the box. “Oh, yes, thank you, darling!”

“’s nothin’, kitty cat. I think you deserve them now than you did before those two idiots showed up.”

“How… much of that did you see?”

Crowley shrugged before getting out of the chair, stretching. “Well, I arrived to see that you were stuck dealin’ with two idiots, and that you needed help. So, I may or may not have helped you out of a bit of trouble, again. Nice medal, the Dark Council kind? Wow, that’s a hell of a promotion, kitty cat.”

Aziraphale frowned and removed the metal from his jacket, tossing it towards Crowley, who caught it with ease. “I’ve done so well at my job that I was promoted to join them! I mean, it’s not the worst promotion I could get, in fact, any demon would give up their whole… well… everything to be part of that group! But I must admit, it would be too much, I’d be allowed to do whatever, but I wouldn’t be able to work and stay on Earth.”

“Sounds like a shit job to take, Aziraphale.” Crowley commented, looking over the metal before dropping it into a clay pot. “But hey, you get to stay here!”

“For some reason…” Cat eyes turned, staring directly at snake ones, hidden behind dark lenses. “What did you do?”

Crowley grinned brightly. “Oh, just pulled off some theatrics.” He wiggled his fingers and Aziraphale groaned. “I told you I was good at this! I should join a theater, get my name out there! I’ll even do those boring, sad Shakespearean plays you like so much!”

“Uhg.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes before looking at Crowley, smiling. “Still, thank you for helping me today, darling. Now, how about the two of us enjoy this delectable box of goodies you got me, I have a lovely red that we can drink alongside them in the back, found it while bringing things in the other day.”

“Sounds delightful, kitty cat.”

END

Well, this was a lot of fun to write!

In case you wanna know what they look like, Aziraphale looks like Martin from Prodigal Son (except well dressed in a light gray and dark blue Regency outfit), and Crowley looks like David’s portrayal of Richard II (in a dark gray and pink Regency outfit).

Hastur and Ligur look like characters from Oliver Twist haha.

In case anyone was wondering why Aziraphale owns an antique shop, it was because as much as I love the bookshop still being part of a Reverse Omens au, I also really loved the idea of going off the little fact that book Aziraphale also collects old snuff boxes and it went from there that he just collects all sorts of things.

Oh, and Hastur left Aziraphale on Earth cause if he's really the only one who can 'stop' the Heavenly might of Samael, the angel with the title of Destroyer, well... yeah, might as well leave him to deal with that mess.

Thanks for reading! As always, drabbles are open!

#good omens #reverse omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #hastur #ligur #john's drabbles

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Eternal Damnation

Casifer x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1432 words

Warnings: He’s so bad but I can’t help but love him

Summary: Reader was a hunting buddy of Sam and Dean’s. She makes a deal to save their lives and lands a position in hell as a demon...babysitting the devil.

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You had made a deal to save Sam and Dean, and it worked...with the slight addendum that it killed you. As soon as you took your last breath, your soul was dragged down to hell.

Your soul was damned, you had made a deal and when it came time to pay the piper-Crowley had other ideas.

You were smart, you always had been. When you were a hunter, you had dealt with him and a million other nasty things without a problem. You were talented and he knew that he could use you.

He wanted your help but more than anything, he was going to use you in the one place he knew only you could handle. Only someone with your history would be able to handle Lucifer's nonstop babbling.

Lesser demons had literally pleaded for death after a few hours but Crowley owned you now.

...But, as Crowley suggested, you were too valuable to just send off to some torture chamber.

Besides, if he said that you were going to stand guard of Lucifer in the cage, than you were going to. It wasn't exactly like you could just say no. So, you made the best of it, sitting on the concrete floor right outside the cage.

The only problem was that you couldn't just sit there.

Lucifer wasn't going to make it that easy for you. He thought pretty highly of himself and just kept running his mouth. Which only meant one thing...No one knew Lucifer better than you.

You were his only friend, his confidant, the only person in the world that he talked to all that time he was in the cage.

When there was no one around, no one other than you.

So, it was only natural that you started getting a little attached to him. He was all you had, most hours of the day. Even when there was nothing, he was always there like a bird in a cage-singing the hours away.

In some strange way, you were glad to have Lucifer.

As much as you hated being away from Sam and Dean, and as much as you missed the hunter lifestyle, being a demon wasn't as bad as you thought. It beat eternal damnation and torture.

You'd done enough of that in your day, you didn't want to deal with anymore in the afterlife. Besides, Lucifer couldn't really do anything other than whine as long as he was locked away in the cage, and there was no way he'd ever get out.

...Right?

Wrong.

Something had went wrong with the spell Rowena cast, and Lucifer got out. He wasn't in the cage, which only meant one thing...he would out in the world, somewhere.

Not only did that spell big trouble for the rest of the world, but more specifically, Crowley. The man who gave you the gig in the first place was quaking in his boots at the idea of the devil getting loose.

So he did the only reasonable thing-he sent you out into the world to track him down, with the help of your two best friends...Sam and Dean.

You knew that under any other circumstances, both Winchesters would be angry with you. You had done the worst thing a hunter could do, you had become a demon but this wasn't about that.

This visit was all about tracking down Lucifer.

"You think you can find him? Why you of all people?" Dean wondered, his voice more harsh than necessary as he addressed you. After all the years you spent hunting by his side, you expected a warmer welcome.

Not that you didn't understand his anger.

"I don't have to explain hell to you Dean. We all have our jobs, and mine was to watch over the cage" you explained, for the fifth time in the last few minutes. At every turn, he was questioning you.

"So you think you'll be able to recognize him, even in a different vessel?" Sam interjected. He wasn't happy about you being here either, but they needed you. You had a point-if you knew the devil that well, then you were probably the only person who could help them.

All you did was nod, it was true.

Lucifer wasn't exactly a casual personality and no vessel could hide him for long. You would be able to spot him from a mile away. You just hoped Sam and Dean would trust you to do so in the meantime.

Being back in the real world was kind of a trip. You had gotten so used to dark, dinginess of hell that being in the sunlight actually hurt. In some ways, you longed for the cage.

At least there, you were comfortable. You were in the company of a man who didn't hate you, and posed no threat to you. You hated to admit it, but you were actually starting to miss Lucifer.

How is it that old saying went?

Speak of the Devil...something like that.

Well, it must have been true, because the man in question made an appearance not long after your realization. Surely he hadn't been checking up on you. You had spent enough time with Lucifer in all this time that you would know him anywhere, and as soon as you saw Castiel, you knew that wasn't him.

It was all in his demeanor. In the slight arrogance, and slimy way he moved, you would have known it anywhere. However, you knew that if you outed him in front of Sam and Dean, they would get themselves killed.

So instead, you came up with a backup plan.

You just had to get Cas/Satan alone. If you could talk about it to him in private, maybe you could get this all figured out between the two of you. After all, no one knew how to reason with the devil like you.

It was a gift you possessed.

"Hey Cas, can I talk to you for a sec?" you wondered, gesturing behind you. Sam looked up momentarily from his book but paid you no mind. As far as he was concerned, he was just babysitting till Dean got back.

The man glanced up, his eyes shining as he met your own. He thought he was getting past you, you could see it in his face but you didn't care. Instead, you smiled, just like you would at Castiel.

You were a sight for sore eyes. The two of you had spent every single day for what felt like years together, and he hadn't seen you in weeks. He had missed you, but he kept up the ruse as best he could.

If you found him out, there was no telling what you would do.

As a demon, you should have been loyal to him but you had been a hunter once and you cared for the Winchester boys. Not to mention that Crowley had somehow convinced you that you had to do as he said.

There was no way for him to know, until he actually talked to you.

When he turned the corner where you'd disappeared, he was shocked to find that you had been waiting for him. Before he knew what was happening, he had been shoved against the wall, your hand around his throat.

You both knew that he could easily shove you off but he made no motion to. He had been made, that was fine but if you were going to try to kill him, you would have done it already.

"Well hello sweetness" he grinned, knowing that lying to you was no use. You knew that it was him.

All you did was roll your eyes at the nickname. Even in a moment like this, he didn't have to decency to even pretend to be ashamed. "What are you doing here? In Castiel's vessel?" You whisper yelled, still holding him in place.

You knew that he wouldn't hurt you but you still liked to remind him of his place in this conversation. Right now, you had the upper hand, all it would take was one wrong move and you could out him to everyone.

...You could do what Crowley had told you to do but you both knew that you wouldn't.

The hold that Lucifer had on you was a strong one, and you couldn't fight it-no matter how hard you tried.

“I just couldn’t stay away”

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our-smooty · 4 years

Text

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 14

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

It was Beelzebub’s turn to pick the meeting spot, so of course they were standing in a dark, damp back alley somewhere in the American Mid-West at three in the morning. Seemed a little out of the way to Gabriel, but the Prince of Hell had said something about an on-going project with the American political system that they couldn’t leave for a even a second, so here he was.

“We couldn’t meet inside somewhere? he sneered, eyeing the way his designer shoes were getting ruined in the disgusting sludge coming from a dumpster a few feet away.

“Don’t want you and your lot closer to this project than necessary. You’d just fuck it all up,” Beelzebub answered, rolling their eyes at him. Gabriel huffed and straightened his collar, though it of course wasn’t at all out of place.

“Well let’s make it quick then. Did your humans…?”

A dangerous growl that Gabriel was glad wasn’t directed at him. “No. Idiots got scared off by whatever the bastard had set up. They all ran off anyways.”

“Well mine got the job done. They sent a little… encouragement, to that ratty bookshop Aziraphale insists on keeping.” Gabriel was practically preening and he knew it. Being able to show up Beelzebub in any way always put him in a positive mood. Thwarting the enemy and all that.

“It’d be easier if we could be direct,” Beezle growled. The flies swarming around the dumpster began to make their way over and Gabriel had to swat a few away with the back of his hand.

“Get a hold of yourself, Beez. You were there, you know the almighty was clear that neither one of us could interfere directly!” Using humans as a loophole had been Michael’s idea and so far there hadn’t been any repercussions. But this had only been a test, and since things had gone well…

“We can escalate though, yes?” they buzzed, the flies zipping around excitedly and a grin breaking out on their face. “My contacts from before have been... reprimanded appropriately, and we’re ready to move on whenever you are.”

Gabriel’s face morphed into a tight smile of his own. He always had admired his demonic counterpart’s willingness to get a job done, no matter the cost. Beelzebub was shrewd and cutthroat and if they hadn’t been one of Satan’s damned, Gabriel might have hired them for a position Upstairs.

“Yes, we can move on to phase 2. Give it a few weeks, I’ll send you a memo, and a calendar invite for the pre-briefing. It’s Heaven’s turn to cater so…” Which was a good thing, since last time when it’d been Hell’s turn the lettuce on the tea sandwiches had been mouldy. Gabriel didn’t partake in the gross matter but it was the principle of the thing! “Are we still on for that event in Berlin next Saturday?”

“You’re the one who said it’d be in both our best interests if it went well, so yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t get in my way.” Beelzebub threw up a rather rude hand gesture then disappeared through a door in one of the buildings. Gabriel spent a few extra minutes in the ally, pondering whether contacting the demon to make sure their chosen apparel didn’t clash, or if that might get him in more trouble than it was worth.

The hunger didn’t really go away. Crowley woke up almost every morning with a strong desire to get to the breakfast table that persisted throughout lunch and supper. Aziraphale enjoyed it as an opportunity to exercise his cooking skills, even if it did require him to spend more of his day in the kitchen than was usual. Crowley repaid him for his kindness of course, he’d bring in fresh flowers (though with the changing seasons, he was going to have to switch to gourds), or later in the day bring him cocoa and biscuits while the angel was working on restoring a book. Sometimes, after a particularly good supper, Crowley might drop to his knees under the table and thank Aziraphale in a different way that the angel liked just as much as any of the others.

The change of season brought on a change in their routines as well. Since it was getting colder, Crowley spent a lot more of his time indoors curled up in front of the fireplace watching reality TV, or in bed taking long indulgent naps. When they’d first moved in together Crowley had tried to stay awake and active through the colder months, scared Aziraphale would be upset with him for lounging about. But after 10 years they’d come to an understanding. As long as Crowley made an effort to spend at least a little bit of time-conscious with the angel every day (barring very long naps, which were usually discussed beforehand), Aziraphale was happy. And Aziraphale being happy made Crowley happy which in turn made the colder months of the year much more pleasant for the demon.

On a blustery November afternoon, Crowley was making a significant effort to be awake as Aziraphale showed him pictures of cribs on his own laptop. He never should have shown the angel pinterest, or Amazon.

“So what do you think? I thought something traditional would be nice, and of course money isn’t really an object, and maybe there’s someone in town who does carpentry? But what about safety?” Crowley browsed the collections of cribs, and rocking chairs, and various baby paraphilia, trying to keep himself from drifting off. He’s set an alarm to wake him up just after midday in case he didn’t wake up naturally. Of course, he’d snoozed it a few times before dragging himself out of their bedroom and into the sitting room for a cuppa.

“Think we’ve seen thousands of babies make it just fine, even without all these fancy cribs and chairs and baskets. You know we can make just about anything safe if we want to, with wards and a good talking-to.” He paused on a simple crib made of light pine with gently scalloped finishings. “I know I’ve seen signs for ‘rustic’ furniture around the village, m’sure you could find someone to make one like this.”

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? It’s been a very long time since I had to make use of any woodworking skills, but I’m sure I could sketch something up for a professional to take a look at. Would you like to help, darling?”

“Sure, go get us a pencil and paper then, and maybe a refill?” There’d be no more coffee since Aziraphale insisted he keep to under a cup a day, but maybe the angel would allow him some tea. Aziraphale gave him a beatific smile then rushed off to his stacks of stationery. Crowley secretly thought it was sweet how Aziraphale still wrote letters on his own custom paper, with fountain pens and a personalized wax seal. Over the millennia he’d gotten thousands of letters from the angel, and he kept each one in a lockbox that was now hidden in the back of their closet. Outwardly, Crowley rolled his eyes when Aziraphale returned, playing the part of out-upon husband as usual.

“Alright, you get a start on here then, while I make more tea. You’ve always been better at the arts than me anyway.” Debatable, but Crowley was too sleepy to really argue. He took a pen and some paper and began to doodle out crib-shaped creations. As the kettle whistled and Aziraphale hummed to himself his drawing moved towards the more specific, detailing little flower engravings for decoration along all the legs. When Aziraphale came back with the tea and some biscuits, Crowley had less of a sketch and more of a fully fleshed-out design.

“Oh Crowley! It’s gorgeous love,” Aziraphale exclaimed as he sat down to take a look. Crowley had barely been thinking about what he was drawing, instead letting his hands take over while his mind coasted in a half-dreaming state. “I love the flowers, and the wings on the corners. “You’re so creative.”

“Thanks angel,” Crowley murmured, looking at his own drawing like he was seeing it for the first time. He took a sip of tea from the cup Aziraphale passed him, relaxing back against his angel. “But I’m sure you can do it better, if you try.”

“Nonsense. I think it’s perfect. Maybe we could do a little more research, just to make sure it’s up to safety standards, just in case, but otherwise, I don’t think I’d change a thing.” Crowley would have argued if he wasn’t already half asleep again, his teacup leaning dangerously to the side. “Are you really so tired my dear? You should have said.”

“Wanted t’spend some time w’you,” he mumbled. The teacup was gone from his hands, presumably taken by Aziraphale, and a warm blanket draped around his shoulders. “Don’t want you t’be lonely.”

“My sweet demon,” Aziraphale cooed. “Thank you, you’re always thinking of me. But I think I’m going to read for a little while, if you’re like to take a nap. You can use my lap, if you’re like.” Crowley was already sliding down so he was horizontal, his head cushioned against Aziraphale thighs. The angel used one hand to turn the pages of the book resting on the arm of the sofa, the other slung low on Crowley’s hips. That hand wormed its way under Crowley’s sweater--soft cotton, with little devil horns on the hood--so he could touch the bare skin of his belly.

“Love you,” Crowley hummed. Aziraphale wiggled a tiny bit, either in happiness or to get more comfortable, and sighed happily.

“I love you too, dear. Get some sleep.” And Crowley drifted off.

At first he was dreaming about the garden. Not the Garden, but his garden in the South Downs, at the cottage. It was summer, peak flowering period for some of his favourites and he was down on his knees at one of the smaller flower beds pulling weeds. The sun was exceedingly warm at the back of his neck but that was alright, he was nearly done. Then he could go inside and drink some of the lemonade Aziraphale had made earlier.

The dream oozed forward at a leisurely pace and he enjoyed every second. The sun slowly sank towards the horizon and the wind got a little chilly; it must have been later in the summer than he thought. Even though the weather was turning, he still felt warm though, an unfamiliar heat spreading from his core and out to his limbs. He looked down, almost expecting to see something silly like a hot water bottle--dream logic of course; even when he knew he was dreaming Crowley’s imagination got away from him--but instead saw his own body. And the baby bump.

“That you, Sprout?” he asked, his voice echoing strangely in the hazy dreamworld. “You’re very warm, taking after your Papa?”

A familiar wriggling, and something Crowley struggled to define. It almost reminded him of when we was still an angel, and he could sense love, a glowing joy from inside, spilling out through his cracks. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, the dream’s slow pace lulling him into a sense of security. Here in his garden there was just him, the baby, and what felt like pure joy.

Crowley didn’t notice the dream shifting. The garden slowly getting darker and colder, the flowers wilting, shriveling, dying. Their cottage faded away, becoming an empty field, the sky a roiling grey. When Crowley opened his eyes and saw his surroundings, the oncoming storm whipping the dead grass and flowers all around, he knew. The warmth in his stomach pulled away and Crowley felt cold.

Something was coming.

Aziraphale was startled from deep in his reread of Frankenstein’s Monster by Crowley’s shuddering. Normally when the demon had a bad dream the first sign was a noise; a whimper or a shout that would alert Aziraphale to the situation so he could intervene. But even lacking the normal markers, the angel could tell something was wrong. Crowley was a very still sleeper, even if he did cling, and the erratic shaking and shivering he was doing right now certainly wasn’t normal.

“Crowley love, wake up. Shhh, it’s alright,” he said, loud enough to wake the other but softly enough to avoid startling him. He set his book aside and brought both hands into the equation, caressing and petting Crowley’s hair and shoulders. “Come on darling, time to wake up.”

“‘Zira? S’dark.” He didn’t sound upset, or panicked and Aziraphale let out a breath of relief.

“You were only asleep for an hour, but the suns already set, given how late in the year it is,” Aziraphale explained, still petting Crowley’s hair. “Were you having a bad dream?”

Crowley rubbed his face against the angel’s belly, dispelling the sleep from his eyes. “Strange. I was in the garden, and then it was dark out. Could feel…” He stared down at his stomach. “I think I could feel them there.”

“Really?” Aziraphale meant to ask more about the dream, but was easily sidetracked by the news of the baby communicating. “In what way did you see them?”

“Not see, just felt them. They were warm. But then it got dark, and I felt like I was freezing, and the cottage was gone--” his voice got faster and faster, his breathing more shallow. To stop him flying off into a panic attack Aziraphale thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair again, not really tugging but still a firm presence. “And then I woke up. That's it, nothing exciting angel.”

Aziraphale hummed lowly, in the way he knew relaxed Crowley. “I’m a little jealous of you. For getting to feel them, not for having a nightmare.”

Crowley wiggled so that instead of just his head resting in Aziraphale lap, his entire upper body was laying across his legs. Then he grabbed the hand the angel didn’t have woven through his hair and pressed it to his stomach.

“S’the best I can do. Maybe if you concentrate you’ll feel it too?” Aziraphale tried his hardest, willing his entire celestial self to focus in on that one small area. Underneath his hands Crowley shuddered, but Aziraphale kept on searching until--

“Oh!” He could feel something, at least. It wasn’t really warm, like Crowley had said, but there was movement. It was reassuring to know they were there, and alive, and growing. “You’re amazing Crowley.”

“What, me?” Crowley laughed, thoroughly pleased with himself. The anxiety from the dream didn’t stand a chance against praise from Aziraphale. Still, Crowley looked like he was done sleeping, because he sat up and stretched languorously. “S’a bit late to go out, but we could order in?”

“If you want. You’ll have to take a look at your application and see what’s available.” Somehow, despite being a ways out into the countryside they always had plenty of options for takeout. And they were well known by all the delivery persons as excellent tippers, so their food usually arrived on time or earlier than expected. “I’m not craving anything in particular.”

“Good, ‘cause I am. I want fries, and maybe a ceasar salad. Oh and falafel.” Crowley was already tapping wildly at his phone, presumably making his order. “And maybe something sweet, for after…”

“Cravings dear?” Aziraphale teased, nudging Crowley with one elbow like he used to do years ago, when they would walk through St. James’ Park. That was before the end that didn’t happen, when even the smallest contact between them was taboo. Now they could touch whenever they wanted, and so Aziraphale didn’t stop at just one nudge, instead choosing to lean heavily against Crowley so he could look at the screen, “The poor delivery person is going to have an awful lot of trouble carrying all that.”

Crowley just rolled his eyes and continued scrolling through his options. “So you don’t want bubble tea? I was going to get you taro flavour but if you think it’s too much--”

“Now now let's not be hasty love. I'm sure a large tip will make up for any trouble on the driver’s end.” Crowley giggled. Aziraphale tucked the sound away in his memory with all the other cute things Crowley did but would never admit to.

“I thought so. You can never resist, can you?” Refusing to be needled, Aziraphale decided to fire back. Crowley was so cuddly and soft; so completely unworried now that the nightmare had faded that he couldn’t resist. He nuzzled right underneath the other’s demon-sigil where he knew Crowley was extra sensitive and revelled in the full-body shudder it produced.

“Why should I? There’s no shame in liking nice things.” Aziraphale let the implication hang. Crowley could still be touchy about being called nice or good outside of the bedroom depending on his mood. This time however, Crowley sighed and shimmied away a bit so he could show Aziraphale the screen.

“Whatever you say angel. Does this look good?” The order list was expansive, and probably much more than either of them would be able to eat tonight. But that was alright, leftovers wouldn’t last long given Crowley’s new and voracious appetite.

“Splendid love. I’ll go set the table?” It was really an excuse to get up and move. As much as Aziraphale loved cuddling and pampering his husband, he did tend to get restless. Now that Crowley was awake and relaxed he could get up and bustle about, working off all the energy that had built up while the demon napped. With the excitement of the baby coming Aziraphale had been finding it difficult to sit still and not rush about, preparing everything.

“Can’t we just eat here?” Crowley asked, sprawling into the warm space on the sofa left behind by the angel. Aziraphale smiled and passed his slothful demon the telly remote.

“No, I won’t have you drop tahini and falafel bits all over the carpet. You can eat at the table or not at all.” Crowley glared but there wasn’t really any real anger in it. In fact, it was quite cute, not that he’d ever say that out loud. Crowley would not tolerate being called cute, no matter how happy he was.

“Fine, stuffy angel.” He turned the TV on and quickly navigated to NBC where Aziraphale knew they’d be playing Golden Girls at this hour. After one last fond look Aziraphale couldn’t stand still any longer, so he hurried off to get everything ready for their impromptu feast.

#fanfic #good omens #crowley #crowziraphale #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale #tw mpreg #trans male pregnancy #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #fbafs

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eleventhdoctorsangel · 3 years

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You can’t wake up this is not a dream

Summary: The Winchester siblings have always relied on each others for years. But has the years passed they made a small family. Years and years of fighting monster have brought them to the town of Derry. With fight a creature that is not of this world have to the Winchester finally met their match?

As Cass dove back to house I looked out the window. “Are you okay Y/n?” Cass asked. “I’m fine Cass.” I said. “Are you sure?” Cass asked. “Yeah I’m sure Cass.” I said as I turned to look at him giving him a small smile. I heard my phone start to ring. I grabbed it to see who it was and it was Dean. I answered and brought it to my ear. “Hey Dean.” I said. “Where are you?” Dean asked. “I’m with Cass and we’re on the way back to the house why?” I asked. “Just get here as fast as you can.” Dean said. “Dean what’s going on?” I asked. “Just get here.” Dean said and then hung up. “Is something wrong?” Cass asked. “Dean needs us to get back to the house as fast as we can.” I said. “Did he tell you what was going on?” Cass asked. “No he didn’t.” I said. “We should be back at the house in a few minutes.” Cass said. I nodded.

Cass and I were back at the house in under five minutes. Cass parked his truck next to the impala and we both out and walked into the house. “Sam. Dean. Cass and I are back.” I said. “We’re in the living room.” Sam said. When Cass and I walked into the living room both Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch looking upset. “There’s something wrong isn’t there?” I asked. “Rowena’s dead.” Dean said. “What?” I asked as tears filled my eyes. “Lucifer killed her.” Dean said. “He’s trying to find Kelly.” Cass said. “That’s what we think too.” Sam said. “Do you know where she is?” Cass asked. I rushed out of the room and to my room. I closed my door and fell onto my bed crying. I could hear my phone going off but I ignored it. I heard a knock at my door. “Can I come in kiddo?” Dean asked. I sat up in my bed wiping my eyes. “I guess.” I said. Dean opened my door and walked into my room sitting down on my bed next to me. “Henry’s here kiddo and it looks like he and you’re other friends got into a disagreement.” Dean said. “What makes you say that?” I asked still wiping tears away. “He’s got a cut on his forehead. Sammy is taking care of that. He said that he was going to come by but you didn’t answer him. But we let him know what has happened.” Dean said. “Well I best go and see how Henry’s doing shouldn’t I?” I asked. “I know you’re hurting kiddo. We are going to take care of him we always do don’t we.” Dean said. I nodded. Dean kissed my head. “I love you. You know that right?” Dean asked. “Yeah I know.” I said. “Come on kiddo.” Dean said as he got up from my bed and held a hand out to me. I gave him a small smile as I put my hand in his. Dean pulled me up from my bed and we both walked out of my room and into the kitchen.

When we walked into the kitchen I saw Sam putting away the first aid kit away and I noticed that Cass wasn’t here. “Where did Cass go?” I asked. “He went to go help with Kelly.” Sam said. “Is it almost time?” I asked. “Time for what?” Henry asked. “For Lucifer kid to be born. He said he would let us know if it is.” Dean said. “Lucifer as in the devil?” Henry asked. “Yeah.” I said. “Why don’t you get Henry caught up some.” Dean said. “Alright we’ll be in my room.” I said. “Keep your door open kiddo.” Dean said. “I know Dean. Come on Henry.” I said as I walked out of the kitchen and back to my room. I went and sat on my bed and Henry sat next to me. “I’m sorry I ignored your texts or calls.” I said. “You just lost someone close to know. I get it. This must happen often.” Henry said. “More that I like.” I said. “Is this you and your brothers first time dealing with Lucifer?” Henry asked. “No it’s not. One of the first time is when we stopped the apocalypse.” I said. “The first time?” Henry asked. “Yeah. I mean I’ve lost count on the amount of times that the world would have ended if we didn’t stop it.” I said. “Damn you really have been busy huh.” Henry said. “Yeah you can say that. So what really happened with that?” I asked pointing to his forehead. “I was messing with this one kid and those other friends of yours didn’t like it.” Henry said. “Is there another reason why they didn’t like you messing with that kid?” I asked. “Yeah.” Henry said as he looked down. “You can tell me Henry.” I said. “His name is Mike Hanlon and he is black.” Henry said. I let out a sigh. “Does your father have anything to do with the reason why you don’t like Mike?” I asked. Henry nodded. “Well that way of thinking is going have to be broken we know other hunter that are black okay.” I said. “I can do that. What’s going to happened if Cass said it’s time?” Henry said. “We would leave probably for a couple of days then come back and finish the case here.” I said. “What is going to happen to the kid?” Henry asked. “I don’t know really.” I said. Henry looked at the time on his phone. “It’s getting late I should get home.” Henry said. “Alright come lets go tell the boys.” I said getting up from my bed. Henry got up and followed behind me. We walked into the living room to see them watching TV. “It’s getting late and we need to get Henry home.” I said. “Cass left his truck you can drive him home if you want.” Dean said. “Alright.” I said. “You have a license?” Henry asked. I nodded. “Well I think it would be a good idea to get me home before my dad gets home because he would try everything to see if it’s fake.” Henry said. “He can try but then he will have to deal with Jody and Donna.” Dean said laughing a little. I laughed to as I went to get my wallet and Cass truck keys. “You ready to go Henry?” I asked. Henry nodded. “I’ll see you two later.” Henry said. “See you later kid.” Dean said. “See you Henry.” Sam said. We left the house and walked to Cass truck and got in. “Why didn’t he take his truck?” Henry asked. “He’s an angle of the lord and he can just poof away.” I said as I turned on the truck. “Don’t tell me you’ve meet god too.” Henry said. “Well.” I said. “You’re fucking kidding.” Henry said as I started to drive away. I started to laugh a little. “Well is god nice at least?” Henry asked. “Well as of right now he is.” I said. “Right now?” Henry asked. “Yes sometimes the people that we come to how often take some times to show their true colors. Like Crowley for example we thought that he was like all the other demons but then he became one of our closest friends.” I said. “Do you really think that god is going to betray you?” Henry asked. “I wouldn’t be shocked.” I said. “I’m sorry about Rowena.” Henry said. I gave him a sad smile. “The way that Sam talked about her the two of you sounded close.” Henry said. “We were. She even taught me some spells but only to use them in emergency.” I said as I pulled up the Henry house. “Thanks for the ride.” Henry said. “It’s no problem.” I said. “Are you going to be okay?” Henry asked. “I will be. I’m use to this be now.” I said “I’ll see you later.” Henry said. I nodded. Henry got out of the truck and walked inside. I let out a shaky breathe and I made my way back to the house.

The whole drive back I tried not to cry but a few tears ended up falling. I could hear my phone going off but I waited till I got back to the house to check my phone. It was only a few minutes later that I got back to the house. I turned off the truck and pulled out the key then I grabbed my phone to see a text from Bev telling me to meet everyone at Bill’s house tomorrow. I grabbed my things as I got out of the truck and walked back in the house. I went straight to my room grabbing some clothes and went to go take a bath. I closed the door to my bathroom as I turned on the water. While the tub filled with water I got undressed and got in the tub. I pulled my legs up to my chest as I started to cry.

I stayed in the tub for thirty minutes when I heard knocking on the bathroom door. “Hey kiddo you hungry?” Dean asked. “I guess.” I said. “Well hurry up okay dinner is almost ready.” Dean said. “Alright I’ll be out in a minute.” I said. “Alright kiddo.” Dean said. I could hear him walking away. I let the water out as I stood up in the tub grabbing my towel wrapping it around myself. I dried off and put on my clothes. I took my dirty clothes to my room then went to the kitchen where Sam and Dean were already eating. I walked to the empty chair and sat down. “Did you have any trouble taking Henry home?” Sam asked. “No thankfully he’s dad wasn’t home yet.” I said. “That’s good.” Dean said. I nodded as I started to eat some but not much really. I just really wanted to go back to my room. “I think I’m going to turn in early. I have to meet everyone at Bill’s house.” I said. “What are you kids going to do?” Dean asked. “I don’t know Bev just asked me to meet them there.” I said as I got up. “Night kiddo.” Dean said. “Night Y/n.” Sam said. I nodded a little then made my way back to my room. I turned off my lights then I went to lay down and cried myself to sleep.

I woke up and I check the time on my phone. I saw that I had a text from Bev saying that she was heading to bill’s house and she had given me his address. I quickly got dressed then brushed my hair and teeth. I grabbed my small bag putting a small gun and my angle blade in. I slipped on my boots and grabbed my phone. When I walked out of my room and made my way out of the house I saw that Sam and Dean were in the kitchen. “I’m heading out boys.” I said. “Alright kiddo.” Dean said. I walked out of the house and sorta rushed to Bill’s house. As I was walking to Bill’s house Bev sent me another text telling me to meet them in Bill’s garage.

When I was walking up Bill’s driveway I saw that everyone was outside talking amongst themselves. I also saw a boy I’ve never seen before. But I saw that his skin was darker so I knew this was the kid that Henry was messing with. Richie was the first one to notice me. “You look like shit.” Richie said. “Richie shut up.” Eddie said. “For once Richie’s right. You look rough Y/n are you okay?” Stan asked. “My brothers and I just got word that a family member died.” I said. Bev was quick to come and give me a hug. “That sucks. How’d they die?” Richie said. “Just shut up Richie. She doesn’t have to tell us she doesn’t have to.” Bev said as she turned back glaring at him. “Who’s this guys?” I asked trying to get off the topic of death. “I’m Mike Hanlon. I’m sorry to hear about your family member.” Mike said. I smiled weakly. “Thanks. I already had a talk with Henry and he won’t bother you anymore.” I said. Mike looked in shocked at me. “How did you do that hot legs?” Richie asked. “Well my brothers and I are helping him with some personal stuff.” I said. “C-c-come on guys.” Bill said as he walked into his garage and we all followed him.

When we walked in I noticed a projector was sat up and there were chairs near it. I shrugged it off and went to sit down in one of the chairs. Then everyone else started to walk in and sat down. Bill was putting up a map of Derry as Stan and Bev covered the windows and Mike closed the door making it dark enough for us to see. I noticed there was a storm drain marked. “That’s where Georgie disappeared. There’s the ironwork and the black spot. Everywhere it happens it’s all connected by the sewers. And they all meet up at. ” Bill said. “The well house.” Ben said. “It’s in the house on neibolt street.” Stan said. “You mean that creepy ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?” Richie asked. “Wait Eddie isn’t that the house that you saw the clown at?” I asked looking at Eddie who was taking a hit from his inhaler. “I hate that place. It always feel like it’s watching me.” Bev said. “Y/n right that’s where I saw it. That’s where I saw the clown.” Eddie said. “That’s where it lives.” Bill said. Which caused Eddie to take another hit from inhaler. “I can’t imagine anything ever wanting to live there.” Stan said. “Can we stop talking about this? I can barely breathe. This is summer. We’re kids. I can barely breathe. “I’m up here having a fucking asthma attack. I’m not doing this.” Eddie said as he got up having a panic attack as he torn the map down. “What the hell? Put the map back.” Bill said. Eddie shook his head as the projector started to have a mind of its only. I took off my bag setting it on the ground and pulled out my angel blade in case this would end badly. Then picture of Bill’s family appeared. “What happened?” Bill asked. “What’s going on?” Stan asked. “Guy’s if I tell you to haul ass you do it.” I said. “I got it. Hold on. Guys.” Mike said. I slowly got up holding my blade to my side. “All of you get behind me. Now!” I said. I heard as everyone started to rushed behind me. “What the fuck is that?” Richie asked probably noticing my blade. Then the projector stopped on a family picture as it zoomed in on Georgie. “Georgie.” Bill said. “Bill?” Stan asked. Then it went from zooming in on Georgie to zooming in on Bill’s mom. Then it started to turn into the clown. “What the fuck?” Richie yelled. “It’s IT!” Bill yelled. “Get out of here guys!” I yelled but no one moved. “What the fuck is that? What the fuck is that?” Richie yelled. “Get the hell out of here!” I yelled. “I don’t know!” Eddie yelled. “Turn it off! Turn it off!” Bev yelled. Then Mike kicked to projector to the ground and the clown was gone. Then is moved slides and it was back looking at Stan. I grabbed him shoving him behind me. The projector moved slides three more time before it disappeared again. I brought my angel blade closer to me to get ready to stab it. Then when the projector changed slides again the clown appeared to be bigger half of it was sticking out from the wall. I stabbed it in the side of the face making let out a cry of pain as it grabbed me with one hand fling me back. I was slammed against a wall as I felt my angel blade get knocked out from my hand. I quickly got up as I saw that the clown was now crawling towards Bev. I saw my blade as I grabbed it and ran over to Bev as I used the clown legs to get myself on it back stabbing it. Right as I did Ben and Mike got the door open making IT disappear which also made me fall to the ground landing on my feet.

Everyone was very out of breath. “Is everyone okay?” I asked. They all looked in disbelief at me. “What the fuck is that?” Richie asked pointing to my blade. “That’s not important.” I said as I went to grab my bag and put in back in. “Not important. First the bag of weapons now you have a fucking sword.” Eddie said. “That was not a sword. It’s just a blade.” I said. “Why do you need a bag of weapon?” Richie asked. “And I told you all to haul ass if I said so and you didn’t listen to me. That thing could have killed one of you.” I said. “What were you going to do? Kill it? It saw us. It saw us and it knows where we are.” Eddie said. “It always did. So let’s go.” Bill said. “Go? Go where?” Ben asked. “Neibolt. That’s where Georgie is.” Bill said. “After that?” Stan asked. “Yeah it’s summer. We should be outside.” Richie said. “If you say it’s summer one more fucking time.” Bill said. “Stop let me and my brothers handle this. None of you go to Neibolt do you understand me.” I said. “How can your brothers and you handle this their cops.” Eddie said. “No they’re not. They’re not cops they never were.” I said. “Then what in the fuck do they do?” Richie asked. “We hunt monster and save people.” I said. “What in the fuck does that mean?” Richie asked. “What in the hell do you think it means Richie. We have travel all over and kill things like that clown. Now all of you are staying right here do I make myself clear? None of you have ever had to face something like this okay. We have. So let out handle this okay. Now I’m going to go call them and the THREE of us are going to go to Neibolt and take care of this if any of you move an inch it will not be pretty understand?” I said. All of them nodded but Bill. “Bill I like you but if you so as much move a hair you will not like what will happen do you understand.” I said. It took a second but Bill nodded. “Thank you.” I said taking a few steps away as I pulled out my phone and called Dean. “What up kiddo?” Dean asked. “I need you and Sam to meet me at the run down house on Neibolt street right now.” I said. “Is something wrong kiddo?” Dean asked. “Bill! Wait!” Bev yelled. “Son of a bitch. Just do it Dean.” I said as I hung up walking back to where everyone else was. “We tried to stop him.” Stan said. “Let’s go meet Sam and Dean at Neibolt to stop Bill.” I said. Everyone nodded. “If you don’t listen to them don’t think I won’t have the king of hell bring down a world of hurt.” I said. Everyone else got on their bikes and I got on Bev bike behind her putting my hands on her shoulders.

By the time we got to the Neibolt house Sam and Dean were already there and they were talking to Bill. Everyone got off their bikes making their way over to them. “Guys wait let them finish talking to Bill first.” I said. “They really look mad.” Stan said. “They’re not guys. They just don’t want people to get hurt trying to do what we do. You guys are kids and you need to let people who know what they’re doing take care of this okay.” I said. “You’re a kid two Y/n.” Eddie said. “True but unlike you guys I was raised into this.” I said. “Is that why you came here? Why you asked so many questions about the Creed family?” Stan asked. “Yes. We already took care for them.” I said as I crossed my arms to my chest. “You killed them?” Ben asked. “Yes.” I said. “What the fuck why did you kill them?” Richie asked. “They were not human anymore. They died and the wendigo had brought them back. We did want we always have to do.” I said. “What about the little boy?” Bev asked. “He wasn’t harmed or brought back by the wendigo. We call Mrs. Creed folks and they have him.” I said. Then my phone started to ring. “I’ll be back guys.” I said as I stepped away to answer my phone. I saw that is was Cass. “Hey Cass is everything okay?” I asked. “Y/n you need to get here with Sam and Dean now.” Cass said. “It’s time isn’t it?” I asked. “Yes it is.” Cass said. “Okay. See you soon Cass.” I said. “See you soon Y/n I love you.” Cass said. “I love you too Cass.” I said as I hung up then I ran over to Sam and Dean. “What wrong kiddo?” Dean asked. “Cass just called. We need to go now.” I said. “It’s time.” Sam said. I nodded. “You’re just going to leave? What about IT?” Bill asked. “Don’t worry about that now kid. We’ll handle this when we get back okay.” Dean said. “Bill we won’t be gone long okay. I promise that we will deal with IT as soon as we get back okay. But if we do not deal with this now it will not be good okay.” I said. Bill gave us a small nodded. “Go home kids. All of you.” Dean said as we made our way to the impala. “I’ll talk to you guys later okay.” I said as I got in. Once Sam and Dean got in Dean was quick to speed off to where Kelly Kline and Cass were.

Supernatural Taglist: @darkqueennox

#supernatural imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #it imagine #pennywise #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #vic criss #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #kelsee's works #Do not reblog unless it's from me

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

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To Travel Through the World and Not Be Alone (Good Omens Fic)

Last week I asked for some more fluffy prompts, and @sparkkeyper suggested Crowley getting flustered and turning into a snake. Well, it looks like I’ve used up all my “Short Fic” mojo for the time being, as the result was over 10k and is available on AO3.

I really, really tried to make this one light and silly, but my brain does not operate that way, and so...a somewhat emotional deconstruction of the trope I guess?

Aziraphale stepped out from the dubious shelter of a sharply angled rock, shaking the last of the rain from his wings. Since leaving Eden the weather had certainly become much more variable. Days so hot his skin ached, nights that left him shaking with cold, a dryness that got into his mouth and eyes, and then – quite unexpectedly – more rain! Not as much as the first time, of course, but unpleasant enough.

The demon, Crawly, had been walking by his side, as he generally did, nattering on about the way sand moved in the wind and something about camel noses, but he trailed off as the rain began to fall. Aziraphale had lifted his wing to offer a bit of protection, until he noticed the rock in the distance, just tall enough for two man-shaped beings to crouch behind. Perfect, he’d thought and quickly gave Crawly’s hand a tug, intending to lead him over. Instead, the demon had all but run from him, vanishing into the night without another word.

Odd, that.

Stretching his arms in the bright morning sunlight, Aziraphale took a deep breath. Lovely, really, the slightly moist smell of the air after a rain. He suspected it would be even more pleasant once they found a place a bit more like the Garden itself – lush and green, rather than this endless expanse of sand, stone, and stunted trees.

He could see the humans up ahead, packing up their camp. The shelter they’d found had been no better, and Aziraphale hoped the cold and the damp hadn’t done any harm to the Woman or the child she carried within her. Quite a lot was riding on that yet-unborn human. There was still a chance the whole of humanity could end, now, here, in the blink of an eye. But the Man put a hand on the Woman’s shoulder, and she smiled, shaking her head, and helped him pick up their supplies.

As they moved out, Aziraphale began to follow after, but stumbled as some sort of black shadow twisted away into the brush, moving too quickly for him to make out. His body helpfully supplied a massive dose of adrenaline, which sent Aziraphale’s heart racing.

Steady on, he warned himself. It would take some getting used to, these human instincts, but there was no reason he couldn’t control himself. He was, after all, an angel. Aziraphale forced his breath back into a steady rhythm, expelled the unneeded chemicals from his system. That was better. He squinted at the line of dried-out bushes, then tilted back his head to scan the sky, but whatever had cast the shadow seemed long gone.

Well. Probably nothing important.

Already, the humans were fading into the distance, but it wouldn’t be difficult to keep up. Day by day, the Woman grew larger about the middle, and their pace slowed. The real danger was not accidentally overtaking them, or stumbling across them at rest and revealing themselves.

Both he and Crawly had received orders to observe the humans until their child was born. Not to protect, or disrupt, or involve themselves in any way – simply to observe. As for how to deal with each other – they’d been given no instruction whatsoever.

And so, for the past week, they’d passed their days traveling together, trailing behind the humans unseen. Aziraphale had expected it to be a time of silent contemplation, but Crawly had apparently never heard of such a thing. He constantly pestered Aziraphale with questions, tried to make conversation about topics that, if not technically forbidden, were certainly better left alone. He crouched sometimes, digging around in the sand, never saying what he was looking for. It was an annoyance, but whenever he was out of sight, Aziraphale found himself worrying. What is he getting up to now? And when will he be back?

He found he didn’t like being alone. Which was absurd – he was an angel – a Guardian. Being alone for long stretches of time was part of his job description, his very being. And yet, in the same way his body was programmed to overreact to every shadow, it also needed to have other bodies around, to see them, hear them, possibly even to touch them. Unfortunately, until the Woman delivered her child and Aziraphale was allowed to reveal himself to the humans, his only option was the strange demon who talked too much and wandered off without warning.

Just as Aziraphale was certain he would lose sight of the humans – and was making up his mind to leave without the demon, and let him find his own way – Crawly materialized, stepping out from behind a sand dune and shuffling over to Aziraphale.

“It’s about time,” the angel said in a low voice, ignoring the unwelcome wave of relief. “I hope you’re not planning to leave me waiting for you like this all the time. And where, precisely, did you go?”

“Not far.” Crawly shrugged, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Anyway. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you? We agreed not to interfere until the child’s birth – these humans been through enough, Crawly, and they don’t need you—”

“Sssss’not that.” His lips twisted as if he’d eaten something sour, then pressed flat again. “Didn’t go anywhere near them. Promise.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure he believed that, but up ahead the humans had already vanished into the heat-hazy distance, apart from the flare of the flaming sword and a long line of dark footprints. “If you say so. Keep up now, Crawly, there’s a good fellow.”

After two more weeks, their path began to run alongside a stony ridge. The base of it was cool, a little damp, and small flowers grew there, shielded from the sun. The humans had paused up ahead, and so Aziraphale stood watching them, grateful for a chance to rest in the shade.

Crawly, on the other hand, was causing some sort of trouble again.

“Look at these!” He tugged at one of the plants. “Have you ever seen anything like them?”

Aziraphale glanced down. Tiny flowers, just a speck of white or red on a thick stem growing out of a mass of green, low but thick. “We had much larger ones in the Garden,” Aziraphale commented. The humans were gathering rocks, it seemed, tapping them against the exposed stone of the ridge.

“Yeah, but look!” He’d been going on like this all day, digging at plants, collecting funny stones, running over to show each to Aziraphale, as proudly as if the demon had created them himself. It didn’t seem to be harmful or wicked behavior, but Aziraphale couldn’t decide what to make of it. “No water, no sunlight, barely even any soil to root in. You wouldn’t think anything could grow here. But they—oops.”

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

“No, just – look I pulled off the flower. The rest is fine.” Crawly wandered over just as the humans seemed to finish their task. The Man took the Woman’s hand – how odd, to walk like that, yet it didn’t seem to slow them down – and together they headed eastwards. Aziraphale stepped out of the shadow of the wall, and bumped directly into the demon. Crawly skittered back, clearly struggling with his own adrenaline, though Aziraphale had mastered that particular unwanted reaction ages ago.

“Terribly sorry,” the angel said, brushing his hands down his robe. Crawly’s dirt-smeared arms had left a mark, but he found he repeated the action more times than necessary. “But, please, Crawly – learn to pay attention to where you stand.” Another brush of his hands. It was soothing, in a way.

“I meant to be standing there.” The demon scowled. “I was going to show you…here.” He thrust the flower towards Aziraphale.

It was a bit unusual. Formed into a little cup, petals strangely thick to store the rare water of the desert. A sturdy little plant, a survivor, but beautiful in its own way. He plucked it from Crawly’s fingers, in order to study it from every angle. Their fingers brushed each other in passing, and Aziraphale found he was rather more aware of the contact than justified for such a minor thing. “It’s…quite nice, I suppose.”

“Good.” Crawly stepped back, fingers twisting in his robe. “Um. You can have that.”

“I see. And…what am I meant to do with it?”

Crawly shrugged. “Whatever you want. Just thought, you know. Flowers. Very angelic. Let’s go.”

He hurried along the ridge while Aziraphale looked at the flower again, fighting back a smile. Did it look better after their now, after their brief exchange of words? He found himself admiring the way the petals faded from dark to light.

“Oi! Angel!” His head jerked up. Crawly had stopped at the same spot where the humans had paused. “Come look at this!”

Tucking the flower into his sleeve, Aziraphale quickly stepped beside him, glancing over to see what the fuss was about.

“Oh, that is…” but words escaped him. Somehow, the humans had made marks in red and yellow, white and black across the stone. Not just marks, shapes.

Aziraphale could see two rough, humanoid figures standing hand-in-hand, one holding a brilliant yellow line. The sun illuminated the rock ahead of the figures, and cast a deep shadow behind. Other, simpler marks indicated parts of their journey – a hint of storm clouds, the line of the Garden Wall, a lion, crouched, ready to pounce.

“I think…” Aziraphale’s gaze traced it, east to west. “I believe this is what they call art.”

“Huh. Thought it was gonna be, y’know. Fancier.”

“Well, they’re just starting out. I’m sure we’ll see improvements soon.”

“Right.” Crawly was digging around in the dirt again, and stood quickly with a lump of charcoal. “Just need to make a few adjustments.” He rubbed the dark, crumbling stone against the ridge, making a black streak some distance behind the two figures.

“Crawly! What are you – you can’t – that isn’t allowed!”

“Oh, what, now it’s forbidden to make marks with rocks? Heaven is nothing but stupid rules these days.”

“No – yes – you’re distorting something the humans created!”

“I’m making it more accurate.” He stepped back, studying the newest figure. Thin and black, legs splayed in a funny way, arms spread by its sides. “That’s me, following behind. Hand me some red ochre, gotta do my hair, too.”

“This is, without a doubt – we’re supposed to be observers, not – not making ourselves part of the – what are you doing?”

Fingers now coated in ground-up lime, Crawly was dabbing another figure onto the stone. Brilliant white, and with a bit more care taken to the limbs, this one stood close beside the black one.

“Adding you, of course. Little me can’t be up there alone.” He glanced at the two human figures, then rubbed at his own one last time, extending the white figure’s arm to end…just where the black’s did.

Hand-in-hand.

“What do you think?” Crawly asked, rolling his neck as if he’d just finished some strenuous task.

“It’s…” Aziraphale stepped closer. “I mean, you really shouldn’t…” His mind raced, trying to think of any response that would be even remotely appropriate. This was a…a gross breach of protocol, surely, and Aziraphale had to…put his foot down, make it clear such things were not acceptable.

Instead, rather without his direction, his hand drifted over to clasp the demon’s.

Once again, it seemed the work gained more beauty the longer he looked at it. And Aziraphale found he was very aware of Crawly’s hand, just as he had been of his fingers. Crawly squeezed his hand, an uncertain, welcoming gesture, and Aziraphale felt a strange tingle, a rush of warmth roiling up his arm, filling his head. He squeezed back—

“Sorry. Gotta.” Crawly dropped his hand and bolted away, back up the path they had just walked down.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that isn’t even—!”

Vanished.

Aziraphale waited a long moment, wondering if he would return. It gave him ample time to study the wall, the little flower. His own hand.

Then, with a sigh, he followed after the humans alone.

When Crawly returned, just before sunset, he didn’t mention running off. Or the art. Or the flower that Aziraphale had carefully set aside on a rock where he had stopped to rest.

Probably best to forget it all, then.

More weeks passed, enough that Aziraphale lost count, and the humans came to a river.

Not perfectly clear-blue water running merrily over rocks and under sweeping trees, as they’d had in Eden, but a large brownish affair making its way between steep banks covered in reeds. There were some trees, larger than the ones in the desert, and fruits hung from them for the humans to gather. It was painstaking work, as they grew too high, or over thorny patches. Some fruits were too ripe, others not quite ready. The Woman was also in no state to be climbing trees, so the Man did most of the work, tossing fruits down for her to catch.

“I know we said not to interfere,” Aziraphale said, rubbing his palms together. Another habit that seemed ingrained in the body, but it seemed to help his worries. Perhaps he’d keep it. “But surely it wouldn’t hurt to – to lend a hand, would it?”

“Wuzzat?”

The angel turned, ready to repeat the question, until he saw something that put the humans out of his mind entirely. Crawly had tied his robe up around his knees and was walking along in the river.

“What on earth are you doing, you – you strange creature?”

“It’s hot,” the demon griped, scooping up some water to pour over his head. More of it got on his robes than anywhere else.

“Well, now you’ll be hot and covered with dripping wet clothing, does that really sound more appealing?”

“Don’t know, haven’t tried it.” Crawly reached into the water again, drenching his sleeves. He frowned as they emerged. “No, that’s…heavier. Not very comfortable. But…a little less hot.” He squeezed his sleeve, water dripping back into the river. “Could take the clothing off entirely,” he mused. “That might work.”

“Now you’re being absurd. It isn’t allowed!”

“It isn’t?”

“No! There are – Crawly there are rules.”

“Only for the humans. And look, they’re not wearing nearly as much as I am.” He tugged at his dripping garment again. “I can wrap some leaves around my bottom if that will make you feel better.”

“It’s not about making me feel better! It’s – it’s the principle of the thing. You and I should be setting a good example for the humans, not…not…” He waved helplessly as Crawly arched his back to dip his hair into the water.

“This is a good example! Problem solving! Using the available resources to make yourself more comfortable. If the humans bothered to look back and see us, they might learn a lot.” He flipped his hair forward, spraying droplets everywhere. “You wanna join me?”

“Certainly not.” Aziraphale rubbed his hand at the back of his neck, where itchy sweat was beginning to accumulate. “We have more important things to worry about right now, like—” He glanced back to where the Man lowered himself from the tree, seemingly entirely unharmed. The Woman smiled and handed him a piece of fruit, which he accepted gratefully.

“You know the humans are fine without you.”

That, surprisingly, hurt. Aziraphale found, more and more lately, he had a strong desire to join the humans. To walk beside them, to hear what they said, to laugh when they laughed. When he watched them walk away together, he felt…oddly empty.

An emptiness that vanished when he turned back to Crawly. Much as the demon grated on his nerves, Aziraphale found he enjoyed his company. When he spotted Crawly crouching in the shade of a tree, long fingers scratching at the ground, or scrambling up a ridge of stone to see what was on the top – there was always a bubble of anticipation, an eagerness to see what he’d found, to see that shining excitement in his eyes.

He felt it now, as Crawly waded deeper into the water to investigate a log floating in the current.

“I mean, m’not saying you should give up or anything, but…you can’t spend every day worrying about them. They’ll be fine.”

“Of course I spend every day worrying. I’m a Guardian, it’s my nature to want to help and protect those around me.”

“Ohhhh, is that why you’re always nagging me? Or is it because—”

Without warning, the log split into an enormous, tooth-filled jaw, lunging forward to snap at Crawly. With a yelp, the demon tumbled backwards, kicking water at the revealed crocodile, scrambling back towards the shore.

Aziraphale rushed forward, colliding with Crawly, wrapping one arm firmly over his chest to pull him back to safety; the other hand he flapped at the snapping creature. “Shoo!” he called and, just to be safe, put a note of angelic command in his voice: “WE ARE OF NO INTEREST TO YOU.”

The crocodile snapped its jaws one more time before turning away, lowering itself again to float downriver.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, trying to settle his mind. The adrenaline had flooded him again, but this time it had helped, giving him the speed he needed to react. Perhaps these instincts could be useful, if properly regulated. Unlike Crawly, who still clutched at Aziraphale’s arm, heart racing so that the angel could feel it. He pressed Crawly back a little more firmly against his own chest. “I hope you’ve, ah, learned your lesson.” He wasn’t sure what lesson exactly they should take from this, but he needed to continue his policy of blanket disapproval of all demonic nonsense.

“That thing—” Crawly started, but his voice pinched off, too tight to speak.

“That thing could have bitten your leg off,” Aziraphale chided, brushing Crawly’s torso with his free hand, making sure everything was intact. “I’m not sure if I can heal a demon at all, and I certainly can’t regrow limbs. You must learn to be more careful, my dear fellow.”

His eyes met Crawly’s enormous golden ones, and a heat rose in Aziraphale’s face that had nothing to do with the sun and the desert.

“I, uh…” Crawly very nearly blinked. He tilted his head back a little further and his breath brushed across Aziraphale’s cheek in a startling way.

“Yes. Well.” Aziraphale let him go, though his arms seemed slow to obey.

Immediately, Crawly scrambled away, jumping into the thickest part of the reeds.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Crawly! Is it too much to ask that you comport yourself with a little…” But when he looked along the riverbank, there was no sign of the demon.

Aziraphale took a good long while to search – until the humans had finished their mid-morning meal and begun walking again – but all he managed to find was the usual wildlife: rodents, reptiles, a few birds.

“Typical,” Aziraphale muttered. Such strange behavior had become increasingly common as they traveled, and the angel had learned by now that if Crawly didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. Best to just keep walking while the demon got over today’s mood; Crawly always managed to catch up in the end.

Sure enough, well after sunset, a dark-robed figure slunk over to the spot Aziraphale had chosen to rest in. “Angel,” he mumbled in greeting.

“And where were you this time?” He felt another wave of relief, but sternly reminded himself not to encourage the demon. “Honestly, I half thought some river creature had devoured you, and it would serve you right for – for disturbing it…”

Crawly didn’t say anything, merely dropped onto the ground and stared at the light of the humans’ fire, far ahead. Not even a glance at Aziraphale.

When the silence had drawn on too long, Aziraphale lowered himself to sit beside Crawly. “I…am glad you’re unhurt, you know.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, so they sat in silence for the rest of the night.

“Aha!” Crawly crowed, leaping from one rock to the next, pale skin flashing in the sunlight. “I knew this was going to be better!”

“I’m sure it is,” Aziraphale said as neutrally as possible, trying to keep his eyes on the path ahead.

“You can’t even imagine! I feel so much lighter! I can finally move!” He dropped into the river with a splash, Aziraphale turning quickly to make sure Crawly was unharmed. But, no, he stood in the shallows, tossing water all over his bare skin. “This is…Angel, you have to try this!”

“And why, precisely, would I want to do that?”

“I told you, it feels good. Washes off the sweat and – I dunno. Like the heat can’t touch you through the water. Just come down, I’ll show you.”

“Crawly, get out of there. I’m not about to see you be devoured by wildlife again.”

“It’s ffffine.” But he hopped out, dashing up the path to a fruit tree. Before Aziraphale could say anything, he’d pulled himself up onto the lowest branch.

“Crawly! No, get down, you’ll break your neck and…and…”

“Why do you worry so much?” He pulled himself higher and higher, vanishing among the leaves. “I’m a demon, I’m not going to fall unless I want to.”

“I’ve told you, I’m a Guardian, it’s my nature—”

But surely Crawly couldn’t hear him all the way up there. A head emerged from the crown of the tree, gazing out into the distance as the wind stirred his bright red hair, sending streamers in every direction. He glanced down at Aziraphale and waved and, quite at a loss, the angel waved back.

He almost wanted to join Crawly. Not with the nakedness, though his robes were getting to be something of a burden, ending each day heavy with dust and sweat. But it seemed peaceful up there, cooler. And ever since the incident with the crocodile, Aziraphale had been feeling a strange urge, to be near the demon, to touch him, to ensure that he was safe.

Perhaps it was related to the instinct that compelled him towards proximity to the humans. That made sense; lacking options, his mind was trying to reach out for the only other being available. Though that didn’t really explain the strength of the urge, or why it seemed to grow daily as they spent more time together.

Crawly’s head disappeared. Branches rustled, leaves falling along the riverbank, and suddenly he dropped onto the lowest branch, grinning like he had a secret. “Look, I know you’re hot, Angel. Just admit it.”

“Certainly not! I am perfectly content as I am,” Aziraphale lied, trying to subtly flap the collar of his robes to let in a little air. “Perhaps it is your…Fallen nature, but I am completely immune to the effects of the environment.”

“Are you? Here, catch.” Something flew towards Aziraphale’s head, and his hands barely snapped up in time to grab the oddly shaped, greenish fruit. “I think that’s a pear,” Crawly continued. “Also, pretty sure it’s ripe.”

Golden eyes sparkling with excitement, he grabbed the branch with two hands and leaned back a little with an eager smile.

Aziraphale studied the fruit, turning it over in his hands. Well. No point in being rude, was there? He raised it to his lips and took a bite.

The inside was soft, but not too soft, with an oddly gritty texture. More importantly, it flooded his tongue with a mildly flavored liquid, sweet and refreshing. He’d gotten so used to his mouth being dry, Aziraphale had stopped thinking about the discomfort, but this – this was exactly what he needed. He eagerly took a few more bites.

“Oh,” he finally said, glancing up at Crawly, who still watched from his perch. “This is absolutely marvelous.” He wiped the juice from his chin and smiled.

Crawly grinned back, swinging his legs with a bit too much excitement, but it was an infectious excitement, bubbling up in Aziraphale’s chest with every bite.

Until, suddenly, Crawly’s expression fell, as did he, dropping from the tree to scramble about on all fours, racing back the way they’d come. “Don’t wait for me,” he called when he managed to get his feet under him, and by the time Aziraphale had even turned around, he had vanished again.

Well. At least it was quieter now. Aziraphale took another bite of his pear and continued his walk.

He was, by this point, getting used to Crawly’s unexplained disappearances. He never arrived later than the following dawn, and sure enough he caught up just as the humans were settling down to sleep. Once again, he didn’t say much or even look at Aziraphale, merely crouched on the ground, watching the distant firelight.

The next morning, however, was a different story.

“Ow! Stop that, it hurts.”

“Well, I do apologize, but I need to know what’s wrong!” Aziraphale rubbed his finger again across Crawly’s now bright-red skin, peppered here and there with some truly nasty looking blisters. It was extremely hot to the touch.

“Sssstop!” Crawly tried to wriggle away, but he was firmly trapped: Aziraphale sat on his back, legs pinning the demon’s hips in place, one hand lightly on his shoulder, but ready to press it flat into the dirt if required.

“If you don’t stop moving around, I’m not going to be able to help you.”

“You aren’t – this is torture, that’s what it is. Bloody sadistic angel!”

“It would appear you have burns covering every inch of your skin. How on earth does that even happen? What were you getting up to yesterday?”

“Nothing! Just – you saw. Walking around. Wanted some space’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Ngk. Might have. Stretched out on a rock to bask for a bit at noon. Felt good.”

Aziraphale sat, considering the boiled red of Crawly’s back and his own slightly pink hands, the itch at the back of his neck. He’d been working on a hypothesis, and this would seem to be his first clear bit of proof.

“Crawly, I believe you’ve been burnt by the sun.”

“Didn’t go to the sun,” Crawly grumbled.

“This is no laughing matter. I understand burns can cause permanent damage to humans.” He brushed his fingers down Crawly’s spine, carefully avoiding the blisters, but even that was enough to send the demon squirming. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes it hurts! What have I been saying? Are you even listening?”

“I am,” Aziraphale assured him, looking for any spot that was still mostly pale. “How about this?” He pressed fingers into the side of Crawly’s ribs, just under the armpit.

“Ssssssss…not as bad, but yes.” At least he’d stopped struggling, but still Crawly’s fingers curled into the dirt, scraping deeply in the brown clay.

“If I’m right, the burn is the worst in areas that received the most exposure to the sun, and only light or incidental in areas that were shaded or protected.” There weren’t many of those. Crawly was a very thorough basker.

“Wait, really?” He started to twist around to look at Aziraphale, then cringed and looked forward again. “You think human skin can be burned just from being out in the heat?”

“Perhaps. I’m still gathering evidence.”

“Well, the humans aren’t getting burned!”

Aziraphale bit back another remark about Crawly’s Fallen nature. That wouldn’t be helpful here. “I’m not quite sure why that is,” he admitted. “But my own burns are very minor, perhaps theirs are the same. Certainly, they keep to the shade as much as possible, particularly in the hottest part of the day. Meanwhile, you are the first one to spend half the day lying naked in direct sunlight.”

“Not half the day.” Crawly whimpered a little as Aziraphale pressed his shoulders down one more time. “Seems a major design flaw, you ask me,” he grumbled.

“Hush, now.” Aziraphale lifted his hands and rubbed them together, summoning just a thin line of celestial power. “This may sting a little.”

“What? What are you doing now? Everything stings!” Another squirm as Crawly tried to pull free, but there was very little chance of that.

“I’m going to heal you, if you can hold still, you ridiculous thing.”

“Heal me?” Crawly went still and stiff. “Why?”

“Why? Because you’re in pain. What other reason do I need?” He reached a finger towards the worst burn, then hesitated. Could he dilute his power even further? “What did you think I was doing back here?”

“Dunno. Thought you were just…curious. Or wanted to learn for the humans.”

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale traced his finger across Crawly’s shoulders. It left behind a trail of bright white, which rippled out several finger-widths in every direction, a wave of healing that left behind unburnt skin. He sighed in relief. “Well…there was that, too, but I thought I’d made it clear by now, I have no interest in seeing you come to harm. Even if it is harm by your own doing,” he added, so that Crawly could be sure he wasn’t entirely off the hook for his choices.

“So…you’ll…heal all of it? Entirely? No…leaving scars so I learn my lesson?”

“Crawly! How could you even think such a thing?” He pushed his fingers to the healed skin. It was a bit darker, browner than before, with a smattering of darker spots. “Does this hurt? Or here?”

“No…it’s…it’s good.” He lay his head on the ground, seeming subdued.

“Wonderful. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Down by the river’s edge, the humans finished picking up their woven mats and bundles of food. “They’re getting away,” Crawly muttered as they wandered down the river.

“We’ll catch up,” Aziraphale assured him, carefully applying just a touch of healing along his spine.

“You’re not worried? Thought it was your job.”

He glanced up, taking another look at the Woman, her blossoming belly, the Man helping her step over a patch of rough earth. He did feel an emptiness, a need to follow them, but it felt less important, less urgent, than the task in front of him. He smoothed away a particularly horrid patch of burn, and Crawly murmured with relief, a relief Aziraphale felt in his own chest.

What was this? The human need for proximity, an instinct he still couldn’t control? His own Guardian nature, perhaps, leading him to want to protect the being nearest to him?

Both of these, yes. And something more. Something that made him wish to see Crawly running across the riverbank, carefree and smiling again.

“Why did you disappear so suddenly anyway?” Aziraphale asked, carefully working on Crawly’s arm.

“Nrrrg. Just…wanted to be alone. Don’t you want to be alone sometimes?”

“Well…yes, but…” But I’d thought we were having a good time.

“Aaaaah, s’not fair!”

Aziraphale moved to kneel beside the demon, and Crawly rolled over, sitting up so he could watch Aziraphale heal his legs. “I used to handle actual stars, you know. In my bare hands! Now look, I can’t even stand in the light of one without…this.” He gestured to his still-burned front.

“You were fine for many days, Crawly. You just have to be careful.” The bottoms of his feet were fine, at least. Perhaps the thicker skin had helped protect them. “And, I think, keep your robes on. They seem to block the burning aspect of sunlight.”

“But I don’t want to be careful.” Aziraphale released his foot and Crawly crossed his legs tightly so the angel could start on his chest. “I want to explore. Experience things, everything, now while I can.”

“What do you mean, while you can? The world is going to be here for a good long while, regardless of what happens to the humans.”

“Mmmmph.” His shoulders hunched forward from something unrelated to the pain, and Crawly looked away. “Not supposed to tell you.”

“Ah.” His thumb ran across Crawly’s throat. “Then don’t.”

“I’m not…actually supposed to do anything when the child is born. Just, watch the humans, learn what I can, and then back to Hell until they decide what to do with me.” He shrugged, still not looking at the angel.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s fingers moved slowly across Crawly’s chest.

“Guess I surprised them all, with everything in the Garden. Don’t know what to do now, right? Your side has a Plan. My side needs information, to figure out what to do. So they gave me until the humans have their child, then I go back, tell them everything. Maybe...maybe they’ll send me back to Earth. Maybe they’ll send someone else. Maybe it’ll all get locked up in bureaucracy and they won’t make a decision until everything comes burning down.”

“I see.” Somehow, Aziraphale had assumed they had the same orders.

While the humans were banished from Eden, no Word had come down whether they were to be considered entirely lost. The Archangels had determined that, regardless of the status of the Man and the Woman, it was possible their child had not been completely corrupted. So Aziraphale was to assist in raising the young human, and any others that came along, asserting as much Heavenly influence as possible.

He’d thought Hell would want the same, that he and Crawly would be working…not together, but in parallel. A Guardian and a Troublemaker, guiding the little souls.

“Is that why...you’re always running around...investigating everything? Gathering information for your side?” He kept his fingers as steady as possible, tracing across Crawly’s stomach.

“Nah. Hell barely cares about the humans, you think they want to know about...flowers, and rocks, and little ducks? The way ants follow each other in lines that go on forever? No one gives a shit. I just - I want to see it all. So...I have something to remember when I’m down there again.”

“I see.” Aziraphale wished he had something more to say.

“Except I can’t do everything! Stupid…things…getting in the way. Stopping me from…what I want to do.”

“Well, your time is limited, it’s true.” Careful strokes under the eyes, sending a ripple of healing across his cheeks. That long nose was absolutely covered in tiny darker dots. “But…I don’t think this should stop you from experiencing everything you can.”

“Everything?”

Aziraphale ran his thumb across Crawly’s chin. It wasn’t necessary – all the burns were gone – but he found he couldn’t stop himself. Each touch made him feel…jittery. Electrified.

It was like the human bodies were made for contact, fingertips picking up invisible details, the bristle of little hairs, the flex of muscles at the edge of the mouth. Look, how perfectly his hand slotted on the side of Crawly’s face, cupping his jaw and cheek, thumb moving across the sharp cheekbone.

“Hnnnnngh.” Crawly shoved him back – not hard, but enough to give the demon room to scramble to his feet. “I’ll catch up.”

And once again, he vanished.

Sighing, Aziraphale called in the general direction he’d run off to, “Just make sure you don’t lie about in the sun again, I can’t be doing this every day.”

Seasons changed – hotter, cooler, wetter, drier. Aziraphale hadn’t yet learned how to mark the passage of time, but Crawly explained it had been almost half a year, then explained what a year was, then tried to explain how he could tell from the stars, then gave up.

The demon’s newly-browned skin seemed more resistant to the sun, but he still sometimes burned himself if he wasn’t careful. He took to wearing his robes again, but with sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Every few days he slunk back to Aziraphale for a fresh round of healing, staring determinedly at the ground between them while the angel cradled his hands and gently rubbed the burn off his forearms, the back of his neck, his cheeks. Afterwards, he usually scurried off to sit against a nearby tree.

The humans moved more slowly now, not just because the Woman’s child was nearly ready to arrive. Sometimes they would stay in one place for days at a time, experimenting with creating shelters for themselves out of leaves or reeds or branches. When they did move, it was only over short distances, trying a little closer to the trees, then a little farther from the river’s edge.

Aziraphale found he had a great deal more time now, and not much of an idea what to do with it.

He tried keeping closer to Crawly. To keep an eye on the demon, yes, but also because…it felt right. It made the hollowness he felt vanish for a little while, particularly whenever he saw that look in his golden eyes, the burning passion that was woven into every disrespectful question, every ill-advised endeavor. It was unlike anything Aziraphale had ever seen before. More and more, he found he could hardly look away.

He felt he needed to do more. When Aziraphale found a new and interesting type of berry, he wanted to share with Crawly, find out what he thought. When he greeted the demon on returning to their resting spot, he wanted to straighten his robes, his hair, rub a bit of dirt off his cheek. When they sat, he wanted to move closer, until their fingers brushed, until the warmth of another body tickled down his side.

And yet, any time he indulged one of these whims, the need for more only grew stronger.

Disgraceful, really. Maddening. If this was some sort of human instinct, perhaps he should return to Heaven and have the body adjusted. He could ignore the body’s need for sleep, for food, for almost anything else - there was no reason this one instinct should be so much more powerful than the rest, unless something was wrong.

Besides, his actions tended to send Crawly scampering off again, vanishing for most of the day.

It was very hard not to follow.

After the half-moon set, Aziraphale had very little to do apart from watching the banked fire in the distance and waiting for the sun to rise. Crawly wasn’t talking, for once, lying on his back nearby, either studying the stars or drifting off to sleep.

Aziraphale thought he saw some movement in the human camp, shadows at the edge of their shelter. They sometimes woke before dawn, but rarely did much apart from hold each other and talk in soft voices. Seeing it always made Aziraphale’s arms itch in a strange way. But there seemed to be too much movement this time.

“Crawly. Crawly!”

“Whaaaaa?” He shifted in his awkward, ungraceful sprawl but didn’t turn his eyes away from the stars.

“Can you see anything?”

“Mmmmh?”

“The humans!” It was Aziraphale’s angelic instincts this time, his Guardian mind telling him something was wrong, that he was needed. “Something is going on over there, but I can’t quite make it out.”

Slowly, too slowly, Crawly rolled onto his side and glanced at the shadowy figures. “S’fine. Just moving those reed mats around.” He slumped back, wriggling around again. “You think those things are comfortable?”

“They’ve been using them every night, so I imagine they are.” Aziraphale kept his eyes on the distant figures, even though Crawly seemed to have lost interest already.

“Cuz this ground. S’really starting to make my back hurt.” He arched his spine, stretching. “Another design flaw, you ask me. S’like this body isn’t even made to be bipedal. Hurts if you walk too much, hurts to sit, hurts to lay on the ground.”

“My back doesn’t hurt,” Aziraphale lied piously. “Perhaps you’re just using it wrong. I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to just…fling your limbs all over like that. Not to mention the way you walk.”

“What’s wrong with the way I walk?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale said, a little too quickly, pressing his lips together. Lately, Crawly had been trying to swagger, but he hadn’t quite gotten it down yet. It was more a meandering progression of flailing limbs, an embarrassment to watch, and Aziraphale always had an almost overwhelming urge to pull Crawly against him and tell him to stand still.

“S’right. Nothing wrong with that.” Crawly turned back to the stars again, deep in thought.

A flare of light drew Aziraphale’s attention, but it was just the Man building up the fire a bit, crouching outside the shelter. Unusual, he supposed, but everyone got restless sometimes. Seeing the flames reflected off the Man’s dark skin, Aziraphale felt himself relax. He wasn’t needed here, a thought that was both soothing and slightly disappointing.

A few more pokes at the fire, and the Man picked up another woven mat and carried it back inside.

Aziraphale could just make out the shadowy shape of the Man offering the mat to the Woman, shifting her onto it to lay more comfortably. Once again, Aziraphale felt that itch in his arms, that ache in his chest for a warmth that had nothing to do with fire. He was often alone, in the Garden, in Heaven – but only now, wandering the world, did it have a physical effect on him. Aziraphale wondered how much longer he could bear it.

He glanced over at Crawly, and for some reason remembered a pear offered on a hot day. It wasn’t wrong to give his body the refreshment it needed. Even if the offer was made by a demon. Surely, surely if his body had a comparable need for contact, there was no harm…

Aziraphale made a decision and rose to his feet.

“Here, this should make you more comfortable.” Crawly twisted around, and Aziraphale smiled a little at the shocked expression that crossed his face. The angel shook out the mat he’d miracled up, making it snap in the wind. It was modeled after the ones the humans used, but better; Aziraphale had a little insight into materials they hadn’t yet found in the world, ones that would be a bit softer, provide a little more support.

“Angel, what are you—?”

“You’ve complained enough for one night, haven’t you? I know how to take a hint.” One more shake and the mat stretched across the ground. “Go on. See if this makes your back feel any better.” He crouched on the ground beside it and smiled encouragingly.

“Look…s’not that bad. I was just. Making conversation.” Crawly rolled onto his side, but still eyed the mat as if it might turn into a crocodile.

“Fine. Let’s make conversation. I’ve designed a new sleeping mat and would like your opinion.” He pressed his hand against it, showing how the mat compressed slightly. “Do you think the one is enough? Sometimes the humans pile a few together, but that might not provide much advantage. Come, now, I want to know your thoughts.”

Crawly’s eyes finally flicked up to look into Aziraphale’s face, then shot back down to stare at the mat again. “It’s, ah…” Crawly ran one finger along the soft surface. “It’s big enough for two.”

“Is it?”

Aziraphale doubted his tone sounded as casual as he meant it. Already the heat was rising in his face. It was, of course, a foolish idea. And painfully obvious. But these human bodies were not designed to go for half a year with only minimal physical contact. He craved it, like he craved food, rest, a comfortable seat, and he just…very much needed to feel…closeness.

He’d thought he could resist it. He was supposed to be stronger than this.

“You don’t sleep.”

“You do.” He’d seen how the humans slept, the Man pressed against the Woman’s back, arm across her protectively. He thought about it at night, and sometimes during the day. There was no reason Aziraphale should want that, no reason he should have any desire to protect a demon, and yet…he did.

“I nap. During the day. When it’s hot.”

“There must be a reason they sleep at night.” Aziraphale leaned forward, pressing his hands on the mat. It was more than just a physical need. He wanted to see Crawly smile. Wanted to feel him slowly relax inside the circle of his arms, trusting and content. He wanted to whisper secrets in the darkness, like the humans did. They had no need to whisper, there was no one to overhear, and yet they did, and Aziraphale wanted to know why. “Let’s find out. You’re the curious one.” Hands a little closer, until they almost touched Crawly’s. “You told me you want to experience everything.”

“Tempting me?” Crawly didn’t smile. He looked tense, almost panicked. Aziraphale lifted a hand to reach towards him, and the demon flinched. “I…I can’t.”

Aziraphale’s stomach plummeted, a wave of shock, of disappointment, of shame. “Crawly…”

No. He wouldn’t argue. What more was there to say? This was his foolishness, Crawly had rejected it. There was no need to drag things out. “Of course.” A wave of his fingers, and the offending mat was gone. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Crawly still looked away, past the human encampment, away across the endless expanses of desert.

“I…didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Aziraphale said. No wonder Crawly always fled from him. He needed to learn…boundaries. Needed to learn control. His fingers had already reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind Crawly’s ear, but Aziraphale forced them to stop, hovering in the empty night. “It was never my intention to—”

Crawly grabbed his hand and, fast as anything, pressed his lips to the knuckles. Then, just as suddenly, he surged to his feet and started walking away.

“Wait!” He hadn’t let go of Aziraphale’s hand, and the angel pulled him back, so sharply Crawly nearly fell. “Don’t just – we need to talk about this, Crawly! What I’m feeling – I don’t understand it, but – if you feel it too—”

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re…let me go!”

“Crawly, please!” Aziraphale still knelt in the dirt, clinging to the demon’s hand in confused desperation. “Yes, these – these human emotions are confusing and intense, but we can’t just ignore them. It was foolish of me to try and act on them, but—”

“Don’t talk to me about human emotions, Angel, you have no idea—”

“Then tell me!” Aziraphale squeezed his hand, wishing Crawly would look at him. “Regardless of – of everything else, Crawly, I want to help. I care about you!”

The words seemed to echo through the empty plain, across the river, up to the stars above.

It really was that simple wasn’t it? Human emotions and Guardian instincts and everything else aside, Aziraphale had simply come to…care about his enemy.

“You—!” Golden eyes turned back, wide with shock. “You said – But I’m—”

Crawly jerked his hand free, stumbled back two steps, and fell.

Except that what landed on the ground was not a red-haired, pale-skinned demon, but an enormous black serpent with a red belly.

“…Crawly?”

The serpent stared at him a moment, then shot out across the desert.

“No, get back here!” Aziraphale ran after him, fast as he could go, but the black shadow moved too quickly. “Crawly, wait!” Already he was vanishing into the night. “Crawly, please! Let me help you!”

But the serpent had vanished, as Crawly always did.

Aziraphale found his legs were shaking, trembling, until he could hardly stand. Even tugging his sleeves and smoothing his robes was not enough to set things right. He stumbled across the brown sand to sit on a rock, trying to make sense of it all.

Two puzzles presented themselves: What had he just seen? And what had he just said?

I care about you. And not in a…Guardian Angel way, aloofly wishing to ensure his charge’s safety. This was something different, something not at all of Heaven. He thought of the way the humans took care of each other, as equals. Not just providing safety, but happiness, and taking it from the other in turn. There was a gentleness in their actions, hiding a deep burning passion that would quite possibly consume an angel. He certainly didn’t feel that for Crawly, but…could he? Was this how it started?

What he felt just now was worry. He knew Crawly had come to Earth as a serpent, of course, had seen that with his own eyes. He didn’t think the transformation had harmed Crawly, but…it wasn’t supposed to happen. His shift to a human form was supposed to be permanent.

And the way Crawly had transformed…the suddenness…his distress beforehand…it hadn’t seemed entirely voluntary.

As he sat there thinking, one long streamer of shadow detached itself from the night and slid closer, coiling itself by his feet.

“Crawly?” Familiar golden eyes reflected the light of the stars as the serpent’s head rose. “Can you still understand me?”

Slowly, the serpent – Crawly – nodded, then tilted his head to the side. Yes, but not well, Aziraphale guessed. That made sense; this form didn’t have ears, and demonic senses could overcome only so much.

“Are you hurt?” Crawly shook his head. “Can you…change back?” Another shake, and he looked up at the stars, slowly progressing across the sky. Not yet.

“Why…” Too many questions, buzzing around Aziraphale’s mind. Crawly was the one who knew how to handle questions. Where to even begin? “Why did you run away?”

“Sssssshame.” It was hard to make out the word in the hiss.

“Shame? But why would you feel…” Aziraphale slid off his rock, kneeling next to Crawly. “There’s…you don’t have to be ashamed.” The serpent pulled back, coiling into himself, tucking his head somewhere along his body until everything appeared to be a black knot of night.

“No, listen. I’m the one who should be ashamed.” Aziraphale reached a hand towards the cool black scales, but stopped just shy of them. “I…I have behaved reprehensibly. Saying…all manner of things. Touching you when you didn’t want to be touched. And my actions tonight…no. It was my choice to – to indulge, to explore these new emotions, but I never should have attempted anything without seeing if you felt the same. Crawly, I never wanted to upset you…”

As he spoke, the narrow head emerged from the coils and shook, indicating a negative.

“No? Am I…wrong about something?”

A nod, but Crawly wouldn’t meet his eyes. Something worse, perhaps? “Can you…tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Ssssss.” This time he could decipher nothing.

“That…let’s try another way.” Once again, Aziraphale stretched out a hand. Crawly pulled back his head, looking at it uncertainly until Aziraphale lowered it back to the ground. “Sorry. You don’t want to be touched, do you?”

A nod, followed by a complicated ripple down fifteen feet of serpent that might have been a shrug.

“Alright. Let’s see…did this happen all those times you ran off?” A nod. “And…do you have any control over it? Changing to this form, I mean.” A shake. “What about changing back?” A head tilt and another rippling shrug. What did that mean? Some control? He wasn’t certain if he had control?

Well, that wasn’t important right now.

“Do you know what…causes this?” Nod, again not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “Can you tell me?”

“Sssssssss.” A defeated head shake.

“Well…I know it was usually when we were talking, or when I…reached out or…” He swallowed. “It’s my fault?” Of course it was. It was so blindingly obvious. Foolish Principality, invading Crawly’s space again and again, driving him away, forcing him to change form.

But Crawly shook his head frantically. “Sssssss.” This one sounded frustrated. “Ffffffff. Fffffeeeel.”

“Feel?”

“Ffffeeeel. Hhhhhhaby.”

“Feel happy? Feel…Crawly, are you telling me you – you change into this form every time you feel happy?” A nod, this one eager. “But you’re always happy! Or most of the time. Not tonight, though, you were very sullen and…”

But Crawly shook his head again. “Hhhhhhhaby.”

“You were happy?” Nod. “That…I came over with that mat and…?” Nod. “And that I said I…care about you?” Nod, and his snout moved a little closer to Aziraphale’s face.

“So, you change when you’re happy. Very happy, I assume.” Nod. “And…I’m the one who…?” Another nod, this one looking more embarrassed.

Aziraphale lowered his gaze, feeling strangely pleased that he could have this…incomprehensible effect on another being. Oh, it wasn’t something to be proud of, but it made that warmth surge inside, to think that of all the things that made Crawly happy...

“Ah. But. Um. Why change? You said it wasn’t because you wanted to.” Head shake. “Then why?”

“Sssssss.” Crawly drooped. Whatever it was, he couldn’t explain it in this form.

“Never mind then.” Aziraphale stood up again, dusting off his robes. “Ah. How long to change back? You’re usually gone for hours.” A nod. “Oh.” Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder, back towards the human encampment. Surely…they would be fine on their own…for one night. “Should I stay with you?”

“Ssssssssssss.” The serpent pulled back into his coils again, but, after a long pause, emerged to nod slightly.

Aziraphale smiled, settling back onto the rock. “It’s my pleasure, dear fellow. What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

“Ssssss.” Crawly reached forward and rested his head on Aziraphale’s knee. “Ssssss?”

“Oh.” Serpents were, after all, much simpler creatures than humans. A human body needed many things to be happy, physically, mentally, and emotionally, as Aziraphale was rapidly learning. But a snake only desired heat. “Yes. Of course.”

Crawly darted forward, twisting himself up Aziraphale, wrapping around his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, tail twisting down around one leg, head coming to rest by his cheek. Aziraphale managed to get one arm free, the other pinned against his ribs. A squeeze went through Crawly’s body, gentle and brief, as he settled into place. “Ffffffffffine?”

“Yes, this…this is perfectly fine.” He scratched one finger carefully on the back of Crawly’s head. The serpent leaned into it, then shook free to tuck his head under Aziraphale’s chin. Another brief ripple of a squeeze, before bit by bit Crawly drifted off to sleep.

“Have pleasant dreams,” Aziraphale said, fingers stroking the black scales wrapped around his belly.

It wasn’t what he’d imagined. And yet, Aziraphale did spend the night with Crawly pressed tightly against him. He did provide his companion with comfort and safety.

Not at all how he’d thought it would happen, but Aziraphale was still radiantly happy.

“Itsssssstupid,” Crawly muttered, still lisping a little after his change back.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Just tell me.”

Crawly had awoken just as the stars had begun to fade, quickly twisting free of Aziraphale to transform back into his usual shape. He’d explained, somewhat embarrassed, that sleeping usually helped him change back quicker, and that sometimes he even woke up back in his humanoid form. This had presented Azirapahle with a very interesting mental image that he didn’t have time to indulge just now.

Crawly walked beside him, golden eyes darting in the pre-dawn light, reading Aziraphale in an instant before turning to stare at the ground again. “It isssss.” Crawly clenched his jaw and continued more carefully. “Sspent too long in the sserpent body. All that time in Hell. But. Ssnakes don’t…have emotions. Not like human bodies. Sso…I get…overwhelmed. And I can’t hold my shhhape anymore.”

“I see.” Aziraphale carefully studied Crawly out of the corner of his eye, almost afraid to look at him straight on. “And all those times you ran away?”

“I can ssort of…feel it coming. I have a little time to get away, but there’ss nothing I can do to sstop it.” He swallowed, seeming angry with his own mouth. “Stop it.”

“But why would you need to get away?”

“Ngh. I mean. You’re the enemy, I’m not supposed to…” Aziraphale couldn’t hide his pained expression fast enough, as Crawly’s eyes flicked over again. “And…it’s embarrassing. Don’t want to be that snake anymore. This is me now. This body.” He took a breath. “I…didn’t want you to think less of me. Because I can’t control myself.”

“I would never!” Aziraphale stopped walking entirely, but managed to fight down the urge to grab Crawly’s shoulders. “My dear fellow, we’re both learning to control ourselves here. You might be struggling with it physically, but I assure you…” He thought back over the choices he’d made since leaving the Wall. Things he’d said, ways he’d reached out and pulled back with almost no warning. Blaming it on urges and instincts, but he could have resisted if he’d wanted to, could have spoken about his feelings, could have done many things that were better, wiser, kinder. “I thought there was…something between us. Some understanding. But I was completely unaware of your struggles the whole time. I have been abominably selfish.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Crawly watched his toe trace lines in the dirt. “I think this…whatever it is, that makes you act the way you do and makes me so…mind-numbingly giddy I can’t keep my shape…I mean. It’s meant for the humans. We’re the first angel and demon to feel it. Of course it isn’t easy.”

“But…you do feel it, too?”

“Think so, yeah.”

Aziraphale tried to fight back the smile, but there was no stopping it. He turned away, preserving at least a little dignity. “So…what do we do about it?”

“Dunno.” Then, softer, “I want to touch you. Your hands, your face. I’d only...you know…but I want to.”

“I as well. It’s…I’m resisting but…it seems to grow harder every day.” He smoothed his hands down his robe. “Do you suppose it will always be this way? Between us? With every being we spend enough time around?”

“I hope not. It wouldn’t feel as…important if it were common. And it’s…distracting. I miss just talking.”

“As do I.” Aziraphale turned back in time to see Crawly’s smile. “I suppose…if it’s a question of the human-shaped corporation, you could always have it adjusted. Remove the troublesome emotions.”

“No!” The vehemence of Crawly’s voice startled him. “Aziraphale, that’s the last thing I want. I told you before, I want to – to experience everything this world has, including stupid human emotions. I don’t need them taken away I need…I need to build up a tolerance.” He nodded, staring ahead. “That’s it. A little at a time until…until…”

“Until you can feel whatever you want. Without…repercussions.”

“Nh. Don’t know how I’ll pull it off but..yeah. It, ah…” Another quick glance. “What about you? Probably help with your angelic duties if you didn’t have to worry about…all this.”

“It probably would.” They started walking again, slowly, side by side. “But I think…I think I would also like to experience all this world has to offer. And I can learn to control myself.”

They continued in silence for a little while, each lost in his thoughts.

“Do you think it will take much longer?” Aziraphale asked, twisting his fingers.

“You definitely need to learn patience, Angel.” Crawly grinned. “Yeah. Um. Remember when I tried to explain what a year was? Probably lots of those.”

“Ah. Is there…anything I can do to help?”

“Ngk. Well. You—”

A high-pitched scream echoed from the camp ahead, long and drawn out.

“The humans!”

They both took off at a run.

In the end, despite half a year of careful observation, Aziraphale and Crawly did very little. By the time they arrived it was nearly over; by the time they’d finished awkwardly re-introducing themselves – and convincing the Man not to skewer them on a flaming sword in a blind panic – there wasn’t much to be done except provide encouragement.

The Child was born, a healthy young boy who shouted quite indignantly at the inconvenience of it all.

The human race had truly begun.

Much later, as the Man and Woman rested, Aziraphale held the tiny baby in his arms. The boy had settled down somewhat, now that he was wrapped tightly and warm, and looked in danger of falling asleep in the angel’s arms.

“How does it feel?” Crawly asked, sitting at the edge of the camp.

“Oh, I can’t – it’s incredible, Crawly. I know he’s just a little thing but – I can feel it, his presence, his potential. Everything he can be, good and bad, and it’s just—” The baby opened his mouth in a wide yawn. “…It’s adorable.”

“You’re pathetic,” Crawly said, but with a smile, rising to stand closer, peering over Aziraphale’s shoulder at the Child. “So? Everything there? I know you spent about an eternity counting fingers and toes. Didn’t think it took that long to get to twenty.”

“They’re just the most precious little things! Look – look at his ears.”

“I’m looking.” One hand stretched out uncertainly, tracing along the Child’s cheek. The baby turned his head immediately, searching, sucking on the fingers he found. “Look at that. Not even a day old, searching for food, trying to survive. They just…they just keep going, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Holding the Child filled an emptiness in Aziraphale he hadn’t known was there, not the strange magnetism that drew him to Crawly, but that deep desire for connection, the need to walk with the humans, to be known. Accepted. Though it wasn’t all that different, he reflected. Two sides of the same…two-sided object. A need to not be alone. “Do you want to hold him?”

“Angel…” Crawly’s hand drifted back to the Child’s head, resting on the nest of dark downy curls. “Aziraphale. I really don’t think I can.”

He turned around, and was surprised to see tears in Crawly’s eyes.

“Sssstupid, huh? Child’s got nothing to do with me. But…” He turned abruptly and walked away from the camp.

“Crawly, wait!”

“Nope. This was it, Angel. Just on Earth until the kid was born.” He turned back and shrugged, arms spread wide.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go now.”

“I can feel them calling already. In here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Longer I wait, more likely they’ll send someone to get me, and that’ll just be...messy. And what am I supposed to do now, anyway? Sit here and watch you...carry him around...wishing I could...” He bit his lip. “What would be the point?”

“But…but I thought…”

“Yeah, I thought, too. But what can we do?” Crawly looked down at the ground, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Look. Take care of them, alright? They don’t need your help. They’re smart. But…be kind. S’what you’re best at.”

“But…” Aziraphale looked down at the future of humanity in his arms. “Is that enough?”

“It’s everything.” Crawly stiffened, clenched his fists. “Shit.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Aziraphale took a step forward, and immediately the Child started fussing, sensing his anxiety.

“Well. Guess it’s not just happinessssss.” He swallowed hard, clearly fighting something. “Look. Angel.” Crawly walked back to hover beside Aziraphale again. “I – I really liked working with you. I hope…If I get another chanccccce…” He shook his head, then leaned in and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s cheek.

It spread across his face, a warmth, a blush, a smile, blooming like a flower.

Aziraphale turned his head, catching Crawly’s lips with his own. He’d seen the humans do this from afar, and he’d wondered why, but now…

Now he knew.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Crawly was gone, and a large black snake slithered away, fast as a shadow.

The Child started to cry. Aziraphale rocked him, bounced him a little. “No, dear, don’t worry. We’ll see him again.” The taste of Crawly was still on his lips, new and intriguing. “Nothing ends today. This is the beginning of our story.”

Thank you for reading! If that ending wasn’t satisfying enough, I recommend the fic Snuddles (Snake Cuddles) as a very distant epilogue.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #aziraphale and crowley #ineffable husbands #snake crowley #snek crowley #asexual ineffable husbands #lonely aziraphale #curious crowley #crawly #post eden #historical fic #crowley turns into a snake #first kiss #falling in love #feels #my writing #ao3 link

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