Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Present Day - 2022
"Excuse me, do you have any books about plants – you know, how to care for them and oh what’s the word I’m looking for-” The petite redhead fumbled to a stop, pushing the glasses up on her nose and squinting at Aziraphale through the thick lenses.
“Horticulture?” Crowley drawled from his place on the sofa, not looking up from his mobile.
“Yes! Thank you!” The young woman squealed. turning in his direction. “You see, my fiancé’s parents are landscapers and gardeners and I’m afraid I’m hopeless when it comes to plants – I have two black thumbs-”
Aziraphale looked down at her hands in confusion, which appeared perfectly normal to him.
Crowley snickered. “It’s an expression, Angel. Instead of green thumbs-“
“Ah, yes, I understand. Yes, I think I still have some books around here – but I’ve stowed them away in my office. If you don’t mind waiting a bit, I’ll see if I can unearth them-”
“No, I’ll be happy to wait.”
Aziraphale shot the demon a silent look to behave, which Crowley ignored, and hustled into the back-office area, which was filled with boxes from different periods of his life. Some went back a few millennia, but he knew the box he was looking for was close to the front, since it was only a dozen or so years ago that he had needed the books himself. He didn’t see another occasion arising where he would be needing the texts, and if he could help a human being out – especially for love – he was more than happy to do so.
As he located the proper box of books and pulled out a couple of likely volumes, a small photograph fluttered out and fell to the floor. The angel bent down and picked it up, turning it over to stare at the picture of Warlock, Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis. Warlock was staring right into the camera, making a silly face, but he and Crowley – they were looking at each other with looks of -
“Oh my.” He breathed the words softly, reaching behind him to sit down in the chair.
They never talked about those years at the Dowling Estate. All their time on Earth and they had never spent so much time together – every single day for six years without a break. All those conversations, all those feelings that they spent so much time never acknowledging to keep the other safe came dangerously close to seeing the light of day.
When the world hadn’t dissolved into a puddle of goo, and Adam restored everything more or less to the way it was, Aziraphale slipped back into his old habits and routines, too afraid to say or do or show Crowley too much of himself. There was still the possibility that one day, Heaven would come knocking at the bookshop door and what would happen if Crowley answered because they finally decided to be together? They had risked it all to save the Earth, to save humanity, and yet, they couldn’t take that last step to risk it all for love.
Perhaps it was time to finally talk about things.
“Aziraphale?” Crowley appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right? You have a customer waiting.”
He jumped to his feet, smoothing down his vest with nervous fingers. “Oh yes! I found the books-”
“Then what’s keeping you? You’ve been back here for ages-”
“I think that’s a slight exaggeration-”
Crowley stepped into the office and his eyes landed on the photograph on the desk. “What’s that?”
Aziraphale snatched it up. “Nothing.”
“Let me see.”
“No-”
There was an auditory twinkle and suddenly the photograph was in the demon’s fingers.
“I say! That’s not-” Aziraphale sputtered.
Crowley grinned. “I don’t think I ever saw this – is this Warlock’s first day of school?”
Aziraphale nodded.
“Your teeth were truly awful-”
“Well – no one recognized me.”
“Suppose not. You sure you’re all right? You seem a bit rattled.”
“I’m fine, everything’s tickety-boo.”
He lowered his glasses to peer over the top of the lenses at the angel. “You know I know you only say that when it’s not, right?”
Aziraphale sighed. “I just – seeing this photograph brought up all the memories. Our time on the Dowling Estate – and the almost End of the World-”
Crowley placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “We stopped it, Angel. It’s all over and done with.”
“I know – it’s just – we never talked about any of it.”
“Yeah, because you didn’t want to.” He dropped his hand and stepped away, clearing his throat gruffly.
“But what if-”
“What?”
“What if I’m ready to talk about it now?”
Chapter Text
14 YEARS AGO – BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD
“I still can’t believe the Dowlings chose me over you! I mean, I’m a demon and you’re a literal angel, for Heaven’s sake. It’s a no-brainer who should have gotten this job.”
“Well, we couldn’t exactly put that on our resumes, now could we?”
“Suppose not. But what qualifications do I have to be a nanny? I don’t know the first thing about kids!”
Aziraphale turned from the bookshelves to cast a fond look at the demon who was sprawled on the sofa, waving a wine glass in the air, a scowl fixed on his face. “That’s not true-” The angel argued. “You and I both know that you have a soft spot for children-”
“Watch it! ‘Soft’ is a four letter word-”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he carried a tall stack of books over to the table and set them down gently, dusting his hands off. “You may play the big, scary demon card with everyone else, Crowley, but it doesn’t work with me.” Aziraphale grinned and wagged a finger. “I know you too well. Besides, we now have our orders in light of your appointment. You are to be the boy’s nanny – and I need to get hired on as-”
Crowley snorted before finishing the last of his wine in one big gulp. “You do know that the only other opening on the household staff right now is for a gardener-”
Aziraphale sank into the chair, his face slowly draining of color. “Oh, that’s not – Heaven help me – you’re the one who knows all about plants and how they grow-”
“Angel, breathe. I’ll help you-”
“When? You’re going to be too busy taking care of a baby to even sleep!”
Horror crossed Crowley’s face. “Fuck!”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
If there was one thing that Aziraphale loved to do, it was research.
He decided that he could afford to spend a few months gaining knowledge about his new profession while Crowley went ahead and got started as a nanny at the Dowling estate. After all, there wasn’t going to be much contact with the infant Warlock until the child was old enough to come outside for some fresh air in the company of his nanny.
So Aziraphale studied any book he could get his hands on and took care of the plants in Crowley’s flat, following the very strict, detailed instructions that the demon had left with him. Except for terrorizing them – he was an angel; he could never do that! Instead, he lavished praise and affection on each and every one of the plants responded by growing even more lush.
Three months later, he donned his disguise and set off for the Dowling estate, calling himself ‘Brother Francis’. He was anxious to see Crowley – Nanny Ashtoreth, and the baby Antichrist.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
“What the hell are you wearing, An – Brother Francisss?” Crowley hissed, when he was close enough that no one could overhear. He pushed the pram next to a bench where Aziraphale was working and sat down gingerly, being careful to keep up appearances and maintain an upright posture.
Aziraphale grinned, his buck teeth protruding even more. “Like it?”
Crowley shook his head wearily, sighing as Warlock began to fuss in the pram. His hand went to the handle, and he slowly moved the pram back and forth, trying to soothe the baby. “I swear by S- this is the fussiest baby.”
“Known many, have you?”
Crowley set his teeth, but didn’t answer.
Aziraphale stood and dusted off his pants. “May I?”
“I don’t – you’re a mess, Angel – and the Dowlings are kind of particular about who holds him-”
“So – do your thing-”
“My thing?”
“You know –” Aziraphale waved his hands.
Crowley rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know if I have the energy to stop time-“
Aziraphale miracled himself clean as Warlock began to cry louder. “Well then, just keep a look out for his parents.”
The angel bent over the pram and lifted Warlock into his arms, bouncing gently on his tiptoes, shifting his features back to their normal appearance. He opened and closed his eyes, made cooing and other soothing sounds, and Crowley’s mouth hung open a bit in wonder as he watched the baby stop fussing and settle down.
“You should have been the nanny.”
Aziraphale lifted his eyes and beamed at the demon. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job – but thank you.”
“I’m so tired, Angel.”
Warlock had fallen back to sleep, and Aziraphale gently laid him back in the pram before he hurried to the demon’s side, sitting next to him on the stone bench. Even through Crowley’s tinted glasses, he could see the dark circles under his eyes.
“I know. Are you getting any sleep?”
Crowley snorted. “Bits and pieces. Not a long stretch like I need – like I’m used to.”
“What about on your day off?”
“Eh, I’m too wound up – haven’t been able to relax enough to – what if someone walks in and finds out I’m – you know-” Crowley cleared his throat and stared off across the lawn.
“You don’t go home to your flat?”
“The Dowlings want me to stay close – in case –”
“That’s not fair – they can watch their own child for a day, Crowley-“
“Ashtoreth.”
“Sorry-”
“Just – use it, okay? At least around here.”
Aziraphale hesitated before making the offer, but he hated seeing his friend – no, his adversary, so exhausted. He tried to keep his voice light as he said, “You know, if the Dowlings are going to keep you prisoner – you could use the cottage –”
“What?” Crowley’s gaze swung to him. “Brother Francis’ cottage?”
“My cottage, yes. I’ve put protection around it. We don’t have the same days off – you could sleep all day – and no one would bother you. You’d be safe.”
“An – Brother Francis. I don’t know what to say.”
Aziraphale reached out, almost touching the demon’s hand, but stopped himself in time. “You don’t need to say anything. Just get some sleep.”
“You – ah –might need to wake me up. Otherwise I’ll sleep for weeks-”
The angel blushed as he thought about interrupting such an intimate moment. He was only doing this for the greater good, so that they could stop the Antichrist and eventually prevent Armageddon from happening. “I can set an alarm for you. Make sure you wake up in time to get back to work-”
Warlock began to fuss again.
Crowley groaned. “Speaking of work – Hush now, wee one,” he crooned, bending over the pram. “Let’s go back and see about getting you some lunch, hmm?” He smiled wearily at Aziraphale. “Thank you for your help, Brother Francis.”
“Anytime, Nanny Ashtoreth.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________
“Warlock slept through the night. Only took nine months.”
Aziraphale looked up from reading to see Crowley hovering in the open doorway to his cottage, still dressed in his nanny outfit. He placed a scrap of paper to keep his place and set aside his book.
“Well, that’s cause for celebration! How about some cocoa with a splash of brandy?”
“I shouldn’t stay – even though it is my day off-”
Aziraphale frowned. “I thought the Dowlings had relaxed their restrictions somewhat over the past month-”
Crowley nodded. “They have – but I mentioned a friend in the city that I wanted to visit and they said I could leave the estate – that Warlock is old enough for me to go – so I’m going home – check on my plants-”
“That sounds lovely. Would you mind – if it’s not too much trouble-”
“I’ll check on the book shop.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
“Ngk, no problem.” He waved a hand and turned to leave but then stopped, pausing on the threshold. “I thought – if I wake up in time, that is, I'd pick up sushi from that place you like and bring it back for a late supper – you know, to celebrate my surviving the first nine months.”
Aziraphale smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Chapter Text
“Brother Francis!”
Aziraphale brushed the tears from his cheeks and stood to greet Nanny Ashtoreth and her young charge, Master Warlock, who was leaning forward in his pram, hands outstretched in excitement.
“Good afternoon! What a wonderful surprise-”
Crowley took one look at the angel’s face and demanded, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Aziraphale miracled his hands clean and released Warlock from his shoulder straps, lifting him up into the air, amid his squeals of delight. “Everything’s tickety-”
“Stop. You’re a terrible liar.”
Aziraphale sighed. “We can’t talk about it in front of Master Warlock-”
Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? He’s not even a year old yet-”
“Ah, but he will celebrate his birthday in one month’s time - as his mother reminded me when she dropped by my cottage this morning.”
“Mrs. Dowling came to the gardener’s cottage? That was a bit unexpected, wasn’t it? What did she want?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I won't discuss it in front of -”
“Come on, Brother Francis. He doesn’t have language yet so it’s not like he can spill our secrets.”
Warlock reached out and slapped Aziraphale’s cheeks affectionately, babbling, “Bo-bo. Bo-bo.”
The angel smiled. “That’s right, Master Warlock. I’m Brother Francis.” He turned to Crowley and his smile became smug. “You were saying something about his language skills?”
The demon snorted. “Your name isn’t Bo-bo. My argument is a sound one.”
“Perhaps. But I still refuse to discuss the matter. When you come for afternoon tea, I’ll tell you all about it.”
_________________________________________________________________________
Ever since Warlock was about six months old and his afternoon naps had settled into a consistent routine of two to three hours, Crowley snuck away from the house and came to have tea in the cottage with Aziraphale. This time together gave them a chance to relax and be themselves as well as work on the reports that were due to their respective offices once a month. Crowley managed to sneak some of the cook’s sandwiches and cakes to accompany their tea, but Aziraphale insisted on making the tea himself since the only tea to be had in the Dowling household was of the bagged variety, and therefore an abomination in the angel’s eyes.
Crowley snapped his fingers as he approached the cottage door, and it flew open before him. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the door shut and locked behind him and with a faint golden shimmer, the protection shield against outsiders entering or seeing inside the cottage was activated.
“Angel! I’m here with the nibbles for our tea - where are you?” He hollered into the large room, setting the tray of sandwiches and cakes on the table before snapping his fingers. His nanny outfit disappeared, replaced by his usual black jeans and shirt. “Ah, so much better,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders and relaxing his posture. He turned as he heard a sound in the hallway behind him.
Aziraphale was moving slowly, carrying a tea tray complete with cups, teapot, sugar bowl, and a small pitcher of milk. He was back to his usual appearance as well, wearing a light colored suit complete with vest, but he was pale and shaky, the tea things rattling on the tray.
“Let me take that, Angel.”
“I’ve got it- I’m fine-”
“No, you’re not.” Crowley’s hands covered Aziraphale’s on the silver tray, and the shaking stopped. “Let me help you - please?”
The angel released the tray with a huff and went to sit down, not saying another word. Crowley prepared a cup of tea for him, just the way he liked it, way too sweet and with a splash of milk. He put it in front of Aziraphale, who thanked him but then just stared into space, not saying another word.
“The cook’s really outdone herself today. I’ve brought cucumber sandwiches - and those little petit fours you love. Can I fix you a plate?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
Crowley’s concern grew. “You’re not hungry? You never turn down food - especially sweets!”
Aziraphale shrugged.
“Angel, you’re scaring me. Tell me what happened with Mrs. Dowling this morning. What did she say to you?”
Tears filled Aziraphale’s eyes. He twisted the pinkie ring round and round on his finger as the words finally began to pour out of him. “I’m afraid that your side is going to win now - you will have unlimited access to Warlock without my interference and on his eleventh birthday he will become the Antichrist and-”
Crowley had stood up as soon as he saw the tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. He was moving to the angel’s side by the time the words ‘unlimited access’ crossed his lips, and he was kneeling by his chair at the word ‘Antichrist.’
“Aziraphale!” he snapped, hoping to startle him enough to break him out of his emotional loop. “Tell me what happened. I can’t fix it if I don’t know-”
The angel bit his lip and looked down at his friend. He’d never acknowledge it out loud, of course, but they were friends. After all this time together on earth, how could they not be?
“I’m going to lose my job-”
“What! Did Mrs. Dowling fire you?”
“Not yet-”
Crowley took off his dark glasses to rub his eyes and then slammed them back on. “Angel, you’re not making any sense. I’m begging you - start at the beginning.”
“All right, but bring your chair over here. You can’t be comfortable down there on the floor.”
He stifled a scream of frustration as he wasted precious time standing up, dragging over his chair and sitting down. “Satisfied?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He waved a hand. “Proceed.”
“I was finishing my breakfast this morning when I saw Mrs. Dowling coming down the path - and before you ask, yes, the protection shield was up, but I couldn’t very well leave it in place when I saw that she was coming here. So I turned it off and made sure that my Brother Francis persona was in place before I went to greet her at the front door. I could tell at once that she was not in a good mood and that she had something very important on her mind-”
Crowley grunted. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman in a good mood-”
Aziraphale continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “She reminded me of Master Warlock’s first birthday in a month’s time, as if I wasn’t well aware of the occasion and I congratulated her on the wonderful event. This seemed to soften her a bit - well, momentarily - but then she proceeded to talk about the dinner party they are having-”
Crowley sat up. “Dinner party? What dinner party?”
“The Dowlings have invited a small number of guests, some very important people, to celebrate Warlock’s birth-”
“He’s turning one year old, for Satan’s sake!”
“Well, I hardly think the party is for him, dear boy. Most likely they plan for you to come in with him at some point during the evening and show him off and then retire to the nursery again. At least, that would be my guess-”
Crowley’s eye roll was visible even through his dark glasses. “What the heaven is the point of that?”
Aziraphale shrugged. “Humans are funny creatures. After all this time, you and I are still trying to figure them out.”
Crowley grunted. “What does this have to do with you and your job?”
Aziraphale squirmed in his seat, twisting his pinkie ring again. “I - apparently I have been on something of a trial run this entire time, and my performance has been somewhat lacking. A few days ago, the cook complained about me to Mrs. Dowling, citing the poor condition of the produce for the kitchen-”
“The kitchen gardens are her responsibility, not yours!” Crowley pointed a finger towards the house. “I’ll have a word with her-”
“Don’t! I can’t have you jeopardizing your position as well.”
Crowley ground his teeth together. “What else?”
“Mrs. Dowling is most upset about the condition of the flowers, especially the roses. She wants to have several large bouquets for the party and with the current condition of the bushes - the fact that there are hardly any blooms - she fears that she will have to purchase them instead. She doesn't understand why she should have to spend more money on flowers when she has a gardener whose job it is to grow and take care of the plants, flowers, and landscaping. She told me - she said-” Aziraphale choked on the emotions clogging his throat.
Crowley could guess what Mrs. Dowling had told Aziraphale. But he needed confirmation before he could take action. “Did she give you an ultimatum, Angel?”
The tears were quite close to falling, but somehow Aziraphale was still holding them in. He blinked several times as he whispered the words, “She said she was giving me the month to grow some roses for the party and if I couldn’t do it - then I’m - I’m-”
“Fired.” Crowley said the word the angel couldn’t.
Aziraphale nodded miserably. “When Heaven finds out, Gabriel is going to-”
“He’s not going to find out because you’re not going to lose your job.”
The angel gasped. “I don’t see how I can possibly turn this around in such a short amount of time-”
“There’s one very simple solution, Angel. Use a miracle-”
It didn’t seem possible, but Aziraphale lost even more color, went even more pale. “I can’t-”
“What do you mean you can’t? Of course you can.”
“No, I - Gabriel has me on a limited number of miracles, and the ones that I do perform I need to be careful not to draw attention to myself. Using a miracle to make the bushes bloom would definitely draw attention-”
“Bollocks! This is an emergency - we can’t have you losing your job over something so trivial as plants that won’t produce. Your side needs you here to thwart my side. Hell, I need you here - I mean, you know, to help me with the kid.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, my dear-”
“Not kind. Necessary - your presence here is necessary to the Plan.”
_________________________________________________________________________
Aziraphale may have been bound to the rules and regulations of Heaven, thereby tying his hands when it came to using miracles, but Crowley wasn’t. And he was damned if he was going to stay here alone with only a baby for company, even if it meant coming up with a plausible explanation for his actions to Hell.
Crowley bided his time. Patience wasn’t one of his stronger traits, but perhaps Aziraphale was rubbing off on him after all this time. He waited until it was a week before the big event before setting his plan in motion. Mr. Dowling was a night owl and Aziraphale never slept. Crowley had to be very careful to wait long enough into the night that at least the master of the house was in bed and hopefully asleep before stepping outside. There was nothing he could do about Aziraphale. If the angel heard him, well, his plan would be discovered.
Crowley had already decided that he needed to change up his plan of attack. He couldn’t very well go out and yell at the rose bushes - that would wake up the entire household and the surrounding countryside. But if there was one thing he’d learned in his short time as a nanny, it was that volume wasn’t as important as tone of voice. He could still be menacing and threatening at a quieter volume.
When the grandfather clock downstairs struck two in the morning, Crowley snuck out the front door and made his way to the rose garden. He could see the faint light from the cottage off to his right and he moved as softly and slowly as possible, hoping that Aziraphale was content and engrossed in his book by now. He reached out a hand to touch the first of the bushes on the outer edges of the garden, smiling as he felt the faint waves of the angel’s love in the leaves. But then he frowned and whipped the glasses off his face, allowing the bush to see his wide, glaring yellow eyes.
“He loves you - he spends every day pouring love and care into you - he’s literally an angel on earth - and this is how you repay him? With leaf spots and droopy blooms and brown petals that no one wants gracing their tables?” His voice was low but intense with anger and dripping with disdain. He rolled the leaf in his fingertips and he felt the plant begin to quake. “You are all going to be ground up into mulch unless you get your act together and GROW BETTER!”
Crowley moved around the circle of rose bushes, working from the outside to the inside, touching every bush, talking to each one in a soft, intense, almost purring voice. “I am giving you all five days to show me what you can do - five days to show me the most beautiful blossoms, the most fragrant flowers. You have been shown the softest touch and showered with affection - and you have produced nothing! Turn it around or I will come back and pull you all up by the roots and take you to the compost pile myself.”
____________________________________________________________________
Aziraphale finished his tea, washed his cup, and prepared to walk out the door to start his day - quite possibly his last day as gardener on the Dowling estate.
Tomorrow was the dinner party to celebrate Master Warlock’s birthday - and Mrs. Dowling had been quite clear that if the rose bushes hadn't produced blossoms by today, Brother Francis would be let go. Every morning he had gone out to the rose garden with a light step, hoping to see roses, and every time he had had his hopes dashed. Everyday he had faithfully tended and cared for those bushes, praying that something he did would somehow be enough.
But so far, the bushes were still bare.
Crowley was oddly optimistic, insisting that everything would work out. Aziraphale suspected that the demon had something up his sleeve, or just plain intended to use a miracle, but the more time passed and nothing happened, he finally came to the realization that his friend didn’t intend to save him. Perhaps his good mood was due to the fact that he soon would have Master Warlock all to himself.
Aziraphale was distracted this morning. He was composing a report for Gabriel in his head, detailing how he had managed to lose his position as gardener on the Dowling estate. Therefore he nearly ran directly into Crowley when he rounded a bend in the path.
“Ashtoreth! What are you doing out here so early?”
“Good morning, Brother Francis! I just wondered if you’d been to the rose garden yet-”
Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed. “No - why?”
“I think you should take a look-”
Aziraphale darted around Crowley and walked briskly up the path, but his steps slowed once the garden came into view. Every single bush was covered with roses: red, pink, white, orange, purple, and yellow blossoms.
Footsteps came to a stop behind the angel and he felt the demon’s presence over his shoulder. “Oh Crowley,” He said the words so softly he didn’t know if they were heard. “It’s so beautiful!” He turned to face his friend. “Why did you do it? If Hell finds out-”
Crowley shrugged and cleared his throat, leaning over to the nearest bush and snapping off a yellow rose. He held it out to Aziraphale. “You cannot leave this house. We’re not done yet.”
“Brother Francis!”
The angel and demon stepped apart, their gardener and nanny personas slipping back in place as Mrs. Dowling approached them.
“Look at all these roses! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked out my window this morning! It’s like a miracle - how did you do it?”
Aziraphale cleared his throat and risked a small glance at Crowley before answering. “The roses just needed a bit more time, Mrs. Dowling - time and lots of love.”