Chapter Text
Prologue
For thousands of years, Aziraphale had believed there were some things that simply could not happen, such as:
Angels could not fall in love. Demons could not be kind. Heaven and Hell could never truly change. And angels and demons most certainly could not have children together.
Yet life had a bad habit of ignoring rules. Especially where Crowley was concerned.
However, several months after everything had finally settled down life was peaceful. Remarkably peaceful. Aziraphale still ran his bookshop in Soho. Crowley still spent an unreasonable amount of time threatening plants into excellence.
They lived together in a charming cottage in South Downs, surrounded by rolling hills and Crowley’s increasingly ridiculous garden.
For the first time in six thousand years, there were no apocalypses to prevent. No prophecies. No celestial wars. No end of the world. Just quiet life, shared dinners, books, plants, and each other. It was wonderful. Well as ordinary as life could be when one half of the household was na angel and the other was a former demon.
Then Aziraphale started feeling unwell. At first he ignored it. Then Crowley noticed. Which was unfortunate. Because once Crowley noticed something, he refused to stop worrying about it.
”You look pale.”
”I am not pale.”
”You are.”
”I’ve always been pale.”
”You look paler than usual.”
Aziraphale sighed.
Crowley narrowed his eyes.
Three days later, Aziraphale nearly dropped an entire stack of books in the shop after becoming suddenly dizzy. And that was when Crowley decided something had to be done. Neither of them had the faintest idea what.
Several increasingly confusing days followed. Crowley suggested heavenly explanations. Then infernal explanations. Then impossible explanations. None of them made any sense. Finally, during an evening visit to the bookshop, Maggie listened to the entire story in silence. When they finished, she blinked. Then she asked,
”Have either of you considered going to a doctor?”
Crowley stared at her.
”A doctor.”
”Yes.”
”For an angel.”
Maggie shrugged.
”You’ve tried everything else.”
Nina, standing beside her, nodded.
”Honestly, at this point it sounds more sensible than whatever you’ve been doing.”
Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley appreciated that comment. A week later, both privately admitted it had been excellent advice. The doctors appointment answered o e question and created a hundred more.
The doctor looked confused.
Then surprised.
Then concerned.
Then surprised again.
Finally she looked up from the results.
”Mr. Fell …”
Aziraphale smiled politely.
”Yes?”
”You’re pregnant.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
The sort of silence usually reserved for divine revelations.
Crowley blinked.
The doctor blinked.
Aziraphale blinked.
Somewhere outside, a car alarm started going off.
”No,” Crowley said eventually.
The doctor glanced at him.
”No?”
”No.”
”I’m afraid the results are quiet clear.”
”That’s impossible,”
The doctor hesitated.
“Medically speaking?”
”Existentially speaking.”
The results were repeated.
Then repeated again.
Every answer remained exactly the same. Aziraphale was carrying a child.
Their child.
Neither Heaven nor Hell could explain it. No records existed. No laws covered it. No prophecy mentioned it No celestial archive contained anything remotely similar. By all known laws of creation, their child should not have been possible. And yet she was.
The months that followed were filled with equal parts of wonder and panic. Aziraphale worried constantly. Crowley worried even more while insisting he wasn’t worried at all.
Nina and Maggie were endlessly amused.
”You two are going to be impossible parents,” Nina informed them one afternoon.
”We already are,” Crowley replied.
To everyone’s surprise, the pregnancy progressed perfectly.
The baby was healthy.
Strong.
And apparently determined to keep every possible secret until the very end.
Nine months later, on a cool autumn evening, the mystery finally arrived.
The first thing Crowley noticed was her hair. Bright copper-red. The second thing was her eyes. Clear blue. The third thing was that she had an impressive set of lungs.
”Oh, that’s definitely your child,” Nina said over the noise.
Crowley looked offended.
Aziraphale laughed despite his exhaustion.
Neither of them could stop staring.
She was tiny.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Ineffable.
Their little daughter.
Jane Nebula Crowley.
For a long while, nothing else mattered.
Not Heaven.
Not hell.
Not unanswered questions.
Just Jane.
Nina and Maggie fell in love with her almost immediately. According to Crowley, this was because Jane had inherited excellent taste. According to Aziraphale, it was because she was the most wonderful child in existence. According to Nina, it was because she was adorable. And according to Maggie, it was all three.
When Jane was christened, there was never any question about who her godmothers would be.
Nina and Maggie accepted before Aziraphale had even finished asking.
Life settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Months became years. And gradually, another mystery appeared.
Jane had no wings. Not even the smallest sigh of them. No halo. No demonic markings. No unusual eyes. No strange abilities. Nothing.
She seemed entirely ordinary. A perfectly normal little girl.
Aziraphale found this surprising. Crowley found it suspicious. Neither of them knew what to make of it.
Still, whenever they looked at her sleeping peacefully in her crib, or later running through the garden with a book tucked under one arm, they found it difficult to care.
Whatever she was.
However she had come to exist.
Whatever the future held.
She was theirs.
And that was enough.
For now.