To avoid complications, She never kept the same address

an:never gonna actually write, but idea wont go away

When crowley said he delivered the baby - he actually *delivered* said baby.

However, he wasn’t about to hand *his* kid over to the chattering nuns and just be done with it, so in all the baby swapping, young and dowlings babies end up being swapped, and crowley, all quick talking and misdirection, and with no demonic intervention, follows the nun responsible with getting rid of the “extra” baby (who was the actual antichrist) and steals him away

Problem is, it would be very suspicious if he’s been seen with a kid who’s the exact age of the-ender-of-all-things, especially once it comes to light the dowlings kid isn’t him.

So he lies to azi about the kid, and convinces the angel to adopt him.

To keep up appearances, he still poses as warlocks nanny; azi has no reason to believe warlock is NOT the antichrist, and poses as the gardner

Dream about the days to come

it wasn't so much as a celebratory moment, so much as it was a moment of quiet and calm, which found crowley and aziraphale in the back room  of a closed bookshop just after one in the morning, a few days after the un-end of the world.

it was quiet and calm at least, until a heavy, suffocating presence made itself known in the lobby of the store front. it was like the weight of an oncoming thunderstorm, the hair hot and sticky. Crowley flinched back like he'd been slapped, as Aziraphale jumped to him feat in palpitated terror. the angel wasted no time rushing to the front room, while crowley hung back, allowing the shadows to swallow him up, watching from the doorway.

Inside the shop, standing on the great cirlce rug, where two people. Both where vaguely female shaped, standing proudly, if on the short side. The one looking back at Aziraphale reminded crowley too much of War, dark red hair pulled back much the same as the airfield confrintation, but fading instead to white and pale pink. she dressed like aziraphale, rose coloured buttonups and vests with a foest green (1) overcoat and tan slacks.

Her compainion was dressed in the same manner, but dull warm greys, short cut black hair framing a chuby, echerium face, while holding a book upen before them, pen already scratching away into its once blank pages.

 "Young Aziraphael," the first spoke his name like wind over a half filled bottle lip, "it has been some time now, hasnt it?"

Crowley watched his angel wring his hands, shlouders huntched. if him wings had been visable in this relm, they'd been curled protectily around him, "Y...yes sir, s-since the garden. ... Sir."

Despite the giid half foot diferance between them, the Archangel Chamael seem to loom over Azirapale as she closed the distance, "Yes. Since the garden. When I promoted you to Priniciality, Chaarged you with the watch over the easyern gate in my stead, and left you in possestion on my own sword, burning with the light and love of Our Almighty(2)"

"T-t-t-that would be correct - "

"This sword, actually," Chamael said, drawing the flaming sword into existance between them, and Crowley jerked forward, not carring so much if he was seen, but more then ready to defend Aziraphela if the archangel before htem was looking fo ra fight. The short figure twisted a little to smile at him around Azirpahela's form, before straghtening and using the taller angel as a barrier between them.

"that sword," aziraphale agreed, voice hardly above a whisper.

"IT was strange, getting this back," the archangel said, tunring the blade in her hand, causially moving to stalk around behind Aziraphale, who remain frozen in spot. Crowley firsted his hands, coiled, and ready to strike as the armed intruder moved to stand behind azirpahel'a back. "One moment, I'm discussing turning back on Curiousity with the Almighty, the next, a curiiour is giving me back my sword. Do you know how embarrising to explain to the divine creater of everything why a postman has my sword in the first place?"

"I-i-i-i would imaigine tha-that-" he trembled where he stood, and crowley's blood boiled to see him quake in his place like he did.

"Why, is it, Aziraphael, that a couriour had my sword, and not you?"

He said something, neither crowley or chamael seemd to catch. The note taker had also paused, catching eyes with chamael, brow raised.

"Speak up, dear heart, I fear my hearing must not be what it used to be."

Crowley seethed, nearly spit hissing at the archagnel as she moved to stand in azzirphelas space.

"I gave it away."

"you gave it away."

"Yes, sir."

"I was truely hoping Gabriel was jesting when he told me that's what you did. Gave it away..." She seemed to deflate a bit, shaking her head softly, "Gave it away. Aziraphael, you cannot give away something that does not belong to you in the first place. It's almost... i would almost call that a theft."

"You got it back, " Crowley intergeded, speaking up finally as he willed Azirpahel to step away. When his angel didn't move, he closed the distanve to stand in his place on Aziraphale's left. "We gave it over to the summoner in the first place. 'snot our fault it was delieved at such an /inconvinct/ time."

"We?"

"He... Aziraphale. Him. He mailed it"

"I also happen to have heard that /you/ crawley are the reason Aziraphael gave me sword away in the first place. So I almost feel justified in blaming you too, for the theft."

"Its Crowley." Aziraphale whispered, still wringing his hands.

"So, after much deliberation, I feel I have come to a just punishment."

"We'v already - "

"I know already about The Trial by fire, but that wasn't about my sword, that was for..." she paused, motioning to the two of them.

Neither said anything.

So Chamael jestured tot eh scribe. "As the propriter of the written word, I do assume you, Aziraphael, are familour witht the order of the Grimm?" Azirpahale looked very uneasy at the scribe, but the terms where lost on Crowley.

"I am,  sir."

"Well, I'm not!"

Chameal smiled, it should be warm, but it chilled Crowley to the core instead. "I would take your stories in exchange for forgiveness in the forfeiture of my sword to the humans."

"Foegiveness!?"

Azirapheal held his hands up placatingly, "Please, crowley!"

Chameal waited with a smile fot the angel to calm down this demon, before dissmissing the sword back into the no space she'd drawn it from, "Or, I could take all these stories instead," she said raising hands to indicated to bookstore itself. The Grimm, looked up from their notes, looking annoyed. "Ma'am. This tomes are hardly worth the same as an Original Story."

Aziraphale looked very much liked to disagree. He'd missed the destruction of his bookstore - hadn't seen its burned out remains. The thought of having it taken away again, for real this time, had him looking as ingdignated as crowley had felt the moment the anchagnel had interpted them. "Excuse me, these works are priceless! Some of theses are the only copy remaining!"

"But not a one is an Original Sotry," the Grimm said back, looking at the angel like he was a child.

"I beg your pardon, these are ALL original works!"

"An Original Story is not just any work penned to paper, Aziraphael.  It's something more. It's true, 100%, and is given completely. An Original Story does not any longer belong to the storyteller, but to the archives of the world.
    "You can give over your collection of paper and ink, or you can give over your own stories. say, from the moment my sword left your fingers, until the moment you once again held it in your palm."

Aziraphale looked at crowley, something in his face Crowley hadn't seen before, before addressing the archangel, "Crowley had nothign to do with my transgressions, and I cannot give away that which doesn't belong to me. After all, is that not what i'm being repremaded for? You can't ask me to do it again to someone else!"

"I suppose you are correct in that. Very well Azirapheal, I will accept your collection. Either your printed work, or your own story."

"Wait - what?!" Crowley was worried, pulling Azirpahale away, "Angel, wait, we'll figure out something else."

"I would step back, Temp/tor/. Or i might be temp/ted/ to do something rash."

Crowley didn't let go of azriapehal's sleeve, make an irriteded set of noises at the archangel. Azirpaheal, instead straightened, taking a moment ot smooth out his shirt and jacket. Corwly threw up his hands in agrivation, twitching and grumbling as his paced a path into the wooden floor.

 * * * * Chp 2

The Grimm closed the book on Aziraphale's story, and like the breaking of a spell, the angel blinked, looking at his hands in mild confusion, before looking around hios book store, and it's occupents. "Chamael, sir?"

The archangel smiled, soft around the edges, and patted her fellow angel on the shoulder, "Aziraphael, my ever diligant soldier of the east gate."

He straightened up, nearly preening, ignoring the other two for the moment










(1) http://pwentworth1965.tripod.com/thesocietyformetaphysicalstudy/id347.html
(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camael
http://www.healing-journeys-energy.com/archangel-chamuel.html
http://www.paranormality.com/archangel.shtml#Chamuel