XV.

"Makes you wonder what God's really planning."

"Best not to speculate."

Their lives didn't change abruptly or actually at all.

Both still had their own places, as it had always been. Crowley was more or less living in the bookshop, but he did return to the flat on a regular basis. The plants needed a good talking to – nature and nurture. In Crowley's case he was misting them, feeding them first class nutrients, watering those that needed more – and he ordered them around like the best of drill sergeants in any military.

The plants were actually the only reason for him to return to the building. There was nothing else for him there.

Aziraphale never commented on it. Neither did he offer for Crowley to move the small jungle of luscious foliage into the bookshop's flat. And he only smiled to himself when the first small, potted plants made an appearance in Aziraphale's place.

Crowley also still enjoyed sleeping, while Aziraphale still didn't really sleep. A nap here or there, mostly out of curiosity or because it was comfortable to join his counterpart, but he saw no need. He would rather read through the night or walk the quiet streets, observing the people around him, and if someone needed his help, he would assist.

When Crowley was at his own flat, the angel sometimes migrated there, too, and spent the night, or sometimes the afternoon, with him in bed, reading. Crowley would wake to the celestial presence, to fingers stroking his hair, his neck, his back, or just holding one hand.

It was nice.

Yes, he did nice now. Just like he did love. It was a wonderful thing to do and he finally allowed himself to do it fully. Four letter words be damned.

When the demon was at the bookshop, he usually dozed off on the sofa or in the chair. Aziraphale would wake him gently, that affectionate, soft and very… angelic… smile on his lips, and usher the sleepy entity into the back where there was a bed for them.

If Crowley was more awake he would be scowling at the other entity, brows drawn down and lips a thin line at being coddled. As it was, he liked coddling and cuddling when his brain was too much powered down to catch a clear thought.

Eating was another matter that didn't change. Crowley had no need for it, didn't enjoy it like Aziraphale did, but he would be there, watch the angel indulge, their conversations about whatever came to mind. He would find new restaurants, cafes and tiny little take-outs with heavenly food for the angel to try and start to like.

Surprising Aziraphale with food made him happy. Because it had the angel smile brightly, that smile bestowed only upon him. It had him go all warm and weirdly gooey inside. He would bring sweets and pastries sometimes, would smile as Aziraphale lit up with the prospect of something inspiring new to taste.

Crowley enjoyed it all. The affection, the softness, the warmth that had always been there with Aziraphale and always would be.

That hadn't changed at all and it never would.

Neither would Crowley's feelings for this unique angel lessen. For millennia he had fought those softer emotions, the need to be close and closer. He had found excuses to drop in on Aziraphale, to be in the vicinity, and it had gotten so much more difficult. Being cut lose had changed them. Crowley had learned to express these feeling, show Aziraphale what it meant for the demon, and he had opened up to the bond between them completely.

It was a heady feeling to be with the angel. No sex necessary.

Well, that was nice, too. Crowley wouldn't have thought it would ever come to that, but now that it had, and repeatedly, he quite liked it. Loved it. Wanted it Wanted Aziraphale. Loved Aziraphale.

There it was again, the warmth. Something he cherished and now even more so.

And he didn't have to fear it anymore.

xXxXx

There were no more assignments, but that didn't mean Anthony J. Crowley couldn't go out and do some mischief. He was a demon after all. It was in his very soul to do mischief.

Mischief, not bad deeds. Disabling the electronic lock on a shop that sold hideously expensive phones and that had a new edition coming out that morning was not too bad. He enjoyed the clamoring masses, the demands of being let in to get their reserved and paid-for devices, and he smirked as the employees struggled to get the doors open before the masses did it for them.

No one was hurt. No one was ever hurt. For all his past commendations, none of the violent ones had been his. Even demonic minds couldn't come up with all the horrible stuff humans did to themselves in the name of religion, science or politics.

Scrambling a streaming service and messing with a popular gaming app was more up his alley of things to do. Tempting thieves, encouraging parking or traffic violations. Encouraging adultery. Yes to all of it. All in a day's work. He drew a line at mass murder.

Aziraphale in turn wouldn't be the angel he was if he didn't bless someone here or there. He didn't need an official order. Like for Crowley, it was in his very essence, and Crowley wouldn't want him any other way. None of the blessings or miracles were even above minor. They were gentle deeds, barely perceptible as such in the grand scheme of things, and Crowley had to day he enjoyed watching Aziraphale work.

Sometimes he caught himself performing a demonic miracle as well, which earned him that soft, soft smile from his angel.

"Not a word," he grumbled as Aziraphale bestowed that very smile upon him as Crowley showed his nice side once again.

He just couldn't help it. Children were… innocents. Well, up to a certain age. Then they became devilish little brats. The kid Crowley had… well, not blessed because he didn't bless even now that he was no longer truly of Hell… had been through enough already, so getting some small help, even from a demon with only good intentions in mind, wasn't really bad.

Not that anyone kept score anymore.

They could do whatever they wanted.

Aziraphale gently bumped their shoulders together as they continued past the children's hospital and toward their latest lunch location.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Crowley didn't respond, but inside he preened as he always did. The little girl would be fine. He hadn't miraculously healed her from a deadly disease. It had been something very small, a little push, and she would have a happy life.

That was enough.

They balanced each other, just like they always had, ever since Eden.

That was enough, too.

xXxXx xXxXx xXxXx

Aziraphale continued to hunt for and collect rare books, first editions, and books of prophecy. It took him out of the country, too, so Crowley simply tagged along. Travelling the world that was now safe from an impending End and theirs to explore and protect was something they had always done. Still, it was also new.

Europe was a treasure trove of books and while Aziraphale cooed over the rare pages, Crowley tempted someone here, accidentally blessed someone there, and sometimes just spent his time sunbathing and doing absolutely nothing at all.

Fun time.

That their short trip happened to last five years was… of no consequence. Time didn't matter in the grand scheme of eternity and immortality. The bookshop would always be there, as would the flat.

xXxXx xXxXx xXxXx

Aziraphale ran into a little snag in Budapest. Actually, the snag was a blast of very dark magic, able to truly hurt even a divine being, and sealed into the book by a human over four hundred years ago. It hit the angel as he opened the rare edition of ancient folk tales.

Crowley sensed the blast the second Aziraphale lifted the book's cracked leather lid, but by then it was too late.

"Zira!" he exclaimed as the shard of darkness hit his angel.

Aziraphale opened his mouth in shock, eyes wide, then the darkness shattered into a million pieces and dropped harmlessly to the ground.

Crowley was by his side in a flash, hands running over the slightly trembling entity, calling his angel's name.

"I'm okay," Aziraphale breathed tremulously. "I'm okay. Why am I okay?"

The demon framed the ashen features and looked into the too wide eyes, seeing nothing but confusion in there. No pain, no ill effects of the magical blast.

The spell had shattered to ashes. There was truly not even a slight trace left.

"Uh, hi?"

The voice startled them both and they turned, coming face to face with a young man with dark, tousled hair, lanky, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, looking a bit apprehensive. He had a backpack slung around his shoulder.

They were in a locked bookshop, the owner deceased months ago, with no heirs and no one interested in handling the massive volume of books and whatnot. Aziraphale had found the shop almost accidentally while browsing the web, but by the time he had tried to contact the bookseller about this specific book, he had already passed on.

A locked bookshop.

It was in the middle of the night.

And here he was, a young man, speaking English, and looking kind of familiar.

Crowley tensed and Aziraphale tilted his head curiously.

"How may I help you?" he asked politely as if finding strange young men in a locked bookshop in Budapest was quite alright.

"Hey, guys," the young man said and smiled almost sheepishly. "It's been a while."

Crowley's jaw dropped, golden eyes widening, and there was shock and denial warring for dominance. "Aw, bloody…Ngh…, no! Fuck no!"

"May I ask…"

"You're Adam!" Crowley hissed. "Adam Young! The fucking Antichrist!"

Aziraphale's eyes widened in barely concealed alarm and his aura rose, strengthening a little more than necessary.

"Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble, okay?"

"Then why are you?" Aziraphale asked calmly.

"School trip? Five cities in Europe in five days, that kinda thing. Budapest is number three. I was in Paris and Berlin, too. I'm finishing school in a few months and this is the last trip together, so…"

"Seven years. It's been seven years…" Crowley murmured. "Seven… years… Eleven and seven is…" The golden eyes widened, now fully demonic and no white left. "He's come of age, angel."

"He came into his powers with eleven, dear. Eighteen is hardly a new milestone."

Crowley looked at him as if Aziraphale was deliberately daft. "He is human. He's eighteen now."

"Age means something different in different parts of this world. The definition of when you are an adult depends on culture, part of the world, religious belief…"

"He is eighteen," Crowley interrupted. "In this part of the world! This! He grew up with human parents, was raised human, and now he is officially an adult! On paper! He can drink, buy porn and vote!"

"Oh."

Despite the mildly uttered word, Aziraphale's core energy rose and strengthened his aura even more. He felt the wings trembled. Crowley's aura wove into his, sharp and twitchy, coiling around them both like the snake he was.

"Yeah, well, yes, I'm eighteen. Have my driver's license. Didn't get to vote yet. Didn't buy porn -," Crowley snorted in disbelief. "- and I had a great party with my friends." Adam shrugged, not the least bit perturbed by their words. "Got cool gifts. And a card from abroad."

He dug into his backpack and took out a slightly crumbled greeting card.

Crowley hissed as a well-known sigil could be seen. "Bloody great! Gets better and better!"

"Oh no," Aziraphale whispered. "I thought… you were human again."

"About that… no?" Adam said slowly, looking rather sheepish. "I altered reality, but I couldn't alter me, despite everything. Turns out telling off your hellish… uhm… father… parental unit… whatever, it doesn't change your heritage or where you come from."

"We never felt it," Crowley stated tonelessly, hands clenching and unclenching. "Because of the camouflage. The protection system no power can pierce."

Adam did look and act like the typical teenager, but there was something underneath and it had always been, from birth to now.

"You had all your powers all the time?" the angel asked, voice trembling a little.

Another, almost careless shrug. "Not all. I can do a few things. Nothing bad. I talked to Anathema. She says hi, by the way. She and Newt are married now. Well, she helped me a little here or there."

"What things?" Crowley demanded.

"You stopped the dark magic curse," Aziraphale stated before the teenager could answer.

Adam smiled brightly; proudly. "You're welcome."

"Oh, how nice! He can stop dark magic! And now he's eighteen," Crowley snarled, waving his arms. "Great! Just great! It's going to start again! I knew it! I fucking knew it was too good to be true!"

Adam held up his hands. "No! No, no, no! Listen, there's no new End! None at all! I just came here because…. Well, the card said so."

The angel and the demon exchanged both wary and alarmed glances.

Aziraphale gingerly took the card held out to him. It didn't feel hellish, just a little tingly. He opened it and almost winced at the squirming, rather hellish in origin letters.

"Happy Birthday, Son."

And then a whole flood of words appeared before his eyes and the wording sounded familiar.

Adam was neither of Hell, though born in its fiery Pits, nor would Heaven ever claim him. He was without affiliation, not bound to any Realm, and if he had any questions, talk to a certain angel who owned a corner bookstore, and a demon who probably hung around that bookstore. But first, please visit another bookstore while in Budapest, if you would be so kind. Spending money would be on his credit card. Best wishes and all.

The signature looked like chicken scratch, but it was clear who had scrawled their name under the words.

Crowley was getting really twitchy now. Aziraphale reached for him over the strong connection and he held on to that anchor with all he had.

"Well, so here I am."

"Oh. Oh dear," Aziraphale managed, looking at Crowley again, who had been reading over his shoulder.

"Bastards!" the demon growled, radiating his displeasure.

Adam was one of them now. Exiled. Neither from Hell nor from Heaven, but very much of Earth and with enough humanity in him to pass as one.

"Bloody fucking great!"

Aziraphale briefly touched one wrist and Crowley muttered something uncomplimentary, but his surge of temper quieted. Adam studied them like he would a math puzzle, then he suddenly grinned.

"You finally figured it out!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't know what it was seven years ago, but I was only eleven, so what do I know about relationships? The two of you simply pinged back then. I got this really strange ping from you. Now I know what it was. You figured it out!" He waved a hand at the two of them. "You two. Together. Balanced. I don't go around reading auras. Anathema said it's impolite and makes you lazy and too contend. Well, I kinda just read yours and you look… so much better."

Crowley's face was a cold mask, eyes hard and deeply golden, the color all-encompassing, and his lips drew back over his teeth in a parody of a smile.

"Tread lightly, kid." His voice was low, cold, a warning.

Aziraphale just blinked, slightly befuddled, hands fluttering a little.

"You two look amazingly strong, too. Like you're finally one unit where there were two individuals before. And you're still individuals, too. There's this connection, like a web of connections really, and it's everywhere, right down to your core! Rad!"

"Rad?" Aziraphale echoed quietly, wide-eyed and more than a little overwhelmed.

"Your wings are bigger, too! You channel a lot of power… Hellish and divine." Adam almost squinted. "It looks like you connect into everything."

"Stop it!" Crowley hissed. "Stop it right away!"

Ethereal wings flared, not manifesting, just shadows of energy that briefly crackled through the otherwise quiet bookshop. Crowley knew he should be unnerved by the display, that it had never been like that before, but then there had never been a former Antichrist looking at him like a bug under a microscope before either.

He had no idea how to handle this new situation and Crowley was nothing if not extremely adaptable. In a world like this, where humanity changed the set-up every few centuries, one had to be.

Now there was Adam.

Again there was the touch. Calming and grounding. Aziraphale was doing it unconsciously. He sought for the gentle press of the anchor against his mind and caught it, feeling a lot better just for Aziraphale's steadying core.

Adam had the manners to look chastised. "Sorry. I… don't tell Anathema?" he blurted. "I promised her not to go around freaking people out by reading auras and stuff…"

The former Antichrist afraid of a human witch? Crowley wanted to laugh, but the sound was stuck in his throat. Reading an aura was personal, yes. Angels and demons could do it second nature, so for them it was normal, but to see the hidden wings? That required a little more power.

"Oh, she also gave me this. She said I'd definitely meet you here, so… here."

Aziraphale gingerly took the white envelope and opened it. Inside was an ancient piece of paper that had been part of a bigger page once. It had been ripped apart and Aziraphale was holding the lower half.

Crowley's senses flared in alarm as the angel blanched, his own aura expanding in shock, and for once it was the demon who soothed the frazzled energy lines.

"What?" he demanded.

Aziraphale swallowed dryly.

It was the name of the bookshop they were currently in, including the city, all in ancient handwriting, and it mentioned a demon and an angel who no longer were what their names suggested.

"What is this?" Azirphale breathed.

"Anathema got a box not long after the Apocalypse was averted," Adam explained readily. "From Agnes Nutter."

Crowley cursed colorfully, and not all was meant for young ears. Adam didn't even blush.

"Dear, please," Aziraphale tuttet. "There is a child present."

"He's not a child!"

"I'm not a child anymore," Adam said simultaneously.

"A young human," Aziraphale corrected himself.

"It's not the worst I ever heard," the young human in question piped up.

Crowley made a 'see there?' gesture, eyebrows rising over reptilian eyes. Aziraphale pursed his lips, clearly judging, then he turned to Adam.

"You said Agnes Nutter sent Anathema a box?"

"Yeah. It was a second prophecy book. She burned it."

"What?!" Aziraphale exclaimed, hands covering his mouth in shock. "Why?!"

"Good for her," Crowley mumbled, looking furious.

Adam shrugged. "I didn't hear about it until a few days before I left for Paris. Anyway, she got another package two weeks before that. With a copy of the book. Apparently Agnes was that good. She knew her heir would burn the first one."

Crowley closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't prone to headaches, unless he overdid it with exposure to holy stuff. Or having to talk to God Herself. Now he felt one massive ache coming and it was hammering right behind his eyes.

"Anathema had it delivered to your bookstore, Aziraphale."

"I-it's… in London?" Aziraphale squeaked looking like he was falling from one shock into another without being able to recuperate.

"Yes. Absolutely safe. She said she read it all and knew when to send it to you. Agnes foresaw a lot." Adam grinned.

"Fuck!" Crowley snarled. "Fuck you, Nutter! We don't need to go chasing after… whatever she predicted!"

Aziraphale was gripping his demon's wrist, holding on like for fear life. Crowley knew his counterpart was absolutely excited to have such a precious prophecy book in his shop, even if it was clear across the continent right now. But he was also afraid to see what it contained.

"Did you read it?" he finally asked tremulously.

"Nope. Anathema said it's for you and him." He gestured at Crowley. "And to tell you it's nothing bad."

"Define bad," the demon growled.

"Not another End."

"Well, that's kind of… reassuring." Aziraphale shot his counterpart a quick look.

Crowley just glared at Adam.

"I'm, ah, kinda starting at the U of London soon," the former Antichrist, now newly unaffiliated not-human added. "Got my own flat and all."

"Of course he has!" Crowley threw up his hands, dislodging Aziraphale's hold. "Great. Great! So you're our problem now? I don't think so! I'm not babysitting anymore!"

"I'm not anyone's problem," Adam replied, a frown on his forehead. "The card said to talk to you if I have questions."

"And you have," Aziraphale finished softly. "Of course you do. And we are willing to answer them all."

"We are?!"

"Yes, dear, we are." He gave his counterpart a pointed look. "Adam is like us now."

Crowley muttered curses under his breath, stalking over to a cabinet to pull out a bottle of scotch. He had no idea how long that had been there, but he didn't care. It was alcohol. He needed it right now.

Aziraphale gave the young non-human a slightly strained smile. "I think we should sit down, have a cup of tea, and then start from the beginning."

Adam's brows drew down a bit. "I know the beginning. I've been there from day one to the almost-End. What I want to know is what you guys are, because really, you feel very different than before."

"Well, yes, ehm, a lot has happened."

Crowley emptied his glass and refilled it. "A lot!" The second glass was quickly downed.

"Where are you staying?" Aziraphale inquired.

"The school group's staying at a hostel. Rather upscale one. No privacy, though."

"We could go to our place."

Crowley grimaced. "Really, angel?"

"Do you really want to talk about everything in here?"

Another grimace.

So Aziraphale ushered their visitor out the bookshop. The book he had come for was stowed away and he locked the tiny shop behind them.

xXxXx

Adam left before sunrise, needing to be back at the hostel before anyone found out he was gone.

Crowley paced their suite hotel room, radiating nervous energy. Aziraphale stopped him with a gentle gesture and drew the agitated demon into a soft kiss. The spiking energy deflated a little, wrapped around Aziraphale's essence, seeking strength and giving it in turn.

White wings unfurled and wrapped around them, drawing a soft sigh of appreciation from Crowley, who looked a little constipated a little later. Aziraphale kissed the look away, smiling as the kiss turned into a hug and Crowley burying his face against the angel's neck.

They separated after a long while, Crowley's fingers trailing over the feathers. Sparks danced around where his fingers touched the whiteness and he smiled reverently.

"We're fucked," he said softly. "Absolutely fucked."

"Adam isn't the Antichrist anymore, dear."

"How do you know?" he demanded, golden eyes flaring with anger and fear.

"He's a nice kid, Crowley. He has lived with these powers for seven years now and nothing had happened. Anathema would have called us if something had been terribly wrong. She is knowledgeable and has a good head. Now Adam has us, too."

"Us? We wouldn't be able to stop him if we wanted to! Bastards," Crowley snarled again, looking unsettled in ways Aziraphale had never seen him before. "Fencing the kid off to us to do what?"

Long fingers clenched into one wing. Aziraphale felt no discomfort, despite the agitation radiating from his counterpart. All he sensed was the fear, the rising terror that Crowley felt at the prospect of Adam… doing what? He had been a supernatural creature all his life, had been triggered seven years ago, and he had made the right decision. He had chosen humanity and Earth.

"Let him study, learn, grow up," Aziraphale answered calmly. "Be there in case of questions."

"I'm not his father!"

The angel interlaced their fingers, meeting the golden eyes calmly. "No. He renounced his real father, grew up in a loving surrogate family, and he made the right choice seven years ago."

"Now big ol' Dad sends him back to us again?"

"He is like us, Crowley. Without connections to either Side. Neutral."

The demon huffed, but he didn't disentangle himself from Aziraphale's hold.

"We can make this work," the angel echoed what Crowley had said not too long ago. "We are pros at making the impossible work."

It got him a tired snort. "Yeah."

"And he's on our Side. He saved Earth."

"Yeah," was the more quiet reply.

xXxXx

They returned to London with the precious book safely in Aziraphale's cabin trolley.

The bookshop was the same as before. Aziraphale inhaled the scent of old books and home. Yes, home. There was an energy in this place that was both him and Crowley. From day one of the opening over two hundred years ago, the place had soaked up both of their radiance, hellish and divine, and it had become something of a sanctuary.

Now it was home.

For as long as Aziraphale could have it, the shop would be here.

As he entered and Crowley waved at the door to automatically close behind them, he immediately saw the package. It was on the desk, wrapped in brown paper, looking innocent and not the least bit dangerous.

"You really want to open that?" Crowley asked warily, eyeing the package like he would a bucket of Holy Water.

"No," Aziraphale said.

"Liar."

He gave him a brief smile. On one hand he wanted to look into the box and read the prophecies; on the other he was afraid of what he might read. He ran careful fingers over the packaging, then finally removed it.

Crowley was there, sharp eyes on the box, expecting the worst.

There was a letter on top of it. From Anathema.

It explained how she had burned the first book when it had arrived, but this box had come anyway. Because Agnes had known. She had read the prophecies and she had multiple copies. Just in case. The original was for Aziraphale to keep and, if he wanted, to read.

Aziraphale folded the letter and met Crowley's eyes.

"I think I have the perfect spot for it," he said softly, voice wavering only a little.

xXxXx

The box was placed in the back room storage.

Aziraphale was curious, but he was too apprehensive and not inclined to really dig into the book.

Not yet.

And Crowley really just wanted to incinerate it.

xXxXx

Adam started university three months later.

He kept dropping by the bookshop, browsing along the shelves, quietly doing homework, or reading one of the many text books he was apparently required to.

He also sometimes just watched the angel, eyes holding either an intense or faraway expression.

"You look weird sometimes," he told Aziraphale.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sometimes you glow. Radiate. All over the spectrum. And then you're just… the same angel I met seven years ago."

Aziraphale blinked, looking slightly confused. "I was always an angel, Adam."

"Yeah, well, you're now… more intense. Singular. Solid."

The angel put down the book he had been holding. "That is a rather… interesting description. And I thought you shouldn't read auras?"

Adam's lips twisted a little. "I'm not reading your aura. It's… you. Just you. Not your aura. It's the same about Crowley. You're both very… unique and just there."

"Ah." Aziraphale tilted his head. "Like you are not there?"

Adam smiled. "Probably. Anathema said no one can see me as anything but human, which is cool, but I'm very much real and there."

"And unique."

"I'm pretty sure my real dad won't send up another son. Or daughter."

"Hopefully. One near-End was enough." The angel looked slightly perturbed.

"Wasn't cool."

"No. It wasn't… cool." Aziraphale brushed his fingers over the books on the table. "I'd rather avoid another incident."

"We all want that. I'm not going to conquer the world. I want to get through Uni, get a job, see what happens next."

Aziraphale met the earnest eyes. He had no idea if the Antichrist was like Christ. Jesus had been a regular young man and he had died a horrible death, no intervention from Her. He had been made into an example and into a revered figure. Aziraphale would rather not have history repeat itself.

Was Adam like his divine counterpart? Was he mortal? Immortal? Unlike Jesus he had magical abilities. He didn't go around preaching or teaching. He was a young man planning his life like other young humans his age, which meant: not at all. He had no idea what he wanted to do.

"Yes, let's see what happens," the angel echoed.

xXxXx xXxXx xXxXx

It took a while for Crowley to relax enough around the boy to not watch him the whole time. The demon was close to staking out his territory, which was the bookshop and Aziraphale. Adam was in no way threatening, but Crowley felt threatened.

This was Lucifer's son. He had powers.

It bothered him to no end, grated on his nerves, seemed to rub over his skin.

Sure, the kid had renounced his father, but the heritage was there. Maybe Big Ol' Dad would decide to drop in for a visit, see how the spawn was doing? Or Heaven might decide to try and smite the kid for the fun of it. Not that Crowley saw much of a success in that. For one, Adam Young didn't blip on anyone's radar, though he made Crowley's teeth itch and his skin crawl.

Aziraphale never commented on it, but whenever it got too much, his aura extended, enveloped his agitated demon, soothed frazzled nerves and calmed spiky waves of emotions. Sometimes he would simply touch Crowley and things quieted down.

It was a slow process.

But it was getting better.

xXxXx

"You can sense me," Adam stated one quiet evening in the bookshop. He had been busily typing away on his hideously expensive laptop until a moment ago; when he had stopped and just looked at Crowley. "You know what I am."

"Of course I know what you are," was the sharp answer. "Pretty hard to ignore."

"No. Yes. What I mean is, you can sense it, even without knowing me. I'm not invisible to you."

Crowley, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, silently stared at the young man, face impassive. He didn't so much as twitch.

"…fuck…" he finally murmured.

Because he could. He was aware of another entity in the room, someone with more than a little bit of magical talent and a lot of hellish nature in them. It had been there since the moment in Budapest, when he had identified their visitor, and now it was like a sledge-hammer to the head.

He could see Adam Young as he was.

Just like he could see Aziraphale as an angel and not just a bumbling, sometimes timid, sometimes clueless bookseller with a love for sweets and good food.

"Cool," was Adam's comment and he went back to typing.

Crowley was too stunned to really process the fact that Adam was visible to him.

xXxXx

Aziraphale gave him that mildly confused look when Crowley finally mentioned it to him three days later. It had taken him this long to get his brain back into the game. He had spent two of those days hopelessly drunk or driving around.

The angel hadn't inquired into his absence, preoccupied with unearthing old book crates and going over his little treasures as he catalogued them and gave them appropriate shelf spaces.

"That's quite… interesting," he finally said.

"You think?! He's the blood Antichrist, Zira! He is naturally camouflaged against whatever wants to find him!"

"He no longer is the Antichrist, dear. He is human."

"No. No, he isn't. He never was and never will be!"

Aziraphale's expression shifted from confused to determined. "It's not a bad thing, Crowley."

Crowley opened his mouth, then stopped and shut it again. It wasn't bad. Not really. Knowing where the kid was might actually be helpful.

Aziraphale regarded him calmly, waiting patiently.

The demon finally stalked over to the primly dressed angel and pulled him into a kiss, right in the middle of the bookshop that was still open for business. Well, there was no business in it at the moment.

Crowley snapped his fingers at the door and it locked tightly.

xXxXx

Arms closed around him and Crowley snuggled into the embrace. Warm eyes regarded him, the depths of the emotions taking his breath away. Possessive.

Mine.

Won't let you go.

Ever.

And he wouldn't go. Ever.

"You know we will deal with whatever comes our way, dear," Aziraphale said, carding his fingers gently through the auburn hair.

He grunted. "Hate curveballs."

"Nothing has changed. It can be a good thing, Crowley. A very good thing."

That would remain to be seen, but for now, curled up in bed with his very desirable angel, Crowley forgot about Adam Young for a while.

xXxXx xXxXx xXxXx

Aziraphale delighted in helping with assignments, reading over papers and actually delving into the topics discussed in class. He let Adam stay as long as he wanted, sometimes falling asleep in an armchair or the sofa when it was too late. Adam never complained about stiff necks or waking up in unnatural sleeping positions. He just grabbed his books, headed for a coffee shop in the morning, and then to the university.

And yes, Aziraphale could sense Adam, too. It was a curious change to before and both entities finally decided it might be because of all the other changes, being released from the Realms, so they were an oddity. Something even Adam's defenses hadn't taken into account and couldn't adjust to.

xXxXx

"You could make a lot more out of this place," Adam commented once after Aziraphale had thwarted another sale of his beloved books to some shady customer he wouldn't trust with his lovelies for any kind of money.

"Make more…?" the angel echoed. "Why would I?"

Crowley, lounging in one of the armchairs pushed into a corner, lowered his phone. He had been playing an online game.

"Get a coffee corner," Adam went on. "Free wifi is always good for business. Maybe have book readings."

"Good for business?" Aziraphale squeaked.

"Extend opening hours. Or make them more regular. You could sell accessories. And there's always online shopping."

Aziraphale had started with befuddled and had his expression and general state of mind had morphed from that to confused, shocked, and finally horrified.

Crowley was snickering silently to himself and met Adam's eyes over his dark glasses. The kid didn't understand at all.

"Accessories… online…" Aziraphale was truly struggling.

"Kid, getting a phone line in here was a hard fight already," Crowley drawled. "Getting Aziraphale to sell a book is a mountain that won't ever be conquered."

The angel shot him an affronted look. "I sell books!"

"Once every leap year. If someone strong-arms you into it."

Adam was smiling at the banter and Aziraphale's look of offense at Crowley's teasing.

"You should make this a library," he told the celestial entity.

"Then people would borrow my books!"

And that sounded even worse. Crowley unsuccessfully tried to hide his snickering.

Adam dropped the subject and shook his head. Aziraphale bustled around the shop and checked on his precious books with even more fervor, making sure nothing was amiss. Crowley raised his eyebrows in silent commentary and Adam sighed.

"You guys are weird," he muttered.

xXxXx

Adam also brought food. Take-out or just pastries, sometimes ice cream. Aziraphale was positively charmed and made tea, though Adam preferred either fancy coffee or hideously sugary soda.

Crowley proudly told him that the whole coffee hype had been one of his ideas. Not that head office Below had appreciated it at the time, nor had they truly understood. His ingenious ideas had never been understood.

They started to settle into this new routine, never touching the prophecies, aware of their existence but not inclined to find out what Agnes had written down.

Anathema had a copy and she was the descendant. Not their problem.

Just like Adam wasn't their problem, but he was hanging around, was actually a nice kid, studied, got good grades, and he didn't do any evil magic. Not even miracles to get better grades.

Aziraphale was proud like an uncle. Crowley just rolled his eyes at the angel.

xXx

London would never be the same again.

xXxXx xXxXx xXxXx

"It's done."

"And this is part of the Plan?"

"Yes."

"The Ineffable Plan?"

There were no words, just a kind of humming rumble, like very distant thunder.

"Well, I hope you know what you're doing. Last time didn't go so well."

There was a benevolent hum. "It went just like I wanted it to go."

The other snorted. "Right."

"And you learned a lesson."

"Would you stop with that crap?"

The Presence rose, the shape all and nothing in particular.

"A child cannot be bound. It will explore. It will make up its mind and go with it, even as the parent tries to guide and shape it."

He scowled. "Yes. Yes, I get it. Like father, like son. You've been rubbing it in since the failed End."

"It didn't fail."

Dark eyes turned ruby red as a flash of anger raced through him. It was quickly squelched.

"Sometimes you need to let your offspring go, explore the world, grow on their own. Whatever you say or do will be met with resistance. So you step back and let them go."

He snorted. "Adam's not yours."

"I beg to differ."

"What? You think you're a grandparent? Are you developing human views?"

"Maybe I never had different ones."

The Presence coalesced into a vaguely humanoid form. It approached the other entity, who was a little more than vaguely humanoid and rather solid and real in its shape. Tall, slender, dark-haired, wearing a human form like it was absolutely natural, he was a far cry from the demonic battle form that had last been seen.

There were times to impress the natives and scare his too good creation into obedience. And there were times when diplomatic meetings with one's parent required a more moderate appearance.

"I always have a plan, Lucifer. Never believe otherwise."

"This whole set-up might just implode."

There might have been a smile, there might not even be a face at all. It felt like a smile. Lucifer had always hated that about Her. She was all and nothing, was all shapes and none at all. She had given them shape and form, but Herself was unfathomable.

"They will do well, exploring this new stage of their lives together. As will Adam."

And then the Presence was gone.

Lucifer threw up his hands and shook his head. Eons. Eons and it was always the same!

This would never change. Ever.

Not like one particular angel and one particular, pain-in-the-ass demon. Or one stubborn off-spring who seemed to come too much after his father.

He should have taken that into account, he now mused. Like father, like son indeed. Rebellion was in the blood, so to speak.

Adam would always be of Hell, but he was also very much human. He was on Earth, he had a purpose, and he had enough of his powers left to be protected.

"Well, interesting times ahead," the ruler of Hell muttered as he sauntered vaguely downward toward his Realm. "Interesting times indeed."