Chapter 34: A Choice Made Without Agency

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Chapter 34: A Choice Made Without Agency

The weather cooled; the days became dreary. But the dreams died away, and never returned.

Aziraphale had been right, if a little hasty. And without the torment of those haunting nights, Crowley seemed to blossom back into his old aggravating self. The vapid smiles returned, the manic energy, the terrible snarky humor. He even played a few pranks on the angel when they were out. But Aziraphale took it in stride, because Crowley was rebounding at last.

The vanishing dreams had another result. Crowley opened up to him....

One particular rainy morning Aziraphale found him in the kitchen. His feet were propped up on the table. Aziraphale turned on a light switch, and Crowley's head came up. The eyes were edged in dried blood, and enormous once again.

"I've always been careful, you know," he whispered. Aziraphale glided into a seat across from him.

The demon cleared his throat and raised his voice by a hair. "When I was lackadaisy with everything else, I was always careful with that."

Aziraphale leaned closer, folding his hands before him.

"These little ones....belong in a gentler place than this universe. Where, I don't know. But I never wanted to bring one into this world, to suffer what was never their burden. And when I finally did," his eyebrows raised, and he looked the angel in the eye," it wasn't by my consent."

The angel's mouth fell open. His hands became fists.

Crowley looked away, and let his legs fall to the floor one at a time. Such a loud sound in the quiet. He slowly raised up. "She wasn't a proper witch, that woman. Proper witches deal with crops and natural births, and natural deaths. What they don't do, is summon demons. What they don't do, is enthrall them and imprison them in shackles."

Aziraphale could barely form the words," She made you her incubus."

"Aye, angel.. A psychopath, a tyrant, a blight. A sorcerer."

"You mean Sorcerous?"

"One is no better than the other," Crowley whispered. "Gender? What does gender have to do with greed? Seventh daughter or son of a seventh son, who cares? The path lay before her, destiny called. But she could have been another Adam Young. Could have sated her impulse to control and command in other ways. Instead, she chose to hurt, maim, and murder people, ruin their lives, break them. She chose it because it delighted her."

"What did she want from you?"

"Whot she got: a child."

"Oh, Crowley."

The demon's body coiled, his head drawing into his shoulders, his knees thudding the underside of the table as his feet rose from the floor. Then he relaxed, and his voice became flat," She was no mother. She was a power-hungry fiend."

"Go on, sweet boy. I'm listening."

"Her golden ticket would be her own flesh and blood. What she would do to that little baby.... she showed me the implements, the knives, so many knives, just to torment me. Went into livid detail as she laid them out. Afterwards...the sacrifice would have assured her limitless powers."

He paused, then popped his lips. "She thought she had me helpless. But I had one thing. I had one of your wing feathers. Not sure how or when I got it, but it finally came in handy."

Aziraphale touched him.

"For days she held me like that, for days she.... worked me. It took so long to build up my powers: I was so weak. It wasn't until the moment she.... got...what she wanted. Then she started laughing, reveling in her plans for that kid, again. And it was like something snapped inside me. I felt my energy surge. I placed that feather between my shackled hands and forced all my energy and all my rage into it. And it was just enough to break her spell."

"What—what did you do?"

"I delivered a baby."

"From that hateful woman?"

"No, I mean, "Crowley covered his face. "I delivered it!"

The angel gasped. "How!!!"

"Do you recall the old Norse myth about Loki and the Stone Mason Giant?"

"Oh, Crowley, you didn't."

"Yep, pulled a Loki. I change my body's gender to accommodate the child."

Aziraphale just stared at him. But the demon went on.

"I miracle it there to safety while I threw out my hand, and unleashed a stream of hellfire on the tyrant. She went up and out of the world in an instant. Nothing left of her but ashes. But then there was her little victim. Aziraphale?"

"Yes?"

"This was different from the 'godfather days.' There was no time: I was so weak I feared I'd lose the form at any minute. So, I did the only thing that I could. I sped up time in my body, and the infant grew."

"Dear fellow!"

"I covered it with my waning powers, as it...she... grew within me. Once it began I wouldn't stop her growth. So, I choose to protect it." The demon hung his head," It was the only decision I had in the matter."

"Go on, Crowley." Aziraphale rose and went to him, and pulled him to his chest.

The demon's face was haunted. "Oh, how I screamed."

The angel pressed Crowley's head into his vest.

"But it worked. She slid into my hands, so tiny and covered in gunk. I cleared out her small mouth, and she came to life, squalling her little voice to the world." Crowley at last smiled, and smiled so wide. "Everything was there. Toesie woesies and all accounted for. She seemed perfect, then."

The angel rocked him, and he just leaned in, grabbing onto his arm. The smile disappeared.

"I bit thru her umbilical cord, and finally had enough strength to break the chains, all the accruements. Don't know how long I lay there, with that squalling infant in my arms. I fed her. That was nice. That's the only context I will use the word nice in, eva'."

Aziraphale nodded.

"Shortly after I lost the form. I gathered what little strength and wits I had left, got provisions, and got the hell out of there. I freed the animals in the pens, took a nanny goat, and set the place ablaze."

"Is there a happy ending to this story?"

"She was a Nephilim; you can guess the rest of it."

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