Hung the Moon

To Sit With A Dog On A Hillside On A Glorious Afternoon Is To Be Back In Eden

Crowley had made the most of his morning. He lounged over the arm rests in one of the sitting room chairs, a glass of calisaya dangling from his fingers. Though he'd opted to get dressed - a mesh top with roses printed on it and sleek black trousers with detailing down the legs - he'd not bothered with his sunglasses. This was his home, their home, and he didn't want to get into the habit of distancing himself from it.

"Mum," Wendy's voice sounded aggrieved as she trotted out of the kitchen. "Are you drinking? It's ten in the morning!"

Crowley sat up, rather taken aback.

Surely she's seen people drink at all hours of the day and night, with a father like hers. I remember those wild parties.

Well, the sperm donor anyway. Thaddeus wasn't much of a father, and absent at best. When Thaddeus was around, though, there had always been mind numbing political celebrations with no end (Crowley thought of that one memorable night where an MP had a slash into the grandfather clock). The booze always flowed from dusk till dawn. He should know; some of those old windbags and empty suits had pinched his ass hard enough he wouldn't be surprised if the marks were still there.

"That bother you, starlight?"

He asked, setting the glass on the coffee table. As Nanny Ashtoreth, he'd never had alochol in front of her besides the occasional glass of white wine with food. Had to keep up the reserved but sinister appearances.

Speaking of appearances...

Wendy had leaned hard into the goth aesthetic. Crowley had miracled up far too many clothes the other night for her to inspect and choose from. Today she had on a dress that had silver straps crossing over her shoulders and collarbones. The actual bodice was black with electric blue shimmer underneath, and her leggings had silver stars on them. Blue glitter made her trainers shine.

Her jewelry consisted of earrings in the shape of the sun with a crescent moon curving against the far edge, and a headband encrusted with rhinestones. He always had to resist the urge to do ridiculous things like steal the Queen's Opal for Wendy's accessories, just to make Wendy smile.

At the moment she was far from smiling. She had her arms crossed over her chest and had such a pointed look on her face she looked eerily like Zira down to the slight flare of her nostrils. When she got angry, it felt like she was emitting a supernatural power, radiating like angelic Grace.

"It's not good for you, mum," she said. Crowley recognized what was happening: she was shaking, her fingers white where they sat against the black fabric of her sleeves. Her words wobbled and so did her bottom lip. He showed those same signs when things got overwhelming and he was about to bloody cry. Again.

He stood up and offered his hand. She took it, and he lead her to the back door.

The dog met them on the patio.

"What will it be, my dear?"

Aziraphale asked, following Wendy down the row of cages. He did so at a much more sedate pace than the children. They bounced from animal to animal like ping pong balls in an arcade game. Crowley wouldn't have felt the slightest surprise if the sound effects kicked in one minute to the next.

Crowley wanted to rescue every last tiny soul in the place, but he knew they didn't have the room. Even with miracles that level of care for so many would be hard.

He tried to ignore the cats mewling for attention and the dogs curled up, sullen, on donated blankets. He might not like dogs, per se, but their sadness still prodded at his demonic senses in a way that made his eyes well up with tears.

The snakes were especially difficult to ignore. He couldn't help but notice how inadequate their shelters were.

Well, maybe when the paddock is finished, he told himself.

Thus comforted he went over to the cage at the far left the Them had clustered around. Inside, accompanied by a big fluffy blanket and an assortment of brightly colored toys, stood a giant mutt. It had the height of a Great Dane, his withers at Crowley's hips. Yet any intimidation factor was rather ruined by its messy black fur that made him look more like a cherished and much-loved stuffed animal than a fearsome guard dog. He had the face of a Schnauzer, but the big head and doofy grin of a Labrador.

He leapt up when he set eyes on Crowley, woofing and clattering against the bars.

"I think he knows what you are, darling", Aziraphale said, unable to contain his laughter. Maybe that was it, though the damn thing seemed more excited than afraid. It's tongue lolled out of its mouth, a grin plastered on its big dumb head. It sniffed Wendy's hand, the rest of the Them thrusting theirs between the bars for inspection.

It licked Wendy's face when she got too close, making her giggle so much she had trouble stopping the fits of laughter. Adam laughed too, putting his arm around Wendy's shoulders. Crowley had an immediate protective reaction, but he kept his urge to scare the boy into good behavior buried. Barely.

"Is he the one?" Aziraphale asked, standing with the children. He almost seemed one of them in his pure excitement, his fingers crooked through the mesh of the kennel door. "Well hello, you clever thing", he added, peering in. "What a handsome fellow."

If the dog knew what he was, he clearly knew what Aziraphale was too; he stared at Aziraphale in utter bliss then sat without being asked. His big yellow eyes goggled around as if he'd gotten into a patch of purple kush.

"Can I have him, dad? Please?" Wendy said, taking Aziraphale's hand.

"Of course you may. He will be a good companion when you go out to the water or into the woods, I should think."

An attendant showed up, a white woman with her blond hair tied back in a tail. She wore the green shirt with gold lettering that passed as a uniform here. She brightened at seeing a nice family falling in love with one of her charges. Crowley saw it transform her face, her eyes sparkling. The dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks became more prominent as she flushed with excitement.

Crowley wriggled into her mind. She had no chance of detecting him. Luckily he hadn't done it to tarnish her soul the way Ligur would have.

It didn't take much to read her story.

Leave your husband, he whispered into her grey matter. Flee. Take the children and go where he won't ever find you.

"Mum?" Wendy said, jolting him out of his temptation. "What do we name him?"

She had the dog on a borrowed leash. The dog was making a racket, woof woof woof. Trying to run circles around Wendy, trying to lick Zira's hands. He groaned. Inwardly.

No sense ruining the mood.

"How about Dis?" He said.

"Why Dis?" Wensleydale asked, adjusting his glasses. Pepper meanwhile had her hands buried in the dog's fur, petting it so expertly its back leg kicked. Brian was going on about what a good friend the dog would be, how it would love Dog and then they could have the best adventures with their noble hounds at their sides.

"You know who gets sent to the City?" Crowley said. A wily grin plucked at the corners of his mouth. "Perverts. Blasphemers. Questioners. The wrathful. Gluttons! Sounds perfect for us, yeah?"

And so Dis the dog piled into the Bentley (the children had to hold him on their laps to make him fit at all) and went to his forever home.

"Woof!" Dis announced, his ridiculous beardy face wet from drinking out of a puddle, his big yellow eyes full of simple joy. It was like he was saying "Hello! I know you are a demon! Isn't it wonderful I know such a juicy secret?"

The mere presence of Dis made Wendy calm down enough for her to stop shaking. She patted his thick, damp (turned out Dis loved water, as at least one ruined jacket could attest) skull before he bounded off again to find a tennis ball to slobber on.

Crowley took her over to a patch of grass dotted with wildflowers, and there they sat despite the dew. For a long time, they were both silent. Wendy had her knees drawn up to her chest and he lounged back on his elbows. Both of them watched the wetland laid out before the, a strange melancholy rolling off the lake to entangle with the grey day.

"I remember the parties," Crowley said. "They never went well for me, really. I can only imagine how you must have felt. I'm sorry...I don't know how I didn't realize."

"Its okay, mum. Don't be sad."

She leapt to comfort him. Did they expect that of her at home? She was only a child; they should have been showering her with affection and attention. Not the other way around. Not like that.

"No, starlight," he said, "it's not your job to comfort me. This is about you, not me."

Wendy plucked a flower and pulled the petals off at methodical intervals. She canted her head so a wing of hazelnut-colored hair partly obscured her frowning face.

"I didn't have it so bad. It's just, when mom drank she got mean. Real mean. Sometimes she'd slap me for no reason. Wearing the wrong shirt, or not helping her enough around the house. Got worse when we were going to have guests."

He remembered the fuss Harriet always made when a party drew near, how she would make the servants get down on their hands and knees to scrub out every corner in the place. Wendy had often gone to Brother Francis then, listening to Aziraphale go on about flowers.

Aziraphale couldn't grow them the normal way, of course. Not like he could. Yet the angel seemed to feel that each one had a special personality, as if they were human, and he loved to tell Wendy all about them.

Crowley made a mental note to murder the Dowlings at his earliest convenience and fumbled for something to say.

"I'm sorry," he said, keeping his fury contained for Wendy's sake. "No one should be treated like that."

Unless you're a demon. Unless you deserve it.

"That's never going to happen to you here," he added. He wanted to promise her nothing bad would ever happen to her again, but that would have been cruel. And a lie. "Worse thing Zira and I ever do when we're three sheets to the wind is argue about whales. And...well, we can't fix the past, but the future could turn out all right. Big fan of optimism, me."

He felt eggshell-fragile endorsing any kind of good end to all they'd been through, but he had to put all of his mangled faith somewhere.

Wendy leaned against him, the panic attack averted. What he supposed were maternal instincts surged through him. Wendy could take care of herself in so many ways, having been forced to grow up quickly. Yet there was still this part of her that ached to be loved.

I'll give you that. As much as I can muster. Zira too.

"You're safe with us," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "I promise you."