An Ineffable History

Chapter 13: Before you start a war, you better know what you're fighting for

The Dowling Estate, London, 2014

There were many advantages to being the nanny to the Antichrist.

For one thing, Dagon was so impressed with her progress that they were requiring minimal paperwork, as long as she checked in semi-regularly, Crowley was in the clear. But it wasn't just the lack of paperwork that Crowley found herself enjoying. There was a kind of freedom in the life she was living now, in the everyday simplicity of it. She woke up early and miracle herself into an acceptable outfit for the day, woke up the Antichrist (the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness) and made sure that he was dressed and ready for whatever lessons (or lack of) Crowley had planned for the day. After their lessons (and Warlock's ever-growing skill at escaping them) Crowley would hand off Warlock to Aziraphale, ehm, Brother Francis for the afternoon, letting some heavenly influences take hold on the child. Then she would pick up Warlock, thank Aziraphale for watching him for a bit, then get the kid ready for dinner, where Warlock would go back to being nanny's little devil. After he had eaten, Warlock would use the next hour or so that he had before Crowley put him to sleep to either play with various toys in his room, or to crawl on Crowley's lap and ask her whatever questions popped into his head. Then she would take him to bed and tell whatever stories or sing whatever songs Warlock wanted until he fell asleep. After that she would retire to her room down the hall, or go visit Aziraphale in the gardener's cabin on the very back of the property, which was surprisingly comfortable all things considered (and the little bit of heavenly interference certainly helped).

Crowley and Aziraphale saw each other every day now that they were working together in the same place. It was wonderfully and frighteningly domestic sometimes. Just the other day Warlock had taken both of their hands and led them through the garden on an "adventure." Crowley lived for moments like those, when it was just Aziraphale and Warlock and her. It was all so...human.

All in all, Crowley rather enjoyed raising the little hellion.

She could never let Hell find out about that. If Dagon found out that she actually cared about the Antichrist the way she imagined it was like to care about a son; well, that was a sure trip back to hell to be condemned to paperwork until the end times. But as long as she kept Beelzebub informed (and kept Dagon in their favor,) Crowley had free reign over the raising of little Warlock.

Today however, the little antichrist was running around the Dowling's mansion with the bright yellow toy Nerf gun (a gift from the boy's "father" on his return from his last trip to America. What was it with Americans and guns?) and was shooting various lamps, vases, and staff members with the plastic bullets. Crowley might have found it hilarious had Warlock not decided to press his luck and shoot her in the leg. Crowley decided that Warlock had been inside for far too long and it was time that they spent a day outside in the garden. Let Aziraphale deal with it, Crowley thought as Warlock sulked at her side.

Aziraphale was at the back of the property, currently trying to manage a particularly wild fern that had been refusing to bloom fully. Crowley rolled her eyes behind her glasses, she would- grudgingly- admit that the garden did look quite good, but Aziraphale was too soft on his plants and they didn't take him seriously. Crowley would never tolerate such disobedience from her own plants.

"Brother Francis, I hope we're not interrupting anything major." Aziraphale shot up, getting a leaf stuck in his hair.

"Lady Ashtoreth," Aziraphale said, ducking his head slightly and smiling. "Never a bother. I was just working on this fine fern. What brings you here today?" Aziraphale squinted his eyes slightly in that way of his that Crowley had determined to mean "is there something that we need to talk about?" Crowley shook her head slightly.