This is a blog dedicated to Good Omens, Ineffable Husbands, and their daughter Isabelle. Check out my other blog shenanigans-and-imagines for other random fandoms. Masterlist
Okay, buckle up buckaroos, because today I met an honest-to-goodness cryptid.
I was out running errands and I made a stop at Intimate Books (…for a friend), and on my way out I realized that the bookshop next door was open.
This bookshop has existed for more than a hundred years, and in all my life it has NEVER BEEN OPEN. I mean, I assume it has to be open sometimes, but never at any normal, reasonable hour. Everyone says it’s a front for the mob or something.
So what do you do when the weird mafia bookshop is open? You go the fuck inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know that smell when you accidentally leave your towel on the bathroom floor all day and you come back to that mildew funk? The shop smelled like that times a thousand. I expected to see stuff growing on the walls, but the books were pristine. We’re talking first editions, rare editions, weird Bibles and books inscribed to really famous dead people. Librarians would weep for the chance to accession this place. In the first two minutes I found a signed copy of The Crucible and what I think was a first edition of Blake’s Book of Thel.
Then a clerk showed up out of nowhere—honestly nowhere. He looked EXACTLY like a bookseller should look, kind of fluffy and bewildered and really, really gay.
“Are you lost?” was the first thing he said to me.
“Nope. Just browsing, thanks.”
“Browsing, I see. Erm. How do you feel about snakes?” he asked. And without waiting for me to answer, he just walked away and vanished around a shelf.
I figured it was a metaphor, or a code phrase for the mafia. Until I turned a corner like ten minutes later and found a little reading nook. It was really pretty, although I feel like that particular window should have been on an interior wall? Anyway, curled up in an armchair in a patch of sunlight was the biggest fuck-off black snake I have ever seen.
Like, I don’t mind snakes in general. But in their normal context, right? Outside. On the ground. Not six feet long and sitting on a threadbare velvet armchair like it owns the place.
I was about to turn around and leave, but I saw a gorgeous first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass on a shelf, a little too close to the snake for comfort. But I had never needed anything so badly in my life.
So I went back to the counter to buy it, but the clerk was nowhere to be found.
While I was waiting, I noticed a collection of pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter, dating back to the very dawn of photography. A couple were of this rock-star looking guy from the 70s that I should probably have recognized, but there were authors and landscapes and stuff, too. There was even an old tintype portrait of Oscar freaking Wilde, sitting in this very shop with a guy that I would ACTUALLY SWEAR was the clerk from before. Like, I know my family all has the same nose, but this guy had the same everything.
After approximately one year of waiting, the clerk came back out to the desk. By now I’ve realized that he’s too bad at his job to be anything but the owner of the shop.
“I saw your snake,” I told him.
“Did you? Was he behaving himself?”
“He was sleeping.”
“Yes, he enjoys that.”
“Does he just stay out in the open like that? What if he gets out?”
He shrugged and smiled. “He always comes home again, the dear boy.”
Right, a homing snake. That’s totally normal.
Then he cleared his throat and asked, in a weirdly reluctant voice, if I was going to buy the Whitman.
“Yes, please,” I told him. “I saw it on a shelf by the snake, and it was just too tempting.”
He sighed. “Oh, yes, I expect it was.”
When I started to hand him my card, he went all fluttery and said that they didn’t take cards.
All right, fine. I had some cash on me, but I told him that he’d sell a lot more books if he got a Square or something.
He got this scandalized look on his face and went, “Why would I want to do that?”
Oookay. I handed over the cash and he popped open the ancient till and started making change.
In shillings. Shillings! I swear to god I saw Queen Anne’s face on one of them. The silver value of the coins was probably as much as I paid for the book.
But I had to have proof that this happened—at that point, all I had was a book in a plain brown wrapper, not appreciably different from what I bought next door. So I asked him for a receipt.
He looked delighted and wrote one up for me.
By hand.
With a fountain pen.
And that’s the story of how I met a bookseller cryptid and his pet snake.
I've noticed that people have started spreading the 1992 Good Omens script around. Please don't. If you've got it up, please take it down. There's a mess of serious and real legalities involved, and I don't want to have to start being a dick and asking for copyright takedowns and all of that, and I don't want to have to regret letting it out into the world. Just take it down, unshare, delete links. Thank you.
Isabelle is an OC of mine, and the adopted daughter of Crowley and Aziraphale.
I've written a series of one-shots about her link here if you're interested. But if you specifically want to read the introduction to all of this, I'd follow the link here: Life is Ineffable Like That.
This is obviously an AU and I started writing it before season 2 came out. At some point I do want to go back and rework some stuff, but as it stands, this is Isabelle.
girl help the eldritch horrors are organising a pride and prejudice party and making us dance to mirror their forbidden and repressed love. yes there is a michael jackson thriller video reenactment outside trying to get in. no yeah i still want that rare doctor who annual
babygirlification is a funny phenomenon in every fandom, but it's especially funny in GO because it's like a subfandom of Christianity (no I know, me neither, but you know what I mean).
yeah u know the serpent from the Bible who supposedly gave us original sin and caused everyone to die? sorry pope francis but that's a babygirl now
this feels like a good time to say that when I was a teenager I went to hear Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman talk about Good Omens the book (I know! I know!!!) and they said that one of their favourite things about writing it together is that it brought their two fandoms together and caused all the terry fans and the neil fans to hook up. So suddenly they started seeing all these couples where one was a skinny goth Gaiman nerd and one was jolly fat little Pratchett nerd. “And,” said Terry, “they looked like lots of number 10s walking down the street together!”
and now I realise that of course Az and Crowley are the ultimate number-10-in-human-form couple.
The Good Omens Book really got me during this scene.
Crowley being an optimist down to his core
The universe would protect him
Still taking time to warn and try to protect pedestrian
ANTHONY CROWLEY
Just something about the narrative naming Crowley by his chosen human name as he makes the most human choice possible to keep fighting till the end even if everything seems lost that gets me.
Is it just me or does this line hit different when you remember that David Tennant actually has a non-binary kid who uses they/them pronouns, and has worn this rainbow non-binary pin to a bunch of interviews —
A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!
Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.
Word Count: 1.9K
Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score.
She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up. The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.
His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.
He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.
It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.
That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.
With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so. No point in pretending to read. She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.
Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.
“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”
She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs. The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.
“Dear, are you alright?”
Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing. She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.
Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.
“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”
“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.
“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”
He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.
“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”
“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.
“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk. What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”
He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.
“Belle what have I told you about lying?”
“You do it all the time.”
He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”
“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”
“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame. “Now that is completely off the subject.”
There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.
He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”
Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good. For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him.
A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.
There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out. He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.
“What happened,” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly. “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”
The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”
“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear. I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”
Crowley nodded. “Right, best let me take the lead.”
“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.
“Tough love.”
He then turned his attention up the stairs.
“Izz! I’m coming up!”
It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered. And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.
“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.
“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”
“No!”
“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”
He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.
Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.
“That’s not fair!” she shouted.
“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion. Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”
“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human. It’s a very human thing to do. Now can’t I just cry?!”
It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one.
Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her. He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug. “There, there, it will be alright.”
Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.
“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.
She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke. I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”
“What joke was that?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Isabelle,” Crowley said.
That got both their attentions.
Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.
It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.
The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.
“It was all a joke,” she said quietly. “Thomas asking me out. It was all a joke.”
Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.
“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did. After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner. So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”
She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.
“They just thought it was really funny. I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”
The tears were flowing freely now.
“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”
She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.
“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming. You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”
She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words. Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him. He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.
“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for. That’s it. Just let it all out.”
Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks. His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze. Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.
Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning. She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.
Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said. “It’s going to take a while to recover from this. She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”
“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that. You got this angel?”
“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”
Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who.
He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause. He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him. Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.
A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!
Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.
Word Count: 1.9K
Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score.
She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up. The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.
His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.
He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.
It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.
That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.
With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so. No point in pretending to read. She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.
Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.
“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”
She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs. The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.
“Dear, are you alright?”
Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing. She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.
Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.
“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”
“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.
“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”
He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.
“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”
“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.
“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk. What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”
He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.
“Belle what have I told you about lying?”
“You do it all the time.”
He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”
“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”
“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame. “Now that is completely off the subject.”
There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.
He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”
Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good. For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him.
A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.
There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out. He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.
“What happened,” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly. “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”
The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”
“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear. I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”
Crowley nodded. “Right, best let me take the lead.”
“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.
“Tough love.”
He then turned his attention up the stairs.
“Izz! I’m coming up!”
It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered. And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.
“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.
“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”
“No!”
“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”
He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.
Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.
“That’s not fair!” she shouted.
“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion. Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”
“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human. It’s a very human thing to do. Now can’t I just cry?!”
It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one.
Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her. He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug. “There, there, it will be alright.”
Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.
“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.
She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke. I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”
“What joke was that?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Isabelle,” Crowley said.
That got both their attentions.
Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.
It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.
The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.
“It was all a joke,” she said quietly. “Thomas asking me out. It was all a joke.”
Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.
“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did. After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner. So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”
She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.
“They just thought it was really funny. I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”
The tears were flowing freely now.
“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”
She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.
“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming. You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”
She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words. Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him. He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.
“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for. That’s it. Just let it all out.”
Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks. His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze. Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.
Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning. She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.
Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said. “It’s going to take a while to recover from this. She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”
“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that. You got this angel?”
“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”
Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who.
He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause. He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him. Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.
A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!
Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.
Word Count: 1.9K
Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score.
She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up. The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.
His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.
He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.
It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.
That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.
With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so. No point in pretending to read. She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.
Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.
“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”
She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs. The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.
“Dear, are you alright?”
Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing. She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.
Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.
“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”
“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.
“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”
He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.
“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”
“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.
“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk. What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”
He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.
“Belle what have I told you about lying?”
“You do it all the time.”
He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”
“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”
“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame. “Now that is completely off the subject.”
There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.
He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”
Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good. For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him.
A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.
There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out. He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.
“What happened,” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly. “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”
The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”
“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear. I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”
Crowley nodded. “Right, best let me take the lead.”
“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.
“Tough love.”
He then turned his attention up the stairs.
“Izz! I’m coming up!”
It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered. And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.
“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.
“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”
“No!”
“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”
He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.
Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.
“That’s not fair!” she shouted.
“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion. Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”
“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human. It’s a very human thing to do. Now can’t I just cry?!”
It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one.
Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her. He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug. “There, there, it will be alright.”
Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.
“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.
She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke. I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”
“What joke was that?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Isabelle,” Crowley said.
That got both their attentions.
Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.
It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.
The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.
“It was all a joke,” she said quietly. “Thomas asking me out. It was all a joke.”
Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.
“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did. After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner. So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”
She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.
“They just thought it was really funny. I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”
The tears were flowing freely now.
“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”
She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.
“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming. You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”
She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words. Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him. He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.
“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for. That’s it. Just let it all out.”
Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks. His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze. Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.
Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning. She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.
Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said. “It’s going to take a while to recover from this. She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”
“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that. You got this angel?”
“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”
Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who.
He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause. He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him. Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.
A/N: Hey! I'm not dead. With all the hype around season 2, I remembered this was still kicking around my files and decided to finally finish it. I have NOT had a chance to watch season 2 so if this isn't in keeping with new information, I apologize. Please no spoilers in the meantime. Once I get a chance to watch it, I'll likely have plenty of thoughts to share. Thanks!
Also, PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS. I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!
Summary: Aziraphale finds himself waiting for Isabelle to come home from her first date. Unfortunately, humans can be rather unpredictable creatures.
Word Count: 1.9K
Aziraphale wasn’t waiting up. He had no reason to. Isabelle had been very clear on that score.
She was going to meet a boy from school at the cinema. She had told Aziraphale what time it started and when she’d likely be back. He had nothing to worry about and therefor had no reason to wait up. The fact he had decided to catch up on some reading while taking a seat closest to the front door was a mere coincidence.
His eyes scanned over the pages, but halfway down the second, realized he hadn’t truly read any of it. With a slight huff, he set the book down and leaned back in the chair.
He really shouldn’t worry. Crowley certainly wasn’t as he made himself comfortable watching telly in the other room. Still, the whole thing nagged at him.
It wasn’t as if he were keeping vigil over Isabelle’s virtue or whatever it was fathers were so paranoid about to the point of threatening young suitors with violence. What Isabelle decided to do or not to do was entirely her decision. She was a smart girl after all and had been taught from a young age not to be afraid of the word no. All the same, he knew he’d feel much better once he saw her come through the door safe and sound. Isabelle might be good at saying no, but it didn’t mean other people listened.
That was the real crux of the issue, he supposed. Other humans. There was no telling what they would do.
With a slight effort, he got up from the chair, adjusting his waistcoat as he did so. No point in pretending to read. She’d be another hour at least. Might as well make some tea and think of something else to do. Maybe he’d even give that show a try Crowley seemed so addicted to.
Just as that rather shuddering thought ran through his mind, the front door clicked open. Relief immediately spread through him as he turned towards the entrance.
“Ah, Belle you’re back. How was your evening?”
She ignored him, keeping her head down as she quickened her pace toward stairs. The smile which had appeared on the angel’s face quickly disappeared.
“Dear, are you alright?”
Isabelle didn’t answer. She only let out a shuttered breath of one trying hold back tears and failing. She just ran the rest of the way up as fast as she could before slamming the door to her room shut.
Aziraphale blinked, finding himself standing rather uselessly at the bottom of the stairs. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Something had to have gone wrong if she came back this early. Different scenarios flashed across his mind, most of them ending with Isabelle giving a boy a well-deserved slap, but none of them provided him any useful insight.
“Was that Izz?” Crowley said, poking his head out from his study, undoubtedly clued in by the proceeding bang. “Something wrong?”
“Um yes,” Aziraphale said distractedly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
Before Crowley could get another word in, the angel walked up the stairs, and stopped just in front of Isabelle’s door.
“Belle?” he called gently. “Dearest, what’s wrong?”
He received no answer, aside from the muffled cries.
“Isabelle please open the door. I promise you’ll feel much better if you let me in.”
“Go away,” her voice came tiredly.
“Alright, you don’t have to open the door,” he conceded. “Just talk. What happened?”
“Nothing,” she said, more forcefully this time. “Just leave me alone.”
He gave small sigh, halfway between exasperated and concerned.
“Belle what have I told you about lying?”
“You do it all the time.”
He pulled back, his brows furrowing. “Now that is a bit of an exaggeration.”
“You let people think you’re human, that’s lying.”
“That’s different, if I went around saying--,” he stopped himself, directing a tight-lipped expression straight into the door frame. “Now that is completely off the subject.”
There was a pause. Aziraphale could practically hear her annoyed look at being caught.
He took a deep breath. “Dear,” he said as his voice slipped back to its parental tone, “please tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Isabelle snapped. “Can’t I just not want to talk about something? Leave me alone!”
Aziraphale jerked back from the door, startled by her outburst. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but quickly realized it would do no good. For whatever reason, she wasn’t going to talk to him.
A slight pain came to his chest at the thought.
There had been times Isabelle kept things to herself, but not for long and never anything serious. She knew she could tell him and Crowley anything. Yes, he had read enough books to know finding independence was part of the growing pains of adolescent, but he hadn’t thought it meant she would willingly shut him out. He felt rather stuck about the whole thing and slowly made his way back downstairs, chewing his bottom lip the whole way.
He was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was a little surprised to find Crowley waiting for him, arms crossed, and stone faced.
“What happened,” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said, sadly. “She came in crying and went straight to her room.”
The demon’s brows creased. “She was crying?”
“Yes, she tried her best to hide it, poor dear. I don’t know what happened, but it must have been something very bad.”
Crowley nodded. “Right, best let me take the lead.”
“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked.
“Tough love.”
He then turned his attention up the stairs.
“Izz! I’m coming up!”
It was her only warning as he stormed the steps with a determination which normally left Aziraphale flustered. And he was, rather, having followed him halfway up the stairs before he knew what his legs were doing.
“What part of ‘leave me alone’ do you not understand?” she shouted back as Crowley reached the landing.
“All of it,” he said. “Now let me in.”
“No!”
“Izz, I have respected your privacy by asking, but using my authority as your father I’m coming in anyway.”
He snapped his fingers and there was no longer a door.
Isabelle sat up on her bed, her eyes flashing with tears and anger.
“That’s not fair!” she shouted.
“Lesson one for the evening, life isn’t fair,” he said sternly. “Lesson two, privacy is an illusion. Now are you going to tell me why you’re crying?”
“It doesn’t matter!” she snapped. “I just need to cry, okay? Sometimes you just need to cry. It’s human. It’s a very human thing to do. Now can’t I just cry?!”
It was then Isabelle finally caught Aziraphale’s eye. The anger was still there, but it was obvious just how hurt she truly was. He hadn’t seen her eyes so red since she had broken her arm after attempting a rather precarious trick on the monkey bars. This was different though. He couldn’t miracle it away, for one.
Isabelle instantly put her head down looking ashamed at having both of them see her like this.
“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, crossing the room toward her. He took a seat on the bed and quickly wrapped her in a hug. “There, there, it will be alright.”
Isabelle tried her best to look annoyed at his gesture, but her body language gave her away as she leaned into the embrace. In all honestly, it made him feel just a bit better too. At least he felt like he was doing something useful.
“Dearest, what’s wrong?” the angel tried again.
She let out another shuddering breath, shaking her head. “It’s stupid. It was a stupid joke. I’m stupid to have fell for it. I’m sorry.”
“What joke was that?” he asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Isabelle,” Crowley said.
That got both their attentions.
Aziraphale looked up at him and saw an uncharacteristically soft look on his face as he looked Isabelle right in the eyes.
It wasn’t the first time he had given that look, but it was a rare enough thing, that Aziraphale always felt a little off balance at seeing it. There was something different about it, just a glimmer of that angel he used to be back before the world.
The girl in his arms seemed to feel the same thing as whatever fight she had left in her slipped away.
“It was all a joke,” she said quietly. “Thomas asking me out. It was all a joke.”
Both Aziraphale and Crowley remained silent allowing her to continue.
“He told me to meet him at the cinema, so I did. After a while it looked like he was going to be late so I texted him and he told me he was sorry, that he got caught up with school stuff and he’d meet me there in a bit so we could get dinner. So, I waited and about half an hour later he drove up with his friends and they just started laughing.”
She let in a sharp breath as she started to feel the familiar tightness in her throat.
“They just thought it was really funny. I mean c’mon it’s hilarious, why on earth would the school freak think that anyone would be interested.”
The tears were flowing freely now.
“I mean how naive is that? It’s so stupid. I’m so stupid.”
She tried to compose herself, but every attempt she made seemed to make it worse.
“I’m sorry. I should have seen it coming. You taught me how to spot liars and I didn’t. I’m smarter than this.”
She broke down again no longer having it in her to form words. Aziraphale pulled her in tighter and she let him. He slowly rocked her back and forth rubbing her back soothingly.
“Shhh, it’s alright, you have nothing to apologize for. That’s it. Just let it all out.”
Crowley for his part said nothing as the last of Isabelle’s tears trickled down her cheeks. His stance was much stiffer now with balled knuckles and hardened gaze. Something was brewing deep inside his mind and, needless to say, it was decidedly unpleasant.
Isabelle eventually calmed down and Aziraphale let her go with the promise of coco and the fact it would be better in the morning. She only half believed him, but accepted the idea of coco with as much enthusiasm as one could muster after having their feelings stamped on.
Both Aziraphale and Crowley left the room in mutual silence not speaking until they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said. “It’s going to take a while to recover from this. She’s really taken what those boys said to heart.”
“Yes,” Crowley said, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but mental scars are forever, or something like that. You got this angel?”
“Yes,” he said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“Got to take care of something.” The demon then grabbed his keys, coat, and sunglasses before heading out the door. “Don’t wait up.”
Aziraphale did not need to ask what it was that Crowley needed to take care of, or more accurately who.
He also knew somewhere, deep down, he should intervene, but the crying girl upstairs gave him pause. He didn’t know exactly what Crowley had in mind, and if he didn’t know, there was no real way he could reasonably stop him. Aziraphale was satisfied with this circular logic and allowed himself to settle in for the night. There was no need to wait up, after all.
