***

FOUR MONTHS AND SIX DAYS LATER...

In the end, they transferred Maren to a different primary school, believing she'd make a better start somewhere new. Now that she understood why she couldn't tell anyone about her supernatural parents, she kept her blabbering mouth shut. It turns out that, when you're the new girl, you don't need to say things like that to get attention -- it comes to you naturally.

The moment children spot someone unrecognisable, they flock towards them, wanting to know every little detail from the way they style their hair to their choice of hobbies. They accepted her in an instant, which made things easier for her upcoming fifth birthday.

Obviously, they didn't know the exact date of her birth, instead choosing to honour the day of her arrival. So, technically, it was more like her "fifth arrival day", but Aziraphale and Crowley decided against using that term.

With her newfound popularity, Maren wanted to have a party with all her new friends. Her dads were hesitant, at first, considering their wariness with other humans. But they wanted their daughter to be happy, so Crowley left Aziraphale to plan something for her. He was good at organisation, and despite the demon's dislike of it, he granted the angel a chance to do his dreadful magic show. The children were young -- they wouldn't care if their parents sat them in front of a television for hours on end.

Obviously, Aziraphale wouldn't dare let any child younger than five near his precious books, so he rented out a couple of rooms at a local leisure centre. It was a good decision, considering the chaos that soon unfolded once the party was in full swing.

Crowley didn't intend on staying long, arriving mid-way through the party when all the kids were running around, dancing to cheesy pop music. His angelic friend stood near the entrance as he entered, taking note of Aziraphale's dismay. Half of his drawn-on moustache was wiped across his cheek.

"How's it going so far?" the demon inquired.

"To be honest, I'm quite pleased we were only given one child." They observed Maren from a distance, watching her climb onto the back of one of her classmates. They swung her around, and their daughter's laughter filled Aziraphale with glee. But when compared to the other children, she proved to be the most sane out of all of them. "They have so much energy. I don't know where they get it from."

"It's a mystery, Angel." Children were untempered creations of the universe, running on sugar and pure imagination.

Aziraphale glanced down at the present tucked under Crowley's arm. "I gather that's for Maren."

"No, I wrapped up a box on a whim." He responded.

Maren climbed off her classmate's back, patting down her frilly dress before her eyes were drawn to the main entrance. Her face lit up, her mouth falling open; Crowley matched her excited expression, grinning back at her. He crouched on the floor, lowering himself to her height.

She sprinted across the room, her tulle skirt flowing delicately behind her as Maren leapt into his arms. "Daddy, you came!"

"Ha-ha! Like I'd miss it, pet." Crowley pressed a light kiss against her the tip of her crown, smoothing back her hairline with his palm. "Happy Birthday."

"I missed you." She uttered.

They pulled away from each other, Crowley's hand snaking down her arm until he was clutching her little fingers. "You only saw me a few days ago?"

"But I always miss you and other Daddy when you're gone." Maren didn't feel like herself without them -- they were the only ones who understood her. Her new friends were cool, but they were nothing like Aziraphale and Crowley. They taught her so many things and told her the secrets of the universe; she couldn't ask for more.

Crowley let go of her wrist, reaching for her present. "Hey, do you wanna see your gift?"

Her smile widened, and she bounced up and down, nodding her head. "Yeah! Yeah!"

As he stood back up, the demon handed her the wrapped gift. "Here you go."

She gingerly took it from his hands, having learnt to be delicate with certain things, such as Aziraphale's antique first editions. Maren hoped it wasn't too fragile, afraid one of her classmates might accidentally break it.

Demons weren't known for bearing gifts of pleasance, preferring to play on humanity's greatest fears and make a mockery of them. But in the time the angel had grown to know Crowley, Aziraphale understood he was not the type to be so malicious. 

He could never hurt children -- the angel had learnt that a long time ago. 

Aziraphale perked up a little, his brows raised. "Ooh, it looks like a board game."

"Do I look like the type of demon to buy her Monopoly?" he glared at the angel as Maren tore the wrapping paper, chucking it on the ground. "That game breaks up families -- I got her something much better."

"Grow-Your-Own..." Maren bit her tongue, struggling with her pronunciation.

Crowley tapped on the box. "... Car-niv..."

"... Carniv-or-ous Houseplants." She finished. The girl's eyes widened, looking up at her father with a delighted expression. "You got me the plants that eat people?"

Aziraphale chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Maren, they can't eat people."

"Unless you grow them big and strong," Crowley added to the angel's dismay.

Maren seemed perfectly content either way, rocking back on her heels. Her arms folded over the box, clutching it close to her chest. She could barely contain herself. "I love it!"

"Now you can have your own plants to look after." He said. "I know how much you like mine."

"I can yell at them?"

"Yeah! You can scream at them all you like!"

"But we should try to keep," Aziraphale pinched his fingers together, almost whispering, "indoor voices."

"Okay," Crowley patted her shoulder, giving her an assuring smile, "you can scream at them at my place."

"Thank you, Daddy." It was the best present he could give her -- growing murderous plants is awesome.

Her happiness warmed his cold heart, radiating through his body. "You're welcome."

"Why don't you go show your friends? I'm sure they'll find this fascinating." Aziraphale encouraged, not wanting to keep her from the party.

Her classmates' presents were lacklustre at best; they were cheap and too easy to break. One child presented her with a plastic bracelet, and Aziraphale wondered if they even cared about her. For a girl like Maren, she deserved real jewels. To his surprise, however, she appreciated the gift and even hugged the child afterwards. Children will be pleased with anything these days.

"Okay." Maren ran off with the box in hand, happily shouting. "Hey, look what my other daddy bought me!"

Crowley tucked his hands into his trousers pockets, taking a step back. He glanced at Aziraphale, biting his bottom lip. "Did I do..." he swallowed, pausing a moment, "... did I do okay?"

"Yes, you did fine." He couldn't risk saying good since Crowley's beneath all that; the demon would snarl and hiss in response. "I mean, I'd rather her grow flowers," he admitted, "but in the end, it's whatever makes her happy."

A relieved moan escaped from him, his lips parting. He stared across the room, his gaze trailing his daughter as she showed her present to everyone in the room. "I guess we make her happy, Angel."

"I guess we do." Aziraphale often wondered which parent she preferred, but if Crowley was a more than adequate parent, then it didn't matter. It meant his demonic friend was a nice person, even if he denied it. He looked down, noticing the discarded wrapping paper screwed up on the floor. "Are you going to pick that up?"

"I'm a demon." He stated. "I litter."

Well, couldn't say he didn't try.

A leisure centre employee gathered the children together, drawing them to a stereo system in the far corner of the room. She clapped her hands together, bending her knees. "All right, kids. Are we all ready for a game of Musical Statues?"

"Yeah!" the kids, including Maren, exclaimed.

She placed the box on the ground, pushing it aside as the employee questioned. "We all know the rules, right? We're old enough to know, aren't we?"

A small girl bounced on her toes, shoving her hand into the air. "I know! I know!"

Jenny Perkins was a suck-up -- a teacher's pet through and through. She didn't want to invite her, but Aziraphale told her to out of the goodness of her heart. What he didn't know was that Jenny was competitive; she plays to win.

Maren could not let Jenny Perkins win -- not on her birthday.

"All right, to those who don't know, Musical Statues is a dancing game where you have to freeze when the music stops." The employee explained. "If you're not frozen, then you're out." She pointed to a bench in the far corner of the room; no one wanted to sit on that bench. "The winner will receive a large packet of Haribos."

Oh, no -- Jenny Perkins on sugar was worse than normal Jenny Perkins. It was now or never; Maren had to win.

The employee pressed play, and, to the birthday girl's delight, Don't Stop Me Now started to play. If this wasn't a sign, then she'd be damned.

"Hey, I love this song!" She grabbed Jenny's arms, hauling her away from the crowd of kids. "Let's dance!"

She pulled at her limbs, swinging and spinning her around before throwing in some disco moves. As planned, Jenny did not resist, dancing with her. Sabotaging this little brat was going to be easier than she thought.

"Where's your mummy?" she asked.

Her dancing wavered, her smile falling a little. She shook her head, gulping. "I don't have one."

Jenny's brows drew together, cocking her head to the side. "Why not?"

Maren shrugged. "I just don't."

"Is she dead?" The girl persisted.

"No, she's not that kind of mummy." At least she didn't think she was.

Aziraphale told her about the discovery of old tombs by archaeologists, finding sarcophaguses of deceased pharaohs, their bodies wrapped in thick bandages. She imagined one of those tombs hidden under her father's bookshop, and that's where she'd find her mother.

But that would mean she was dead and gone -- Maren didn't want to think her mother was dead. 

"Have you ever met her?" wondered Jenny.

"Nope."

"Why not?"

Because she didn't have one, how many times did she have to tell her that? She couldn't let the question throw her off. In the corner of her eye, Maren could see the employee reaching for the pause button. She put on a large grin. "Hey, let's hop!"

To her relief, Jenny stopped asking, joining Maren as they hopped on one foot. The other girl struggled to keep balance, but Maren was more or less focused on the employee. She reached for the pause button, and just before she pressed it, Maren put her foot back on the ground, standing completely still.

It was the perfect trap. When the music stopped, Jenny toppled like a house of cards, nearly falling flat on her face. Immediately after, she had a temper tantrum and another employee had to drag her away. Maren smirked as the music started again, dancing like it was nobody's business. She might have invited her out of generosity, but that didn't mean she could be sweet to her.

She was her fathers' daughter after all -- the perfect mix of good and evil.

As the guitar riff came in, Maren slid her knees across the smooth floor, making a slight squeak. The young girl rocked out, playing air guitar. Her dads watched from afar, and a smile tugged at the corner of Crowley's lips. "Maybe I should get her a guitar next time."

Aziraphale turned to him. "Why not a harp? They're far more pleasant."

"You can't rock out on a harp, Angel." He replied.

***

TWO MONTHS LATER...

Crowley knew he was different from the other demons. When they chose eternal damnation, his co-workers literally jumped at the chance, but for Crowley...

... He fell in a different way.

The demon couldn't describe how he felt that day and a part of him blocked it out of his memories. He enjoyed the freedom, of course, and he liked his life on Earth. But when duty calls -- fuck, he has to do it.

Crowley received word earlier that day, learning his fellow demons, Hastur and Ligur, were delivering something to him. He didn't let it distract him from having some fun with his daughter. 

Last weekend, she asked what his devilish role was on Earth, so he decided to show her. In a way, it was a Take Your Child to Work Day -- something Americans did for some odd reason. She watched him disguise himself as an electrician and mess up the mobile phone network in the London area. 

Though she didn't understand how this would damn hundreds of human souls to Hell, Crowley described the act as the start of a butterfly effect -- in which a small change can create a large impact.

The rendezvous point was on the way home, so it wasn't like he could just drop her off at his apartment or the bookshop. With slight reluctance, he decided to take her with him.

Bohemian Rhapsody blasted through the speakers as the Bentley sped down the road, breaking all the traffic laws as usual. The world flew by Maren's window, but the one thing that stayed still was the night sky; the full moon shining above. They moved slower than the rest of the world, and she liked that.

Crowley twisted a dial, turning down the music as he pulled into an archaic graveyard. "All right, pet. I'm going to need you to stay in the car." He told her. "And probably get out of sight too."

Her eyebrows furrowed, turning to him. "Why?"

"Because these folks will probably try to eat you." Angels transformed humans into pillars of salt -- he was certain demons did a lot worse.

The car halted, parking over someone's grave; it's not like the deceased person would care anyway. He switched off the engine, but kept the headlights on, casting a glare over the front window and masking them from view.

In the distance, a pair of grimy-looking fellows stood waiting. They wore large trenchcoats and fingerless gloves, appearing quite scruffy. Unlike Crowley, these demons weren't interested in looking stylish. One of them held a large picnic basket, weighing his arm down.

"Can't I keep the music on?" she pleaded; her dad cut it off at the best part.

"I'm sorry, I can't risk your safety, alright?" Crowley hoped the demons wouldn't feign interest in his flashy vehicle. Knowing Hastur, he was most likely afraid of it. "I'll keep the headlights on, so they'll probably keep their eyes on me, but we can't be too careful." He opened the car door, lowering his voice. "I'll be two minutes, okay?"

The severity of the situation was quickly understood, Maren nodding and mouthing to him. "Okay."

Crowley slammed the door and sauntered over to the demons. Acknowledging his approach, they raised their hands as if to salute, though her dad returned a half-hearted wave.

Maren stayed down, as her father instructed, though she found herself peeking through the window a couple of times. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and something told her she wouldn't want to anyway.

The more she stared, the less comfortable she felt. It was a warm night in August, but a sharp chill rippled and spiked under Maren's skin. Goosebumps prickled on her arms and legs, and she drew her knees towards her chest.

An aura of darkness swirled around the pair, invisible to the naked eye, yet the young child could almost sense its presence. A child's imagination has no limits, but even young Maren knew evil couldn't hide under a bed or in a wardrobe. Horrible people walk among the naive and innocent, poisoning the waters with their venom. The worst monsters are those who look human -- you don't realise what they are until it is too late.

Something moved under the first demon's white wig, startling her for a moment. Was something alive under there? She thought of that new Disney Pixar film where the rat controls the chef under his hat -- could this be the same thing? Were demons controlled by animals under their hair?

But she'd fiddled with Crowley's hair before, and that was definitely real. She knew he was part snake, so he wouldn't need an animal to control him. Maybe that's why he's different from the others; he's a free demon.

One of the demons unfurled a scroll, presenting it to Crowley. His fingers flinched, the muscles in his hand tensing. After some brief hesitation, he licked his index finger, igniting a spark. He signed the scroll, his name singed against the parchment, agreeing to its terms. It burned his hand a little, flicking his wrist before they handed him the basket.

Eventually, after a few parting words, Crowley made his way back to the car, waving them off. "Ciao!"

He climbed back into the car, eerily calm. The music blared once more as he switched the engine back on, though Maren's curious gaze was glued to her father. He placed the basket in the backseat before swiftly driving off.

The demons vanished like smoke, never noticing the little girl sitting in Crowley's car. As far as she could tell, Maren was never mentioned during their conversation -- not that she really knew what they were talking about anyway.

Once they were far enough away, Crowley took a deep breath, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. Then, when they were back on the main road, he burst. "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit Shit!"

Her knees slumped, sitting up. "Other Daddy says swearing's bad."

"Well, this Daddy is a little tense right now." He answered, rocking back and forth in his seat. "Ugh, why me?"

"You earned it, Crowley, didn't you?" The voice of the Devil crackled through the car radio. Crowley's eyes bulged, and he smacked a hand over Maren's mouth, keeping her quiet. "What you did to the M25 was a stroke of demonic genius, darling."

"The M25. Yeah, well..." he swallowed, his throat unusually dry, "... Yeah, I'm glad it went down so well."

"Here are your instructions." Mist poured through his sunglasses, seeping into the dark recesses of his mind. The plan grew clearer by the second, and he'd be horrified if he wasn't a demon. He should be happy -- he should be glad the world was ending. "This is the big one, Crowley."

But he kinda wasn't looking forward to it anymore.

Just as the final phase of the plan grew clear to him, the headlights of a large truck appeared. Maren pushed her dad's hand off her mouth, yelling. "Daddy!"

He came to in the nick of time, swerving past the truck. The tyres screeched against the aged tarmac, and the basket in the backseat travelled to the other side of the car, one of its flaps opening up. The little girl collided with the door, her palms pressed against it. Crowley bit his tongue. "Sorry."

A soft wail caught her by surprise, Maren's eyes widening. She leaned across the seat, glancing behind. As they passed a lamppost, its amber glow revealed a small baby, bundled in red silk. Why would demons give her dad a baby?

She turned back. "Am I getting a baby brother?"

"No, pet. We're just dropping him off." He told her. His boss instructed him to take his infant son to a hospital in Tadfield, an English village he'd never heard of before. Apparently, it was home to some Satanic nuns they'd suckered years ago.

Maren settled back into her seat, nodding. "Good." Relations would not work out between them. "Where did he come from?"

"Hell, dear. You wouldn't like it." Crowley hoped she wouldn't end up there in the future, and if she did, he'd find a way to take her out of there. Or, at the very least, form a safer space for her.

"Is it scary?" she wondered.

"Definitely for those in the wrong places." He remarked.

No wonder Crowley didn't like spending time down there, and from the appearance of the two demons, it wasn't very sanitary. "Who are his parents?"

"Well, Lucifer's his daddy, and I think some random woman is probably his poor mummy." He wasn't quite sure, but that's what he supposed happened. Unless the mother was a demonic jackal like in that one film. "It's an immaculate conception, you know. Hey, you remember how Mary and Joseph had Jesus, right?"

She nodded. "Mm-hm."

"Yeah, well, think of this as that, except this is the opposite of that." Her forehead creased, her lip curling upwards. "And when I say opposite, I mean..." Crowley's words escaped him. His left hand balled into a tight fist as he sighed. "... This isn't a good thing, pet."

Maren leaned back, staring straight ahead as her face grew slack. "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't I have a mummy?"

If everyone else had one, then why didn't she? They never explained. From what she'd heard, mothers were a vital part of creating children, and she supposed her conception wasn't as immaculate as Jesus'. If she was, then she wouldn't be a well-kept secret by her parents.

"Er, well..." he fumbled, his tone uncertain, "... because you don't. Why'd you ask anyway?"

"Greg Mathews in my class says not having a mummy is weird." Maren folded her arms, recalling what that ridiculous boy had told her. "His mummy says having two dads is not right."

"Yeah, well, Greg shouldn't listen to his dimwitted mother." They swerved around a tight bend, narrowly missing a Ford Fiesta. The other car sounded its horn, but Crowley didn't care for it. "Hey, you know, she'll probably go to Hell when she's done with."

"But he said that we all come from our mummies' tummies." Her expression soured a little. "Did I come from a tummy," she tilted her head to the side, gazing out the window, "or did Other Dad miracle me for you?"

"First of all, you are our miracle, but not that kind of miracle -- not like the ones your Dad makes." That was the easiest thing to tell her. "Second of all," they shared a brief glance, Crowley taking a quick pause, "yeah," he tapped two fingers against the steering wheel, looking away, "you did come from someone's tummy."

"But," she started, "where is she?"

"... We don't know, Maren." Crowley wanted to know. He wanted to go up to her and ask why the hell she'd abandon an infant on the doorstep of a fucking bookshop in the middle of the night. "But even so," he stroked her brown hair, pulling strands away from her eyes, "she left you in the best hands."

The corners of her lips curved into a smile. "You mean Other Daddy?"

Slowly, he pulled away, turning into the hospital. "Well, he technically does have the best hands."

She shouldn't be unhappy -- Maren had the best dads in the world. No, the universe. And she knew they'd never leave her; they'd promised. Maren leaned forward, peering through the front window.  "What's this place, Daddy?"

Crowley pulled the handbrake and the car came to a halt. "Chattering Order of Something-Something. I don't care."

He leaned over the front seats, reaching for the still-crying baby in the basket. "Do I have to stay in the car again?"

"No, this will be quick." The young girl perked up as Crowley opened his door and stepped out. "Come on."

Eagerly, she did the same, opening her door and jumping out. Maren ran over to her father, grabbing his hand. He looked down at her beaming face and returned a bright grin, hiding his sinking dread.

Near the entrance, a man smoked an old pipe. As the pair approached, the man mentioned. "Oh, you've left your lights on." Crowley let go of his daughter's hand momentarily, clicking his fingers. The Bentley's lights instantly switched off to the man's shock. "Oh. Well, that's clever. Is it infrared?"

"Has it started yet?" Crowley questioned as they passed him.

"Um, they made me go out." The man informed him.

He ground his teeth, grimacing. "Any idea how long we've got?"

"I think we were getting on with it, doctor." Maren didn't quite know what he was going on about or why her father was even speaking to him. The man barely noticed she was there as he told Crowley which room to take the baby.

They wandered inside without a second thought, making their way through the old hospital. The hallways stretched and curved, and there didn't seem to be a single doctor or nurse in sight. "What are we doing, Daddy?"

"We need to hand off this baby, so the Satanic nuns can swap the kid of some American diplomat with this." He briefly explained, pulling her along as they reached a spruce door.

Maren scratched her jawline, her face blank. "What's a diplomat?"

"They're political people who believe they're in the right." Crowley opened the door, discovering a nun. She carried a biscuit tin in her hands, clearly going somewhere. "Psst." He beckoned her forward, raising the basket to her eye level. 

With a fragile touch, she graciously took the basket from him, sliding the biscuit tin under her arm. The nun opened the flap, revealing the Satanic child inside. "Is that him?"

The demon gulped, his eyes fixed on the baby. "Yup."

"Only I'd expected funny eyes or teensy-weensy hoofikins. Or a wittle tail." The nun's strange words made Maren giggle, attracting her attention. She matched the young girl's smile. "Hello, who are you?"

"No one." Crowley pulled his daughter behind his legs, barely hiding her from sight. "It's definitely him."

"Fancy me holding the Antichrist, counting his little toesie-woesies." The nun started to ramble, speaking to the baby in a funny tone of voice. "Do you look like your daddy? I bet he does. Do you look like your daddy-waddykins?"

"He doesn't." Not yet, at least. They say evil isn't born, but when your father's Satan, one could beg to differ. The world will burn under the thumb of a bratty eleven-year-old; it's nepotism at its finest. "Take him up to room three."

"Room three." The nun nodded as Crowley began to leave, ushering Maren through the door. "Do you think he'll remember me when he grows up?"

"Pray that he doesn't." And with that, the Antichrist was out of his hands -- but the threat of his existence still lingered on his mind.

He was gripping Maren's hand a little too hard as if Crowley thought he'd lose her if she slipped out of his reach. For over five years now, they had protected and sheltered her; their affection for the human child seemed unwarranted, but Azraphale and Crowley wouldn't have it any other way.

They left the hospital as quickly as they could, undetected by the other nuns or the hospital's residents. Crowley scraped a hand through his hair, making sharp groans as they marched back to the car.

Maren glimpsed up at her father. "Daddy, are you scared?"

"Psh. Me, scared?" He chuckled at the very notion and exclaimed. "No!" His shoulders loosened, attempting to regain his confident composure. "People are scared of me."

"But I'm not scared of you." His daughter confessed, approaching the passenger side of the car.

"And why would you be?" Crowley opened her door before placing his hands under her arms and picking her up. She giggled as he swung her around momentarily, practically launching her back into the car. On her front, Maren laughed even more, kicking her legs as she flipped herself over.

She didn't notice his cheerful expression twisting into a frown as he closed the door. Crowley scratched at the nape of his neck, strolling over to the other side of the car.

Of course, he wasn't going to tell her the end was near. In eleven years, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse would ride, and Maren would be gone forever; just another casualty in a war.

The young girl was still laughing once he got back in the car, unaware of her father's growing despair. The very thought of losing her at such a young age was daunting, and he'd be damned if he allowed it to happen.

On their drive home, he'd given her a Barbie doll to play with. This Barbie's hair was choppy from a hairdressing accident and she barely wore anything, but Maren seemed perfectly content with her.

"Call Aziraphale." He instructed the Bentley's speaker system. Despite this car being decades old, Crowley always made sure it was up to date with the latest software and technology. The demon especially loved when radios were fitted into cars, along with cassette and CD players.

"Calling Aziraphale..." A disconnected beep soon followed, and then the voice spoke again. "Sorry, all lines to London are currently busy."

His mouth fell open, groaning and tipping his head back. Perhaps if he had known earlier that the Antichrist would be delivered to him, Crowley wouldn't have taken down the mobile phone network. This was beginning to look like the worst day ever.

A light flickered in the distance and a shade of red glistened in the blue tint of the night, attracting his attention. The demon twisted his steering wheel to the right, pulling over. His tyres skidded across the grass, digging up some moist dirt.

Maren looked up from her doll, her eyes narrowing. "Why are we stopping?"

"I need to use a phone box. Stay in the car." He stepped out of the car, leaving the door open behind him.

She huffed, leaning over the gearstick and handbrake. Her hands pressed against the warm leather of the driver's seat. "Again?"

He spun back, raising his voice. "I won't be long!"

The demon approached the red phone box, sauntering inside. Crowley clicked his fingers, bypassing the payment system. He removed the phone from its hook and raised it to his ear, dialling the bookshop's phone number.

His demonic "pals" might think they've scored a win over Heaven, believing the angels to know nothing of the Antichrist's arrival on Earth, but Crowley thought otherwise. A long time ago, he was an angel too, and he knew what they were thinking.

The dial tone didn't last long, Aziraphale's voice soon resounding through the speaker. "I'm afraid we're quite definitely closed."

"Aziraphale, it's me." He responded. "We need to talk."

"Yes." Aziraphale's breath hitched, his tone solemn. "Yes, I rather think we do. I assume this is about..."

"Armageddon." Crowley peered back at the car, observing his daughter through the window. She twirled her doll, laughing to herself. "Yes."

"Is Maren okay?" Aziraphale knew a demonic encounter would put their daughter at risk, but so would an angelic one. It was lucky she wasn't with him that night.

Crowley sighed. "For now."

If only they knew the worst was yet to come. It wouldn't just be Maren't life at stake -- it would be their futures on Earth. For now, the little girl was blissfully unaware the world was on a time limit.

***

This was going to be longer, but I decided to split it. I know there's a lot of scenes where Maren's with Crowley, but I'm hoping to write some more scenes with Aziraphale soon because I love both equally and I hate to waste his character in this.

I swear new kid syndrome is a real thing because, at my old schools, we'd just swarm them and learn everything there is to know about their lives. A girl actually threw up on her first day because people kept crowding her. I was never a new kid myself, but it's very daunting when you find yourself in a new place where you don't know anyone.

Also, just checking in. How are we all after that season two ending? I'm not okay. Maren's not exactly going to be having the best time in the future.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And to all my new readers, thank you for choosing this fic. Please leave a vote and a comment because I love hearing what you think of the story so far. Thank you so much for 1k reads. I love you all xx

- Alice.