Dear Aziraphale,

I'm sorry for doing this to you. But please, look after the child. As far as I know, he's a perfectly healthy child, if not a little on the small side. His name is Adam, and he was born last week on May 31st. He's not mine, if that's what you're wondering.

There's so much I want to say to you, but I simply don't have the time. I wanted to tell you though, that you were right. You always were. And I wish I could tell you in person how fucking sorry I am. But, I'm afraid that can never happen. I don't even know whether I'll ever see you again. I think it's safe to assume that you've realised by now whose blood it is that covers Adam.

If we ever see each other again, I promise I'll tell you everything.

If not, it was nice knowing you, angel.

Your friend

People always talked about a bond between a mother and a child. However, as far as Aziraphale knew, no one ever talked about the bond between the doctor and the child. And he would bet all of his life-savings that even less was talked about the bond between a doctor and a child he'd claimed to be the baby who was actually a stillborn.

But then again, no doctor had ever forged the identity of a strange baby to become the child of his own sister.

("Doctor Hammond, this is against hospital regulations! Heavens, this is against any regulations!")

("I'm sorry, Doctor Michaels, but my sister would rather die if she found out her baby died. And I can't lose her. Not now.")

Aziraphale was always someone who religiously followed rules and regulations. He'd never broke them, unless it was for the good of others. He would even go through great lengths for those he cared for. In all of his forty-eight years of life, he'd only ever broken the rules twice, and both for the two people he loved more than life itself. The first rule he broke was a school rule when he was fourteen. The second one was twenty-three years later, when he switched his stillborn nephew with the child…someone had dropped off in his office. Aziraphale was never worried about the consequences though. Although he was known as an over-achiever, he'd gladly paid the prince for the rule he broke in high school, feeling a little proud even when he looked at the little B that ruined what would have been his straight A's report card. It had been eleven years, and as he tucked his beloved nephew to bed, Aziraphale was aware that sooner or later, he'd have to deal with the consequences of the second rule he broke.

He just wasn't ready that it was coming sooner than he expected it would.

He knew that he'd have to break more rules, but for his nephew? There really was nothing that he wouldn't do for the boy.

"Uncle?"

"Yes, Adam?"

"What do you think about the Atlantis?"

Aziraphale tilted his head to the side a little bit as he took a seat at the foot of his nephew's bed. "What about it? Because, I'm afraid I can't tell you much. It's not exactly my area of expertise, unfortunately."

"But you're like, the smartest person in the whole world!" Adam exclaimed, his blue eyes widened in epic proportions, as if Aziraphale admitting he didn't know everything was an act of blasphemy. "Surely, you must know something, Uncle Az. I mean, you have like, a thousand books!"

Aziraphale chuckled as he reached forward to ruffle Adam's curly hair affectionately, much to the dismay of the boy. Like most children his age, not only he was at that stage where he had to emphasise practically every single word he said, Adam was rather against acts of parental affections, telling everyone who would hear that he was too old for it. "I only know the general stuffs, my boy. But, if you're really interested, I suppose I can lend you my books about it. I think I have a couple in my library."

"Thank you, Uncle!" the boy said gratefully, and Aziraphale could feel his smile nearly dropping at the sight of the boy's toothy grin that was similar to one other person Aziraphale knew.

And it wasn't his sister Deidre, or her husband Arthur.

("Hah, this is brilliant! Thanks, Aziraphale. You're practically an angel now.")

"Why the sudden interest in the Atlantis, Adam? The last time I came to visit, you were all crazy about pirate-detectives." Aziraphale tried hard not to show his disappointment, already thinking about what he should with the rather expensive box of detective equipments he'd bought for Adam's upcoming birthday, which was only a week away.

Adam shrugged. "Oh, it's something that lady said. Miss Anathema Device."

"Who?" There was only one person in the whole world with that name, and even though Aziraphale was a bit behind when it came to the development of entertainment, he knew that person still.

"You know, the rich lady who just moved into the prestigious Jasmine Cottage? She's the CEO of Device Incorporation and the co-owner of Daemon Production. Although, Pepper told me that Miss Device is actually the sole owner of the company, what with the so-called other owner never showing his face to the public. Pepper told me that the reason why Miss Device claimed there's another owner is because of how the entertainment industry is dominated by those mysogynistic pigs—"

"Adam Young," Aziraphale chided, even as a small smile threatened to make an appearance.

"Oh, right," Adam said, grinning sheepishly. "Anyway, I stopped by earlier today because she was smashing countless pots in her garden, sobbing loudly. I don't know why she was upset though, but I thought I should check on her. So, I came to her and told her about the story I wrote, the one about the pirate-detective. It cheered her up, and she invited me for a glass of lemonade. We talked about a lot of things, one of them being this upcoming movie her company's releasing next year. I asked what it's about, and she told me it's about Atlantis. Then she told me all the interesting—"

Woof! Woof!

Ding dong!

Adam froze, faltering in his words as he turned to look at Aziraphale, his sky-blue eyes widened slightly in fear. For his young age, the boy was smarter than most boys Aziraphale knew. The doctor knew that his nephew could only be thinking about how no one in Tadfield would ever come to visit after 8PM—and it was almost 10PM already. The persistent barking from Dog, Adam's familiar, also rang warning bells in Aziraphale's mind. Dog was the most quiet, well-behaved…dog in all over Tadfield. The canine would only make a sound when it was chasing after its master merrily, playing all kinds of games that Adam came up with. Aziraphale was hardly breathing as he strained his hearing, trying to determine how many people were there. Chills ran down his spine when he noticed that at least five people were in his sister's house, quite possibly already making a mess of Deidre's living room. It didn't take long for both Aziraphale and Adam to come into the conclusion of how serious and dangerous the situation was.

"Who do you think are they, Uncle?" Adam asked in a small voice, the wary look in his eyes looked so out of place in his young face, and yet so right at the same time.

"I don't know, Adam," Aziraphale said tensely, the answer left his tongue with a bad after taste.

He didn't like not knowing. He hated it. Aziraphale was supposed to know everything.

"Where are you going?" the boy asked, and only then did Aziraphale realised he'd moved from his seat at the foot of Adam's bed and was headed toward the door. "Don't leave me, Uncle."

"I'm not leaving you, dear," Aziraphale assured the boy, hoping that his smile was convincing enough. "I'm just– I'm going to go check on your parents for awhile. See if they're already there. I need you to stay here, though."

"Okay, Uncle… But you'll come back here, won't you?"

Aziraphale sometimes wondered how his beloved nephew could seem both juvenile and mature at the same time.

"I will. I promise. I'll never leave you, dear boy."

Thirty years ago, he'd made the same promise to another boy with fiery hair. Aziraphale broke that promise sixteen years later—and there hadn't been a day gone by that he didn't regret his mistake. So, he'd be damned if he were to break his promise to his nephew.

"I'm sorry about your mother. It's terrible how her adversary just gunned her like—"

"It wasn't. It wasn't her enemies. It was Lucian."

"I– I beg you pardon?"

"It's my own brother. He killed my mum. For fuck's sake, Aziraphale; my own fucking brother!"

"Raphael, what—"

"He killed her. And now, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to fucking kill that psychopath."

"You're…you're actually serious about it."

"What do you mean, angel? Of course, I'm fucking serious about it."

"But you can't do that! You can't just go off killing him!"

"Why the hell not? He killed my mum."

"He's your brother, Raphael!"

"And like I've been telling you; he killed my mum. It's not like I have anyone else left."

(Do I matter so little to you, my dear?)

(After everything?)

Aziraphale hadn't really exited Adam's room when he heard his sister's voice and his brother-in-law's, their voices coming from the living room. From where he was standing, half-hidden from everyone else downstairs, he could see Arthur standing in front of Deidre, shielding her from the figure of five towering men and one intimidating little woman. They kept on asking their uninvited guests what they were doing in their home so late at night, but none of them seemed inclined to answer them. Aziraphale's heart break when he saw how his sister trembled like a leaf, her hands gripping the back of Arthur's sweater tightly. The blond wanted nothing more than to come down there and protect his sister himself, but he knew that Deidre would hate him if he'd completely left Adam alone.

Adam, her son who wasn't exactly her son. Not biologically, at least.

Dog barked again as another bell rang, and one of the uninvited guests went to the open the door for the newcomer. Somehow, even before the door was opened, revealing the familiar sight of a man who was constantly featured in magazines almost on a monthly basis, Aziraphale knew it would be him. Gone was his signature golden hair that had been his trademark until the day his mother was killed, replaced by dark locks that looked almost blue under the moonlight. The man was tall, but nowhere was tall as the thugs that surrounded him. But the way he navigated around the room, how his penetrating gaze swept over everything and everyone, was intimidating enough to instil fear even in the hearts of the most horrible criminals. Aziraphale was never close with him, even though he'd known the man since he was in high school. Yet he could still remember the powerful presence Lucian King had whenever he was in the room.

It seemed, after almost two decades and a change of hair colour, and a nickname that literally meant he was Satan himself, nothing had changed at all.

Well, something did change, the little voice in the back of Aziraphale's mind remarked cruelly. Everyone knew 'Lucifer' had been missing his shadow in the past decade.

(It was nice knowing you, angel.)

Sometimes Aziraphale wished his brain would just shut fuck up.

"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Young," Lucian drawled, throwing himself on the couch in an eerie reminiscence of someone else Aziraphale knew. With his right foot, he gestured both Arthur and Deidre to take a seat on the couch across him, as if he was the one who owned the house.

"Mr King," Arthur began once he and Deidre were seated. "I uh, I didn't mean to offend you or anything...but what brings you to our home? I– I mean, I don't believe we really know each other."

"Not yet," the businessman replied, a wolfish smile on his handsome face as he turned his gaze on the framed-picture sitting on the small table beside him. Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat when he saw Lucian grabbed the picture. "How lovely! Where was this picture taken, if I may ask?"

"Five years ago," Deidre answered with a small voice. "It was in Cornwall. We took Adam there for his sixth birthday. The four of us spent the week end there."

Without looking, Aziraphale knew exactly which picture it was. After all, it was his favourite picture of his family. Arthur had just gotten a promotion and he decided that it would be nice if they all went to Cornwall for a little trip as well as to celebrate Adam's birthday. Aziraphale had come too, and although he was infinitely more…blessed financially compared to Arthur, he had relented about the younger man paying for him. Arthur was so excited and so proud of himself, that Aziraphale really couldn't say no to him. They had a great time then, that picture was the proof. And to see someone as terrifying as Lucian King holding that picture in his hand that had killed his own mother was enough to set Aziraphale's fear into an alarming level.

"Adam is your son, yes?" Lucian asked, his eyes never leaving the picture.

"Yes, he is."

"Hm. And I take he'll be eleven now, Mrs Young?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Wonderful." Lucian finally put the picture down and focus his attention on Deidre. There was still that wolfish smile on his face, the smile that made him looked almost inhuman. "Now, I don't suppose that Adam's birthday is sometime in two weeks? Say, around March 31st?"

Inquisitive sky-blue eyes. Cheeky, toothy grin. Intelligent beyond compare. Constantly questioning everything about the Universe. A bit of darkness and arrogance. Insatiable for knowledge and explanations and answers.

(He's not mine, if that's what you're wondering.)

Suddenly, for the first time ever in eleven years, everything became clear to Aziraphale.

"That's Adam's birthday, y-yes," Arthur stuttered. "How did you—"

It all happened so fast then. Arthur had barely finished his question when Lucian was reaching back into his pocket, and Aziraphale saw how Deidre noticed it before anyone else could.

BANG!

She was still too late though.

NO!" Deidre screamed, sobbing heart-breakingly as she curled herself over her husband's body, frantically pressing the bleeding wound where the bullet had shot through him. It was useless though. It was an instant kill.

"Ah, terribly sorry for that," Lucian said, sounding the complete opposite as he brought himself on his feet. "To be honest, I didn't mean to kill your husband. Or even you. I'm here for Adam, actually. And your brother, Aziraphale."

For sometime, Deidre's soft sobbing was the only sound that filled the house as the woman processed Lucian's words. It was right at that moment when Deidre caught Aziraphale watching her from where he was standing. The doctor didn't dare to breathe, feeling like hours had passed as he and his sister stared at one another. Then, as if there was a switch, Deidre reigned in her emotions in an admirable ease. Except for the unimaginable grief in her eyes, she looked positively calm and in control as she swiftly shook her head and turned her attention back to Lucian. It was very brief, anyone could have missed it. But not Aziraphale. He'd seen her message, and right then and there, it took every amount of self-control he had to stop himself from barging into the living room so he could protect his sister. The doctor understood though, if he wanted to protect Adam for Deidre, he had to make the difficult choice.

A choice that, even if Deidre was ready for it, the same couldn't be said for Aziraphale.

"W-what do you want with Adam? And my brother?" Deidre asked, her voice only breaking a little.

Lucian took a step closer toward Deidre, his head tilted slightly to the side in a calculative manner. "You see, Deidre; I had a brother too, once. You probably still remember him. Raphael was his name. And, I know you were probably too young back then, but your brother and my brother used to be the best of friends. Two halves of a whole idiot, really."

"I remember that," came Deidre's soft reply, and Aziraphale wondered whether she remembered her childhood when she used to listen with rapt attention to a young man teaching her about the stars and plants. "What about him? No one has heard about your brother in eleven years. You declared him dead six months after his disappearance, remember?"

Lucian took another step closer.

"That's because I thought he really had died. I shot him myself, you know? I didn't think he'd survive such fatal shots. Turns out he's stronger than I ever gave him credit for. Always thought he was a weakling."

Something in Aziraphale raged at the way Lucian described his own brother. The doctor knew for a fact that his best friend was a hundred times the man Lucian could ever wish to be.

"So, he didn't die. How miraculous. But, you still haven't explained to me what's all this got to do with Adam and Aziraphale."

Lucian took his final step. His hand reached forward, deceptively gentle when it held Deidre's delicate chin.

"Raphael stole something from me the night he ran away. At the time, I didn't think it would matter or not for me. But, recent events have changed my mind." Lucian paused and leaned toward Deidre, his hand was now cupping the back of the woman's neck. "Can you guess what exactly it was that Raphael took with him? Surely, you're no less brighter than your brother, hm?"

Deidre's eyes widened in epic proportions as she breathed out a broken, "Adam…" And Aziraphale wished he could come down there and explain everything to his sister. And then he would beg for her forgiveness, even though he knew he didn't deserve it.

(Blood. There was blood everywhere. And the baby… His sister's baby so, so small in his arms. Lying stiffly, unmoving—lifeless.)

"He never told you, did he? Oh, poor Deidre," Lucian said in mock-sympathy, wrapping another arm around Deidre's petite build. "He never told you what exactly happened that night. He never told you that your real baby, the child that you'd actually carried for nine months, had died because of his incompetency. And, to hide his mistake, his guilt, he tricked you into thinking that my son was yours. That is just too cruel, even for a monster like me."

No, my dear! Aziraphale wanted to scream. It's all lies! I can explain. I did it all for you. Only you!

"You're right," Deidre said, her tone small and broken, and Aziraphale's heart broke at the sound. "I never knew that he switched my stillborn baby with yours. Eleven years, and he kept quiet about it. He's made me believed that Adam really was my son. Made me loved a boy who's actually yours."

"I can only imagine how horrible it is for you," Lucian cooed, patting Deidre's shoulder almost affectionately. If Aziraphale hadn't known the man, he would have thought it was all genuine.

"There's also another thing that you're right, Lucifer."

The sudden change of tone and the use of his nickname caused the towering man to tense up and push Deidre off him abruptly. Aziraphale's eyes found his sister's again, and something in him knew right at that exact moment, as he took a trembling step back at the bidding of Deidre's reassuring smile, that would be the last time he saw his sister.

"What do you mean, Mrs Young?" Lucian asked coolly, his tone losing all façade of kindness.

By then, Aziraphale had returned into Adam's room, finding the boy all dressed in his trainers, hoodie and favourite jeans-jacket. There was his backpack lying by his feet, which he slung over his shoulder when the doctor entered the room as he pulled himself to stand. From behind the boy's legs, Aziraphale could see Dog staring at him.

"Uncle?" Adam said, and only when Aziraphale was standing right in front of him did he notice the tears rushing down the boy's face. "Uncle, what's happened? I heard the scream. Is Mum alri—"

BANG!

It took every ounce of his willpower for Aziraphale to stop himself from flinching at the sound of gunshot and the soft thud that followed. He closed his eyes though, and took a deep breath to calm himself. This was it. The moment he'd been waiting for eleven years. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Adam's blue ones had found him first, and Aziraphale hated how those eyes already started to lose their naïvety. He made an oath then, as hugged Adam with one arm while the other went to check his wallet in the pocket of his jacket, that he'd do everything in his power to make sure that no further harm would ever come to his nephew again.

He owed it to him. To Deidre. To Raphael.

"Shall we go now, Uncle?" Adam said when he pulled back, determination flared in his blue eyes.

Feeling a sad but determined smile forming on his face, Aziraphale nodded his head.

"Hi, Adam. Oh, aren't you just the cutest? We haven't been introduced yet. I'm your uncle, Raphael. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I know the drawer isn't exactly the most comfortable place for your delicate-self, but I don't have anything else at the moment. Don't worry though; you're going to meet my friend Aziraphale. He's the best man ever to exist in this world. I trust him with my life. And you, little one, will be fine with him. Much better than if you were with me."

A cute babble, and a lone finger was softly caressing impossibly soft skin.

"Don't look at me like that, kid. Trust me, I'd have loved more than anything for you to come with me. But, I don't think I can make it past tonight. I'm bleeding too much, see? I don't have a choice. We don't have choice. I have to leave you here with Aziraphale. But, like I said before; you'll be fine. Aziraphale will take care of you better than I ever could. He's a much better person than I am after all. The clever idiot's practically an angel, kind and gentle person that he is."

There was a heavy exhale, followed by a pained groan as a piece of paper was slipped slipped in between the bundle of squishy and wriggly creature. Said little creature was staring at the retreating figure of his saviour, even though his sightless eyes hadn't the ability to see a thing yet.

"Be good for the angel, will you, Adam? Take care of him for me."

With one last look at his nephew, Raphael King left his best friend's office, and took a step closer toward his grave.