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Chapter Text

It should have been a dark and stormy night, but it had been quite a pleasant day really, and the roads were dry and the night clear, there wasn’t a full moon to turn blood red, and even the trees had stubbornly held on to their cheery Autumn leaves for longer than expected so no spectral limbs reached out to the Bentley. In fact all in all it was quite a nice evening drive, it was nearing Midnight when he pulled up to the little woodland somewhere on the Gloucester Border. “You’re late Crowley” Furfur told him.
“I thought you controlled the weather” Crowley told him “it's not very ominous is it?”
“It was felt that if the weather was poor, they wouldn’t get the numbers for the meeting” he grimaced, shaking his head “not my idea”.
“Has it happened then?” Crowley asked
“Stroke of midnight” the other demon nodded. Crowley looked at his watch and counted down the seconds, at 30 he became aware of the chanting and then just before Midnight the screaming started, the unfortunate girl chosen, well, that wasn’t his problem but Furfur grinned wickedly, and then it was Midnight and a howl erupted.
“It is done” Furfur smiled, lifting his head up to the skies and suddenly the air froze, the temperature dropped 10s of degrees, the earth below Crowley’s feet froze. “Shall we go and see?”
As they made their way through to the clearing several hooded figures came the other way “I told you Margaret October is a bad time for all this summoning, bloody cold snaps, what was wrong with Midsomer?”
“I know Brian, but it was prophesied, come on let's go home and get a nice cup of tea, I have bovril”
“That an open invitation” a third figure asked “I’m chilled to my bunions”.
“If we knock up Alf Turner, he might open the Red Lion” Brian tried hopefully.
“No, Alf’s a Catholic, better off going over to the Knife and Cleaver at Standing, they follow our ways” his companion told him sadly.
“Don’t be silly Brian, can you imagine the fuss if they found out Kembleford had been chosen to host the birth of the Anti Christ?” Margaret told them proudly.
“At least it wasn’t Hambleston” Brian nodded.
“Ruddy Hambleston” the others agreed.
On an altar in the centre of the woodland was the bloodied remains of the sacrifice and in the centre of the mess a single tiny male child, whose skin was the colour of flame, and eyes like snakes. Crowley swallowed, his bosses son, well he certainly took after his father.
“Did you bring something to carry it in?” he asked the other Demon.
“Erm no?” he looked at Crowley “didn’t you?”
“Right er no” he looked down at the baby, and picked it up gently, it was hot to the touch and as he lifted it, the colour drained from it, leaving a pale human coloured child, who liberally pissed all down the demons shirt “Oi” Crowley shouted looking round for the other demon but found himself alone. “Don’t you dare shit in my Bentley” he told the child.

Chapter Text

The Perditious Sisters of St Jude, Southwark, was an institution of the highest calibre; the waiting list to get your daughter accepted to the Novitiate was notoriously hard to get onto. It was said even Sir Roland Montague Duke of Cloombe couldn’t get his Mistress's daughter accepted, and he had introduced the Prince of Wales to Wallis Simpson. They had even turned down two Mitford Sisters. For reasons of tax the charitable trust which ran the order also took in the most undeserving of orphans, the half feral creatures that were caught up by the local magistrates, the gutter snipes whose rookeries wouldn’t house, the by blows of the idle rich and one Sidney Carter, who had arrived on the night of his birth in a Bentley tyre blanket delivered by one very pissed off demon who demanded to be shown the nearest all night valet service and left by warning the child next time he saw him, he’s take his revenge for the state of his seats. The afternoon of his birth the Stock Market Crashed and the Great Depression started, the weather in London went from pleasant to torrential rain which flooded the streets and drowned whole areas upstream, and in Germany a rally was held in Munich to bring the population news of the new National Socialist movement, which the Satanic Nuns thought all in all, was an auspicious sign of things to come.

Sidney, grew through his early childhood the picture of health, never a sniffle or a cold, although the other orphans often floundered and died shortly after arriving to much general understanding from the Parish boards that it was only to be expected. He excelled in the skills taught him by his various guardians, lock picking, lying, cheating and pick pocketing, he excelled above their expectations, his ability to escape his dormitory room and roam the streets at night even before his 5th Birthday had made the Mother Superior so proud, she’d gifted him his own lockpicking kit. There was just one wrinkle in the perfect upbringing, the child just didn’t seem very Satanic, his very worst qualities were on the more gremlin end of the spectrum. Untidy and wilful yes, but not intentionally malicious. He was to the shame of the laundry mistress actually quite helpful, fetching and carrying, and generally worried about the old lady's back. He enjoyed helping the old caretaker with various jobs, at first encouraged, because a basic knowledge of how things worked made it so much easier to take them apart, but by the time the boy was 7, he was happy to change fuses and clean windows, and even talked about an apprenticeship in mechanical engineering. His introduction into the satanic church at 7, had gone slightly awry due a miscommunication with the local Catholic Diocese who sent an actual Catholic Priest to preside, and so it was that the Son of Lord of Hell, became a Catholic on Whit Sunday of his 8th year. There was quite a kerfuffle about it all in the realms of hell, and the next day the Duke of Windsor married his American Mistress and the Nazi Government repudiated the Pope.

Everything was going rather well really, the new war was inevitable, evil was rising throughout Europe and even the skies themselves were darkening, the agents of good and evil were anticipating the final battle, and Crowley had finally got the smell of sulphuric baby poo from the seats of his Bentley. The British Government were making lists of children to be evacuated from the big cities, with the delightfully disturbing name of Pied Piper. It was therefore unfortunate that the slightly senile Sister Mary Jezebel had been on door duty the day the man from the Ministry had come to fill the census, there was at that time only 10 nuns, the caretaker, and only one child in the Orphanage, and somehow, she had misheard when he’d asked what denomination the order was, and so Sidney Carter was added to the list of Catholic children in need of evacuation. A fact that came somewhat as a shock to the rest of the sisters on the morning of 1st September 1939, when he was collected by the local council and placed on a train to Gloucestershire, where he was to be housed with a Catholic Priest for his own safety, for the duration of hostilities. If anyone had asked Sidney his own preferences on it, he would have been quite happy, as he had been for several months having a recurring dream where in the woods there was a stone, and the stone was calling him, and he felt a pull somewhere near his navel that almost compelled him to go, but a little voice in his head, that sometimes sounded like the man who routinely came to sell bibles to the Nuns, kept telling him “Not yet”.

Chapter Text

1941

“You’ve lost the Anti-Christ, during the Blitz?” Aziraphale asked once again “The Anti-Christ?”
“In my defence Angel, he is supposed to be hidden from Divine sight” Crowley sighed “it's not like he’s wandering around with horns and little cloven feet going, here I am, Satan's spawn”.
“Is he not?” Aziraphale asked “not even a little tail to pick him out with?”
Crowley gave him a withering look “will you help me look?”
The angel looked around his shop and rung his hands “you see it's only a miracle keeping my books safe” he said grimacing “I really wouldn’t like to leave, and they do say the streets aren’t safe?”
“Do you know angel, what happens when the Anti-Christ comes into his full power?” Crowley asked “poof, the last battle, the end of all things, NO MORE BOOKS!”
“Yes but surely that happens whether you find him or not, it's predestined?”
“Well I” Crowley stuttered “I had a sort of plan for that” he looked down.
“Really?” Aziraphale was fascinated “what?”
“Well, I've been sort of lightening him,” he smiled and somewhere a forest burned down “making him read your bible, erm, teaching him things, introducing him to hedgehogs?”
“Hedgehogs?”
“Yeah, nobody can hate hedgehogs, they are sweet and small and prickly” Crowley shrugged “I like them”.
“You're telling me, you spent a decade trying to make the son of the Devil, good?” The angel laughed and the burning forest was put out, and flowers sprouted.
“Well not good” Crowley laughed and the flowers became poisonous “he’s an absolute little shit, but he isn’t evil”.
“Ok” the angel sighed “Well what does he look like?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in a while, he’s a boy?”
“When did you lose him Crowley?” Aziraphale asked suspiciously.
“September 1939?” the Demon smiled again and herd of cows in wales were mysteriously eviscerated, and the Angels eyes went wide “it's been busy for me” Crowley stammered slightly “with the rise of evil, the blackout, and then we had the whole of the Dunkirk Fiasco, I’ve been distracted” he sucked in air from around the room and the mice in walls died “I know I put him on a train to Gloucestershire, I just don’t know which one?”

1939

All everyone could talk about was the upcoming war and in more hushed tones Pied Piper, so it wasn’t much of surprise when one afternoon the newly minted Bishop Talbot arrived in Kembleford to talk to resident priest.
“You’re not yet 40 Father Brown, you will be expected to take on one of these unfortunates at least and you have a housekeeper I believe”
“My Parish secretary I think you mean?”
“Well then, the truth is some of these inner city orphanages they are little more than rookeries, they need a firm young man to take these children in hand”
“But Bishop, what about the war, I am ex-forces I may well be called up?”
“I’m sure you’ll find a solution Brown” the Bishop told him smiling insincerely.

They hadn’t thought anymore about the incident after Father Brown had contacted the diocese to explain that having a traumatised child appear at the Presbytery, without being to offer it as a permanent solution was a bad idea and that he was sorry but they couldn’t possibly take on a child at this point. When War was declared Father Brown and Mrs McCarthy had sat around the wireless, most of the village already had evacuees who’d come in the last 2 days, and the ARP wardens had been around with information, gas masks and blackout orders. They had held hands and prayed they would all be delivered safely.
The phonecall had come around lunchtime as Mrs McCarthy was heating soup, and Father Brown had hurried off without explanation. He had returned just after 4 with a worried countenance covered by an unsure smile. “Mrs McCarthy, we have a visitor who will be staying with us for a while” he said as he entered the kitchen, hidden behind him was a tiny strawberry blond child with a filthy face and ragged school uniform, a gas mask and luggage tag round his neck and a flat cap on head, carrying a tiny suitcase.
“Oh goodness, what on earth?” Mrs McCarthy said, slapping her hand across her mouth with regret the moment she saw the tiny child look up in wary fear.
“Mrs McCarthy, this is Sidney, he’s going to be staying with us” he smiled at the boy “Sid this is Mrs McCarthy” the boy stared.
“Oh God, he's a mess Father?” Mrs McCarthy put her pen down where she’d been working on the accounts, and what are we supposed to feed him, with the threat of rationing, and cloth him? And where will he sleep?”
“Well we thought the box room would be OK for now, didn’t we Sid?” Father Brown addressed the boy “and as for the rest the Lord will provide”
“How old are you, child?” Mrs McCarthy asked slowly.
“9” Sid squeaked “I’ll be 10 next month” Mrs McCarthy looked up at the Father.
“The Lord works in mysterious ways Mrs McCarthy” Father Brown told her wondering what on earth he was going to do with the child

When he had got to the Station and nobody was expecting him Sid Carter thought he’d just get back on the train to London, he could afterall look after himself, he’d been doing it since he could walk running away from the orphanage at every possible opportunity. He was streetwise, that's what people told him, although the magistrate that had picked him up twice in the last 6 months had called him something else entirely. When the Priest had arrived he’d been a bit awed by the man, he was far younger than the priests he usually met, and smiled nicely and shook Sid’s hand like a proper gent and he’d followed him into the station masters office where the priest had made several phone calls. Sid wasn’t stupid he knew this man was trying to find somewhere to send him, and he thought he’d wait and see in case there was the possibility of food at the end of it. He was starving, he was always hungry and that in the end had done it, a loud rumble from his empty stomach and the priest had looked down and taken his hand.
“Come on then young man, I guess you’re coming with me” he’d said.
They had walked under the viaduct and Father Brown had looked up “Do you like train sets Sid?” he’d asked
“What's that?” the little boy had asked
“Oh toy trains” Father Brown smiled “I am trying to build Kembleford, I’m hoping to be finished before I get called up”
“You’ve got to go to the war?” Sid asked “that why you don’t want me?”
Father Brown had knelt down “Don’t think you aren’t wanted, I was just concerned about providing a safe home, I don’t have much room and yes there’s a possibility I might have to go to the front but we will find a place for you Sidney, don’t worry, we can all muck in together” he stood up “I have a box room we can clear out for the time being if you think you’ll be comfy there, and if it doesn’t work, there's a Parlour we can make cosy for you”
“What's a box room?” Sid asked
“Oh it's a small bedroom just a dresser, bed and wardrobe, and a tiny window, not very comfortable I’m afraid”
“To myself?” Sid asked “just me?”
“Well yes, we wouldn’t make you share with me” Father Brown laughed and then looked down at the child “what's wrong?”
“My own room, HELL” he smirked.
Sid had been told to go upstairs and wash his hands when he walked into the the kitchen slightly cleaner if still a bit grimy he saw the little table loaded with food and looked up at the Father.
“Right sit down and you can have some scones” Mrs McCarthy told them.
“Scones?” Sid asked
“Oh” Father Brown told him “you’d love them they taste like summer”
“Food?” he asked “I’m always here for food!”.

The afternoon wore on and Father Brown had arranged to keep perpetual adoration up during this time of crisis, and asked Sid, if he’d like to come along and see the inside of the church, the child was certainly hesitant, but the gentle cajoling of the kind priest and Sid had somewhat warily followed. Father Brown turned to the child as he walked through the church door as he stood warily on the threshold “come on Sid nothing to be frightened of”
Sid grimaced and walked under the arch, his face changed instantly, a horrible visage of terror and dread and the colour of dried blood where a moment before the slightly impish grin had sat startled to priest as did the shriek of a thousand birds calling down in terror, before after a moment the child seemed to shake from head to toe and normality resumed. The Priest stopped mouth open for a moment and then smiled “Well that was unexpected” he told himself and the boy, “come along then”.

Chapter Text

The issue was never that Sid was bad, not really, there was never anything that Mrs McCarthy could put her finger on that he did that was actually wicked, it was just there was always something unsavoury about what he chose to do. He was oddly fond of the wildlife around Kembleford, and would happily spend hours watching a duck build a nest or absorbed in the intricate web of a spider, but to observe them he would think nothing of lying in a patch of muddy ditchwater, or sitting still as a statue in the middle of the path. It was almost to Mrs McCarthy’s mind, like he was absorbed in the matters of another world, so much so her fears for his physical safety, or the difficulties of getting new clothes for a boy he grew seemingly every mealtime, during the privations of war, never actually occurred to him. Not that he was thoughtless, often helping her without being asked, just that his thoughts seemed not to be quite right for a ten year old child. Discovering the boy had issues remembering his basic prayers she had, with much handwringing about the state of Convent led Orphanages, taken it upon herself to set about teaching the boy his catechism.
The first issue was the sign of the cross, for seemingly everytime Sid gave it a go, he somehow managed to char his shirt. It was almost as if the skin beneath rebelled against the blessing. Sid of course apologised, but it wasn’t as if it were deliberate. The second was that despite trying various materials, whenever Sid attempted to run rosary beads through his hands, they would catch fire. Mrs McCarthy brought these incidents to the Father's attention after the first lesson, and wondered if perhaps Sid’s hands were too rough and causing sparks. The priest seemed more receptive than the Parish Secretary had thought he might be, and had come to the kitchen to find Sid engaged in building a tower of salt, grain by grain on the kitchen table.
Father Brown pulled a battered Missal from one of the kitchen drawers and opening it by its silk, placed the book open in front of the boy.
“Sid?” The Father smiled “would you perhaps indulge me, in reading the prayer there on the page?” Sid looked up, confused, but shrugged good naturedly and ran his finger along the words, “Perhaps out loud, and maybe don’t touch the book Sid, it's quite old” The Father smiled.
“Alright, Ruo rehtaF ohw tra ni nevaeH” Sid intoned in a voice like a tomb opening.
“Ah, that's fine Sid Thank you” The Father took the book back with a smile.
“Can I go and play? Sam Anders has a new football?” Sid asked looking up.
“Yes, just be back for dinner” Father Brown smiled looking at Mrs McCarthy’s confused face.
“What is wrong with the boy Father?” she asked in a hushed whisper as the back door closed softly.
“Ah, well nothing, he’s rugged little chap isn’t he, thoughtful kind” Father Brown smiled “I think he’s a good boy at heart”
“But Father, what about the prayers, the flames?” She insisted
“Yes, I think Mrs McCarthy, young Sidney, might well be the Spawn of Satan” he chuckled softly to himself.

Mrs McCarthy followed him in confused and awed silence, out of the Presbytery and into St Mary’s, where he knelt in the front pew and stared wonderingly up at the Rood Screen, her hands to her pockets she took out her slightly charred Rosary, unable to pray, just kneeling beside him awaiting an answer. After a minute of silence, where her thoughts became deafening.
“You mean the actual spawn of Satan don’t you?” she asked in a hushed tone, “the son of old nick, this isn’t hyperbole?”
“I’m very much afraid so Mrs McCarthy” Father Brown smiled “I suppose we should feel Blessed”
“BLEST” she shrieked before crossing herself and glancing at the Holy Mother, “The Anti Christ is living in your box room and you think we should feel Blessed?”
“Well we are here, and at the centre of the war for the very souls of Earth, I suppose its a little how Simeon and Anna felt in the Temple when the Holy Family came for the blessing?”
“Except I haven’t been praying my whole life to see the Antichrist, and Sidney is not an infant?” She looked at the altar in quiet despair “Holy Mother do you think he knows?”
“I’m sure he realises he isn’t like other children, but really he is much like any boy his age, taken up with food and instant gratification” he smiled “which is a wonderful opportunity don’t you think?”
“An opportunity Father, surely we can’t keep him?” she looked scandalised
“Of course we must keep him, Our Lord tells us to Love our enemies, bless them that curse us, do good to them that hate us, and pray for them which despitefully use us, and persecute us” he smiled “we are called to love Sid, and perhaps if we love him enough, we can force the win for our Lord's side” he smiled “after all the Devil tried to tempt Jesus to his side, what says we can’t love Sid to ours?”
“But, he’s evil?” She shook her head.
“Nonsense, you said it yourself, he’s just a little wilful, good nurturing love and understanding will do wonders for him” he smiled.
“And what about” she swallowed “the hellfire and the voice?”
“Maybe we should treat it like a mild allergy, small doses of religion often, should help him build resilience, after all it only took a week to stop him turning red when he entered the church” he smiled “with any luck we have years to stop him catching fire”.
Mrs McCarthy crossed herself again “Jesus, Mary and Joseph I hope you know what you’re doing Father?”
“It will be fine Mrs McCarthy, I have faith” he bit his lip “but I might see if we can source some of those fancy fire extinguishers the ARP wardens have” he looked at her “can you knit him some gloves?”

Sid was out in the fields playing a version of football which just involved kicking Sam’s ball as hard as they could at each other and laughing, he’d never had a group of friends before, the children at the Orphanage never lasted very long, but these children were hale and hearty and they seemed to be genuinely happy to be around him. He smiled, this was great, he wanted to be here forever, he felt like somehow he belonged here.
“Oi Carter kick the bloody ball?” one of the boys shouted and Sid did, watching it arc through the sky almost clearing the clouds away as it did, nothing would happen to these boys, or Mrs M or Father Brown, he was going to make sure they didn’t wither and die like the kids and Nuns at the orphanage. He didn’t understand but a spell was cast high in that meadow that day, Kembleford would remain much as it ever was, just the slow gentle ticking of time, leaching life from the area surround, those drawn just outside would suddenly feel the need to find a permanent solution to their problems. Wives would suddenly turn on violent husbands, old wounds would resurface, children would turn on their aggressors and the venal would get their just desserts as soon as they entered the quiet bubble cast that day, but those with Sid’s best interests at heart, his friends, his family, no, they would be protected.

Chapter Text

After the third day when Mrs McCarthy had been called up to the school because of Sid’s behaviour, she was somewhat at the end of her tether, it wasn’t that he had been fighting, for as Mr Parnell said, that was just regular childish behaviour, it was that Sid had been running a book on the outcomes. She was now sitting in the Father’s Study catching him up, “have you had any thoughts on what we can do Father?” she looked around “about the boys, erm lineage?”
“I thought a field trip” The Father smiled, “take him out for a nice Autumnal walk through the woods and then, perhaps, a birthday party,” he smiled.
“Father, are you sure we should celebrate this bad behaviour?”
“I’m not proposing celebrating bad behaviour, but celebrating good, and giving him normality” he swallowed “the Orphanage, they must have known, I think they must have fostered what they wanted him to be, so we will treat him as he is, a little boy lost during a war” he smiled “a very clever little boy” he chuckled “he ran a book on his friends fights”.
“More than one Father” she sighed heavily,
“industrious and clever, excellent traits to foster” The priest smiled.

“But like someone owns it?” Sid asked for the umpteenth time “all of it? What does he do with it?”
“Well the Earl has shoots” Mrs McCarthy explained “and he uses the wood for fires and building work”.
“But why is there so much?” Sid insisted “surely he couldn’t use all this?”
“It’s hard to explain Sidney, but it's home to the animals and the ecosystem that supplies the Hall with its meat” Father Brown told him.
“How many people live at the Hall?” Sid asked “like hundreds?”
“Well there's the Earl and his new wife and his mother and the staff” Mrs McCarthy told him.
“That’s it?” Sid asked and then he looked up at the trees “can I play?”
“Play what?” Father Brown asked
“Dunno?” Sid frowned “Can I climb the trees?” He asked
“I don’t see why not” Father Brown told her and looked at Mrs McCarthy’s dubious face
“Can you climb a tree?” She asked
“Yeah course” he smirked “I can climb anything”.

Sid scampered up the tree and sat on a large limb swinging his legs looking into the wood, there was a feeling in his stomach that he belonged here, he looked round, not here. He jumped and landed on two feet from a good way up but he didn’t notice, something was calling to him, there in the woods was something that wanted him. He could still see Father Brown’s hat, but he started walking away, following something unseen, unknowing, ancient that called to him. It was like his dreams but this time he knew he wasn’t dreaming, it was calling and he was following, unable to stop. Father Brown looked over and saw the mob of light hair disappearing into the woods. He started following and after a beat and a silent prayer of despair Mrs McCarthy followed him three people moving quietly through the wood to an ineffable destiny.

Father Brown came into the clearing to see Sid staring, silent sentinel at a large rough hewn stone, “Sid?” he asked
“It wants me Father?” Sid asked “it called me all the way from London?” He had his hand on the stone.
“What is it saying?” Father Brown asked, coming closer.
“It’s telling me this is where I was born?” Sid turned to them his eyes had changed one was as black as pitch the other a shining red globe, slit like a snake.
“Holy mother of God” Mrs McCarthy crossed herself.
“I was here, this space belongs to my Father” Sid whispered.
“Sid, do you know who your father is?” Father Brown asked very quietly.
“You know neither me nor my Father. If you knew me, you would know my Father also.” Sid intoned.
“Is your Father Satan?” Father Brown asked
“It is you who say he is” Sid intoned “the time is not come” he shook slightly and his eyes returned, he looked slightly confused “I’m hungry” he said.
Father Brown nodded “would you like to go back to the Presbytery and start on that cherry cake?”
“Oh yes please” Sid smiled nicely and took his hand.
Mrs McCarthy looked around the clearing and crossed herself, but Father Brown smiled. It really hadn’t taken much to shake the boy out of his reverie, his Faith and Hope was renewed.

Chapter Text

1941

Aziraphale placed the teacup in front of the demon who looked at it incredulously and then carefully picked it up and sipped the tea.
“So when is it all supposed to start?” he asked “when is the boy supposed to come into his power?”
“On his 12th Birthday” Crowley nodded as the tea became a Single Malt.
“Well, when is it?” The Angel asked stirring his on tea daintily
“When’s what?” Crowley asked
“The child's Birthday?” The Angel smiled
“How should I know?” Crowley shook his head
“You were there, he’s the Antichrist I’d have thought it fairly important to remember?” The Angel interjected with something that might have been mild annoyance.
“Erm well it was ‘29?” Crowley shrugged “it might have been Autumn?”
“1929?” The Angel asked “so this year?”
“Well yes”
“And you have no idea where he might currently be?”
“Yes”
“And Hell wants an update on how it's all going?”
“Yeah”
“And you don’t know because you can’t find him?”
“Well exactly”
“So you came to me?” Aziraphale burst into tears.
“Oh come on Angel, it can’t be that hard, I mean between us”
“It’s August Crowley, you must know more than "Autumn "?” The Angel insisted
“When was that rash of suicides? All those people jumping out of buildings?” He asked “that was the same day” Crowley nodded “I was reading a Newspaper while I got the car professionally deep cleaned, something big in the states?”
“The Wall Street Crash?” Aziraphale asked “Black Tuesday, 29th October 1929”
“Well there you go then” He sat back
“78 days Crowley, 78 days to find the Anti-Christ and avoid apocalypse, because you taught him to rewire a plug and about Hedgehogs?” Aziraphale sobbed a tiny bit more.
“Plenty of time, also, got to keep up my reports” he grimaced, “I may have been fudging them for a while” He smirked as the Angel wept.

1940

Father Brown spent months researching everything who could about the AntiChrist not just Catholic theology but spending time looking through every religion he could find, and in the meantime his charge grew, the wary look of fear in his eyes dropped away and was replaced with something else, a cheeky confidence which the priest tried to foster, seeing confidence as trust, the cheekiness as security and together, the burgeoning power of love. Everytime the door was held for Mrs McCarthy and the boy smiled sweetly at her, he put it down as one for their side.
Of course the best source the Priest had was the boy himself, unwilling to actively experiment on him, he instead took time to observe. He could usually walk into the Church without too much hassle and could to his surprise take communion, but Holy water was an issue. There had been an incident when he had asked Sid to empty the font after a Christening and the boy had spilled water on himself and caught fire. The boy, seemingly as shocked as anyone. After the fuss and Mrs McCarthy had made sure the boy wasn’t actually hurt, Father Brown had sat him down and asked what had happened.
“The water burned” he shrugged “it touched my skin and caught fire, it didn’t burn me though?” Sid swung his legs “it's like when I take communion, it burns a bit, but not badly?”
“Sid, when you take communion, what do you feel?” Father Brown asked
“Oh dunno, it burns when I swallow, but then it's warm, sort of nice in my tummy” Sid smiled “sort of like Mrs M’s cooking?”
Father Brown smiled “Sid if something is painful, too painful tell us” he patted the boys hand “but otherwise” he paused “you feel safe and secure here, don’t you?”
“Course Father” he grinned then stood up and put his arms around him in a hug “can I go and play?”
Father Brown patted the small overly warm back “course you can, just be back for dinner”. He watched the lad run off, his experiment was working.

One afternoon Father Brown came rushing into the Presbytery and having looked around the kitchen and caught Mrs McCarthy’s eye and then hurried to his study.
“Father?” the secretary looked concerned and he gestured to the door, and she closed it “What have you found?”
“There is a belief, a repeated reference to when the Antichrist will come into his full power and Armageddon will start, on his 12th Birthday” he looked at the Parish secretary who gasped and put her hand to her mouth.
“So soon?” she asked
“It means we have about 18 months to foil the legions of hell” he smiled “at least we know”.
“And Sid, does he know?” she asked
“I don’t believe so” Father Brown looked behind him out into the garden where the boy was currently attempting to commando climb the washing line “I think he’d be rather upset if he did?”
“Father?”
“Well he seems rather happy with his life does he not?”
She came and stood beside him tutting “perhaps a little too much?”

Chapter Text

Sid was sat on the vestry dresser swinging his legs, it was 8am on Sunday morning and Father Brown was struggling, Mrs McCarthy had a nasty bout of the flu and therefore he spent the week trying to plug the gaps, where the Parish Secretary’s usual efficiency would have worked effortlessly. This morning the Father was somewhat relying on his small helper to aid him setting up the church, there was a distinct lack of sacristan or altar boys and he was starting to panic. “Sid, could you go and light the big candles on the altar?”
“Yes, Father” he chirruped slipping down from his perch and running off, Father Brown was about to call him back as he noticed the boy had left the matches behind, but then he heard
“Ow” and went to go and see.
Sid stood on the altar step, looking up at the Crucifix “Look JC, I’m just lighting these for Father right, so don’t be funny about it OK?” the little boy addressed the figure. Then as the priest watched he reached up very carefully and put his finger to the candle, which gutted once and then sparked with flame. “Thanks” Sid addressed the Christ figure again, before moving to the second candle and repeating the act. When he finished he carefully genuflected and crossed himself before turning to the Father.
“Sid?” Father Brown started and then stopped “Sidney, would you kindly act as altar server for me today, I know you know the job, and it would really help”
Sid turned his little face to the figure on the cross “he won’t mind?”
“Why would he mind” The priest asked gently
“Well, because I’m the son of the devil” the boy told him “didn’t you know?”
Father Brown smiled “Sid, do you know that the devil used to be an angel? Created by God?” The little boy stared up at him “and you remember the story of the prodigal son that God accepts all his children back?”
“Yes Father?”
“So, if you were in fact, the son of a fallen angel, do you think your Grandfather would welcome you back, if you wanted?”
“Oh?” He looked up at the crucifix and smiled “Oh, that's OK then” and whatever dreamy look had been on the boy's face disappeared as quickly as ice on a summer's day “in which case, happy to help Father” he smiled happily and went through into the vestry.

“It was fine Mrs McCarthy, and I think he quite enjoyed the attention if I’m honest” Father Brown was telling her, she was sat up in bed her nose bright red and her eyes dark.
“But he told you, he recognised what he is?” She croaked
“Yes, but also accepted that didn’t necessarily bar him from Christ” Father Brown smiled up at her crucifix, “and that has to be the takeaway”
“And my altar cloth?” she asked
“There may have been some singeing when he lit the Easter Candle for me, but I should have thought, that candle is actually blessed, really it's my fault” She let out a small sob “and we can use the remains of last years for any christenings we have”.
“The antichrist is an altar boy” Mrs McCarthy shivered not just from the flu “Are you planning on indoctrinating him into Guild of St Stephen?” she asked
“I’m not sure Sid would want to be” Father Brown admitted “but as a one off he did just fine” he thought “and I might not have 18months for him to train” he said quietly.
“And where is he now” she lay back and he could see how tired she was
“Oh he was tidying up for you, I left him changing the water in your daffodils” she lay back and smiled, then sat back up.
“Just the daffodil's father?” she took his hand “because I’ve been watering the African Violets with….”
There was a noise downstairs like a loud “whuff” followed by “Father!”
“Holy water” she said, closing her eyes as Father Brown hurried downstairs to see what had caught fire now.

Vince Lennon was fun, Sid Carter was sure Mrs McCarthy wouldn’t approve, but he always had the best ideas, and when he found out Sid knew how to pick locks he had some even better ideas. Breaking into Morris’ mill which had been empty since before the war started, had been fun, they’d pretended to be businessmen by sharing out the offices, and had made some of the smaller boys the mill workers. It had been the game of a good month, before Inspector Valentine had been called to investigate the unlocked door and found the boys. He had intended to chase them off with a stern warning, but when he’d walked into the factory he’d been hit with a gross feeling of repulsion, he had stumbled outside, so quickly he’d barely registered the deep voice shouting “RUN”. He had seen the boys running away but couldn’t have been sure of any of them. Sid and Vince had run off into the woods giggling like fools.
“What’s with the voice Carter?” Vince asked “that was weird?”
“Oh yeah” Sid shrugged “I dunno its something I can do”
“Like ventriloquism? Like that stupid Uncle Mirth guy?” he asked
“No” Sid stopped and looked around, on the woodland floor there was a carpet of leaf mulch and some sticks and rocks and detritus. He picked up a pine cone and it caught fire.
“FUCK ME thats a good trick” Vince shouted “how do you do that?”
“I don’t know it's like the voice, I just can” Sid shrugged
“You know what we should do don’t you?” Vince smirked “get hold of some fags”.
After the loss of the Mill as a hang out the boys decided they needed somewhere as a permanent meeting place, and Sid had shown them the clearing in the woods with its strange hewn stone altar and logs circling it. They decided it was a perfect place to hold court, and when they played Camelot it was the site of the round table. They were undoubtedly a group of equals; there were usually five of them, Sid, Vince, Mick Bidley, Sam Anders and Jim Carson. However it was somehow agreed that Sid was in charge, they all invariably looked to him for guidance, and as he seemed the most worldly advice about the outside world as well. Vince scared the other boys, but not Sid and that made him second in command, equally worldly but, everyone liked Sid, and only Sid seemed to like Vince.Other children would come and join their games because they wanted to play with Sid, but Vince would scare them away. The parents would gossip and Mrs McCarthy would worry that the evil in Sid was showing, but then she would hear that it was that awful Vince boy and breathe easily. She told all this to Father Brown one evening after Sid had gone to bed, and Father Brown shook his head sadly.
“The devil is charming Mrs McCarthy, he comes to tempt and seduce, he was the Father’s most beautiful angel and he charmed many of the angels to follow him. He is not dangerous because he is evil incarnate, but because he charms you away from the true path to God” he swallowed “Sid is an attractive child, charming and funny, just like his Father, where we will win his soul is not by praising those attributes the devil already holds dear, but by praising his loyalty, his kindness, his thoughtfulness and his desire to love and be loved” he smiled “His attachment to young Mr Lennon isn’t proof of his demonic side, but of his Angelic.”

Chapter Text

“All I said, was if you remembered this earlier it would have saved some time?” Aziraphale consoled the angry demon who was driving slightly more aggressively than he was sure he liked.
“Look Angel, it was nearly 12 years ago, and well, how am I supposed to remember every detail?” Crowley bristled.
“It's the birth of the Antichrist Crowley” Aziraphale tried hard not to scold, “surely it stuck in your mind?”
“That little shit depositing his stomach contents on my seats did” he snapped.”anyway, even if I had remembered why would I suspect he’d come back to Kemblington?”
“Kembleford” the angel reminded “as a dog returns to his vomit” he smiled hopefully “anyway, I’m sure it's all part of the ineffable plan”
“Angel….” Crowley stopped “did you feel that?” he shivered
“Like something crawled up from the depths of a sewer and blew in my face?” The angel asked “yes I think I did?”
“Right place” Crowley told him “I have the unbearable urge to sing a happy song about mice” he grimaced. “Something doesn’t want us here” he crunched the gear of the Bentley, “shall we go and visit with the vicar?”
“Father” Aziraphale reminded “Catholic”
“Whatever, it's your turn to wear the dress”.

Mrs McCarthy opened the Presbytery door to the strange couple, he was a tall man with flaming hair and strange eyes dressed like George Formby and she was a bent crooked woman with snow white hair wearing what appeared to be a fancy dress of the wolf in the Red Riding Hood story. Never the most astute woman, Mrs McCarthy did recognise this for what it was immediately.
“You’ll be here about Sidney” she sighed “FATHER!” she cried behind her crossing herself and making Crowley step back slightly.
The Priest was younger than they had been expecting and his smile seemed genuine. That was such a surprise Aziraphale unbent suddenly making Mrs McCarthy jump.
“Come in gentlemen” Father Brown smiled “perhaps some tea Mrs McCarthy?” He suggested leading them into his study.
“You were expecting a visit?” Crowley asked, looking round the cosy little study wondering what sort of Priest they were dealing with.
“Well, if you forgive me, I had been expecting something of the sort since Sidney came to live here, and with the” he smiled sitting down “deadline looming, I’ve been rather expecting it daily”.
“You seem very aware of what's happening?” Aziraphale asked “the child is supposed to remain hidden till the” he stopped “shall we stick with deadline? How did you find out?”
“We realised quite soon after he came to us, things kept catching fire, and then there was the demonic face when he entered the church and other little signs along the way, and then of course about a year ago, he came to realise it himself, which has made it easier to manage” Father Brown smiled “could I ask, what you intend to do here?”
Demon and Angel exchanged glances “what have you done about it?” Crowley asked “the devil's spawn, the Antichrist has lived under your roof for nearly 3 years, you as a Catholic Priest” he stopped “you know what happens when he comes into his full power”
“Ah yes, but that's a matter of free will surely” Father Brown smiled “the child being half human, and therefore capable of receiving Grace”
“You believe you can stop the apocalypse?” Aziraphale asked, forgetting his old lady voice and looking at Crowley “that's why…”
“How?” The demon interrupted, “how do you, a mortal man in a dress, plan to foil the ineffable plans of Heaven and the war between Heaven and Hell?” he asked nastily
“Love” Mrs McCarthy bustled in with tea “now I’ve used the best china so I hope you appreciate it” she told them looking them up and down “and tea is rationed so please do let it sit for a moment before you pour”.
“Do we understand, you are also here to stop Sid reaching his full power?” Father Brown asked
“Crowley taught him to change a lightbulb” Aziraphale put in smiling “he tried to humanize him”.
“For which Mr Crowley we have reason to thank you, Sid’s practical skills are invaluable to a small parish like ours” Father Brown smiled.
“Oh yes, and Mr Croker has reason to thank you, now his sons are off at the war, Sid’s been able to help him with all sorts of little jobs” Mrs McCarthy smiled “we’re very proud of him”.

There was something wrong at home, Sid had been at school writing all the filthiest words he could think of into his Maths book when there had been an odd feeling in his tummy, his first reaction was to run out of the class, but he thought about Father Brown and his discussion with him about making Mrs McCarthy come up to school every time he got in trouble, and put his hand up instead. Excused to the bathroom Sid had left via the high window in the boys relief and trotted down the road to the Presbytery. He was concerned and went round to the parlour window, opening the dodgy catch and wriggling through, he could hear voices in the study and crept along the to the door to listen.
“Come in Sid, its OK” Father's voice called immediately. Sid knew he hadn’t made a sound but somehow Father always recognised him. He opened the door and the feeling in his tummy grew so much he nearly doubled over, and then he saw him, the caretaker from St Judes.
“Mr Crowley?” he asked curiously “I don’t understand why are you here?”
“Sid” Father Brown smiled “Mr Crowley and erm”
“Granny” Aziraphale smiled and nodded, earning a tut from the Demon behind him that was shared by Mrs McCarthy.
“And your Granny here, are just here to keep in touch with you” he smiled “it's nothing to worry about, they also have your best interests at heart” he gave them hard looks.
“Now Sidney I hope your being a good boy” Aziraphale croaked
“I can’t have a Granny can I Father?” he looked up at the priest and Azirphale sighed.
“I was trying my best, my best work” he looked around.
“I can call you Granny if you want” Sid nodded “I don’t mind” he screwed up his face “what are you though really?”
Aziraphale smiled “I’m an Angel Sidney, and I think you know that don’t you?”
“Why is an Angel interested in me, aren’t I, well the enemy?” Sid asked looking around
“No, never” Mrs McCarthy bent down and cuddled the boy “you are a good boy Sid, and we love you very much, you aren’t” she swallowed she’d never vocalised to the boy that she understood who he was “who your father is, doesn’t matter as much as who you are” she kissed his forehead.
“Shouldn’t you be in that place?” Crowley asked “ah what's it, prison for kids, great places, pure evil?”
“School?” Aziraphale asked and then looked at Sid, “should you be in school?”
“I had this, it felt weird, I thought, i felt wrong so I ran home, crawled out of the lav window” he smirked
“Good-boy” Crowley laughed and was faced by a chorus of scowls. “Ahem, er yes, stay in school” he added.
“Don’t you work for my father Mr Crowley?” Sid asked “you worked at St Judes?”
“Well yes I do, but I also happen to believe in free will” he nodded “you know the story of Adam and Eve, bloody great garden and a single apple tree, that was me” he smiled proudly and the air froze around him “well anyway, free will and all that”.

Sid was returned to school while Father Brown sat with the Angel and Demon, “So we have a united aim to stop the apocalypse?” he asked
“Well yes rather” The Angel nodded “it seems an awful waste doesn’t it?” he looked up “although of course I wouldn’t want to contradict his ineffable plan” he added quickly.
“But you don’t know it's not in his plan that you should thwart the apocalypse?” Father Brown asked “God rarely speaks to us in the way we are expecting” he smiled.
“Did you have a plan, Priest?” Crowley spat
“No,” Father Brown smiled. “I trust the Lord would have one, and in the meantime we followed our moral duty to make sure the child was loved, safe, secure and happy. He is polite, kind, considerate and loyal. He loves nature and is curious about the world in general. I hope that whatever weapon he is supposed to be, these qualities will hold him in good stead.” he tented his hands, “now if you don’t mind, what are you proposing to do in addition?”

“Godfathers” Crowley sighed getting back into the car, “like fairies from a children's story?”
“Speak for yourself, I’m his Granny” Aziraphale grinned
“Stop saying that” Crowley scolded
“Look we both agreed the Priest is doing a remarkable job, and this way it doesn’t seem odd if we pop in and check on the lad, and when October comes, we can be here on the ground, so to speak” Aziraphale played with his shawl.
“You could at least change back” Crowley grumbled
“Shan’t, I think I might try knitting” he smirked “I could make a jumper for Sidney’s birthday”
The demon sucked air through his teeth and in a small bay on the South Coast of England the Tide unexpectedly went out “I don’t like leaving all this to chance” he shook his head “there should be something we can do” he looked back at the receding valley and was sure he could almost see a bubble over it, like a glass cloche.
“Well I for one have faith” Azirphale smiled happily “I think Father Brown has done a wonderful job with my Grandson” Crowley looked at him and shook his head with a huff, that drowned the small seaside town of Ridgefield by Sea.

Chapter Text

Sid had been attending Catechism lessons for his confirmation since Whit and now it was September and his birthday and confirmation were getting close and he had some big questions that Mrs McCarthy did feel quite up to answering. So he and Father Brown sat cosily at the kitchen table, the Catechism between them while the Priest tried to explain Catholic Doctrine to a child who seemed to be in natural opposition to it.
“So I have to renounce Satan?” Sid asked, his face full of concern.
“Well all his works, and his control of you” Father Brown nodded, “and again this is your choice”.
“Won’t he be angry? I mean he is my father?” Sid asked
“I imagine he might be a bit upset, but I am fairly sure he would also say it's your choice” The Priest nodded.
“When it says all his works?” Sid asked “what does that mean?”
“Temptation, Sin and evil, things that turn you, and him away from God’s love and Grace”
“But wasn’t I made by him, therefore I’m one of his works?” Sid rubbed at his hand in a distracted way.
“Man was made in the image of God, by God, your mother was human and therefore, you are one of God's works” Father Brown told him.
“And if I don’t do this, what will happen?” Sid asked
“I really don’t know, but that is secondary to whether or not you want to make your confirmation”
“I think I do” Sid nodded “I don’t want to hurt anyone, or cause the spread of evil or temptation” he hesitated, “but I don’t want to hurt my father either?”
“Unfortunately I don’t think we can ask his opinion” Father Brown smiled “so this is down to your own conscience” he took a biscuit from the plate between them “I imagine it might be a bit like the feeling you have when you take communion, I think that feeling is Grace, and I imagine confirming you wish to be in receipt of it forever, might be quite nice?”
“Will it make me human, like 100%, no setting fire to things or making stuff disappear?” he looked up with an odd expression that Father Brown recognised as mischief.
“I can’t answer that, but I will ask a question, do you think that side of you, is it getting stronger?”
“Oh, I dunno, the church doesn’t hurt me anymore, and animals don’t hiss at me” he shrugged “but, sometimes, sometimes I think I can feel the whole valley in my hands and if I really wanted I could make something happen, like drown Kembleford, or make it fly, and when I think that, its, well I feel powerful?” he looked up “not that I would, but I think I could, if I tried really hard”.
Father Brown willed himself not to cross himself as the chill ran up his back at the boys words.
“And why don’t you?” he asked cautiously.
“Well I like it here” Sid nodded “and Mrs McCarthy would be really angry and you’d look all disappointed, and I don’t want you to stop loving me” he took a biscuit thoughtfully and missed the smirk on the Priests face.
“We love you very much Sid, and nothing you could do would stop that, but I’m glad you don’t really want to do that, because as it happens I quite like Kembleford as well”.
“Can I go and play?” The boy looked up suddenly “Vince is allowed out again today after his grounding and I want to show him the treehouse I built”
“Of course” the priest hesitated “Sid, be careful”
“Will do Father, I’ll be back for tea”.

There was a glow in the Kembleford Valley, like the setting sun on a baking hot day, the denizens didn’t seem to notice, but as September started to melt away and the very last days of summer ended, the darkness seemed to curve away from the valley, so as the ARP wardens started their rounds in Hambleston, the children of Kembleford still played in a golden light till Mothers concerned about their darlings getting up for school on time, came and fetched them from tree swings and football games. Even when the stars were out the glow remained high above the sleeping village a glow of something growing, power, throbbing, the epicentre being the small back bedroom of the Presbytery where tossing in his sleep, dreaming of dark shadows in firelight a small figure opened his usual blue eyes to see blindly through one eye as black as pitch the other a shining red globe, slit like a snake.

100 miles away in a remarkably unmarked bookshop in central London an Angel and a Demon poured over some ancient texts wondering how the apocalypse would start. The calendar on the wall, marked with a red ring on the 29th October. “Perhaps we could ask nicely for them to put off the apocalypse for a while, just till the war and everything blows over?” Aziraphale suggested.
“Yes Angel I’m sure they’ll put off the Apocalypse for the War” The Demon sneered “not at all that this is part of the plan?”
“Oh” The Angel looked up to the ceiling “possibly”.
“I think we might need to be on hand though” Crowley nodded “closer to Kembleford”
“Ah I was going to mention because” the Angel stopped “I also, well there's a feeling….”
“Like being drawn there?” Crowley asked
“Like I’m meant to be there” The Angel nodded.
“Oh good shall we go tomorrow then?” The demon suggested
“Or now?” Aziraphale asked
“Yeah how about now” The demon nodded somewhat relieved as he was seconds from running there himself.

Chapter Text

Kembleford Independent Society of Satanists were having their monthly meeting in the back room of the Cloak and Dagger Pub, because of the black out they could no longer meet by firelight under a dying moon, so now they met over a candle inside. Less than a month till the big event, they were in a state of anticipation, but the practicalities of running a club had to come first.
“So subs are down this year” Brian the Treasurer told them “I do think some people have decided with the big event coming up we don’t need to worry about money, but the bills keep coming I’m afraid”.
“I was just wondering” Marjorie the Social Secretary asked “What are our plans for the New Year, are we having our annual knees up?”
“Well, we are hoping we will all be in the presence of our Dark Lord, so not necessarily?” Brian told her.
“Oh right yes” Marjorie nodded “it's just Mrs McCarthy asked if we were hiring the church hall again this year, because they’ve had other enquiries” she fiddled with her hat “and I don’t want to lose the booking if something goes wrong”
“Goes wrong it's the apocalypse” Dave the societies MC told her “it's been prophesied?”
“Well, maybe it is an idea to have a back up?” Brian suggested “I mean 2000 year old prophecies might be off by a few weeks?”
“We were at his birth, we know when it is, and his 12th Birthday is when he comes into his power, it can’t be delayed, it's not a bus?”
“I did wonder if we should go over a few things before the big day” Dave said “as it happens, I thought we were going to meet at our ancient site at midnight, but I know some of the local children have been playing up there, so I thought maybe we should have a bit of a clear up, don’t want him coming into his power in a pigsty do we?”
“Which children” Brian asked “because I know the scouts had a litter pick in the woods last week, and said it was remarkably tidy?”
“Oh you know the evacuees, that kid from the Presbytery and his little friends” Dave added
“Tearaways” Marjorie shook her head “we don’t really want that sort hanging around, I do wonder why they had to come here?”
“Anyway” Brian huffed “shall we go over the Standing and District Organised Satanists latest pamphlet denouncing false prophets, apparently Hambleston Independent Satanists society have sent the SADOS a cease and desist”
“Well that's all very well for HISS they have a much bigger society, I just don’t think we at KISS have the funds”.
“At least we know when the Apocalypse will happen”.

Furfur stood with Beelzebub outside the ruined Convent and Orphanage “and this is where Crowley said he took the child?” The Lord of Flies asked
“Yes” Furfur grimaced “he’s been updating Hell on the child's progress for nearly 12 years.
“Well he isn’t here now is he?” The demon Lord seemed to grow with anger “so where is he?”
“Well” Furfur started “I don’t know” he admitted.
“Furfur, you have also been updating Hell, where has your intelligence come from?”
“I may have taken my eye off the ball, Crowley was very persuasive” he smiled hopefully.
“That's Crowley’s power” The Lord of Flies stared at him”imbecile” knowing other demons should be immune but realising small minds, “well there's only one thing for it?”
“My Lord?”
“FIND CROWLEY”

Crowley was watching Kembleford Cricketers losing to Hambleston and having a rather marvelous time, cricket was much for of the Angels vibe, but finding how determined the players on both side were the opportunity to cause petty squabbles was intoxicating. He was pretty sure not long from now there would definitely be a murder, Hambleston had started some rather ribald jokes at the expense of Lord Montague the absent Captain of the Kembleford 11, and in retaliation the Kembleford were pointing out that Hambleston sported a number of young men of an age to join up who hadn’t. It was all becoming rather mean spirited.
Sipping lemonade which had become a nice single malt, and relaxing on his deckchair, he was suddenly assaulted by a number of flies and his eyes dropped to slits. “Oh no, not now, Kembleford were down to their last man” he thought as he was rudely snatched from his chair by unseen hands and transported “elsewhere”.

Chapter Text

“So the event is on schedule?” Beezlebub asked
“Oh yes, the child is in place, growing in his power” Crowley told them “all going to plan”
“So the orphanage?”
“Well he had the pull to go towards Kembleford, and with the evacuation, I thought it was a good idea, obviously part of the plan, wasn’t it?”
Beezlebub looked uncomfortable, they did know the plan, of course, it was just some of the finer details had perhaps not filtered quite through “of course it was, but you didn’t inform Furfur?” they asked.
“Oh well, they probably didn’t get my note?” Crowley smiled “you know how hard infernal mail can be?”
“But the child is in a suitable environment, somewhere powerful, where his influence can be felt?” Beezlebub pushed
“I don’t think he could be anywhere better in fact,” Crowley said, nodding.
“Crowley I don’t need to remind you how important the event is?” Beezlebub told him.
“No, and that’s why I am staying close by, well I was until you brought me here” he swallowed seeing the look on the Lord of flies face “all set” he smiled.
There was no dismissal, Crowley just found himself back in Kembleford, an inconvenient way away from the Cricket Pitch, in the Graveyard of St Mary’s smoking slightly. He leaned against the lamppost and patted the small fire out of his jacket.

Father Brown was woken by the noise, he wondered briefly what it had been a soft whump sound, he shook his head and stepped out of his bed, a nice glass of milk would calm him back to slumber. He padded down the stairs and along the first floor corridor, the smell of sulphur and smoke assaulting his nostrils. He hurried to the box room door, the red glow of flame visible under the door he opened it cautiously. The room was filled with flame, as red as blood, the boy asleep in the centre of the conflagration, a good foot off his bed. The screams of the souls in perdition not disturbing his slumber, nor were the flames as hot as the hell they had come from touching the walls or furniture. The Priest made the sign of the cross and whispered a blessing against evil and the room returned to its normal proportions. He breathed hard and stared at the boy, still floating from the bed, snores as deep as a wounded animal and slight growls falling from the angelic face. “Goodnight Sid” the Priest whispered. Thinking there was some comfort that however the next couple of weeks panned out, the boy would be seemingly unharmed by it all. He closed the door again and shook his head. He wouldn’t tell Mrs McCarthy, she’d only worry, but perhaps he’d bring a sand bucket up to the second floor, just in case.

War was busy, very busy, this was what they existed for, so to be called from the edge of the battle by delivery of a long package, was not completely expected. She revealed the flaming sword and nodded, it was time.
Ronnie Soak was on his rounds, a bit trickier with the blackout, he was having to start out during the day, which wasn’t grat for his specialist customers, he was very surprised however to come back to his float to find a box waiting for him, he opened it to find a crown and swore. “I’ve retired” he shouted into the either, grabbing the pencil from the top pocket of his work coat he wrote in large letters, please redirect to Pollution, I’ve retired. He watched as the box carefully disintegrated and shook his head. A little pang in what might have been his heart if he really was human, a good old fashioned apocalypse sounded pretty good right now.
Famine was in Greece, the great humanitarian crisis just starting to bite, hungry eyes staring as they requisitioned food for the troops, they smiled at the fruits taken from small hands and given to the strongest. What a time to be in existence, when a bone hand touched their equally thin shoulder. “IT IS TIME” Death intoned.

Chapter Text

Sid Carter woke on the day of his 12th Birthday feeling pretty good, better he thought than perhaps he ever had before, he stared at the white suit Mrs McCarthy had hung from his wardrobe door, it really wasn’t his thing, also it itched, although he smiled slightly, she had made it for him, and that felt amazing, like something warm in his tummy. He shook his head, and looked at his battered alarm clock, it was 7am, Mass was at midday so he had time to run down to the woods to meet up with Vince, who had yesterday promised a conkers rematch. Sid had never lost a match before, but the day before his best conker the undefeated 65er had exploded when Vince’s new conker hit it. The fact Vince now had a 66er had bothered Sid slightly, but this morning, something in his mind told him he could do anything. He grabbed the 5er from his window sill, and set off, today was his day.

The hellhound was waiting, he knew he was waiting for his master, who would appear at any moment and define his form, by giving him his name, his purpose what he was, but for now he waited, no form, no existence outside potential. He was however drawn to the soul of the Anti-Christ, his master, and so some thoughts came into what would soon be his head, the first being that this place was wonderful, the squirrels, the big piles of leaves, the unexpectedly enticing smell of fox scat. He couldn’t wait to have paws, because as soon as he did, he was wading into that smell, and if possible chasing the incredibly fat squirrel that was currently sitting on his master's altar, in what the hellhound thought was a smug attitude.

Vince Lennon wasn’t waiting in the clearing, and so Sid sat on his Throne, the slightly bigger of the logs pulled up around the stone table, and kicked at the leaves, he had rushed out without breakfast and suddenly regretted it, he was surprised to look up and see a couple of apples on the table, he was too hungry to think too hard and just bit into the first one munching happily, he couldn’t remember seeing any apple trees nearby, but thought perhaps one of the larger squirrels had brought them. He briefly wondered if someone had put them there, and wondered who else would be up at this time, dog walkers he thought, he would love a dog.

This was it, the hellhound thought, the moment of destiny, when he would become real, and his master's power would be revealed, if he had a mouth he would drool.

It would be a proper dog, not one of the pampered pooches that the Kembleford ladies sometimes had, it would be fluffy, with big paws and proper standing up ears. Brown, a proper dog colour, and tall enough he didn’t have to stoop to pet him, but not so big Mrs M would bar him from the Presbytery, although he could build him a dog house next to the chicken coop. Sid looked down from the altar, to see the dog of his imagination, panting in front of him, intelligent eyes boring into the boy. “Oh” Sid nodded, “Oh he looked at the apple in his hand” and then looked down “Erm thanks, if this is a birthday gift, it's pretty awesome I must say, thank you”.
“NAME HIM” a voice in his head said and Sid nodded.
“Oh yeah right, you need a name, what do you look like” he thought hard.
“This is it" thought the hellhound, "he will name me and I shall be whole”
“Dave!” Sid cried “your name is Dave”
“DAVE?” the voice in his head said
“Yeah, he looks like a DAVE” Sid said out loud.
“DAVE” the name reverberated through creation “DAVE” the name was spoken in the halls of perdition.
“Well you have to admit, he does sort of look like a Dave” a minor Demon nodded, and nobody could really argue.

Chapter Text

Sid was throwing sticks for Dave in the woodland, when Vince finally turned up, slightly breathless. “Bloody hell Sid, what's that?” he asked.
“This is Dave, he’s a present for my birthday” Sid laughed and Dave sat at his master's feet awaiting instruction “Dave this is Vince” Sid told him and the hound put that away for future reference.
“Who bought you a dog? Is it a dog?” Vince asked putting his hand out to the mutt who sniffed it suspiciously “No way did Mrs McCarthy buy you a dog!”
“My Father, I think” Sid nodded “I got some apples as well?”
“Bollocks you no more no who your Dad is than I do?” Vince told him
“I KNOW WHO MY SIRE IS” Sid intoned and Vince looked up at him shocked.
“What you talking about?” Vince asked, “you been eating them mushrooms?”
“MY TIME IS COME” Sid intoned and Vince looked up at him, there was something strange about the other boy's eyes and it made him shiver.
“Leave it out, Sid, are we having this rematch or what?”
Sid seemed to shiver and shrink somehow “Oh yeah conkers” he pulled his 5er out of his pocket “I reckon you cheated with that yesterday, what did you use, vinegar?” Sid asked and Vince just grinned.
“Fairs, fair Carter, right rematch?” Vince asked holding his new 66er by its old shoelace, “we playing”
Sid swallowed the feeling of invincibility came back and the world seemed for a moment to change colour, this conker would be 666 and he swung his conker and other boys conker exploded, and his own caught fire and strangely enough so did the trees and floor around them, Vince looked around him panicked and went to run off. “STOP” Sid intoned “STAY AND WITNESS”.
Vince couldn’t move and his eyes darted in panic “look Sid the Old Man will want me home, let me go mate” for the first time in a long time he was panicking, this wasn’t fun, this was terrifying. He wanted to cry “Please Sid, mate please, Carter come on?”
Sid turned around the space, his eyes unseeing feeling the power rushing towards him from somewhere. “I could make this place better” he said quietly to himself
“YOU COULD” the voice in his head said.
“I could make Mrs M’s strawberry’s grow all year around, and abolish bedtime and stop the war”
“YOU CAN” said the voice in his head and Dave whined, and the fire moved like it was alive and thunder rolled.
“But not today” Sid said and the fire dropped and the sky brightened and Vince fell forward where he’d been trying to run.
“What was that?” he asked Sid from the ground.
“I don’t know?” Sid told him honestly, “but I think I need to speak to Father”.

Father Brown had been putting toast under the grill of his little stove when the thunder rolled. He looked out at the otherwise cloudless day and he shivered. He didn’t need to see if Sid was in his room, he knew he wasn’t. He turned off the grill with regret and went to get dressed in a hurry, this may not wait till midday.
Father Brown could smell the sulfur as he cycled towards the woods, and he could feel a growing darkness, and he cycled faster. He was becoming more worried when he saw an odd dog walking down the track for the woods, it reminded him of the dogs Sid doodled in the corner of his homework and he smiled despite his worry, and then following was Sid looking as panicked as the priest imagined he did himself.
“Father” Sid ran to him and the Priest hugged the boy “Father, am I evil?”
“No, no of course not, why?” he asked
“My father sent me a dog” Sid looked up “and some apples I think, and I ate the apples and now, I can make things happen” he swallowed “and I, am I evil?”
“What did you make happen Sid?” Father Brown asked gently
“I made Vince stop moving and then fall over and I set fire to the woods, and the voice, the voice says it's time, and some people are coming, and I don’t want anything to change”. He said in a small voice.
“Do you remember we talked about free will?” Father Brown asked him and Sid nodded “this is where it's going to be very important Sid, you might be tempted to make things happen, and the voice, might ask you too, but the choice is yours, not mine or your fathers, but yours alone”
“I’m scared father” Sid looked up “I think, I think I could do anything?”
“And what do you want to do right now?” Father Brown asked him.
“Go home for breakfast,” Sid told him.
“Then let's do that first” Father Brown smiled “and you can tell me all about your furry friend” he stopped “Sid where is Vince? He’s OK?”
“He ran home” Sid looked at the priest biting his lip “do you think he’ll forgive me?”
“If you ask for forgiveness” Father Brown patted the boy “more often than not, if you really mean it, you’ll receive it”
“Like confession?” Sid asked
“Like confession,” Father Brown smiled.

Chapter Text

Father Brown and Sid were just on their second round of toast when Mrs McCarthy hurried through the front door trailing Inspector Valentine behind her. “Sidney Carter what have you been up to?” she scolded from the hallway.
“Mrs McCarthy?” Father Brown asked “Good morning Inspector?”
“Do you know the fire brigade are up in the woods?” She threw her hands up “and the Inspector is here to talk to you about it?” She put her hands on her hips and Father Brown and Sid exchanged worried expressions.
“Sidney” Valentine started “Vince Lennon told me you started a fire in the woods, now I’m sure you didn’t mean it to go very far, but it's very serious, did you start a fire”.
“NOT BY YOUR MORTAL MEANS” came the voice from Sid and Valentine stepped back.
“Sid” Father Brown put his hand on the boy, who turned to him his eyes back to blue “tell the inspector what happened”
“My conker exploded” Sid nodded “it wasn’t deliberate, and, well the fire is out now”
“Your conker exploded?” Valentine asked, shaken more by the voice than he was willing to admit “I can smell the smoke from here?”
“Ah, that isn’t coming from the woods inspector” Father Brown told him looking at Mrs McCarthy.
“Oh, are we too late?” The Parish Secretary asked
“Too late?” Valentine asked “too late for what?”
He was interrupted by a loud whine from under the table “What on earth is that mutt doing in here?” Mrs McCarthy asked, stepping back.
“Dave isn’t a mutt” Sid turned to her “he’s a gift from my Father”
“Perhaps Inspector you would like to sit down, I imagine it may be a long day” Father Brown smiled. Valentine used to Father Brown and his oddities nodded and sat down “it seems that Sid may have come into his full power this morning, and we were just having a chat about what that might mean”.
“His full power?” Valentine asked “I don’t understand, and I thought he was an orphan, who is his Father?”
“Lucifer”
“Satan”
“The Devil” came the answers three as Valentine shook his head.
“You’ve gone mad?” He laughed “too much Catholicism”
“I’m afraid not Inspector, Sid is the Antichrist” Father Brown nodded “the issue at hand is, what he wishes to do about it”.
“The antichrist?” Valentine laughed “you can’t be serious”
“YOU DOUBT MY POWER MORTAL, KNEEL AND QUAKE” Sid intoned.
Valentine was still trying to say “now listen here son”, when he realised he was on the floor and Father Brown was telling the boy “We don’t do things like that do we Sid”.
“The antiChrist?” Valentine was helped to his feet by a tutting Mrs McCarthy “you’ve been keeping the antichrist in your box room? The antichrist is real and he’s an evacuee?” He shook his head and sniffed the air “the smell of burning?”
“Appears to be coming from me, sorry Inspector” Sid looked down “it's rather hard to control”.
“It's OK Sidney, we understand” Mrs McCarthy patted the boy, her hand staying on his shoulder and looking at the Inspector “Sid is a good boy and we love him, he’s just going through a hard time” she smiled “he doesn’t mean any harm”.
“Thanks Mrs M” Sid looked up “this is Dave by the way” he patted the hellhound
“I’m sure he’s very nice dear, did you, did you thank your Father?” she asked slightly unsure.
“Yeah, well I gave it a go” Sid nodded “I’m not sure how it works?”
“No dear, but I’m sure it's the thought that counts,” she smiled.
“When you say full power” Valentine asked, scratching at his face “what do you mean?”
“The apocalypse, Inspector” Father Brown nodded “is in the hands of our young friend here”
“The apocalypse, the end of the world, is in the hands of an 11 year old street kid?” Valentine asked
“I’m 12 today” Sid sniffed “and I’m not a street kid, I live here”
“Yes you do” Mrs McCarthy gripped him a little harder trying to keep herself from shaking.
“And what Sidney, do you propose to do?” Valentine asked, doubting his own sanity.
“Well, I was going to go to Mass, Mrs M has made me an outfit, and be confirmed with the other kids, and then I was hoping to play football for a bit before tea, but there are some” he stopped “some people are coming, and they want me to tell them, well, they will do what I tell them?” he looked at Father Brown “and I could DO ANYTHING”.
Mrs McCarthy took her hands away quickly as if burned and then forced herself to put one gently back to Sid, it did after all seem to ground him to be touched.

The little cottage was filled with swearing Demon, and the walls quaked in terror, as did all the plants in the garden and the house plants. “ANGEL, what are you doing?” Crowley shouted.
“I just want to look nice, it's not every day your Grandson receives his Confirmation” he smiled, adjusting his cardigan over the floral dress.
“You aren’t really his Grandmother, and it's the day of the apocalypse, the last day of our lives” Crowley sighed looking at the hurt face of the bedecked Angel “what?”
“You haven’t said how I look” he sniffed “and this hat is new”
Crowley’s face dropped “I, we don’t have time for this” he hissed through gritted teeth and then “you look very nice, I like the fruit on the hat” he shook his head “can we get on?”
“Crowley” The Angel hesitated “it, its, it will be alright won’t it?”
“Course” the Demon lied “I have utter faith in a Catholic Priest to stop the apocalypse”.
“Oh good” Aziraphale looked up at the clear blue sky, and watery sun “I must say, it's a rather lovely day for it” Crowley scowled at the sky as if daring it to let the Angel down.

Bishop Talbot’s chauffeur driven Bentley negotiated the roads towards the little village of Kembleford, the Bishop snoozing in the back, as they came through the village of Standing the driver looked up to see the large hill overlooking the valley, where a copse of trees was said to be sited that predated the Romans, he noted on the hill a small collection of horseman, seemingly slightly to big for the hill itself and he shook his head, “the weird things you see these days” he looked back as something else caught his eye, “was that a milk float?”