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riitboo-blog · 6 years ago

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Good Omens ‘Auras’ Headcanon

Completely inspired by the amazing art piece @quadlinda did of Anathema being able to see Crowley and Aziraphale’s auras embracing. It started out as a short headcanon until it grew a complete life and postcode of its own and my mind kind of went wild and this came pouring out like a word fountain…or maybe word vomit would be a more accurate descriptor.

The part with the Friday meetings at Anathema’s cottage was another headcanon I had started but then both seemed to just meld together, into this.

Forgive me if it’s totally terrible and makes little sense. I partly blame the fact that I haven’t written anything like this in a very long time. I partly blame all that academic writing I’ve had to do at university for the last 3 years. Academic writing kills my creative writing dead…as a…dead thing.

Mostly though I just haven’t been inspired to write for a fandom for such a long time now. Then Good Omens was adapted into beautiful and so very wonderful little show, and it kick-started my cold, almost dead little writer’s heart.

Anyway, whoever reads this I hope you enjoy it even a little bit as much as I did writing it. This is for you @quadlinda and your lovely, wonderful art. I hope I did it justice.

When Anathema sees Crowley and Aziraphale’s auras for the first time it’s just after, what will become dubbed in the future as, the “Not-A-Pocalypse”.

Maybe it’s triggered by the relief of the Earth not ending, and everyone’s emotions running so high and strong, but somehow, without any of her scrying instruments, she sees Crowley and Aziraphale’s aura as plainly as she can see them both in real life.

She gasps with how bright and almost corporeal they are. In her whole experience as a witch she can’t recall two auras ever having shone with such strength before.

She watches, transfixed as the auras, one red and one blue embrace so tightly like they’re long lost lovers and they need each other like humans need air to breathe. What shocks and confuses her the most though, is that she gets flashes of emotions too.

Emotions that she automatically knows are coming from the angel and demon in front of her.

Relief, pain, happiness, longing, heartbreak, joy, anxiety, tiredness, triumph, worry, fear but coming through clear as a bell are adoration and sheer, raw love.

It’s so encompassing and powerful, that she feels that love like she’s feeling it herself.

But here’s the thing…that should not be possible.

Even the most trained and strongest of witches have never reported being able to feel the emotions coming from a being’s aura. Neither have they ever reported being able to see a demon’s aura. In fact, there were only two recorded instances of reading anything even resembling an aura from a demon, and both reports clearly stated that it was like looking into a miniature sinkhole that sucked light and happiness out of the very air around them.

So to see that this is not at all the case for Crowley is a shock in itself.

But there’s no denying it, she sees it, she feels it, coming from them both in waves. And it’s so soft and sweet that it brings tears to her eyes.

What quickly changes that happy feeling to slight frustration though is that looking at Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, they both seem to be none the wiser about how the other clearly feels.

Aziraphale just looks relieved that everything is over while trying to mask concern for Crowley and Crowley looks like he’s about to keel over, and the only thing keeping him standing is sheer stubbornness alone. Their auras abruptly disappear as quickly as they came as they all head over to an army jeep with a plan to “commandeer it” and drive back to the village crossroads to all head home and get some much-needed rest.

Crowley states that he’ll be sleeping for the next year. Before going their separate ways though, Adam asks whether they’ll ever see each other again. He says it with such a hopeful tone that no-one can bear to say no. So they make tentative plans to keep in touch and possibly meet up.

If everyone wants to of course.

Aziraphale of course immediately says yes for himself and Crowley and insists that Crowley type in Anathema’s land-line number into his “mobile telephone”. Something of which the demon does with surprisingly little resistance for having just had one day of every week for the foreseeable future planned out for him. Whether that’s because he’s too tired to care or because he’s absolutely whipped for Aziraphale is completely up for debate.

As her and Newt head back to the cottage, her thoughts turn back to seeing Aziraphale and Crowley’s auras and how she’ll have to consult her books on the matter. Mostly though her most prevailing thought is this - if she could feel even a little bit of their actual emotions, then how strong must it be for Crowley and Aziraphale?

And it is not a one-time thing.

The humans, the angel (and a very reluctant demon) keep to their promise and set a date to meet up at Anathema’s cottage the following week.

Aziraphale had insisted on Crowley putting his mobile onto speakerphone to speak to Anathema, which resulted in a conversation that should have taken about 10 minutes, over an hour because Aziraphale kept pressing the end call button every 30 seconds til Crowley ended up taking it from him and held it up for him (which was, Crowley, suspected, Aziraphale’s plan all along).

But finally, they set a date for the following Friday at 3pm, that suits everyone.

It’s a little awkward the first week as they try to work out what 4 nearly teenagers, a young witch, a technologically challenged young man and a 6000-year-old angel and demon really have in common except for stopping the end of the world.

But if they can avert The Apocalypse, “or the ‘Not-A-Pocalypse’!” Adam quips with a grin, then they can surely do that.

And they very quickly do.

Over the weeks they very much come to look forward to their Friday meetups at the cottage, to the point, that they don’t know what they ever did without them.

Anathema, Newt, the Them, and Aziraphale - along with an apparently put upon, too cool Crowley (but secretly, he enjoys the meetings too) begin to feel like they’re part of a little family. A makeshift, misfit and very odd family to be sure, but a family nonetheless.

Anathema and Aziraphale almost instantly bond over their love of old books and literature, talking for hours about the classics and how they compare to more modern books today.

Newton (or Newt as the kids have taken to calling him) becomes like a big brother to the Them, and Adam, in particular, is thrilled at the imagination that Newt has, as they make up new games and activities to keep themselves entertained for hours on end.

Crowley shocks everyone by displaying a surprisingly natural talent and love for baking (although they would never draw attention to the fact that he’s divulged something like this so as to not make him self conscious - a trait that they didn’t know he possessed but quickly became very protective over in ensuring that he never felt that way) and makes all sorts of cakes and buns and pastries, without any hellish intervention at all, that are an absolute hit with everyone, as they always loudly sing his praises.

Which never fails, to Aziraphale’s absolute delight, in making Crowley softly blush.

The first time he baked, was during their 4th weekly meetup, where with apparent “casual aloofness” (of which Aziraphale saw right through), he volunteered to make an apple pie when they realised they’d forgotten to get one from the local bakery. Everyone was slightly shocked, but even more so when they all took a bite and all loudly proclaimed, with genuine enthusiasm, that it was the best apple pie they’d ever tasted.

Aziraphale had quietly pulled him to one side as everyone was distracted with eating with absolute gusto, “I had no idea you could bake, Crowley. You wily old serpent!” he teased.

His smile quickly turned to one of such soft fondness though when Crowley had quietly replied “I just wanted to learn how to create something good, angel”.

The demon quickly looked away, cheeks warm with embarrassment at having let such a statement slip. Aziraphale was having none of that though as he took his demons hand, and gently pulled Crowley’s glasses down just enough to look into his serpentine eyes.

“Well, you’ve more than accomplished that, my dear Crowley. And I don’t just mean with the baking”.

The smile that put on Crowley’s face could have powered the sun itself.

After the 6th weekly meeting, ‘The Them’ started bringing their homework round, especially their book reports and their history papers. Because who better to help them with those than a 6000-year-old demon and angel who have lived through every major historical event since the beginning of creation, and memorised probably every classic text that’s worth knowing since the beginning of the written word?

The recounting of major events gets even better and more elaborate every week when Aziraphale gets so into his retelling of things that he starts to re-enact them like he’s performing mini plays, going so far as to actually miracle props, set pieces, and even period-accurate costumes.

What makes it the most entertaining though is that he drags Crowley into acting them out with him which never fails to be absolutely hilarious. Mostly due to the fact that Aziraphale acts with all the gusto of a Shakespearean actor, whereas Crowley acts with less enthusiasm than a plank of wood (yet never once complains or says no to Aziraphale about being made to take part, funnily enough)

Every re-enactment, of course, gets glowing reviews and hearty applause from its small but brilliant audience.

Needless to say the kids always get A’s in both subjects at school and highly acclaimed by their very impressed teachers. “The level of detail is just incredible! You must have done your research” Mrs Mayhew praises them, “How on earth did you find all that out?”

The kids just give each other secret little smiles and shrug.

It’s during the 9th week that they meet up, that Anathema sees Aziraphale and Crowley’s aura again.

It’s been so long since she last saw them, that it shocks her into almost spilling her tea all over her new dress. It’s not as overwhelming as the first time, but it’s no less powerful as aura Aziraphale has his arms wrapped around aura Crowley’s shoulders, when in reality all that Aziraphale had been doing was gently adjusting Crowley’s collar that had dared to turn itself up at the back.

During their 10th Friday together their auras appear again when Crowley accidentally cuts himself chopping strawberries for that week’s baking creation.

Aziraphale instantly fusses over him, guiding his hand under cold tap water to stop the flow of black tinged blood, despite the demon’s protests that he’s fine and “it’ll heal in no time, angel. I’m a demon for crying out loud!”

While that’s going on in reality, in the ether, aura Aziraphale is cupping aura Crowley’s face and hand so tenderly, that she has to look away from what feels like an incredibly private moment.

What vexes her most about this whole situation, is simply how can two immortal, ethereal and hellish beings respectively, be so bloody blind as to how they clearly feel about one another? That’s surely the only explanation as to why she’s seeing their auras more and more frequently?

Or at least that’s the only theory she can come up seeing as her books were next to useless on the matter and her coven back home had never heard of such a thing ever occurring.

It’s not until their 12th weekly meet up after they stopped the “Not-A-Pocalypse, that Anathema decides that one way or another this whole apparent oblivious feelings and aura business is getting sorted once and for all.

Come hell or high water…not literally though, of course.

It’s a glorious day, they’re sitting outside in the garden, as usual, catching up with what’s gone on that week. Newt’s got a new job as an accountant at the local town hall (“all their records and books are all on paper, thank goodness!” he states, happily) Aziraphale and Anathema are deep in discussion about some new (very old) books that Aziraphale bought from a shady but well-connected bookseller.

Newt has been wrangled by Adam and ‘the Them’ into seeing who can swing the highest on the tire swing that’s been set up in the very sturdy apple tree that’s somehow appeared in the garden (when quizzed, Crowley apparently had “no idea how that got there. Do you, angel?”)

Aziraphale is starting to speak with such enthusiastic gusto that he doesn’t even notice when Anathema isn’t even entirely focused on him anymore and that she’s looking at Crowley. And Crowley doesn’t even notice Anathema’s looking at him as he’s focusing so intently on as Aziraphale with an expression that screams affection.

An expression that weeks ago she would have said was so unlikely and foreign on a demon’s face. Now though, after getting to know Crowley, unless Anathema could detect the slightest hint of heat, smoke and a tinge of spice that surrounds the man, she would actually think it impossible that he’s a demon at all.

Aziraphale continues nattering away, the conversation having moved to the new (very old) books to a new restaurant that he’s dying to try that does “the most marvelous wagyu beef outside of Japan” yet Anathema barely hears a word, so focused is she on observing Crowley and his seemingly Aziraphale-based tunnel vision.

Amongst all his increasing bluster of wild hand gestures, Aziraphale unthinkingly places his hand on top of Crowley’s and gently squeezes.

And Anathema’s suddenly hit with so many emotions all at once - fondness, happiness, euphoria, worry, passion, devotion and above all love. So much love that it almost knocks the wind right out of her and she chokes slightly on her tea. She barely hears Aziraphale stop his praise for Japanese food long enough, to ask “Anathema my dear, are you quite alright?” because she’s too busy feeling it all ache in her chest.

It feels so much stronger than any time before this.

As she clears her throat, she looks up only to see aura Crowley and aura Aziraphale appear in a gentle embrace, the swirls of red and blue so blinding and warm and the most tangibly solid they’ve ever been.

And she can’t take it anymore.

“That’s it!” she cries, slamming her China cup down on its saucer, tea sloshing over the sides and onto the lovely, and now very offended, patterned tablecloth. The shock of such an outburst on such a perfect day, scatters the nearby birds who were just chilling out in the bushes, makes a squirrel who was counting his acorn stock lose count and rattles the table so much that a very shocked and surprised piece of shortbread falls off the cake stand and rolls very dramatically in slow motion onto the grass.

Meanwhile all humans, Anti-Christ, angel and demon alike react with varying degrees of shock.

‘The Them’ stop swinging Wensley so abruptly that he tumbles backward off the tire, Newt gapes like a fish, Aziraphale looks adorably perplexed, while Crowley actually raises not just one, but both eyebrows.

She takes a slow breath in to try and calm herself before finally saying what she’s been wanting to say for so long, but had held off in the hopes that these two 6,000-year-old, soft celestial idiots would finally get it together and figure things out for themselves.

But to heck with that!

“You two…. you two, are driving me insane!” she snaps. So much for those calming breaths, but it’s been weeks now and she’s had enough, darn it!

“I shouldn’t even be able to feel auras, let alone feel other people’s emotions through their auras! But it’s coming off you two in waves!”

At this point, her feet have a mind of their own and she has now taken to pacing as she talks but she doesn’t care how mad she looks. She’s on a roll now, gesticulating wildly as she gets louder and more fervent, yet not looking at anyone. As if she’s shouting at herself.

“I don’t even think I should be able to see an angel’s aura let alone a demon’s aura. And I definitely shouldn’t be able to see ANY aura without a scrying instrument! And no-one knows why!” She pauses to huff out a breath, but she’s clearly not done yet.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like, having to not only watch but experience you both feeling so much for each other??” she punctuates the last word by slapping her hands on the table, now completely disturbing the crockery’s tranquillity and making the silverware shiver. “So much love and joy and happiness and longing!” she rattles off, each word getting progressively louder.

“I’ve never felt anything close to this from two other people in my entire life! Heck, I don’t think anyone on this entire planet has!”

She blows a stubborn lock of hair out of her face that dared to come loose during her one-sided ranting, and it doesn’t dare come loose ever again. Her passion and her bursts of said passion when she starts on a topic such as this is something that Newt had very quickly learned (and one of the very things that had made him fall in love with her) to just let it run its course and hold on for dear life as best he can.

She’s standing now, with hands on her hips, looking every bit the powerful, awe-inspiring witch that she is, and turns the full force of her glare onto Crowley and Aziraphale.

The fact that Aziraphale now strongly resembles the human looking equivalence of a golden Labrador puppy, and Crowley is clearly desperately trying to maintain his mask of calm and collected aloofness, but isn’t able to hide the hint of a blush on his cheeks, softens Anathema.

Somewhat at least.

The nearby birds breathe a tentative sigh of relief, the squirrel goes back to counting his acorns again and the shortbread in the grass mentally calculates the trajectory and velocity it would have to achieve to get back onto the cake stand.

“Now I am going into the kitchen to make some more lemonade and cut the very beautiful cake that Crowley made for us all today.”

She snaps her gaze to Newt and ‘the Them’ and states in a tone that brooks no room for argument.

“This lot (they all instantly scramble to attention like they’ve been called into line by a drill sergeant) are coming to help me. And you two” she pointedly directs these last words at the demon and angel, “have got some talking to do and then maybe your auras can finally calm down and leave me in peace. So do it, otherwise, I won’t be held responsible for my actions!” she cries.

With that, she turns and marches into the cottage, with Newt and ‘the Them’ dutifully falling into line behind her.

When he’s sure Anathema isn’t looking, Adam quickly looks back to give them both a cheeky grin and a thumbs up before closing the bright red cottage door behind him.

“Well” Aziraphale whispers, “that was certainly something”.

“You’re telling me, angel.” murmurs Crowley, “for a second there she was almost as intimidating as me”.

Aziraphale turns to look at Crowley with such a look of fond exasperation that screams ‘you’re about as intimidating as a new-born kitten, dear’.

Crowley pointedly ignores this look and Aziraphale graciously moves on.

“I had no idea about this whole aura business. And she can feel emotions too? I’ve never heard about such a thing before.” He glances at Crowley to gauge his reaction. “Seems like an impossible thing, really.”

“Well, angel, if you don’t know about it, then it definitely must be an impossible thing” he replies.

Aziraphale’s cheeks glow at the compliment. Something that comes from Crowley more and more these days, but are no less precious to hear.

“Do you think…” Aziraphale starts, glancing at the cottage door “that we should have told them that we…Well, you know” he stutters over the words slightly which causes Crowley to turn towards him fully with a soft, encouraging look and simply waits for him.

Because it’s only been a few weeks and he knows it’s all still new for Aziraphale to say it. But Crowley waited 6,000 years for his angel to catch up, and he’d wait 6000 more if he had to.

Aziraphale takes a breath in as if mustering all his bravery but what he says next is said without a hint of doubt or fear or second guessing “acknowledged our feelings a few weeks ago?”

Crowley fully takes his sunglasses off (an action that slightly shocks yet instantly warms Aziraphale’s heart that his demon would do that here for him. Especially when he still isn’t comfortable enough around the others to always have his eyes on show. Yet.) and aims a half gentle smile/ half growing smirk at him (a look only Crowley could pull off)

“Nah” he drawls, reaching over, and with a glance to check that his angel is OK with it, taking Aziraphale’s hand in his.

His smile grows fully and it sends a shot of warmth straight to his heart when Aziraphale automatically threads their fingers together and without a hint of hesitation, thought or self-consciousness, gently kisses Crowley’s knuckles.

“In the very unlikely chance that they didn’t already know, I think Anathema said it all for us. Don’t you, angel?”

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