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English
Series:
Part 1 of Subsequent Shenanigans
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Published:
2021-05-30
Words:
1,836
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1/1
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43
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288
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Initial Summoning

Summary:

Crowley is summoned unintentionally by a surprisingly hospitable witch.

The only question is, how?

Notes:

This is the first Good Omens fic I'm posting here to AO3 after months (only months?) drowning in plotbunnies. I'm sure there will be more.

Gratitude to UncleDark as always for the practical feedback, and to Lai and Will (not their real names) for letting me borrow them for the story.

-E-

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“... so, after the Latin bit - it doesn’t seem to matter whether you use Classical or Liturgical pronunciation - you would wait a few for the angel to...” Angela blinked at her students, both staring, wide-eyed, obviously no longer listening to her. “What?”

Will just kept staring, unsure what to think about whatever had seized his attention. Lai raised their eyebrows and pointed, a wary smirk on their face. 

Angela turned to glance over her shoulder and gasped, dropping the grimoire. “What the…” 

A strangely compelling, lanky figure in a sleek suit was standing in the summoning triangle she had drawn in careful lines on the pavement in her backyard. She blinked several times as the entity looked around, raised an eyebrow above dark glasses, and then glared pointedly at her.

She raised her eyebrows, and cleared her throat. “Uh, hello? What do I call you?”

“You just summoned me and you don’t know what to call me?”

Was that an English accent? Why would an angel have an English accent?

She winced, reaching down for the dropped book, to place it on the nearby table. “Well, I wasn’t actually trying to summon anybody. This was just supposed to be a demo.”

“A demo.” Somehow the word came out like a hiss despite the lack of sibilants. 

She tilted her head at the entity in the triangle. “Are you actually wearing a designer suit and sunglasses, or is that just how my mind is parsing it?”

The entity smirked. “I am actually wearing this. And you can call me Crowley, he/him.”

“Ah!” She perked up. “Pleased to meet you, Crowley. I apologize for any inconvenience. Can I offer you something to drink while we sort out how to send you safely back to… er… wherever you were?” Glancing around, she spotted a chair, which she immediately moved to offer her unintended guest. “And a seat, of course.”

His eyebrow went up again as he accepted the chair, his interest piqued. “That’s very… hospitable. What’ve you got, then?”

“Oh!” She counted on her fingers. “Water, milk, soda, tea, wine, cider, beer, mead, or harder alcohol - no tequila, sorry.”

“You have mead?” Crowley blinked, settling into something a bit tidier than the draping sprawl his body seemed made for, which wouldn’t have fit within the boundaries of the triangle. 

Angela grinned. “We make our own.”

He nodded in approval. “I’ll try that then.”

She turned to gesture to the two younger witches sitting behind her. “Lai, will you go get the metheglin and four glasses?” The enby got up, nodding, and quickly went inside.

"So," Crowley smirked, lacing his fingers together, "since you have me, are you sssuure you don't want anything?"

Angela smirked back, genuine mirth in her eyes. "So you're a fallen angel, then? Good to know."

Crowley's eyebrows arched above his dark glasses as his hands dropped into his lap. "You didn't even know what kind of being you were summoning?"

She shrugged, "The ritual is meant for angels, including fallen. What you get depends on which name you use."

The fallen angel nodded. "And you used mine."

"No, I used mine ." She pointed at the scrawled monogram marked in plain chalk. "My art signature."

The sliding door opened behind her, drawing her attention away from the frowning demon. Lai walked towards her with two of the four glasses, an open bottle of her favorite spiced mead, and a huge grin.

"You would manage to do by accident what most can't manage on purpose, teacher." They laughed as she took the bottle to fill the glasses. 

“Oh, hush, you!” She scowled, exchanging the bottle for the glasses, and gesturing for the bottle to be set on the table. “Now go. You and Will keep each other out of trouble while we sort this out, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lai replied with a flippant grin as they returned to their seat.

Crowley sniffed the spiced mead, nodding with mild approval. “Not bad… ma’am.”

"Sorry, right! I'm Angela, she or they. Welcome to California, Crowley." She took a sip, giving a pleased hum, and pulled another chair over to sit down.

Crowley sipped the mead. "Do you have more? My Angel would love this. He'll probably be here soon."

"Sure, yeah," she nodded absently, examining her chalk drawings again.

Will laughed. "You'll invite vampires at this rate!"

She looked up, blinking, and mentally reviewed the last few sentences. "Sorry, what? Who's coming? How?"

Crowley gestured to the chalk lines with a smart phone. "Blocks my powers, not your wifi."

She tilted her head, more curious than upset. "How'd you know the password?"

"Neighbor's wifi, then." Crowley leaned down with his phone to photograph her art signature. "That's… is that… your initials are 'AJC'?"

"Yeah."

He laughed, shaking his head, and muttering, "That still shouldn't have worked."

The doorbell rang. Crowley grinned.

"No deals with fallen angels in my backyard!" She wagged a finger at the students while she ran inside to get the door.

They held up their hands innocently, while Crowley glanced up, once again smirking.

She crossed the house and opened the front door to find a handsome gentleman straightening his waistcoat. As his eyes met hers, they gentled slightly, and a convenient sunbeam lit his pale curls up like a halo. He opened his mouth to speak, and then blinked as she opened the door wider and gestured for him to enter.

"Oh! Well, thank you. By any chance, is my friend Crowley-"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley's cheerful shout reached them as soon as they came in view of the glass doors.

"Crowley!" The angel hurried into the backyard.

"You should try their mead, Angel."

Angela dutifully handed over her own glass - she'd only really had one sip, after all.

"Welcome. Aziraphale, was it? I'm Angela, she/they. Those are my students, who will continue to stay well out of this mess, thank you!" She turned to give an exasperated glare to the young pair who cheerfully waved to the newcomer.

"We were just trying to sort out how to send me back to London,” Crowley offered amiably.

" Oh, for… London!?" Angela boggled at the two, before shaking her head. "Well, that explains the accents. You're fine ." She walked over and broke the chalk lines of the summoning diagram with her foot.

"Oh, thank you," the angel smiled, relieved. "Shall we go, my dear?"

"Not just yet, Angel. Drink the mead, and help us figure out why my initials were enough to summon me."

Angela blinked. "Your initials?"

Lai laughed. "You’re the one who told us there’s always a spirit willing to answer to any name we might call."

"Spirits, sure, but angels have assigned names…” she frowned. “Don’t they?"

"My dear Anthony chose his own, actually." Aziraphale smiled.

Angela looked at the fallen angel, still sitting in the (now much nicer?) chair, smirking, and deadpanned, "Your name is 'Anthony Crowley'."

"Anthony J Crowley, yeah."

She tilted her head. “What’s the ‘J’?”

“What’s yours?” he countered immediately.

“Jean,” she replied without hesitation.

“Oh.” He deflated a little. “Well, mine’s... just a ‘J’.”

“Why did you use your own initials?” Aziraphale asked, studying the chalk circle and triangle with interest.

“It was just supposed to be a demonstration of the methods, for my students.” She gestured to the younger witches still dutifully observing from a distance.

He nodded, thoughtfully. “Why not leave it blank, then?”

She paused, momentarily speechless. “I… well, I wanted to demonstrate when in the ritual the name would be written?” She sighed, letting her arms flop to her sides. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You are entirely correct, Crowley, this shouldn’t have worked at all. She even transcribed this portion of the Enochian incorrectly.”

“I did?” She frowned, reaching for the book to compare. She snorted. “The book is wrong too, then. Well, that’s probably for the best.” She looked up at her guests. “Or it was until this afternoon, anyway.”

“May I see that book?” The angel held out his hand with a benevolent smile.

She nodded, handing it over wordlessly, chewing on one lip.

Aziraphale studied the book, shaking his head, humming to himself. “I can see how this should work, with minor adjustments, but not in this way.”

“It doesn’t make any sense!” Angela huffed, crossing her arms stubbornly. “None of these languages even HAVE the letter ‘J’!”

“Well, of course not, my dear-” the angel began, only to cut off when Crowley leaned back laughing aloud.

“Oh, that old bastard!” the fallen angel cackled.

“What is it, dear?”

“He set me up!” 

Aziraphale frowned. “Who did?”

“Crowley!”

Angela gasped. The angel blinked. “You set yourself up?”

“Of course not!”

The angel raised an eyebrow. Crowley shrugged, and waved a hand, dismissively. “Well, not this time, anyway. You remember that ridiculous occultist, at the end of Victoria’s reign?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was! Mostly. I woke up when I kept hearing my name being bantered around a bit too much in the wrong circles. Tracked the fellow down. I was going to scold him for using my name, but it turned out to be hereditary. He’d chosen his first name, though. Said I ought to try it, myself. Even worked out some arithromantic nonsense for me on the spelling. Don’t remember what it was supposed to add up to.”

“You let an occultist name you?” Aziraphale’s tone was low, disapproving.

“‘Course not. He just added the ‘H’ is all.”

“So where’d the ‘J’ come from, then?” Angela asked.

“Oh, I took it to annoy him. Told him I wanted a middle name. He said it would throw the numbers all off.”

“But of course, there’s no ‘J’ in any of those alphabets!” Aziraphale exclaimed merrily. “Oh, my dear, only you.”

Angela looked between the two in confusion. “But… how does this explain the broken summoning symbols?”

“Apparently, the modification he left in his diagrams was fixed such that the summoning wouldn’t work as drawn...” the angel began.

“Typical. Trip up the new students, so they have to figure it out for themselves.” Angela nodded, rolling her eyes. “That’s part of why I wasn’t expecting the demo to be a problem,” she admitted.

“Ahh, but this modification was very particular,” Aziraphale smiled with glee.

Crowley gestured to the altered marks in the chalk triangle on the ground. “There, there, and there. He made it so this summoning would only work on me.”

Angela gave the fallen angel a level look. “You’re telling me this is a practical joke that’s been waiting decades for someone to put your initials in a broken diagram.”

“Yup.” He pursed his lips, making the last letter pop.

“So, of course, that someone would have to be me.” She tossed her hands up in exasperation, pacing.

“Why so?” Aziraphale’s look was quizzical.

“It’s a hereditary thing.” Lai spoke up from where the two younger witches were still seated. 

Will laughed, nodding, as Angela covered her face, blushing. “Her family is full of Nutters!”

Notes:

Note: My art signature really is a sigil of my initials “AJC”, I really do brew mead, and I really am a practicing witch in California. I am not, however, a Ceremonialist, and I would never attempt to teach summoning of any kind in my backyard, I swear!

Note for my Dragon Age readers: I'm trying to get back on the horse, I swear. I'm hoping getting back into writing in general is at least a step in the right direction. I promise, none of my fics are truly abandoned, only bewilderingly stuck. :/

-E-

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