PROLOGUE — THREE BABY MONTY
in the beginning— part one

"I set my science partner's tie on fire." — monaya

11 YEARS AGO

ANTHONY. J. CROWLEY WAS A DEMON. Not because he committed horrific acts (which he had done on numerous occasions) nor because his hair was as red as blood, or hellfire, depending on your perspective. It wasn't because he wore jet black and dark red glasses that masked his peculiar eyes. Anthony. J. Crowley was a demon purely because of the fact that he fell from Heaven.

If you were to ask him about the circumstances of his 'falling' he would tell you that he 'Got in with the wrong crowd' which would not be a surprise considering it was his speciality. That and Hungry Hippos — a game he had been beating Monaya at since it came out in 1978.

Ah, Monaya. His Monaya. The child he hadn't asked for but still ended up loving with the entirety of his demon-sized heart. Whilst Heaven and Hell saw her as an asset, a bridge between the two sides, Crowley and Aziraphale refused to think of her as any less than a person. And he didn't even care that she was half-angel for that allowed her to be incorruptible and free which was something he never got to be.

Speaking of Crowley's inability to tear himself from control, he was summoned by Hell to a meeting that was obviously compulsory to attend. You would have thought that Hell praised disobedience and a rebellious nature, which they did, except when it was against them of course. So, Crowley decided that it was in his best interests to at least see what they had to see. After all, what harm could it do?

As it turned out, a lot.

After dismissing the cops on his tail which he did so with a wave of his hand, Crowley drove his prized Bentley into an ominous abandoned graveyard. He had been looking after the car since he bought it brand new back in 1926: it was Monaya's favourite out of the limited selection of the time. It had been adapted over the years — by demon magic, of course — to be compatible with different technological advances over the years which were mainly cassette tapes and later CDs. Crowley currently had Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen blaring out of the speakers, a song that had practically seared itself onto his dark soul after the number of times he had heard it.

There were two men in the graveyard, well, if you could call them men. The tallest had a mop of white hair upon his head whilst the smaller had what appeared to be a toad perching on his skull. Their names were Hastur and Ligur, Dukes of Hell. Behind them was a bulky object that Crowley could not make out in the darkness but he had a strange feeling it concerned the matter in which he was called to discuss.

Hastur, the tall one, lowered his glowing cigarette, his eyes staring at the approaching demon as if he was trying to set him alight. "Here he comes now, the flashy bastard." Grumbled the demon. "If you ask me, he's been up here too long. Gone native, enjoying himself too much. Wearing sunglasses even when he doesn't need them."

Coming to a halt, the car stopped partway into the cemetery and out stepped Crowley who sauntered his way over with swagger in his stride. Hastur raised his hand towards the demon dressed in black and treading in snakeskin shoes who quickly returned the gesture. Crowley could be considered attractive, for a demon anyhow, with his defined cheekbones, shoulder-length crimson waves and strong figure. To most he would appear like a normal, but slightly strange, gentleman until you took off his glasses that is. For beneath the spectacles that his daughter had once dubbed 'Matthew Murdock glasses' were a pair of bright yellow reptilian eyes.

"All hail Satan." Ligur and Hastur declared instantly, like a greeting, or maybe a reflex, it was hard to tell.

Cautiously, Crowley walked up to the Dukes of Hell, holding his hand up half-heartedly. "Uh, hi, guys." He started, his timorous voice evident of what he was feeling in the presence of the Dukes of Hell. "Sorry I'm late, but you know how it is on the A40 at Denham. I-I tried to cut up towards Chorleywood-"

Hastily interrupted what he felt to be a pitiful excuse from Crowley. "Now that we art all here, let us recount the deeds of the day." Suggested the demon like it was their version of talking about the weather (Crowley found that the only reliable thing about the British over the years was their constant discussion about what was happening to their sky).

"Of course. Deeds, yeah." Crowley replied so unenthusiastically you would've thought they were asking him to kill a kid. Crowley had a soft spot for kids.

With a proud smile on his cracked lips, Hastur began. "I have tempted a priest. As he walked down the street, he saw all the pretty girls in the sun. I put doubt into his mind. He would have been a Saint. Now, within a decade, we shall have him."

Ligur chuckled in what Crowley could only guess as joy before the red-headed demon mumbled. "Yeah, nice one."

"I have corrupted a Politician." Smirked Ligur even though his accomplishment probably wasn't that hard to do, we all know what politicians are like. "Let him think a tiny bribe wouldn't hurt. Within a year, we shall have him."

Now, it was Crowley's turn.

A wide grin broadened on his face as he nodded his head and clasped his hands together in anticipation. He was rather pleased with his 'deed' and if he said so himself — which he did — it was technological mayhem. "Right, you'll like this." Hastur and Ligur paused, curiously waiting to hear about their fellow demon's demonic interventions. "I brought down every London area mobile network tonight."

This certainly did not impress the Dukes of Hell.

"Yeah?"

Nervously chuckling, Crowley said. "Yeah. It wasn't easy-"

Hastur cut him off again as he began to grow exasperated with the demon. "And what exactly has that done to secure souls for our Master?" He scoffed.

Laughing heartily as if it were obvious, Crowley replied. "Oh, come on, think about it. Fifteen million pissed-off people who take it out on each other." Nowadays, the snake tended to think big instead of the old-fashioned 'One soul at a time' routine that Ligur and Hastur were still using. If there was one thing other than Hungry Hippos that Crowley understood, it was cause and effect.

"It's not exactly..." Ligur hesitated, unsure of what to say next and then shrugged. "craftsmanship."

Crowley shook his head dismissively. "Well, head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there, guys. Times are changing-"

"They certainly are." Hastur cut him off for a third time. Boy, Crowley was starting to get annoyed with him now, well, more than the usual amount. "Especially with that thing of yours."

Crowley froze.

He hoped to Satan that what Hastur said did not mean what he thought it did, because if he was right, then he was certainly going to lose it. Anger flooded his features and if it were even possible, his wavy hair turned a brighter shade of red. Crowley narrowed his eyes at the Duke from behind his circular rimmed glasses. A scowl twisting itself onto his lips as he glared at the demon before him.

"And by 'thing' you mean..."

Hastur let out a genuine laugh which was probably almost as scary as his appearance. "Oh Crowley, don't tell us you've gone soft for that half-breed." The way he said it sent a shiver down Crowley's spine.

"Wait until downstairs hears about this." Huffed Ligur, looking rather disappointed in his fellow demon. "A demon who cares for a half-angel."

It seemed like they didn't care that she was also half Crowley.

Speaking of the demon — not devil — Crowley's fury was bubbling up to a point of no return. They way they talked about Monaya, as if she were an abomination, it hit a nerve they would regret touching. There were only a few things that both Crowley and Aziraphale could agree on, one of them was that they would protect Monaya with everything they had (the others being the fate of the world, the fact that both their head offices were a bit oblivious and that marmite was disgusting). So, when someone spoke ill of his daughter, he was definitely not happy about it.

"And with it coming up," Continued Hastur, unaware of the furious look Crowley was sending his way. "maybe it would be better to put the thing out of its misery."

Oh, now he was going to get it.

Lunging forward with an anger-filled stride, Crowley seized the lapels of Hastur's gross — and weirdly sticky — coat before throwing him up against the side of the church. You could tell the Duke was uncomfortable touching the Holy building as he writhed and squirmed in the demon's grasp, desperate to get away. But there was no way in Heaven Crowley was going to let him go.

The demon seethed through gritted teeth. "Touch my daughter and I'll make you regret the day you were ever born."

Ligur did nothing and just watched as Crowley threatened his fellow Duke. Demons were notoriously selfish creatures, they always looked after one person, and that was themselves. So, helping Hastur escape Crowley's warpath was out of the question. It wasn't even in the pit of Hell.

Opening his mouth to reply, Hastur stared at the demon before him, but no words fell from his forked tongue. He was probably going to comeback with how demons were never born, they just were. But even the Duke of Hell knew that it was no place to joke when you're held up against the wall of a Church. Because apart from the blessed liquid that resided inside, any contact with a holy building was one of the most painful things a demon could experience. So Hastur saw it in his best interests to not harm the celestial mayhem that was Monaya.

He huffed out, his voice pained from the pure-ness of the bricks pressed harshly against his spine. "Fine! I won't touch that little brat."

If his aim was to calm Crowley down, he certainly failed.

The demon pushed the Duke further into the stone, releasing shrieks of agony from his lips, before finally letting go of the vice-like grip he had on the gross coat. Hastur immediately dashed from the wall, desperate to put some distance between him and the building. It took a moment or two for the Duke to regain his senses after the painful threatening Crowley had just done against him, whereas the demon returned to where he was previously standing as if it didn't happen at all.

They were getting rather off topic from what they were there to discuss, so Crowley brought the conversation back up to Earth. "What's up?"

"This is."

Reaching behind him, Ligur pulled out the bulky object from the shadows. Crowley did not know what he was expecting. Maybe a bomb? Or some sort of demonic creation? Or maybe even a retirement cake to say that the big man upstairs was finally giving up? From what Crowley could deduce, it was definitely not the latter. The object in the Duke's hands was a basket and Crowley instantly realised what was inside.

"No."

"Yes."

Crowley stared at the basket in shock. Okay, so maybe it wasn't a nice big victoria sponge cake outlined with small swirls of buttercream frosting and coated with rainbow sprinkles, but he managed to get the other two right. He glared at it incredulously through the small panes of red-tinted glass and then proceeded to run one of his well-manicured hands (something that was strange for a demon to have) nervously through his crimson curls.

The demon finally removed his piercing gaze from the wicker to return it to the demons before him. "Already?"

"Yes." Hastur said, taking a step towards Crowley despite what had just gone on between the two.

Crowley's jaw hung open and he gawked at Hastur, glancing between him and the basket. "And it's up to me to...?"

"Yes."

The shorter demon with a toad upon his head held out the basket to Crowley once again who wasn't so eager to take it into his arms. He knew what the innocent-looking wicker basket really meant; how it was an omen, a harbringer of catastrophe. So, excuse him if he wasn't so thrilled about being near it.

"You know, listen, it... really isn't my scene." Stammered Crowley as he attempted to slyly take steps back towards his prized vehicle.

A crooked smile crept onto Ligur's chapped lips. "Your scene. Your starring role. Take it." He tried to convince the demon in front of him whilst keeping the basket at arm's length.

"Like you said, times are changing."

"They come to an end, for a start." Ligur smirked.

What Crowley could not understand (which according to Monaya was a lot of things) was out of all the demons in Hell, why was he the one burdened with this job. There were many others who would love to be in the same position he was at that moment, so he didn't see why he had to be the one to do it. And he voiced his concern. "Why me?"

Hastur simply smirked. "Well, they love you down there. And what an opportunity. Ligur here would give his right arm to be you tonight."

The said demon corrected, a dark tone hiding on his tongue. "Or someone's right arm anyway."

Crowley internally cringed.

"Sign here." Hastur spoke up, bringing out a large piece of parchment which he raised to Crowley's eyes. The redheaded demon fumbled vaguely inside his jacket pocket before pulling out a sleek black pen. That pen happened to be his favourite due to its elegance and the fact that it could even write underwater. Crowley scribbled a signature down on the document and Hastur immediately sneered at him. "No, not A.J.Crowley. Your real name."

Crowley frowned, rather displeased, before reaching out with his index finger and squiggling away on the bottom of the parchment. The trail ignited with a bright orange flame, burning the complex sigil of his true name into the paper. Quickly, the demon recoiled his hand from the sizzling document as though the fire was beginning to burn what should be his hellfire-resistant skin.

"Now what?"

"You will receive your instructions." Scowled Hastur as he glowered at the celestial in front of him. "And why so glum? The moment we have been working for all these centuries is at hand."

Crowley knew this day would eventually come, he had so for the past six thousand years, but he thought that maybe he had a bit more time left before the world turned upside down. After all, he had grown quite fond of the life he had made for himself in the mortal world so he wasn't that eager to give it up just yet. "Centuries?"

"Our moment of eternal triumph awaits."

"Triumph." Crowley mumbled to himself, not as convinced by it than the other demons. If Monaya was there she would have noticed the haunted look on his face, she would have reached out and grabbed his hand and she would have tried to comfort him as best as she could. Monaya always could tell when either of her Dads were upset, one of her many talents, and even though she wasn't there, just the thought of his daughter calmed Crowley's poisoned soul.

"And you will be a tool of that glorious destiny." Hastur gave Crowley a diabolically cunning smile. His words snapped Crowley from his trance and brought his head back down from the clouds.

"Glorious tool." He muttered, reaching out to carefully pick up the basket, treating it as if he was carrying a bomb, which in a way, he was. Then as if someone had flicked a simple switch, Crowley was back to his more energetic and demonic self. "Yeah. Okay. I'll, um, be off then. Get it over with. Not that I want to get it over with, obviously, but I'll be popping along. Great. Fine. Yeah. Ciao!"

Crowley strolled back to his Bentley with swagger returning to his stride and the lethal basket held tightly in his scaly grasp. The Dukes of Hell remained in their places as the demon sauntered away into the darkness — or as they called it, home — with a new mission to complete for the Lord from downstairs. A mission he was certainly not thrilled to receive.

After placing the delicate basket into the back of his prized Bentley, the red-head entered the vehicle himself. Roaring like the pits of Hell (or the pet lion Monaya somehow managed to hide from him and Aziraphale for two months) the engine came to life and then the old black car left the way it came with one more passenger than it arrived with. Still stood amongst the forgotten graves, some of which belonged to people they had condemned personally, the Dukes of Hell observed as their fellow demon left the holy ground with the basket and it's invaluable contents.

"What's that mean?" Ligur asked, perplexed.

"Ciao." Echoed Hastur with a thoughtful hum. "It's Italian. It means 'food'." It really didn't.

And Crowley drove away into the night with no idea that the most dangerous game of three card monty was about to begin. Or as Monaya would no doubt call it: Three Baby Monty.

CROWLEY HAD RECEIVED HIS ORDERS AND FOLLOWED THEM TO THE LETTER — WHICH WAS SOMETHING HE RARELY DID. As requested, the basket and its inhabitant had been dropped off at the Chattering Order of Saint Beryl where they would insure the satanic child was delivered to the planned family. Or try to anyway. The fate of the antichrist was now 'officially' out of his hands and the timer until Armageddon had begun. But that didn't mean he was just doing to sit back with one of those funny umbrella drinks and wait for the world to end. No siree.

Crowley pulled over as soon as he spotted a phone box on the side of the road. Due to his 'demonic' deed of the day Crowley found it difficult to phone Aziraphale, but that's karma for you, which was why he was currently stood inside a red phone box, stabbing the number into the machine. As you could probably imagine, he was getting desperate.

Miles away, in the city of London, the atmosphere was much more relaxed.

The bookshop of A.Z.Fell and Co was a quaint and quiet place situated rather nicely on a street corner for all to see. It was owned and run by none other than Aziraphale himself (or as the legal system knew him by: Mr Fell) who treasured his little miscellaneous paradise of books and etiquette. Everywhere you looked, stacks upon stacks of leather-bound texts adorned the room, some containing knowledge and history whilst others held poetry and stories that could transport you to a whole new world. These were just some of the many reasons Aziraphale adored books, or any type of writing really.

Speaking of the angel, he was currently — to Monaya's knowledge — still out enjoying some sushi from his favourite sushi restaurant. He had offered for her to join him but she declined as she still had homework to finish despite having done the topic multiple times already and in all honesty, she didn't particularly like sushi. Her Papa was a big fan of human food and other rituals they practiced even though he was a celestial being who did not need any of the things mortals did. Monaya found it adorable.

The demon/angel hybrid sat comfortably in her Papa's chair, her left foot resting upon her right knee, giving her somewhere to rest her notebook as she scribbled down her work in what people would mistake as 'Doctor's handwriting'. Attached to her hip, like it always was, was her signature Walkman which happened to be one of her most prized possessions. Her Dad had bought it for her when they first came out, a present for her 78th birthday, and she had never let it go since. In fact, whenever Aziraphale or Crowley attempted to separate Monaya from the tape player, it always ended up back in her posession no matter what they tried. If anyone ever managed to keep the two apart, it would be a miracle indeed.

Currently blasting through the headphones as Monaya continued her tedious homework was one of her favourites: Another One Bites the Dust by the one and only Queen. Crowley had taken her to see them in concert multiple times over the years, they were one of her favourite bands after all (and one of his too even though he would most likely deny it), and what good times those were.

Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat yeah
Another one bites the dust

Monaya spun around on her Papa's chair, her head bobbing along to the catchy tune as she continued to scribble down in her notebook. She lost herself in the music, allowing the rhythm and notes to take control of her body and move it along with the melodious beat. One time Monaya got so lost in her music (it was Bohemian Rhapsody so who could blamer her) that Aziraphale mistook her for being possessed which caused him to almost have a heart attack — again. Luckily Crolwey stepped in before anything got out of hand. Or before Aziraphale could attempt an exorcism.

Another one bites the dust
And another one gone and another one gone
Another one bites the dust
Hey I'm gonna get you too
Another one bites the dust

The teen — who wasn't really a teen — awaited her Papa's return from the sushi restaurant. After all, he promised they would spend the rest of the evening playing Cluedo (Aziraphale adored the puzzle solving side to the game whilst Monaya, being the half-demon that she was, was more intigued by the murder part) and it was one of their favourite board games — that and Monopoly. Monopoly wasn't Crowley's thing, he just didn't have the patience for the long-winded game, the last time he attempted to play it, let's jut say it didn't end well.

How do you think I'm going to get along
Without you when you're gone
You took me for everything that I had
And kicked me out on my own

Monaya contiuned to flow with the music, her eyes raking over her notebook as she read through her homework, knowing it to be an improvement since the last time she did it, but to be fair, that wasn't that hard. Twirling her pen between her fingers, Monaya moved her body as the lyrics flew into her ears and then turned her pen back to the paper, but instead of writing even more of her homework, she began to drum on the side of her notebook.

RING! RING! RING!

Almost falling out of the chair at the sudden sound, Monaya quickly tossed her notebook onto her Papa's consistently tidy desk before pressing pause on her Walkman and lowering her headphones. She reached out for the red rotary dial phone, seized its handle and ripped it from the handset. Calling that late in the evening was one thing, but interrupting her song, well let's just say Monaya was not pleased.

The hybrid child scowled, her words laced with demonic anger and irritation. "This is A.Z.Fell and Co bookstore, closing hours have long since past so I suggest you call back in the morning, or not—"

"—Monaya, it's me." A familiar voice cut her off.

Her eyes widened and a smile quickly followed its way onto her face. "Dad!" Monaya exclaimed rhapsodically. "What's up?"

"Is Aziraphale there?" Sighed the demon. Monaya didn't have to be his daughter to know something was wrong, that something was on his mind. "I have to talk to him."

Monaya replied, despondently. "Sorry Dad, but Papa's currently out." An annoyed groan could be heard from the other end of the line. "But he should be home soon." She then offered, hoping to be helpful.

Huffing, Crowley then went on to ask. "So, my little hellfire, how have you been? It's been a while since I last called."

"The usual." Monaya replied with a smirk as she leant back in her Papa's chair. The 'usual' being the mishmash of chaos and order that Monaya was famous for. The red phone coil quickly became wound around her finger, fiddling the cord out of habit. A habit that was very old indeed. So it would most certainly be hard to break.

It was in that moment that a sharp ring echoed throughout the bookstore, resonating with the charming and bohemian atmosphere.

Monaya turned her head in the direction of the noise, phone still held tightly to her ear. Her eyes were greeted with the sight of her Papa's return and although he did give his daughter a smile, Monaya could tell something was bothering him. She then pressed the phone against her chest, looking over at her Papa before stating. "It's Dad." At this announcement, the angel widened — startled — before a small grin spread across his features.

Despite the requests of both Heaven and Hell, both Crowley and Aziraphale were kind and friendly to one another (they had been like this since the dawn of time unbeknownst to everyone else) and Monaya loved that about her Dads.

Returning the phone to her, Monaya was just in time to hear her Dad inquire. "How's school?" He only asked this because he was fully aware of his daughter's distaste for school and tried his best to keep her in it: just like Aziraphale wanted.

"Not bad." Grinned the 'teen', leaning even further back in her Papa's chair, if that were even possible. Something she received a not-so-pleased look for. "I set my science partner's tie on fire."

Crowley laughed. "That's my girl."

"You did what?"

Slowly, Monaya swivelled around to face her Papa, who, as per usual, kept a calm and welcoming expression on his face. He did not appear to be mad (but to be fair, when was he ever) which allowed the almost one hundred year old girl to exhale in relief. If there was one thing she never wanted to see, it was her Papa angry.

She justified with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "He never put his tie away during Science. Plus, if the school insists that we wear that stupid uniform than they should expect some 'accidents'."

Crowley snorted.

Aziraphale looked exasperated.

"Oh." Monaya said suddenly, perking up as she recalled the reason her Dad called in the first place . "Dad wants to talk to you."

The angel accepted the phone from his daughter's outstretched hand. Monaya jumped out from his chair, instead taking seat on the edge of his desk — much to Aziraphale's displeasure. With a tap of her finger against the crimson casing, Crowley's voice became amplified enough for them both to hear. Was it demon or angel magic? No one will ever know.

"We need to talk." Announced the demon.

"Yes." Aziraphale agreed and Monaya couldn't help but notice the slight sense of fear in his voice. Whatever occurred whilst he was out, she knew it couldn't have been good. "Yes, I rather think we do. I assume this is about—"

"Armageddon. Yes."

The line went silent as her Dad hung up the phone. Monaya just stared blankly down at the phone as she allowed his words to sink in. No wonder her Papa had been frightened. She turned her gaze to him.

"Wait. What?"

This prologue took me sooooo long to write, I've been working on it since way before I published the intro chapter, but I think it was worth it. If you couldn't tell, I was trying to write this in a playful sort of style, a bit like the book. I haven't written in this style before but I really like it.

Monaya is a chaotic mess and I love her for it. She can go from 0 to 100 in a second: she could be quietly reading a comic whilst listening to her Walkman one minute and then stealing a lion from the zoo the next. And, of course Crowley is the irresponsible parent out of the two but that doesn't mean he can't be strict and tell Monaya off when he needs to. Crowley and Aziraphale are awesome Dads, I just love this wacky family so much.

And now, for some memes

Thank you for reading. Hopefully I'll see you all in the next chapter.

Sincerely Rosie aka Winter326