Chapter Text
Aziraphale fell in love at first sight.
The cottage was exactly what he’d imagined - what he’d been dreaming of for years, in idle fantasies. The place he’d settle down someday, where he would enjoy a cup of tea and a book by a cozy fire, or a peaceful walk through an idyllic, picturesque forest. A quiet, secluded, charming little house, like something straight out of a fairytale. He hadn’t actually thought such a place existed in real life - but there it was.
The walls were actual logs, complete with rough-hewn edges and rustic end pieces under the eaves. There was a shingle roof and a stacked stone chimney up one wall. A covered porch stretched the whole front of the structure, with a weathered wooden rocking chair awaiting him in an inviting corner. Climbing ivy wound in lush green strands over the railings and up one side. And the forest seemed to gather around the little cottage as if the trees were cradling it, holding it in a gentle embrace. Before he’d even walked inside, it was palpable - the place felt loved.
Tracy, his realtor, clearly read him like a book. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Hits everyone like that the first time they see it.”
“It’s alright,” he said, internally cursing his complete lack of a poker face.
“Wait till you see the inside,” she said, and ushered him toward the front door. “They’ve done some extensive work, but kept all the old-fashioned little touches.”
Aziraphale was prepared for this to mean the interior was in bad shape, but he was pleasantly surprised. The kitchen was clean and cozy, with a breakfast nook, modern appliances, and a cute little rack that would be perfect for his antique teacup collection. The living room had the large stone fireplace he’d always wanted, framed by windows with a beautiful view of the forest beyond. He could already imagine himself tucked into a chair by the fire on a winter evening, enjoying the soft crackle and warmth, sipping cocoa and watching the snow fall outside. There was even a wall of built-in bookshelves in a lovely dark walnut that had him mentally planning how he’d organize his library.
The bathroom also had modern fixtures, but the previous owner had clearly invested here in an enormous tub, complete with built in padded backrest and massage jets. Several little shelves dotted the wall, and Aziraphale looked at them in confusion for a moment before realising they were meant for candles. The image came to life in his mind - a nice long bubble bath by candlelight, with perhaps a glass of wine and soft music.
It was the bedroom, though, that really clinched it. One full wall held a gorgeous picture window, and there was a broad skylight in the ceiling. The effect was one of bringing the forest directly into the room, casting splashes of green and gold light against the cream coloured walls. He could see the branches swaying gently in the wind outside, dappled shadows drifting through the room. Two of the windows were open a little and the earthy richness of cedar wafted in from outside.
“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly.
Tracy beamed, her eyes lighting up. “I thought you’d like it. Fits everything you asked for, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Aziraphale admitted. “But I have some questions.”
“You do?”
He turned, raising an eyebrow at her. “I did my research. I was curious as to why this home was priced so much lower than a reasonable market value.”
Her smile grew a little fixed around the edges. “Well that’s what I’m saying, dear - it’s an excellent deal!”
“Hmm. Yes, and it appears I’m not the first to think so. The house stood empty for several years, and then it was bought and renovated by a new owner six months ago. But he spent less than a month actually living in it, before selling it on to someone new.”
“Ah,” she said. “One of those house flipper types I think, like you see on television.”
“And then the second owner spent three weeks in her new home, before putting it on the market again, where it has remained ever since. Buying a house is not easy or convenient, Tracy. People don’t just go through all of that to give up and move out a few weeks later unless they have an extremely good reason.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, there’s nothing to worry about. You’ve seen the home inspection reports - the renovation was quite thorough, everything up to code.”
“I have seen them, yes,” Aziraphale replied. “So I have to ask - what is wrong with this house?”
She sighed and shook her head. “It’s quite silly, really. Superstitious nonsense.”
“What is?”
“Apparently the house has a bit of a reputation. People think it’s haunted.”
“Haunted,” he repeated. “I see.”
“I suspect it’s just city folk who aren’t used to the sounds of the woods at night,” she said airily. “The place is quite secluded, after all, and you know how easy it is to let your imagination run away with you. It does get very dark in the forest. But surely you’re made of sterner stuff, right?”
Aziraphale didn’t answer. He looked through the rooms again, lingering on the little details. It was almost too perfect, as if someone had peered into his imagination and pulled out exactly the cozy, comfortable home he’d always pictured. And yet it didn’t feel haunted. It felt - protective, somehow, like the house and the woods beyond had welcomed him into a friendly embrace and closed behind him, warding off any trouble that might follow.
Still. Two buyers in six months, both of whom had certainly lost money on the deal, and were now willing to sell this beautiful little home for far less than it should fetch on the market. There had to be something off about it.
He turned to Tracy. “Give me some time. I’ll think about it.”
~~~
From the shadows of the forest, golden eyes watched the two humans leave the house.
The woman with the red hair had been there before: fussing about, cleaning things, putting up a sign. The man was new, though. He had a peculiar air about him, something quiet and steady. Early summer sunlight glinted in the fine white curls of his hair, giving him a bright and ethereal glow that stood out among the deeper greens and browns of the forest. He had a faint scent of something sweet lingering about him, a gentle voice, and vivid blue eyes that regarded the house with obvious longing.
The trees liked him. He walked softly and did not idly tear at leaves or break branches. The birds and small creatures of the woods liked him, recognizing on instinct the sort of human who would leave out seeds and treats for them, just for the joy of watching them eat. The winding stream that ran behind the cottage liked him, sensing a respect for nature that would not be dumping trash or chemicals into the water.
The forest welcomed him, but the spirit that lived within it hadn’t decided yet. The spirit just watched, waiting to see what would happen.
~~~
Aziraphale stepped into the cafe at half past two on the dot. He looked around, and Anathema waved to him from a table in the corner. He returned the wave and offered her a sunny smile, then settled into the chair across from her. “Hello, dear,” he said. “I’m not late, am I?”
She grinned and pushed the second cup of tea across the table to him. “You’re never late. Thanks for agreeing to this - I really needed to get out of the library for a while.”
He made a sympathetic tsk. “Dissertation not going well?”
“Ugh,” she said, feelingly. “I don’t want to talk about it. If I have to write one more APA citation I might actually kill someone. Maybe that guy who spreads his books out over the whole table and chews gum really loud.”
Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “That does sound unpleasant.”
“I swear, that library has gone downhill since you retired. You were always the best at finding just the right reference.”
“Well, thank you, my dear,” he said. “It is nice to be missed, although I would hope the library continues to be a haven for all the students.”
“Eh,” she said, shrugging. “It’s alright. I mean, it’s a library. It just doesn’t have the same magic anymore. I think you took that with you when you left.”
“Oh, come now,” he said, but he couldn’t suppress a pleased little smile.
“Anyway, I didn’t come here to complain about my dissertation,” she continued. “I would rather talk about literally anything else. Please, for the love of god, distract me from graduate student purgatory.”
He laughed softly and took a sip of his tea. “Well, how about that young man? Has he gathered the courage to speak to you yet?”
“Newt? Nah, not yet,” she said. “I know it’ll happen before the end of the term, but he better get a move on. Finals are next week.”
“I don’t know why you don’t just have mercy on the poor boy and speak to him first.”
“Agnes said he would talk to me.”
Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Anathema, I know you have faith in your great-grandmother and her predictions - ”
“Prophecies,” she interrupted. “And Agnes is always right. Newt is the one for me, but I have to let him talk to me first.”
He’d had this discussion with Anathema enough times to know she would not be swayed. “Very well. At least give him an encouraging look, or something. He’s probably intimidated.”
“Yes, well, if he’s going to be my boyfriend then he’ll just have to grow a backbone,” she said firmly.
“Clearly.”
She grinned at him. “Don’t worry, it’ll happen. Anyway, how are you? How’s retirement? Still house hunting?”
“I’m quite well, thank you,” he said. “And I may have some progress on the house hunting front, as it turns out.”
She leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? Found your perfect little cozy cabin in the woods?”
“Yes, actually. Although I’m not sure about it.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Well,” he said, then hesitated, drinking a little more of his tea. “Apparently it’s haunted.”
She laughed, but trailed off when he didn’t join her. “Wait, really? Like actually haunted? What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” he said. “Not to me, anyway. I toured the home and found it to be perfectly lovely. But it’s had two different owners in the past six months, both of whom only managed to stay in it a few weeks before fleeing the place and putting it back on the market. Now it’s priced to sell and has developed something of a reputation in the local village.”
“Hmm,” she replied. “That does sound a little weird. But in a small town, rumours can get out of control pretty quick.”
“It is a small town,” Aziraphale agreed. “It’s called Tadfield. Very pretty, though, and the people seem friendly enough.”
Anathema stared at him. “Did you say Tadfield?”
“Yes, why?”
Her eyes went wide, and then she hauled her bag up onto the table and began sifting through it. “I think there’s a prophecy about you!”
He made an exasperated sort of noise. “Dear, really, you know I don’t believe in any of that.”
“I’m telling you, Agnes was always right,” she insisted. “And I could swear - ” She dug out a wooden box and popped it open, revealing a stack of index cards. She shuffled through them quickly and then pulled one out with a sound of triumph. “There! Prophecy number three thousand and four. Read it!”
She pushed the card across the table, and Aziraphale leaned over, curious in spite of himself. In neatly typed letters, the card read: When that the keeper of other men’s books shall set forth to Taddesfield, he must gather his courage and choose wisely, for his true home awaits in the heart of the forest.
He frowned, shaking his head. “See, this is what I mean. It’s like one of those horoscopes in the paper. So vague it could mean anything.”
“No, look,” she said. “The keeper of other men’s books, that’s you - the librarian! And you collect books, so that’s another way you’re a keeper. And a home in the heart of the forest? Come on, isn’t that how you’ve always described your dream retirement? The little cottage in the woods.”
“Well… perhaps, if you are willing to interpret it generously…”
“And it has the name of the town,” she said, tapping the note card. “Tadfield. Seriously, Aziraphale, what else do you need?”
He sighed and lifted his hands, conceding. “Yes, alright, I must admit that part is - well. Quite a coincidence.”
She fixed him with an expectant stare. “So you’re going to get this place, right?”
“I’m not sure this is really a sound basis to choose my next home.”
Anathema looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “You want to say yes. In fact, I think you already decided you wanted the place before you even came here today. You’re just dithering.”
“I am doing no such thing,” he said primly. “I just - oh, you know I’m not at my best with change. And retirement has already been quite a lot of it. Now I have to choose a whole new place to live and this cottage seems…” He sighed. “Too good to be true, I guess. If I’m being honest, I adore the place. It’s just darling. I can already imagine myself living there. But what if I’ve got it wrong?”
She smiled patiently at him. “Aziraphale, trust your gut. You love the place, and you couldn’t get a better recommendation than a prophecy from Agnes. She called it your true home. Go for it.”
“Well,” he said, and a small smile tugged at his mouth. “If Agnes said so, who am I to argue?”