The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 27: Redirection

Chapter 27: Redirection

"Why are you here, angel?" Crowley grumbled. "I'm having a private moment."

"I had a feeling," Aziraphale whispered, examining the aspect of his friend in this mood.

The air in the room shifted. Crowley's brows went up. "A feeling."

"Yes," the angel replied tersely. "Crowley, what have you done to yourself?"

"Is private, ok? Not meant for your eyes. S'like you and the chains that night."

"No! Demon, you promised me! You said you would tell me if things weren't right with you!"

"This is nothing," Crowley hissed.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?"

"It's not torture," he grunted, struggling to right himself somehow so he could address his friend without the angel supporting his weight. "Here, get off me, I'm fine!"

"How is this fine!"

"Look, nothing broken, nothing deep. Here, I shouldn't have to explain myself."

"Crowley," the angel reiterated. "I just walked into this place to find my best friend hanging in a bloody mess by the ceiling."

The demon continued to try to face him, but he still spun gently. "Oi, when you put it that way."

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the rope released. The angel caught Crowley before he hit the floor and guided him down, laying him across his lap as he heaved and coughed. When the demon's gritting snarl loosened and his chest stopped heaving, the angel raked his hand thru his hair and caressed his cheek. "My dear sweet boy, what is this?"

"This," he snorted, looking up into his angel's face, "is an old thing, a very old thing indeed."

"Oh, Crowley."

"I'm not beating myself into pain. I'm beating the pain out."

"Hogwash!" Again, a snap from the angel, he was snapping all over the place today, and the slashes healed.

"You had no right to do that," Crowley muttered half convincingly.

"I had every right!"

"I see the bruises are still there."

"You're fighting me on those, whether you know it or not. Crowley, tell me what's the matter."

"M25."

"Crowley, you didn't know it would burn."

"So? It did."

"Is there more?" More, thought the angel. A toddler? Bleeding out in her father's arms?

"There's always more..." Not ready to answer, angel.

"May I?" the angel acted to remove Crowley's glasses. He grunted approval. Aziraphale pulled them off and saw the yellow irises blazing huge, old bloodstains and new bright red escaping their old encasement. "Oh, Crowley!" the angel's voice broke.

"They used to be green, y'know, my eyes," the demon mentioned thru gritted teeth.

"I remember."

"Back when I was someone else, when I was given another name. I was given so many names. I know I'll never be back there, but knowing that doesn't make the grief go away. Bitter pill to swallow, that."

"But you're not the kind to ask for forgiveness."

Crowley shook his head. "You know me too well."