The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 74: Facing the Gauntlet

Chapter 74: Facing the Gauntlet

10 A.M.

                Coffee. Straight.

                "You brought out the Colombian stock," Crowley observed, barely wetting his lips with it.

                The angel decided to take his cup for a walk, and pace the shop again, looking at all his "relationships." "Strong enough, but not too strong. If my purchase had been further West we'd fly faster than the Bentley."

                Pausing at his desk, and Crowley's globe, he asked," What day is it?"

                "Are those time shifts making you feel out of sorts?"

                The angel nodded, sipping his coffee.

                "It's Dec 22nd, angel."

                "Where are we now?"

                Crowley leaned out the window, a bit startled. "Looks like the Isle of Skye, somewhere along the  Black Cuillin Mountains. Wow." That did make Crowley take of hard pull from his cup. "In the middle of a winter fairyland."

                "No cities?"

                "Not a one. Not even a tool shed." He shifted, and sniffed. "Woll, I needed a break from hunting anyway."

                "You still want inside my dream, don't you?"

                The demon's head snapped up. Aziraphale was stirring his cup. He hadn't added anything. His back was completely to him.

                "Yes," Crowley admitted.

                The angel gave him his profile. "Why?"

                "To reassure you. To help you shake it off, angel."

                "The fantasy will remain."

                "So what?"

                The angel turned back and leaned on his desk. He gave Crowley a very direct look. "I need to ask you something."

                "Go ahead."

                "Will you ever let me see the trauma you endured at the hands of the tyrant?"

                "Never," Crowley answered without hesitation.

                "How is that fair? How is it any different?"

                "That really happened. And as soon as I let you in, you'll try to throw yourself into the agonies I endured, and it will change nothing and only cause yourself needless suffering."

                Aziraphale's shoulders raised. His eyes lit up. But after an exchange of looks, he turned his head, and sipped again, considering the demon's words.

                Crowley went further. "Honestly, my greatest fear is a similar fate for you."

                "That explains so much."

                Crowley leaned his elbows on his wide spread knees, and hung his head. "Um-hmm."

                "If you help me understand the dream more, are you hoping that that outcome will be less likely?"

                "I want you to have as much insight as possible," Crowley said to the floor. His head lolled upward. "I want to arm you with as many weapons as I can."

                He barely had time to finish the sentence before he had to lean back. The angel was instantly in the demon's face, on his knees, his coffee cup hastily placed on the table.

                On a miracled coaster, Crowley might add.

                "God, you can be a fast little bugger."

                Aziraphale kissed him, and took his cup away, and grasped his hands in his own. "This is so hard, Anthony."

                Fuck, don't start with that! "Angel, just own it, and move on. Then no one can own you."

                "But at what cost to you?"

"You called it a terrible parody. There's three levels of shame here."

When Aziraphale gave him a confused look, Crowley freed a hand and ran his cupped fingers over his friend's cheek. "Listen to me for a moment, really listen. It could get garbled up a bit and we need to be on the same page. Each one of these is different.  You see them as perversion, mockery, and the act of cruelty thru insensitivity. They are none of those things."

"Good grief," the angel gulped. "You have thought this thru."

"The fantasy is one of self-deprecation. You don't want the reality. Move on."

"And...next?"

"It's not mockery, angel. It's those chains you want to wear with the snake in the cold, cold cave."

Aziraphale heaved. "Alright...and the last?"

"Why you really don't want me there, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"It's not real, angel. Puppets, images, shadows on a wall."

"And shown to survivor of terrible trauma. Don't deny this," the angel insisted. "If you take me seriously at all, if you love me, you will admit this!"

"I do. I don't flinch from it, to do this for you."

"You could flashback."

"Possibly. Doubtful. In that case you know what to do."

"But—"

"I own my thing, angel," Crowley stated flatly. "It affects me, yes. It's a part of me. But it doesn't rule me. And if you don't face your own fear then that posing bitch out there will certainly do it for you!"

Crowley's eyes were blazing. The angel gawped at him. The demon blinked.

"I'm sorry. I said I wasn't going to harsh."

"You're certain of this course of action?"

"With complete conviction."'

"With a passion, I might add."

"I will always fight for your freedom, even if it's from me."

"I'm never going to leave you, Crowley."

"Never mind, angel. But have you heard the rest? Have you heard me? Are you willing?"

                "Is it time to face my inner demons?" The heaviest sigh escaped his lips, and he nodded. "Let me work out how to approach it. And then, promise me something."

                "I'll explain the hunting."

                "We'll take our time with the whole of it, my demon. We'll go slow and back off and take breaks if need be, but we move past these obstacles." A nod, another kiss. Their foreheads rested against each other and the angel chuckled.

                "M'whot?"

                "Your angel has inner demons," he laughed, and rolled his eyes. "And his outer demon has his own demons, Here they come now, clawing their way past our old defenses and it's time we both try something new. And to spite it all, to spit in their proverbial faces, well, we're still standing, Crowley. We're. Still. Standing."