The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 75: Gathering Bearings

Chapter 75: Gathering Bearings

Never had the door to Aziraphale's quarters look so....well the word wasn't foreboding. Crowley wasn't always good with descriptives. Ok, that wasn't exactly true either. But standing here, staring at this door. Oh, that's it. He'd never stood at this door staring at it, not even on their first night together.

It was like a gateway to cross.

Signing, he rapt on its surface, and waited. His eyes fell downstairs to the shop. By now there should be a Christmas Tree, and copious amounts of garland so superfluous you'd swear you were strolling through a woodland glade looking for your favorite copy of War and Peace, or whatever it was the angel was reading now that contained 1000 pages or more.

I called him a book, Crowley mused. And I'm about to open him up to the bits that were supposed to be left on the editing room floor.

A very, very soft," Crowley," called to him.

"No one else here, angel," he reminded, or reassured him.

"I'm nearly ready, er, done." That voice sounded so timid. "You're looking around the shop, aren't you?" A few soft grunts accompanied this. He was being conversational as he tied up loose ends, so to speak.

"You've forgotten to put decorations up," Crowley said, trying to keep how much this troubled him out of his voice. But speaking truth. This morning's theme was openness, after all. He thought, then added," Time shifts again?"

It was a preoccupied moment before a muffled," They're doing a number on me," came back, along with a soft, "Ouch. There."

"I think maybe we should go back home soon, angel."

"You think, humph!"

"Yes. I want to see familiar faces for the holidays, and not strangers." Not that trekking off to foreign parts hadn't been useful. But...there had to be time....to get through all this...

"Is that the (oh bother, I can't bend that way!) the only reason?"

Crowley let his head fall against the door. "No. After we get through today, I want to consult with B.G. On what we have so far."

"And about me?"

Crowley hissed. "Maybe."

Something fell over.

"Oi, you all right in there?"

Something was moved back, with effort. "Yes, really I am. Crowley, not sure about Anathema. I think this is one for the adept."

The demon leaned back and drew out the word," REALLY?"

"But we don't mention the dream, please."

"You've already told her, Tracy I mean." A deep sigh. "It's ok. I'm glad you told somebody, and somebody who knows how to keeps secrets."

There was a chuckle, but is seemed labored. "She's kept plenty of yours."

Crowley managed a grin. "Angel, I think I have rubbed off on you. Your sass has gone up a notch. And your obliviousness down a peg."

"Perhaps that's a good thing," with some jovialness, and then, after a weighty pause," I'm ready."

Crowley found his hand was already pressing against the surface of the door. He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"No, but I'm as ready as I'll ever be, my dear boy." The voice was practically quaking.

"Alright, here I come."

Crowley pushed open a door that suddenly felt very heavy. He stepped over the threshold, looked up, and gaped.

"Well, you certainly have a flare for the dramatic, angel," he managed.

"Well...I was going for a certain atmosphere."

"If you're getting ready to shoot a Seal video, you're there."

The room was transformed. Not a single wall was visible, flanked by billowing linens running the length of the ceiling to the floor. Backlit by a brilliant light, they glowed, and the mysterious air current that played on their surfaces gave a hint of the citric farm they had visited but the air had the warmth of a summer morning.

Crowley looked up, astounded at a ceiling that had disappeared. They were open to a fantastic night sky you wouldn't see anywhere on earth, not even Arizona, or here on the Isle of Skye. He stepped in; his head yanked upward by the mesmerizing cosmic drift of all the stars he ever created. Even Alphi Centauri glittered along: Rigil Kentaurus with Toliman and little Proxima along for the ride. He stared at Proxima, and he started thinking about Jinny.

Only for a moment did he allow his musings to take him away to those places. He knew in the state of mind the angel was in he'd wait forever for Crowley to be ready. Sighing hard, the demon made a mental note to ask him for this small miracle again sometime, and lowered his eyes to take in more of the scene.

There wasn't much more, but what was there had the impact of a nail through the visual cortex. Standing like a small monolith in the room was his dark and heavy throne. (More things of his were popping up here in the bookstore and he didn't have so much as a toothbrush or a clothes drawer yet.)

And kneeling before it, covered in a pure white linen cloak, and inside a signeted circle, was his angel.

He supposed it was his angel. It was the right shape and size. But the head was hooded, and the only indication anyone was alive under there was the soft rise and fall of purposeful breathing.

Crowley took one more step, crabwise. "I say, you are under there, aren't you?"

A simple, "Yes," came back to him. He nodded and ventured further in.

Around the perimeter of the circle he paced very slowly. It was a black print on white marble, a decal. Simple, but bold. And just as bold, with his angel kneeling over it, was the demon's moniker: the downward twisting snake.

"You were committed to a certain look, Aziraphale, to say the least!"

"Yes." Alright, that this was getting a bit bothersome. Say something besides that.

"You're transitioning, are you?"

A little laugh. Oh, thank God. Crowley's shoulders relaxed. "No, dear boy. We'll get there. But not yet."

"Good, ah, good," Crowley made his circuit all the way around to where his throne was, so he could face his friend. "Just, didn't want to start there, is all."

"Quite understandable," came the response from hood.

"You had me wondering. Your voice has a hint of it."

"Part of it all, sweet boy."

"Ah, right." The demon paused, patted the armrest of his throne, then peered into parts of the circle. "Oh, angel, you didn't bring in candles again, did you? You know how jumpy I get when you start putting candles around a mystic circle."

Again, a little quiet laugh. Those laughs reassured him.

"No. Like everything else, they aren't real." The hood tilted. "Well, except the throne. And the cloak. And the circle.....and me."

"It's all brilliant," Crowley gaped, letting himself fall into the seat of the throne.

"It's a sacred place."

Crowley swallowed.

"Angel," he gasped. "You made me an altar."