The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 88: Just So Tired of Feeling

Chapter 88: Just so Tired of Feeling

"How long do you plan on keeping the water?"

"No plans. But I'm keeping it until I know what to do with it."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"When you asked."

The angel glowered at him. When I confronted you? When it might me too late for me to convince you to get rid of it!

Yes, but is it any worse than Agnes Nutter, right before your death, angel?

They both felt the accusations like blows. More were piling up.

They fought against the wave of their own misgivings.

Crowley pulled away and walked to the edge of the shop. He opened the door to stick his head out into the cold, fresh air, and breathed. Aziraphale refreshed his drink, and let it fall over his tongue. He sighed, and straightened.

Resetting, they returned to the conversation and again fought for the calm.

"I see," the angel whispered, "that now you're formulating plans."

"Aye, angel."

"Do they include me?"

"They didn't before. They do now."

"And my participation?"

"Not at first."

The angel slammed himself up. Easy, angel, easy...

He glared at his demon, infuriated, shocked. But then he sagged.

"Take them out of my sight," he said dully. And as Crowley hid them away, he continued, "I refuse to let the anger take me, anymore." He slumped into the chair, staring off into space. "Or the worry, or the fear."

Crowley wrinkled his nose, and edged into his face. "Don't do that. Admit the feelings, let them in."

"She'll win, Crowley," Aziraphale muttered numbly. "We're trying so hard to keep the calm."

"You don't have to bully about, angel. But you just can't deny your anger," Crowley warned him. "I should have told you sooner. You worried about my safety, my sneaking around. If you don't let yourself this—"

"—I'm tired of feeling it, Crowley. I'm tired of feeling anything, today. I—" he paused. His eyes glazed over.

Crowley kneeled by his knee," Bloody hell, the shift. You running to the shift."

"I---don't know. I'm being pulled—"

The demon gripped his hands. "Angel, fight it. Let's talk about this before you—"

"Jinny?"

Crowley jumped up; eyes huge. But the angel just rose and glided past him, blind to his presence, blind to his own physical place in time and space. His own demeanor changed.

"Why, hello, Jinny! At last, I get to meet you!" There was absolute delight in the angel's eyes, his whole body. No one was in front of him. Crowley grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Crowley, look! It's really her! The real one, your little child! Oh, I knew we would find you here, I just knew!"

"Angel!" Crowley hollered, shaking him. But nothing dislodged that grin. "Snap out of it! No one's there!"

"Well, of course she is! Oh, you never told me how gorgeous she was! She looks so much like you, Crowley! Oh, what a wonder she is! What a miracle!"

"Angel! Stop!"

But Aziraphale acted to not see him. Instead, he stretched out his arms and took a step forward, carrying the demon with him. "Oh, let me hug you! You amazing girl! —"

And suddenly, he just collapsed.

Terrified, Crowley caught him before he hit the floor, but slid down with him. Into his lap the angel landed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. "Angel? Angel!!"

Nothing.

"Bugger this!!!"

Crowley snapped his fingers, and wasted no time in gathering up his beloved and dashing out the bookshop entrance.

As the doors swung back and forth behind him, a glimpse of Jasmine Cottage could be seen in the near distance.