The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 89: Always, With the Drama

Chapter 89: Always, With the Drama

Anathema was instantly there, trotting along and flailing her arms. "Jesus. H. Christ, demon!?! You couldn't at least drop a line!"

"Don't let him hear you say that," Crowley huffed.

"Not a word, not a text for weeks, and now you show up like this!"

"It's was kinda a developing situation, as you can plainly see!" he barked back, racing to the house with Aziraphale cradled tight against his chest. She ran ahead of him and flung open the door.

"Tracy! Tracy!" he shouted, nearing stumbling into the living room. Everyone was there around the fire, just for a quick visit. In alarm they all clamored out of the way as he dropped down with his load into the couch, and pulled away.

"Tracy!"

"I'm here, dear, I'm here." She came by his shoulder and knelt down, touching his frantic face, and then looking at, and into the angel. "Oh dear. It came on all a sudden, did it?"

"B.G.!"

"Augh! Crowley, can't you ever come by without the emergency towing behind."

"No. Drama follows us like a bad stink. Please, can you see anything? Can you sense anything!?!"

She came down at his side and stared hard at the angel, then her face set hard, and she rose and backed away. "What's happened to him?"

"Do you know about the shifts?"

"Yes. Is that what happened?"

"He reached out to someone who wasn't there, and just fell. He's never done that."

"But you've never seen him shift."

"No."

"Who did he see, Crowley?"

The demon glared at her.

"Who did he see!"

He bore his fangs, then turned away to his shoulder. "Jinny. The REAL Jinny."

Anathema rested back down. She grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed it.

"He's not in there, Crowley."

The demon wouldn't look up. She squeezed harder. She looked harder.

"No aura, no vibration, no wings, no anything. He's gone."

Tracy reached out to the angel's cheek.

"There's a tether."

Both the witch and the demon whipped their heads up.

"It's thin, and stretched, but it's like..." Tracy closed her doe eyes and searched. "It's as strong as spider silk. Oh my. He's...traveling."

"Traveling?" Anathema asked.

"He's not stretched out like?" Crowley rasped, shocked he might be wrong.

"Naw, just bobbing like a balloon along his own timeline. Further than before. But, that knot, holdin 'em? It's as sound as a lock. And the line is tough. Durable." She opened her eyes and smiled distantly at them. "Tested."

She rose and patted Crowley's shoulder. "Won't be long now. Care for some tea?"

"Long now?" Crowley called back. "What do you mean, not long now?"

"Crowley?"

Aziraphale batted his eyes, then looked about the room. Crowley and the witch gaped at him in utter shock. He looked back, bemused.

"Crowley, why do I smell hot chocolate?"

"I can make that too!" came the call from the kitchen.

The angel sat up, sending the others to their butts. He looked about, perplexed. "Crowley? Anathema? What is this? Where are we?"

Crowley's answer was to hugged him around the head. The angel fell back, feeling the full brunt of his insane relief.

At last the demon pulled away, his face split in a crazed smile, his cheeks sleek with sweat and tears. Aziraphale looked back, stupefied.

"We're home for the holidays, angel! Or just home!"

Then he went back to hugging his head, and the angel gave up, and sagged into the silly embrace, and waited until someone with more were-with-all could divulge what the Hell was going on.