The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 138: Freedom or Safety, or Neither

Chapter 138: Freedom or Safety, or Neither

What does it mean to be free?

It means defending your freedom. It is not free and it is not abundant, and it does not put you in a place of security.

And, yes. We all give up a little bit of freedom for something else. That's ok. That is what a social contract entails, that is what being in any relationship involves.

It's what being a parent is. What being a child is. A citizen, even.

But.

But when your very agency is under threat, and a true threat, not just some idiot spouting propaganda, but a force trying to take away your very right to exist as you are, you cannot stand down.

Do as you will, and harm none.

But do not let them take YOU.

Because, once they do, you won't be the only one.

And then, we all lose, as the angel and the demon are fully aware.

Crowley yawned, and instinctually looked at his watch. Then he remembered what he was doing, and just asked for the time.

He'd made friends with his dark world. The colors his eyes missed were supplemented and enhanced by his smell and hearing and touch. Whatever secondary senses a demon had came into play as well. But he couldn't go far on that without someone at his side.

Aziraphale was in the same boat. Adjusting to the time shifts, learning to live day by day with the knowledge that Jinny had been his lost offspring. Not that this grip of these things lessened their hold, but there was an adjustment. And as Crowley lowered his watch, he could feel the angel looking his way, and thinking the same thing.

With that, the demon got up to stretch and excused himself from the planning party. Olivia rose, and he felt the air shift but he put up a hand. "I'm just going out to the garden. No escorts please."

The group was getting to technical parts, anyway. Gary was with them now, aiding in that. He had come by with the water test, which had revealed itself as blessed spring water from a small church off the coast of Sete. Now the Marine had planted himself in their midst, and conspired with the others on the best approach to get to the mansion undetected.

They could fill Crowley in if he missed anything. But he had to get some air.

The demon snatched his walking stick and made his way out the kitchen door, and then outdoors. The chilly wet air of the afternoon hit his face, leaving it dewy, and cold. He wiped the back of his hand across his cheeks, then sauntered forward, which is trickly with the addition of a cane. He made it look easy, thinking back to what little bit of the 19th Century he had managed to stay awake long enough to use one.

Eventually he made his way to the bench, wiped off the snow, and sat down with the cane between his wide stretched legs. He noticed he was leaning forward more. He didn't like that at all. As if he were constantly waiting for something.

A strange scent wafted to him. A thing like tall grass, early autumn leaves. Sweat and fresh dirt. Filched apples.

He straightened, and felt a small shadow fall over him.

"Adam?" he asked, stupefied.

"Ya, Uncle Crowley," the boy admitted, shifting back and forth, stirring up the earth and snow.