The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 153:Time to Wind Down

New Chapter 153: Time to Wind Down

When Crowley finally met them in the safe zone, he looked like a madman. Wild eyed and covered in gore. To him they looked like a bunch of party poopers, all somber and stoic. But regardless, a whirl of beige and tartan slammed into him, and upended him on the ground, hugging his ribs to cracking.

                "Aziraphale," he croaked, "I told you I'd be back."

                The angel beamed in his face; his eyes wet. He pulled him up and wiped him off.

                "I see you've been laundered," the demon expressed mildly, letting him shake the leaves from his trousers.

                But when Aziraphale looked back up, it was with a terribly haunted expression. Crowley was alarmed, and raised his shoulders. "Are you alright?"

                The angel nodded.

                "Are we all ready to go back? She's gone."

                The angel nodded again.

                Crowley looked at the group, and laid his eyes on Gary. "I'm sorry. Do you mind? I'd like to speak to someone who can open their mouths right now."

The group arrived at the bookshop in the late morning of the 29th. Bedraggled, and drained, some of them collapsed while the more resilient returned the vehicles. And then Aziraphale, still not speaking a word, set the bookshop traveling back to Tadfeild, or sending Tadfeild back to them (no one was certain on the matter.)

                The demon observed him through the whole trip down. His wards told him things. He went up to the quiet angel staring up into the sky dome, and he touched his arm.

                Aziraphale darted a look to him.

                "Tell me what happened," the demon said.

The others woke in the noon day sun shining in, and bustled about, gathering all their gear. Crowley watched them with his chin in his fist. The angel was upstairs.

                They began milling about and comparing notes, then they shuffled to Crowley, who didn't move anything but his eyes.

                "We're going in for a rest, and later to go over this," Anathema explained. She turned to go, then came back, "And some hard drinking."

                Crowley saluted them, and they all exited, leaving him alone in the space.

                When they left, his eyes trailed up to the staircase. He went up.

                There on the bed sat the angel. He sat down, gingerly, next to him.

                Aziraphale slowly turned, his hands knitting. His eyes were huge. Crowley pulled him in.

                And let the day long drizzle commence.

The weather was drizzling too. Cold rain fell on an oddly warm winter day, washing away the snow and turning things muddy and brown. After a few words with Aziraphale, Crowley entered Jasmine cottage where everyone was finally awake, and explained that whatever story was to continue would do so long after this mess was over.

                They were perfectly fine with that.

                "Now," he proclaimed. "Someone hand me a beer. I need to get roit ripped."

                An hour later the angel appeared, and he too, got properly sloshed.

Over the day that followed they did manage to wrap things up. More information gathered; more wards created. And the shadow of Despair fell away, and they began to joke and laugh, and want to celebrate.