The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 170: Interview Part 6

Chapter 170: Interview Part 6

"And me and the angel greeted each other with the same stupid prattle we always did. We were happy to see each other. And excited about something.

                But we couldn't remember what it was. And we just.... wandered off to dinner and some entertainment in the villages.

                And our little one stayed behind. From now on, she would never leave her woods. Her flaw appeared at last, and she padded away to her new life, in the form of a jackal or hyena or whotever!

                And that's how Aziraphale fathered werewolves."

                "And how he lost his child," Newt heaved. Crowley nodded, holding the flower close to his chest. "And why she picked you the second time around." Newt was holding his head now, staring off in the mid distance. "It's like something out of Grimm."

                "I think she's been trying to get back to us ever since. Her first mother, woll, that chance is gone forever, but this: me and him are still here."

                "One thing I don't understand. Not only about this but in regards to a lot of things? Why doesn't Aziraphale just shift back in time, or forward?"

                "It's like I explained to Adam. You can't change the past, and the future's an iffy warbly thing. It will be based on all the actions you've made til now, and not after, because so far there is no after. It will change every time. It feeds on all the baggage of the past. And you can't affect change in it, you just meld with the mindset of yourself there. You can't take anything from it back, and you can't travel with anything either."

                "How does that work with clothes?"

                "Woll, I could make up some bullshit about bodily magnetic fields, but honestly I don't rightly know. Just does."

                "Seems like a cop out, don't you think?"

                "I don't write the rules," the demon grumbled, getting up to stretched his legs.

Anathema was done.

                Spent.

                But, as she looked back over her notes, something bizarre appeared.

                And as the angel went back up, thinking, fuck it, I'll make more eggs, she grabbed him by the labels, and forced him to see the pattern emerging in her written words.

Crowley disappeared back into the kitchen to replace the empty whiskey bottle. When he came back, Newt had a most perplexed look on his face, the notebook pressed up to his nose. When he heard Crowley, he looked up. "What if you could talk to someone who did?"

                "Did whot?"

                "Write the rules of the universe? Look!"

                The demon, nonplussed, sat the bottle down and himself next to Newt, who gave him the notebook. "I wrote everything down, just as you said it. But look at the shape of the paragraphs, the way the words push together! It's a message."

                "God, this book is tricky!"

                "I think you did this! All you needed was help to slow it down. What does it say?"

                The demon peered and read out loud. "Anthropomorphic personification—ah fuck that!"

                "No! This is perfect! You know Death! Maybe you could—"

                "I'm not going anywhere near that guy!"

                "Well," said Newt slowly, catching the demon's eye. "He's not the only one. Is he?"

The little witch watched the angel gesture wildly in her living room, despite the fact he was on the phone and Crowley couldn't see it. But she was relieved just to see the light back on in his tired eyes.

                After a moment, Aziraphale paused, and handed over the phone. "He wants to talk with you." Then the angel whisked past her upstairs, presumedly to gather his things. Curious, she put the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

                "Augh, morning B.G." God, Crowley sounded ragged. "Looks like we're swapping loved ones again."

                "You didn't have to send him down here," she yawned. "I could have come up with Newt."

                "We thought it better if we were physically apart, not influencing each otha'. Still," he sighed heavily through his nose, paused, then added," Thank you for being so obliging."

                "You owe me," she uttered in dark tones. He picked up on the implication.

                "I do," he promised, then switching gears to tired humor, "So, you saw the happy patterns, did you?"

                "Weird, but yeah. Got an answer. Good. Go find your anthropomorphic whatever. But Crowley?"

                "M'yeh?"

                "He's beyond, right now, just, beyond. You?"

                "Guess."

                "Don't have to. Worse, I presume."
               "On the money."
                "Advice? I'm not telling you what to do. But I'm on the outside."

                "Go for it."

                "Go see Olivia."

                The pause this time was longer. In the background she heard her own husband gathering his things and exclaiming how amazing the patterns in the notebook were, the implications. Crowley wasn't responding to him or the little witch.

                "He'll be home soon, your angel. I got him a cab. I don't trust him to transport to the right place, he's still so tired."

                "Thanks much," the demon said dully. "I'm gonna fall over now, once Newt's out the door. I'll...sleep on it, whot you said."

                "Talk with the featherhead?"

                "Yes. And B.G.?"

                "Yeah?"

                "Thanks, for everything."

                "Payment upon receipt," she reminded him, smiling.

                "I know. I still owe you."

                "No, it's ok. But, it did help."