The Curious Condition of Being Human

Chapter 6

Crowley didn't need to sleep. He liked to, but it was by no means necessary considering he could banish fatigue from his corporeal form as easily as one might shrug off a light spring jacket. A thousand or so years ago, he'd discovered that sleep often helped clear his head and helped him sort out a problem. Then, it was the problem of how to tempt a crusader into giving up his quest and settling down with a French country maiden.

Now, the challenge was how to sort out what the various angels and demons were up to - and to do it on his own. He hadn't realized how much he'd come to rely on Aziraphale's complimentary yet fresh perspective on the various problems and scenarios the two of them had faced since the beginning of time. He hadn't gone solo since The Arrangement was made, and he didn't much care for relying only on himself.

So, with the problem on his mind and no clear next step, Crowley let the urges of his corporeal shell take over and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

He woke to an empty bed and the sound of voices downstairs. Crowley could tell one of them was Aziraphale, but the other was too muffled. He rolled out of bed and fumbled about with clothing, then thundered down the stairs.

Anathema stood at the door, her eyes wide behind her round glasses. She had a heavy-looking carrier bag over her shoulder and was clutching a set of books.

"Are you sure I can't have a look, my dear? I do love books, you know. And what I can see of that cover suggests it may be a rare volume that I...oh, good morning, Crowley. Look who dropped by!"

Anathema snapped her attention to Crowley and her shoulders rolled forward. She'd clearly come with more spell components and did not expect Aziraphale to be there.

"Ah, good morning. Yes, em..." Crowley looked from Aziraphale's patiently smiling face, and Anathema's, which was just one side of panicked. "She's...she's helping me with your surprise."

"Oh really?" Aziraphale arched his eyebrows and turned back to Anathema. "Is that why you won't show me your books?"

It took a second for Anathema to catch up, but then she nodded. "Uh, yes. Yes! A surprise. If you see the books, it will ruin the...surprise. That he's planning. For..." she nudged her glasses up her nose. "...for you."

It was a very bad lie. But luckily for them, Aziraphale was enamored enough with the idea of a gift that involved books that he didn't press further. "Well then, I suppose I should let you two continue your planning." He stepped over to Crowley and straightened the collar of his jacket. Then he leaned in and pecked a little kiss on his lips. "Come by later and we'll make our way to the Ritz?"

"Ah, yip. I'll be by," said Crowley as he tried to ignore how intently Anathema was staring at them both.

"Ta ta, Miss Device. Lovely to see you. Pardon me." Aziraphale squeezed his way past Anathema and let himself out the front door.

Both Crowley and Anathema stood staring at each other until they were quite certain Aziraphale was gone.

After a moment, Anathema said, "I'm not even going to ask. It's not my business. Ow, this is heavy..." she shifted forward and dropped the carrier bag on a table just inside the entrance. "Did you get the feather? I have everything else we need."

"Yeeeah. About that..."

"Oh no. What is it? I thought you said you had a way?" Anathema rolled her wrist and shoulder to shake off the stiffness.

"Dead end, I'm afraid. Something's up upstairs. And downstairs too."

"Didn't we already know that?" asked Anathema as she started to pull mason jars of odd liquid out of her bag.