The Corpse and the Medical Examiner

Episode Twelve

Dagon stared at the open door, Crowley was trying to get his slightly addled brain to think, Anathema and Newt were still looking as shocked as the rest of them felt.

Dagon looked liked she was trying to say something and stopped. She felt bad. It was just that she wanted to talk about this to others who knew science liked she did and Crowley isn't the best to talk about academics, no matter how high he scored in his college classes.

She should have stopped when he asked the first time. And now he's gone and run off and she cant even apologize in her gruff and awkward way.

Crowley stared and he wanted to yell. The look of pure fear and regret on his face made Crowley's stomach turn. He was also pissed, in the emotional and physical ways. If he tried to run after the blond he would trip over his legs.

He wanted to yell at Dagon, but he could see the look in her eyes. He could ignore that, but also, he would feel bad for doing so, curse his shitty heart.

Anathema was thinking deeply about the situation. This was bad.

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Aziraphale wasn't sure where he was but he was there fast. He hadn't run to his grave, because that would be an obvious spot. That's if they even wanted to come find him. Which is doubtful. He showed them that he was just a horrifying monster.

The looks of fear made his metaphorical stomach turn. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the grave.

When he felt sick from running he ran even more, trying to make his body just stop for even a second.

He tripped over a root like an idiot. Of course he would. He cursed himself and sat down. It was an old tree and he knocked on the trunk, just out of curiosity. It made a hollow thud back at him. He tapped it again, enjoying the sound almost enough to distract him from the idea of being a monster.

The thoughts only left for a minute at most, and he looked around the tree and found an opening. Peering inside he saw it was big enough to hold two people, albeit uncomfortably.

In a rare moment of thoughtless action he went in. He curled into a ball in it, not in his usual normal posture, and sighed.

He let himself fall asleep unaware of what was happening around him.

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Crowley and the other three living people had to go to bed for that night. They would be no use drunk and frozen to death. It was uncomfortably silent during the restless hour between sleep and the argument.

The silence felt like the strongest noise, no one knowing what to do. They all had work in the morning, it felt like a sheet had been thrown over an old chair.

Newt and Anathema didn't even leave, both asleep on the couch, and Dagon resting fitfully on the recliner. Crowley was in his bed staring at the ceiling. The whole scene was a mess. No one was a villain, but everyone was a victim. He wished that he was less understanding, then he would have been able to order everyone out of his house to he could scream into the pillows.

Crowley also knew that a part of him felt like he was overreacting. The part of him was shitty and needed to leave immediately he thought.

it was hard to try and fight with himself, so he succumbed to sleep, worried and frustrated,

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Crowley awoke to no noise. It was early for him but he momentarily was alarmed at the lack of humming and small clattering pots in the kitchen. Then he remembered what happened and sighed. He drug himself out of bed and changed in the bathroom, going through the routine without realizing he was doing so.

Making a cup of coffee he wondered with a humorless laugh, how the hell they were all going to work that day. The rest of the merry men were still asleep, all looking worse for wear. Well, that will teach them to crash at his flat. He doesn't even have proper guest arrangement.

There was still an hour till they all had to wake up. And he sat down and thought of all the places Aziraphale would go. He had a mental list that he would write down in his phone notes app if he had brought the thing to the table.

Well first his grave of course. He went there in times of stress, that's what he has taken note of so far. The bookshop where his used to be. Anywhere in the two parks that were near the flat. He could also check some graveyards near here. Aziraphale showed interest in seeing if anyone he knew still had a gravestone.

An of course he would drag Anathema, Newt, and Dagon into this man hunt because he needed the help. Crowley knew he probably wouldn't have to ask, they would insert themselves into the equation whether he wanted them to or not. He smiled at his friends determination. They all were very stubborn and headstrong people. Sometimes that was a good thing.

And sometimes...

He shook his head and went to wake up the sleeping trio.

He then had a devilish idea, with a pot and a wooden spoon he got to work.

BANG BANG BANG, "Up with all of you!"

Dagon fell out of the recliner, Newt had shot up and Anathema had a hand poised to attack. He laughed a little, but the melancholy of the situation got to him first.

"We have to go to work today but you all are going to help me search tonight. Be ready for that."

They all grumbled, still waking up. Dagon looked the worst, but he knew the reason of that at least. They all sat and drank coffee, before sludging to work. The vagabonds still in last nights clothes.

The downstairs ME offices were silent. No one talked, both wallowing in something or another, the only sound being one of them starting up an autopsy and the rolling of cadaver cart wheels. The file room in the downstairs was also silent. Newt was filing in silence, still trying to process everything.

It happened so fast. They looked over a shout and Aziraphale was dead looking and he was worried, not for himself but he thought that maybe e was dying for real this time. Instead of anything he ran away. It was a fast experience, and the hours trying to sleep was like years in contrast.

Upstairs was little different. No one in the offices were quiet, other than the usual loud and manic detective. No one else knew what happened, so her quietness made a few of them worry.

"Hey Device? You good?" Michael Spears asked. The commander was usually observant, and could spot a change in demeanor easily. Especially one so juristically different.

"I'm alright Spears."

Michael looked unconvinced, "is it the filing boy?"

Anathema looks up and shakes her head, "No."

The commander seemed like she would keep pushing the detective and she sighed.

"Some friends of mine got in a fight and one left in a hurry."

Michael looks sympathetic, "About what?"

Anathema knew she was worried, but she also knew Michael loved gossip.

"Nothing important. Really. I'm just worried about them."

"Do you know where the runaway went?"

Anathema shook her head.

"Need a missing persons call on them?"

Anathema went white, and shook her head, "He is probably fine. He is a grown man anyway."

Michael finally left and she sighed, sinking into her seat. She at least knew that Crowley and Dagon and Newt wouldn't e getting any questions.

They all sucked at lying anyway.