#logically they’re probably like spirit bindings but I like the idea of him putting it on each morning

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Fluff prompt #38? "Are you alright?" "I will be."

Well, this one certainly went in an unexpected direction! The quote winds up a bit altered, but I think it fits the spirit of the thing.

I’m working off this prompt list - send me an ask or @ me with your request!

--

The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of the bookshop just as the all-clear signaled the end of the night’s bombing. They hadn’t been in any danger during the drive; exhausted as he was, Crowley still had the strength to make sure of that. Probably.

Crowley only had to keep it together for another minute, maybe two. His feet ached from the burns, stinging like a sunburn as high as his knees, flaring every time he shifted his feet on the pedals. But he’d made it this far. He was fine, and he could continue to be fine until Aziraphale was in the shop.

He pressed his lips together, kept his hands on the wheel, and resisted the urge to fidget.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, still clutching his bag of books as if it was a life raft. “That was certainly a thrilling experience.” He frowned tartly at the dashboard, making his true feelings for the Bentley abundantly clear.

“Nh. Got you home, didn’t it?” Crowley glared out the window at the shop, shifting his feet between the pedals as inconspicuously as possible.

“Yes, and the fact that we’re still in one piece is clearly the most incredible miracle of the night.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?”

“I should think not. I am an angel, and the nature of my being is incorruptible, eternal, and unaffected by the comings and goings of mortal beings—”

“Meaning you’re just as much a smug bastard as ever.”

Well. That hadn’t taken long to fall apart.

Really, the entire evening had been one disaster after another. His intelligence had revealed a team of Nazi spies was meeting with a contact at an old townhouse in Soho, so Crowley had settled in to wait it out. He had his fingers in everything these days, from British Counterintelligence to street gangs, and the opportunities for a bit of chaos during the Blitz were never ending.

Then he’d received word that the drop had been changed. And that the contact was a certain local and well-established bookseller. Meaning that the idiot being duped by the Nazis was his idiot. He’d barely been updated on the new location in time, and of course Aziraphale had picked a church, of all the places in the city, a church to meet his bloody spies, and Crowley had to charge in, no plan, no preparation, and now he hurt and Aziraphale seemed determined to make this as miserable as he possibly could, and really was it any surprise after the last time—

Crowley didn’t want to part angry, not again, but his feet hurt and he didn’t know how to stop himself.

In the silence, Aziraphale shifted in his seat, looking at the door but not opening it. “I…Crowley, I am…very glad…that you were there tonight.”

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley blurted, mostly out of habit. “Just. Be safe. Be smart.” One quick glance to the side, then glaring at the windscreen again. “And stay away from Nazis, it can’t be that hard.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. I just thought…ah, well.” He opened the door, but didn’t try to leave.

“So,” Crowley started.

“So,” Aziraphale agreed.

Deep breath. “Guess I’ll see you next century—”

But at the same moment, from Aziraphale, “Do you want to come in?”

More than anything.

Aziraphale still didn’t face him, and his stiff shoulders gave no hint of his emotions, but Crowley wasn’t going to let this – whatever this was – pass him by.

“I mean…I could…I can…” His hand fumbled for the door latch, popping it open, almost leaping out onto the pavement before the invitation could be withdrawn. In his urgency, he entirely forgot about the pain in his feet.

Until he put his weight on them.

“AAAH!” With a strangled gasp, Crowley collapsed like felled tree.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was beside him, impossibly quickly, hands fluttering over his face and chest. “Oh, my word. What – what happened? What’s wrong? Oh, Lord, is it—”

“Calm down, Angel.” His voice still sounded tight, but there wasn’t much Crowley could do about that. “Told you. Hallowed ground.” With some effort, he managed to sit up, one hand braced on the floor of the Bentley.

“I thought – you said – ‘being on the beach in bare feet’ – this isn’t—!”

“S’nothing.” Crowley eyed the distance to the driver’s seat. He could probably get himself in, but it wouldn’t be dignified. Well. Any and all dignity had long since gone out the window. “Just need to…”

He pulled his legs in and tried to stand – the pain hit him halfway up – and with another cry of “NrrrrrrAAAH!” he toppled over, slamming his head against the street.

“Oh, oh, Crowley!” His eyes blinked open, and behind the flashing supernovae that filled his vision loomed Aziraphale’s concerned face. “My dear fellow, are you alright?”

“Told you. S’nothing.” He’d need another minute or two before trying to sit up. “Be fine in the morning.”

“Yes, I’ll see to that.” Before Crowley could ask what that even meant, Aziraphale scooped him up, one arm under his knees, the other across his back, cradling him like a child.

“What? Angel – stop – you – Ngk!”

“Would you rather lay in the street all night?” He nudged the Bentley door shut with his foot. “Let’s get you inside.”

“But—”

“Hush.” He held Crowley a little closer, the demon’s head against his shoulder, and started walking. “Do hold on to my neck if you need balance, and try to relax.”

There was no chance of relaxing, not when his entire body was pressed into the warm curve of Aziraphale’s stomach, not when his vision was filled with that soft face, jaw hardened in determination. Especially not once he realized he could feel the angel’s heartbeat, steady and calm. His own was racing erratically, and every nerve in his body was raw, on edge.

As Aziraphale stepped past the Bentley into the street proper, Crowley’s heels taped lightly against his side, and sharp pain shot up to his knees. Crowley flinched, just slightly, but immediately Aziraphale stopped to shift his arms, making sure Crowley’s legs wouldn’t swing as much.

“Better?”

“Nh. Yuh.” Not knowing what else to do, Crowley slipped his arm across Aziraphale’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure it was any more comfortable, but he liked it.

Only when they reached the steps to the shop did Crowley realize something was missing. “Your books!”

“Still in that horrid vehicle.”

“But…” Aziraphale loved his books. Especially the prophecy books. He’d carried some of them around the world for the better part of a millennium. Crowley knew that, it was why he’d made sure to protect them from the bomb blast.

But, counter to all logic, Aziraphale just shook his head, as if they didn’t matter at all. “They’ll keep for an hour or two.” He nudged the door with his shoulder. “I have more important matters to attend to first.”

And he stepped across the threshold into the brightly lit shop.

--

It hadn’t changed. Eighty years since his last visit, and everything was still the same.

Oh, there were a few more tacky figurines and baroque sculptures scattered around; the books were piled even taller, suggesting Aziraphale had acquired far more than he’d sold in that time, and cloth bindings seemed to be giving way to leather again. The lights were electric now, but the gas fixtures clearly hadn’t been replaced, merely altered. The shelves, the columns, the furniture – everything was just as Crowley remembered.

He sat on the sofa now, feet soaking in a basin of hot water. Aziraphale knelt beside it, carefully applying angelic healing a little at a time. Crowley’s body couldn’t take much more holy energy without breaking.

His feet were much worse than he’d thought. Bright pink and deep red in patches, covered with angry swollen blisters that started between his toes and wrapped back around his ankles. When he’d rolled up his trouser legs, he’d found smaller burn patches all up his shins, as if the hallowed ground had somehow splashed him almost to his knees.

“Does this usually happen when a demon walks onto hallowed ground?” Aziraphale ran a dampened cloth across Crowley’s leg, gently wiping away a burn.

“Dunno, I’m the only one stupid enough to try it.”

“Crowley,” he murmured, somewhere between warning and exasperation.

“Sssss.” He slumped a little further on the sofa, wiggling his aching toes. “I’ve seen a few demons get close to holy ground or objects. Burns and blisters, yeah, that’s normal. But I’ve never seen it this bad.” Aziraphale’s fingers ran down his ankle, setting off more sparks of pain. “Mmmmph. Should heal though. Almost everything heals eventually.”

Demonic self-healing took time, of course, and hurt all the while.

“They’re coming along,” Aziraphale commented, gently lifting Crowley’s left foot out of the water. His hand on the back of the ankle was as gentle as possible, but still made Crowley squirm.

“Nnnnnnnrk. Why did you have to meet them in a bloody church?”

“I…” Aziraphale carefully brushed the cloth across Crowley’s foot. It tingled – not entirely pleasantly – but the skin left behind was less burned, and the blisters a little smaller. “I’m not really sure.”

“C’mon, Angel.” Crowley shifted again, fingers curling into the sofa cushion. “I know you changed the spot at the last minute. And don’t tell me that was their idea.”

“No…” For a long moment, Aziraphale didn’t say anything further, just continued to wash Crowley’s foot with slow, gentle motions. When he’d cleared the left foot as much as he could, he lowered it back into the water and started on the right. “I just…I was so flattered. To be asked to help. To trap spies and book thieves! To…be part of a team.” The cloth slowed to a stop. “I just…I suppose some part of me hoped that Heaven would look down and, and see…”

You wanted them to be proud of you. Not that he could say it. Aziraphale’s feelings towards his superiors were as complicated as ever.

“Well.” Aziraphale started into his task again, perhaps a bit too briskly. “Good thing no one did look, considering how it all turned out.”

“Angel…” Crowley pushed himself up a little, to better watch the white curly head bent over his feet. “Are you alright?”

“What? Don’t – that’s absurd – you’re the one who’s – why wouldn’t I be—?”

“You trusted her. That woman. And she pointed a gun to your head.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale quickly lowered Crowley’s foot into the water, but not fast enough for him to miss how the angel’s fingers trembled. He gripped the sides of the basin. “Do you…do you think me very foolish? To fall for…such an obvious trick?”

“Not at all.” But Aziraphale didn’t look up, didn’t move from his spot. “This…isn’t the first time it’s happened, is it?”

He shook his head. “Never this bad, but…I always throw my lot in with the worst sort of people, don’t I? Or if I do find decent types, I just – just drive them away. I never learn my lesson. Good lord, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Of course there isn’t.” Crowley wished Aziraphale would meet his eyes.

“And it was so obvious! If I’d just stopped to think for five minutes…”

“You can’t blame yourself for humans being—”

“Why? Am I so desperate for approval, I just – just throw my lot in with whoever comes by? Why do I keep—”

“Because you’re lonely!”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say it, never mind with such feeling. He wanted to take it back, but Aziraphale’s head jerked up, finally met his eyes – oh, yes. He could see how right he was.

Eighty years, with no one but humans for company. Crowley could remember how awful that was. How much worse, when you knew there was another way? When you understood what you were missing?

“Angel…I’m…” The word stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner, instead of just…just sleeping it off.”

“And I could have gone to you,” Aziraphale said softly. “I wanted to, you know. So many times, I just…”

Crouched beside the basin, Aziraphale slid his arm around Crowley’s legs, leaned forward to rest his head against the demon’s knees. Crowley laid his hand on the angel’s head, fingers burrowing into soft, feathery curls.

They didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, not with words at least.

After a time, Aziraphale whispered, “Do you think – is it – are we…alright?”

Crowley stroked his hair one more time. “We will be.”

[luckyspike]

Familiar, but not too familiar

I would like to dedicate this fanfiction to the McElroy brothers, Hasbro, the artist geothebio, my sofa, a patient that one time told me he tried to destroy a Ouija board and it caught fire and he almost died, some of the not-spooky parts of Paranormal Activity, and my stupid brain. Oh and also Good Omens. Thank you to John Roderick and the Long Winters for the title of this fanfiction, It’s a Departure off of their album Putting the Days to Bed, and thank you to the Maximum Fun Network for hosting some podcasts I enjoy.

--

The Ouija board is Brian’s. His parents got it for him for his fifteenth birthday, and during one summer night after the end of the school year, the Them found themselves studying it by light of a lantern, in a tent in their hollow. “My parents,” Wensleydale says, “said that we aren’t to play with Ouija boards, because they’re the vessels of demons.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam shrugs. “I mean so what? Why bother, then?”

“Yeah,” Pepper seconds. “If we want to talk to a demon we can just call Crowley - no need to mess around with this whole board situation.”

“It’s supposed to tell you the future,” Brian says, sullenly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Anathema could tell us the future,” Wensleydale says.

“But she doesn’t. We could ask it all kinds of questions.” He picks up the planchette. “And anyway, it might not be a demon. They’re called spirit boards, aren’t they? Might be a ghost.” He sighs, and sags a little. “Come on, guys, at least it’ll be a laugh.”

Pepper looks to Adam. “I don’t think -”

“Yeah, I’m not playing,” Adam says, before she can finish. “If you guys want to, that’s fine, but I’ll watch. Just … I dunno, just in case, I guess.” Wensleydale and Brian nod, solemn, and Pepper sighs.

“I’ll play. But for the record, I think this is stupid.” Brian beams, though, and she helps set the board on the lid of the box, which is the flattest surface they can find in the tent. Adam doesn’t move, but he keeps his arms wrapped around his knees, nose wrinkled in thought.

He isn’t sure this is a very good idea. It has been four years since the Nah-pocalypse, and Crowley and Aziraphale and Anathema have all taught him all kinds of things about the occult, although nobody has ever mentioned Ouija boards. He’d certainly never seen any of them with one. It’s probably, he thinks, perfectly safe. It’s a game, after all, and they sell them at stores all over - it’s not as if the company has necromancers binding demons to each board. But still …

“Alright,” Brian says, seated at the top of the board. “Nobody move the planchette.”

“Duh,” says Pepper.

“Right. I’ll start. So, uh, mighty - mighty?” He glances to Adam, who shrugs. “Might Ouija. It is me, Brian, coming to seek wisdom. Is there a spirit here with us?”

Nothing happens for a minute. Adam, internally, breathes a sigh of relief. But then the planchette moves. Slowly, achingly slowly, it slides to ‘Yes’.

Brian, Wensleydale, and Pepper exchange a look. “I didn’t do it,” Wensley says in hushed tones.

“Me neither,” Brian and Pepper agree.

Adam shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. “This might be a bad idea.”

Wensley manages a weak smile at Adam. “Nah, I’m sure we’re all just moving it subconsciously together.”

“What’s your name?” Brian asks, shakily, and Adam glares at him. The planchette moves faster this time, but the board still isn’t quite even, and it catches. The four watch intently, lips moving as it stops on each letter in turn, and they don’t look away when it comes to a rest back in the center of the board. “Nancy?” Brian cocks his head. “Who’s Nancy?”

“I thought it spelled ‘Kelly’,” Pepper says.

Dog whines. 

“Alright, that’s it, let’s put it back in the box,” Adam says suddenly. “You know, I dunno if we should take it to Anathema tomorrow or whatever, but definitely time to put it away -”

“Yep,” Pepper agrees, withdrawing her hand as if she’d been burned. Brian and Wensley follow suit almost instantly. “Yep, absolutely, we’ll take it to Anathema tomorrow and -”

The planchette moves again. The three human teenagers scream, and the former antichrist winces. This time it doesn’t catch, there’s no halting movement. ‘A D A M Y O U N G’ it spells.

“Oh, shit,” says Adam, before the four teens and the dog bolt from the tent.

The path from the hollow to Jasmine cottage is well-worn, these days, and they don’t need a lantern to get there in the dark. Still, they aren’t stealthy about it, and before they can reach Anathema’s door she is out of bed and pulling her robe on, less out of a sense of premonition and more because they sound of four teenagers crashing through the underbrush, with accompaniment of a frantically barking dog, is fairly difficulty to sleep through. Newton stirs, but she slips from the room and to the front door, pulling it open before Pepper can bring her hand down for the first knock. They all scream. Anathema blinks.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t mean it!” Brian says frantically. “I thought it would be a laugh!”

“Brian talked us into a Ouija board,” Pepper explains, when Anathema raises a hand to stop the taller boy.

Adam adds quickly, “I told them it was probably a bad idea. I didn’t touch it.”

Anathema’s eyebrows are raised. “Like the board game?”

“It moved on its own,” Wensleydale insisted. “No, miss, really, I know it sounds crazy, but it did, honestly.”

“It spelled my name,” Adam said quietly. “And they weren’t even touching it.”

“Oh.” Anathema is just about to say that she’s sure there is a logical explanation for this - it’s a board game, for goodness’ sake - when Dog begins his frantic barking once again, this time directed at the garden gate. They all look.

The board is propped up against the gatepost, planchette in the grass just in front of it. It glows.

“Ah.” Anathema swallows, and steps aside. “Why don’t you kids come in. I’ll make tea. And Adam, I’d call your godfathers.”

-

By all the map applications, it takes approximately 2 hours to get from South Downs to Tadfield. In reality, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive at Jasmine Cottage exactly seventy-five minutes after Adam called them and explained the situation. Anathema, Dog, and the Them meet them in the front garden, while the engine of the Bentley quietly cools at the curb. The notes of Queen still hang in the air, faint as the smell of lilac on the breeze.

“I thought you said it was in the front garden,” Aziraphale says, looking around. “By the gate?”

“It was when I called you,” Adam says, looking miserable. “Sorry, guys, I knew it was a bad idea, really, I should have talked Them out of it more -”

“I should have listened,” Brian whimpers.

“Not to worry, my dear boy, they sell them in every games shop. You weren’t to know.” Aziraphale pats Adam on the shoulder, and Brian as well. 

“So it moved inside?” Crowley asks.

Anathema nods, slowly. “Ye-es. How did you -?”

“I recognize the style. What’s it doing now?”

“Well,” Pepper says hesitantly, “we tried to set it on fire -” Crowley winces “- Yeah. And then when it didn’t catch Anathema drew a circle around it with salt and it’s just sitting on the table. The planchette keeps moving.”

“What’s it spelling?”

“My name,” Adam says glumly. “And ‘kill’ and either Kelly or Nancy, we’re not sure. And then it just, bounces back and forth, left-to-right.”

“Sometimes it makes a figure-of-eight,” Wensleydale adds. Crowley groans. 

“Well, that’s alright then. Come on, we can sort this out in a minute.” He pushes past the group and into the cottage, taking a few backwards steps while he asks, “Where’s Newt?”

“Upstairs, asleep.” Anathema sounds somewhat testy about it. Aziraphale tuts, and follows Crowley, indicating for the others to follow.

“Knew I liked him,” Crowley says.

“Just stay behind me,” Aziraphale adds.

In the kitchen, the Ouija board is on the table, surrounded by a circle of salt. The planchette is on fire, swinging right-to-left across the face of the board in a smooth arc. Crowley looks annoyed as he breaks the salt circle from the outside. “Alright, Zozo that’s enough.” The planchette stops for a minute, and then begins to slide across the board. “Don’t do the spelling thing, I don’t have all night.”

There is a flash and a whiff of sulfur and ozone, and then there is a demon standing on the table. They are short, and stout, with frizzled dark hair and smoke rising from their shoulders and a big, toothy grin. “Crawly! It’s been ages!”

“Yeah, it’s Crowley now. Are you still possessing these things?”

“And you’re with the angel, still,” the demon - Zozo, presumably - says, ignoring the question, and taking in the cadre standing in the door to the kitchen. “Oh, and the witch, nice work on the salt circle here, and yes, the young Mr. Young! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?” Adam asks, sounding distinctly unhappy about it.

“Of course! You were the talk of the town Down There after the whole business with the Apocalypse. My if the higher-ups weren’t furious about the whole thing! But I said, he’s his father’s son, I said, rebellious to the last and -”

“That’s enough,” Aziraphale snaps, in a tone that brooked no argument. Zozo’s jaw clapped shut. 

“Well, in a good way,” they said then, after a minute. “Saving Earth instead of destroying it? I tell you what, kid, and don’t let anyone hear me say this, present company excepted, but that was some real slick work.” Zozo winks then, and Crowley groans. “Us Earthside agents weren’t all gung-ho for the whole war business. You guys have some pretty sweet digs going up here.”

“Alright, yes, that’s great Zozo, why are you still possessing Ouija boards?” Crowley groans. “You got freed from that bargain centuries ago, I thought. Just after - was it during the Qing dynasty?”

“During, actually,” Zozo corrects, sitting down on the table and toying with the planchette. “Yeah, I was, but you know, well, the tempting still needed to be done, and old habits and all.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale nods. “And you were going to tempt Adam and his friends, were you?”

“Me? No, angel, never.” Zozo scoffs, and raises their hands placatingly. “What, you think I would go up against Adam Young, former antichrist? Me? A demon of the first circle? Minor tempter and general nuisance Zozo?” Aziraphale shrugs. “No, never. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Well you picked a creepy way of doing it,” Adam snaps. “You didn’t have to follow us. Or catch fire. Or all that.”

“Everybody’s got to have some style, right, Crowley?” Zozo turns to smile at their fellow demon, and when their enthusiasm was met with a scowl, they shrank a little. “Right. Okay, so it was creepy. Noted. Sorry.” 

Crowley sniffs. “I think you ought to go.”

“I’m getting that message, yeah.” Zozo raises a finger. “But, uh, a word of advice? To the kids?”

“Depends,” Aziraphale and Crowley say in unison, and then look embarrassed about it. Zozo just grins.

“Not temptation I promise. Like I said, don’t let anybody catch me giving you this tip, though. I’m not immune to Holy Water.” Zozo spares a glance to Crowley, and then lowers their voice and says, “Adam, listen, you’re lucky it was just me came through tonight, but if I were you I’d get rid of the board, alright? You never know who might show up.”

Adam looks to Crowley and Aziraphale, and then nods. “O-kay. Yeah.” He looks to his friends. “Right?” They nod, fervently. “Right, yeah. Do uh, is there a certain way we have to get rid of it?”

Zozo and Crowley, as one, look amused. “Nah,” says the lesser demon. “This old thing is just cardboard. Doesn’t work unless you really truly believe, and someone on the other end feels like giving you the time of day. But in your case …”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Zozo brightens. “You could probably donate it to a charity or something. Maybe get a tax deduction. Pass the wealth forward, as it were. I promise I won’t tell anybody to murder anyone through it.”

“Hm,” Aziraphale says, lips pressing to a thin line. 

“We’ll think about it,” Anathema says, laying a hand on Adam’s shoulder. 

“Or just burn it,” Zozo sighs, defeated. “That works too.”

“Much more likely,” Crowley agrees. 

“Okay, well, nice meeting you, Adam Young.” Zozo waves, and positions themselves cross-legged on the table, smudged salt ring crackling under their boots. “Good seeing you again, Crowley. If you’re ever around Dallas feel free to stop in.”

“I won’t be.”

“Don’t blame you for that one. Right. Bye!” And with a sort of odd, cold sucking sound, Zozo vanishes, leaving behind a scorched cardboard board and a planchette, clattering to the floor. 

Aziraphale breaks the silence. “Well. They seemed alright, for a demon.”

“Don’t start,” Crowley warns. “Right, let’s burn this thing and then you all can go back to - what were you doing?”

“Camping,” Brian says, from behind Anathema, while Crowley collects the board and the planchette.

“Why?”

Adam shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed fun. Hanging out, camping, playing games.”

Aziraphale nods. “Certainly, well, yes, but perhaps next time snakes and ladders might be more apropos.”

“That’s for little kids,” Pepper points out. 

“Monopoly?”

Crowley brushes past. “Nice try, angel.”

“Are kids not playing Monopoly anymore?”

“I don’t think they ever were,” Anathema says, laying a sympathetic hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, as they and the Them follow Crowley into the garden. “It’s a more adult game.”

“Is it? I thought children liked it.”

Wensleydale looks interested. “I always liked it.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, in the tone of one who has experienced first-hand on numerous occasions Wensleydale’s devoted love of the game of Monopoly. “Yeah, you have. Even though it’s a capitalist propaganda game, and no matter how many times I tell you that.”

“We could go back to my place,” Adam says, while Crowley sets the game board in the firepit and sets it aflame. He does not use a lighter. “Play Fortnite.”

“That wouldn’t be camping, would it?” Brian looks put-out. “I like camping. Being outside.”

Crowley sidles away from the firepit as the flames die down, hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong with normal teen stuff? Smoke some weed, drink some cheap booze -”

“Crowley!” Anathema and Aziraphale say in unison, and Crowley has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

“Right, sorry. Do not do those things, teens, Adam. Stay in school and all that.” He moves toward the Bentley. “You ready to go, angel?”

“Yes, I suppose.” Aziraphale looks to Adam and the Them. “Do have fun camping but please, if you ever get the urge to contact the spirit realm or think you might have a possibility of summoning a demon, please call us first next time. Or if you actually need to summon a demon for some reason -”

“Right, call Crowley, I know.” Adam nods, and smiles. “I got it, I promise. No more occulty stuff without you or Anathema. Right, guys?”

“Right,” the Them agree. 

“Promise,” Adam confirms. Aziraphale nods, and turns to head toward the car, and the collected humans wave goodbye. “Drive safe!”

“He doesn’t,” Aziraphale replies with resignation, before the doors to the Bentley close and the car peels off into the night. 

“Hey, Adam?” Wensleydale asks, while the watch the car go, “if they’re all supernatural, right? Why do they always drive?”

“Because they’re kind of stupid,” Adam says, still smiling. Anathema covers her mouth with a hand, and turns away. “But that’s alright. Oh. And don’t tell them I said that.”

“You think they know?” Pepper asks. “6000 years, they ought to know.” Anathema has a coughing fit, which sounds suspiciously like laughter, and retreats into the cottage with a hurried ‘goodnight’ to the Them. 

Adam begins out of the garden, and his friends fall into formation behind him. “I really don’t think they know. Well. Crowley might suspect it. But he has anxiety so I think he probably tells himself it’s all in his own head.”

Brian nods. “Yeah. I get that. So what’re we gonna do now?”

“Sleep?” Wensleydale suggests. “We could sleep. It’s already half three.”

“Not much point in sleeping then, is there?” Pepper points out. “You know, I did bring Clue.”

“I like Clue,” Brian says eagerly. 

Adam nods, and Dog bounds at his side, back toward the tent. “Yeah. Me too. And you can’t summon any demons with Clue, so that’s alright for tonight.”