Fifteen minutes after the duck had been conjured and Harry was less one hockey stick, the three parties were sitting at the front table in much the same way they had been a week ago. The atmosphere, however, was noticeably testier. As Aziraphale was wrapping up explaining basic information to Harry, the once more fully suited Crowley busied himself with tracking the duck, who had waddled somewhere behind one of Harry's wooden cabinets.
"I'm confused," said Harry, upon the conclusion of Aziraphale's speech. The angel gave him an encouraging look, donned by lecturers who were eager to know their audience had been paying attention. "You two work together?"
"In a manner of speaking," answered Crowley.
"We're friends," supplied Aziraphale.
"In a manner of speaking," repeated Crowley.
"An angel of heaven friends with a demon from hell?" the wizard said, skeptically. "Shouldn't you two be trying to annihilate each other?"
Aziraphale and Crowley traded glances. "Well," began Aziraphale. "I admit it was awkward at first. Opposing firms and traditions and all that."
"We've known each other a long time," said the demon.
"After a millennia you start to get used to a familiar face," added Aziraphale. "And besides, I know that despite all his many faults, underneath it all, Crowley is really a very-"
"Could we hold off on the 'Crowley's A Good Person' campaign until after we've concluded our business here?" the demon cut off.
"I don't get this," Harry stated, still lost in the first section of scene unfolding in front of him. "Won't you two….get in trouble?" he asked lamely for the lack of a better phrase. "Isn't getting friendly with the enemy a big no?"
"It's kind of amazing how much our higher ups don't care as long as we get our jobs done," said Crowley, lightly. "And really, you people are so good at making yourselves miserable, I barely have to lift a finger."
"From him that's a compliment, I expect," said Aziraphale to spare Harry's feelings while giving the demon a disapproving look that got ignored.
"Neither one of you looks very holy or demonic," the wizard observed, almost stubbornly.
Crowley blew out a breath of annoyed air. "You want we should walk around with a halo and a pitchfork?"
"What do you want with Bob's skull?" asked Harry, pointedly directing his question to the demon.
"Well, it's a very fascinating case, really," said the angel, leaning forward to answer. There was plain eagerness on his face, matching that of a bird enthusiast who had just spotted a very rare species of thrush. "It's the first and quite possibly the one of its kind. And it seems only appropriate for me to say that the situation has given my colleague here and myself, ample fodder to discuss the more subtle aspects of free will and the nature of culpability as well as-"
"Look, your friend's soul should have gone to hell the minute he died," Crowley interrupted, knowing from painful experience that Aziraphale had it in him to go off on a tangent for hours. "But instead, you wizards got all clever and decided to trap his soul here. Hence, my boss has got a polished seat in hell that's been waiting over five centuries to get filled."
"But that's not the interesting portion," Aziraphale continued, unfazed. "Not only has the soul remained on earth, but it has managed to interact with other humans. More so than any other lingering spirit. Now," said the angel, smiling at the pure joy of an intellectual debate. "The question remains, should his actions since his demise weigh in on where his soul goes? Ah ha! You see there? A very tricky conundrum."
From behind his shades, Crowley rolled his eyes, a gesture that Harry could sense rather than see.
"There's no trick to it," said the demon. "Rules are you get judged based on sins and good deeds when you were alive. Your friend Bob is as dead as they get and trust me, he was going to hell. If it weren't for some bloody minded heavenly do-gooders getting interested in a few good deeds he did after he'd kicked it, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. And I most certainly would not be stuck in this charming little Midwestern cowtown."
"What Crowley is trying to say," sighed Aziraphale, patiently. "Is that the matter is up for debate."
"So…you were going to take the skull so that you could-"
"Come to an answer as to where he should go, yes," answered the angel.
"So why didn't you just take it? You had a chance to last week."
"See?" Crowley exclaimed, waving a frustrated hand. "Even he's asking why we didn't do the smart thing."
"We didn't feel it was fair," answered Aziraphale, kindly. "Or rather I didn't feel it was fair," he amended at Crowley's pointed cough. "I know how dear the skull is to you and it didn't seem right to just take it away without offering you an explanation. In addition," the angel continued with a praising expression. "I've known a little bit about your life, Mr. Dresden, and you seem a very nice man who only works to ensure justice and goodness persevere, even at the cost to your own well being. It's an admirable quality that I find most inspiring."
Harry blinked at the effusive compliments. "Um, thanks," he replied.
"Wonderful," said Crowley with considerably less enthusiasm. "If we're all done with this lovefest, can we have the skull now?"
"I see."
Harry gave Bob an incredulous stare. "That's your response? 'I see'?"
"Trust me, Harry. It would take considerably longer for me to fully express my actual response to all of this and it seems time is of the essence at the moment," the ghost replied, irritably.
The two were speaking in hushed tones in the back of Harry's kitchen. Every once in awhile, the wizard craned his neck to look back toward his storefront where his two guests sat. The angel was patiently poring over one of the wizard's books in quiet fascination while the demon was doing the same, only smirking every once in awhile at something he was reading.
"I'm not even convinced these guys are who they say they are," Harry speculated. "Who ever heard of an angel and demon being friends? Although," he continued, gesturing to Crowley. "That guy's definitely some kind of demon."
"If the other is an angel as he claims," said Bob. "It would explain how he is able to move past your defenses without any trouble. All protective wards are designed to only keep out harmful forces. An angel wouldn't fit into that category."
"So how'd the other one get through?"
"Well…as you say. They are friends."
"Great," Harry sighed. "Of all the angels out there, I get the one who's got a demon as a best friend." He could note down the Christian forces as yet another group conspiring to work against him in this universe. "Either way, we have to figure out how to get you out of here without them knowing. Maybe Morgan. Think his invisibility trick will work on them?"
"Doubtful."
"Worth a try, though."
"Harry, even if you were successful in getting me out of here, what do you intend to do afterwards?" Bob questioned. "You'll be putting yourself against two powerful beings and I doubt you stand a chance. They obviously have sufficient power to match whatever defense you may have. Plus, you don't even have your staff anymore."
"Let me worry about that," Harry insisted. "In any case, I still have the drumstick," he added, brandishing it as evidence.
The ghost looked unimpressed. "No doubt with a gesture Mr. Crowley will turn that into a swan to match the duck."
"Bob, let's just concentrate on priorities here," Harry instructed. "First things first: getting you out. Now, what about that Hareos solution? If we coat your skull in that, we can make it invisible and maybe-"
"That takes six hours to prepare properly," Bob interjected.
"What about mirror potion thing?" Harry tried. "It can create a duplicate of any object right?"
"That remains intangible. The second one of them tries to pick it up they'll know."
"That Mimen spell? Makes the diversion thrall."
"You don't have the materials for it."
"You have any ideas?" snapped Harry.
"Yes, just one."
"I'm not handing you over," the wizard stated, guessing the ghost's suggestion. "Even if those guys are telling me the truth, from what I'm being told you've got an equal chance of going to hell as going to heaven."
"From what I hear, even less so," noted Bob with a morbid smile.
"Would you take this seriously?" Harry demanded.
"I've been taking it seriously for a few centuries now," said the spirit. "To tell you the truth, I didn't think a day would come when I'd be offered a chance to move past my current, unvarying state."
"You're honestly telling me you'd rather go to hell than stay here?"
Seeing the nakedly hurt expression on Harry's face, Bob shook his head. "It's not as simple as that."
"Then what is it?" asked the wizard, still looking injured. "Life with me is really that bad?"
"Of course not," said the spirit. "But you won't always be my keeper, will you? Has it occurred to you how often I consider what will happen when you're gone?"
"Bob-"
"You have one lifetime to experience and worry about. I have eternity to think on."
"This is not a hundred percent guarantee," the wizard argued. "Whatever happened to cost benefit analysis? I let them take you and for all I know they'll break the protection spells around your skull and just destroy you."
"Harry, it seems that if they were so set on smashing my skull, they could have done so during their first visit here," said Bob with a noticeably more patient tone. He gave Harry a slight smile. "It's not ideal and I most certainly don't relish the notion of eternity stuck in the pits of hell. But I rather you not having to risk your life in trying to prevent something that I'm starting to believe is inevitable."
"But…Bob…"
"It's alright, Harry."
"Yeah, only…it's not."
"You know he's trying to come up with a plan of escape, don't you?" said Crowley, keeping his eyes on his book.
"I'm sure he'll see reason," Aziraphale assured. The angel had abandoned his reading to settle down the wandering duck that had begun to quack, noisily.
"Is that what your burnt coat thinks too?"
Sitting the duck on his lap, Aziraphale gave it a comforting pat. Soon, he had a battered hockey stick balanced on his knee. "Mr. Dresden deserves the benefit of the doubt," he stated. As if to prove the angel's point, Harry finally returned to the front office with the skull in hand. The much-discussed ghost was trailing behind him. Seeing the two, Aziraphale got to his feet with a wide smile. "You see, Crowley? I told you he would see reason. It's very nice to make your acquaintance," he addressed warmly to Bob.
"This wasn't your attitude the first time I pointed him out to you," said Crowley, also getting to his feet. Studying the ghost, the demon's excellent memory for faces confirmed this was the wizard he'd drunkenly gestured to all those centuries ago in that small tavern. "You're looking good for a damned soul, Bob," he commented. Crowley was sure that the wizard had gone by a different name in the past, but couldn't remember what it had been.
"How very kind," snarked the ghost. Crowley grinned.
The demon motioned for the skull that Harry only tightened his grip on. Seeing the gesture, Aziraphale placed an assuring hand on the wizard's arm. "Mr. Dresden, I promise that all will be well," he said quietly. "I have an excellent feeling on this."
Harry saw the comforting shine in the angel's blue eyes and refused to be placated. "I'm only doing this because it's not my decision," he stated. "It's Bob's. And I'm respecting it."
Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic smile. "Very good of you."
"If it makes you feel any better," added Crowley. "Hell's not that bad. Challenging and paranoia-inducing, yes. But you'll never be bored." All three stared at the demon. "What? Look, I'm the only one of us that's seen both places and honestly? Heaven's pretty dull. Yeah, hell's not exactly a picnic, but people exaggerate."
"Yes, well, you may not even have to worry about that," Aziraphale said his eternal optimism. "Now, if you will?" The angel held out his hand. Grudgingly, Harry handed the skull over. "Thank you, Mr. Dresden. You've been very cooperative."
"He speaks only on his behalf," Crowley mentioned.
Remaining unperturbed, Aziraphale motioned Crowley to follow him closer to the front door to give the two wizards a chance to say goodbye. While he heaved a long-suffering sigh, the demon did as he was told, though he held the door open to illustrate how quickly the goodbyes should last.
"Harry."
"Bob."
Guessing he had about 10 seconds to pull together everything he'd wanted to say to the ghost, Harry found it was impossible. He supposed it would most likely be impossible had he even hours to do so. There was too much to say and anything that came to the wizard's mind seemed inadequate. So instead Harry walked as close to the ghost without actually touching him and came up with the only thing he could say.
"Thank you."
Bob smiled understandingly. "Likewise," he replied. The wizard looked years younger then and the ghost suddenly had a distinct memory of how small and frightened Harry used to look when he'd first come to live in the Morningway Estate. Only 11 and having seen more than any child should. "Harry, everything will be alright," said Bob, echoing what he'd once told his former student when the boy had sought him out after experiencing nightmares in his early days at the house.
"Think so?" asked Harry, giving him a shaky smile.
"Yes, I do."
Harry nodded trustingly. He'd refused to give into the assurance the angel had to offer. But Bob's was another story entirely. "Okay, then."
He watched the ghost disappear into the skull in Aziraphale's hand and kept his eye on it as the angel exited the front door with the demon next to him.
Despite there no longer being a reason to stay in lockdown, Harry didn't leave his apartment. He'd half been expecting the Council to break down his door, demanding to know the whereabouts of the skull. But it'd been two days since he'd said goodbye and there hadn't been so much as a ripple.
Harry felt alone and thoroughly abandoned.
On the third day he'd been contemplating contacting Morgan himself when the bell above his front door, chimed, indicating a customer. Sighing, Harry considered calling out that he was closed and was working up the energy to do so when he saw who it was.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Dresden!" said Aziraphale cheerfully.
"What the hell are you doing back here?" asked Harry, not bothering an attempt at politeness. But the angel didn't look bothered.
"We've come to return what's yours," announced Aziraphale, who was only too glad to bring happy tidings to people.
"Bob? You mean Bob?" said Harry. His dark eyes eagerly searched over the angel's form. He had a new, undamaged coat, but there was no sign of the familiar skull.
"Oh, Crowley has him outside," explained Aziraphale, indicating a car parked across the street. "They're just exchanging a few words. I know he'd never admit it, but I do believe Crowley's taking a liking to your friend."
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Well, it was a very fascinating trial," began Aziraphale. He was starting to adopt that lecturing tone again, but caught the anxious look on the wizard's face and controlled himself. "But basically, I successfully argued that as it stood, the good deeds done by your friend deserved to be counted when weighing in where he should go. The opposing side wasn't very happy with that, as you might imagine. So I suggested that we allow him to return to you to continue existing until the wizards who had created his current punishment released him from it. Give the other team a fighting chance to try obtaining his soul, as it were."
"And they agreed to that?"
"Well, they didn't at first," Aziraphale admitted with an apologetic cough. "I'm afraid they felt that it wasn't very fair, considering he was technically bound for hell when he died. But," he continued with a happier expression. "Crowley put up a very good argument for prolonged existence."
"What do you mean?"
"He pointed out that the ghost's current state of ineffectualness was in a sense, a very gruesome punishment quite fitting of hell itself. And that in a way, he had been suffering quite a bit during his forced stay on earth. He also put up the supposition that during the time he will have left on this planet, the ghost may do more damage to those around him, benefiting the Enemy." Seeing the look on Harry's face, Aziraphale added. "I personally believe that won't happen, but I could see it was a good incentive for the opposing side so I simply kept quiet. And I knew how happy it would make you so there you have it."
"Just…like that?" said Harry, still inching his way toward the elation he was about to feel.
"Would you like to hear in more detail about the trial?" Aziraphale asked, earnestly.
"Uh, no, that's fine," Harry answered. "I'm just…getting over the shock."
"I promised all would be well, didn't I?" said the angel, giving him a clap on the shoulder. "And I think the opposing team was well convinced. Crowley is very good at persuading people. And he did you the lovely favor of helping to make sure we return the skull safely back to you."
"He did?"
"I always said there was a spark of goodness in him."
"I'm considering it an investment," stated Crowley from inside the car. Next to him, Bob mimed sitting in the passenger seat, though he was only partly successful. A closer inspection showed his left foot had sunken into the car's floor. "You're still going to hell as far as I can tell. Hopefully, I'll have snagged a few more souls by keeping you up here." Actually, Crowley was hoping he wouldn't have to deal with this again. It would most likely be another few hundred years before these wizards got around to freeing the skull to allow judgment to be passed. Maybe by then his boss would have lost some interest. Either way, Crowley wasn't eager to return to Chicago.
"Yes, so you said earlier."
"You might be doing good deeds now, but we're talking grains of sand to balance out a mountain of sins here," Crowley said. The demon dug around his suit jacket for the flask full of alcohol he'd created. He was due to board a plane with Aziraphale in a few hours and he wanted to be intoxicated enough to dull the suffering he was about to face at the hands of airline security that the angel would no doubt insist they go through like humans.
Bob looked strangely unbothered by Crowley's insistence on his final destination and instead seemed focused on something else on his mind. "You said you'd watched me earlier. When I was alive," he began. Crowley nodded, locating the flask and taking his first shot of what he generously estimated would be a hundred. "Were you there when she died?"
"Sure. I was there both times she died, actually."
"Do you know where she went?"
Crowley paused in lifting the flask to his lips again to give the ghost a disbelieving stare. "Wow, you're really going there." The demon laughed in utter amusement. "You know, Aziraphale would say your question is a testament to the endurance humans have at loving one another. I say it's a testament to how much humans secretly love torturing themselves. You're like the living, excuse me, dead embodiment of that Britney Spears song."
"Do you know?" asked the ghost again.
"You really want that answer?"
"Yes."
"Well, tough," said Crowley. "Because I don't know. I'm not in the habit of tracking every soul that makes its way downstairs. I mean, your planet offers so many more interesting activities. Besides, what good will it do you knowing? Ever think even if you two did end up in the same place she wouldn't want to see you?"
Bob looked past the demon on his side of the car, toward Harry's door before returning to stare out the front windows again. "I only…I need for her to know how sorry I am," he said, quietly.
"Look, I'm sure you have all sorts of fun memories of her to agonize over, but take a hint and let it go." The ghost didn't respond, but stared contemplatively at nothing in particular. When he didn't get a reply, the demon wondered if Bob was even hearing him. "Or whatever perversely pleases you," Crowley said, taking another drink. He peered out his window and saw Aziraphale opening the door from across the street and giving him a questioning look. Crowley recapped his flask and opened the car door. "Time to return you," he announced.
The ghost wordlessly de-formed and slid back into his skull that sat on the dashboard. Watching the last of the smoke disappear into the bones, Crowley shook his head. "Wizards," he muttered.
THE END