Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"SUPERSTITION"
"Impressive hardware," Aziraphale said as he picked up a paint gun. "I've looked at this gun. It's not a proper one at all. It just shoots paintballs." He acted as if it was the most extraordinary thing. Crowley snatched the gun out of his hands and pointed it at him.
"Don't your lot disapprove of guns?"
Aziraphale pushed the gun away from his face, "Unless they're in the right hands. Then they give weight to a moral argument. I think."
"A moral argument? Really?" Crowley chuckled, throwing the gun to the ground. This was the first time Amelia had seen him smile. She was guessing that smiling—or even laughing was extremely rare for the demon. "Come on." He started walking away, making Aziraphale and Amelia follow after him. The hospital was very vintage looking. "This is definitely the place," Crowley exclaimed while eyeing the inside. They walked the halls, trying to find what they needed—which was information. "Wonder where the nuns went."
"Oh, Millie from accounts caught me on the elbow!" A woman complained as she hurried into the room. "Who's winning?"
"You're all gonna lose," Crowley winked whilst pointing finger guns at her.
"What—What the hell did you just do?" Aziraphale questioned, watching as the woman turned to walk away.
A small smirk formed on his lips, "Well, they wanted real guns, so I gave them what they wanted." Gunshots were heard as soon as he said that, making Amelia's eyes widen.
"There are people out there shooting at each other."
"Well, it lends the weight to their moral argument," Crowley said while raising his foot up to kick a door open, "Everyone has free will, including the right to murder. Just think of it as a microcosm to the universe."
"T-They're murdering each other?" Amelia questioned. Crowley turned his attention to her, noticing the worried look plastered on her face.
"No, they aren't. No one's killing anyone. They're all having miraculous escapes. It wouldn't be any fun other wise." His answer seemed to lift some weight off of her shoulders.
"You know, Crowley. I've always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice—" Aziraphale was cut of as Crowley slammed him against the wall.
"Shut it! I'm a demon. I'm not nice. I'm never nice," Crowley hissed. Amelia's eyes widened at his sudden outburst. "Nice is a four-lettered word. I will not have—"
"Excuse me, gentlemen. Sorry to break up an intimate moment," A woman suddenly started, "Can I help you?" She stopped in her tracks as she looked at Crowley.
"You," he growled between clenched teeth.
The woman started to back up, "Saints and demons preserve us, it's Master Crowley." He snapped his fingers, making her mindlessly stand still.
"You didn't have to do that. You could of just asked her," Aziraphale said while fixing his bow tie.
"Oh—" Crowley choked out, "Of course, of course. No, yeah. Excuse me, ma'am. We're two supernatural entities just looking for the notorious Son of Satan. Wonder if you might help us with our enquiries?" Aziraphale sighed and walked up to the woman.
"Uh, ahem, look...hello. You weren't by any chance, a nun here at this convent 11 years ago, were you?" Crowley narrowed his eyes at the woman.
"I was," she said simply.
"Luck of the devil," Aziraphale quietly said towards Amelia with a small smile.
"What happened to the baby I gave you?" Crowley asked.
"I swapped him with the son of the American ambassador. Such a nice man. He used to be ambassador to Swindon," she answered happily. Crowley and Aziraphale stole at glance towards each other. "Then Sister Theresa Garrulous came and took the other baby away."
Crowley's patience was wearing thin, "This American ambassador, what was his name? Where did he come from and what did he do with the baby?"
"I don't know." Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed at her answer.
"Records. There must have been records," Aziraphale added.
"Yes. There were lots of records. We were very good at keeping records," she exclaimed.
"Well, where are they?"
"Burned in the fire," she informed.
Crowley groaned with annoyance, "Hastur!" Amelia couldn't help but wonder who Hastur was—and why Crowley wasn't a big fan of this person.
"Well, is there anything you remember about the baby?" Aziraphale asked.
She smiled, "He had lovely little toesie-woesies." Aziraphale smiled at this, causing Crowley to roll his eyes.
"Let's go," he sighed, starting to walk away.
"You will wake, having had a lovely dream about whatever you like best," Aziraphale stated kindly towards the woman.
"Oi," Crowley called, causing Amelia to look his way. Aziraphale quickly snapped his fingers and hurried off, as did Amelia. They walked out of the hospital, immediately noticing all of the cop cars that were parked out front.
"You think he'd show up, wouldn't you? You'd think we would detect him in some way."
"He won't show up—Not to us. Protective camouflage. He won't even know it, but his powers keep him hidden from prying occult forces," Crowley exclaimed.
"Occult forces?" Aziraphale questioned.
Crowley slid his hands inside his jean pockets as he walked, "You and me."
"I'm not occult," Aziraphale defended, "Angels aren't occult. We're ethereal." Crowley rolled his eyes and opened the car door. Amelia slid into the back seat and buckled up. Crowley switched on the radio, making "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen blast throughout the car.
"Must you have it so loud?" Aziraphale questioned. Crowley turned it up louder just to be an ass. Amelia held onto the seat as they sped recklessly down the road.
