#I saw that book bound by the Philly physician in the Mutter Museum once

[nerdythangs]

Day 8: Ouija

The only thing I managed to squeeze out for Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween prompt list. Y’all have been wonderful with this. Thank you, @racketghost, for keeping it spooky!!

--

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Crowley with a big yawn.

Aziraphale scoffed on the other line of the telephone. “I don’t believe I am! You might have been asleep, but I’ve been awake and have had plenty of time to think about it--”

“Fret about it, you mean.”

“--and not only is there a global pandemic, there are locusts by the thousands seen in Africa, both Australia and the West coast of the United States have been on fire, and don’t even get me started on the political climate--”

“You’re making the idea of going back to sleep really appealing right now, angel.”

“--there’s just no other conclusion: we’re at the end of times again. Our head offices have not contacted us since we have retired, but surely, surely they must answer my call if I were to reach out.”

Crowley poorly stifled another yawn. “And we all know how well the last call upstairs went.”

“Yes, which is why I’m requesting your presence.”

“My wot?”

“Your presence! You said we’re on our own side now, and I, to be frank, I, I don’t want to do this without you.” Aziraphale’s voice, which started off strong, trailed off to an uncharacteristic mumble.

Well, fuck. Crowley guessed he was finally getting out of bed. “Yeahyeahyeah, no, of course, yr’right,” he said while throwing the blanked off of himself and finally taking his eye mask off. “Just uhh,” he sniffed and cleared his throat, and blinked blearily into the dimly lit room, “gimme a minute and I’ll be over shortly.”

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said breathlessly over the other end, full of angelic sincerity, “I’ll make sure there’s a nice strong cup of tea waiting for you.”

“Nnn,” Crowley said.

A short while later, Crowley knocked on the book shop’s door and was greeted by a beaming angel. “Crowley! It’s so good to see you,” he said, as if he wasn’t expecting him. Crowley mumbled and walked into the shop.

“So how are you doing this?” Crowley asked, flopping onto his usual spot on the sofa.

“Ah, well, it is rather simple,” Aziraphale said excitedly. He picked up the edge of the ornate rug in the center of the shop and dragged it out of the way to reveal--

“An Ouija board?” Crowley took off his sunglasses to get a better look.

Aziraphale looked at the Ouija board, perfectly drawn into the floorboards of his shop, complete with an illustrated sun and moon. His face was passively blank and he was perfectly still until he began to blink and shake his head repeatedly, turned around on his heel, and walked straight to his ancient telephone.

With the angel’s back turned, Crowley could finally crack a smile, and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. He got up from the sofa and sauntered over to the Ouija board. He scuffed it with the toe of his boot to check that it was a permanent fixture.

“Yes, hello, Adam. This is Aziraphale, the, um, angel from the air base. Yes, that’s the one.”

In a fit of demonic childishness, Crowley hopped over to the A, leapt to the R, and then jumped over to the E.

“I’m doing fine,” Aziraphale said briskly, “Listen, there’s a reason for my call. I know you did your best when setting the world right after the Apocalypse, and I truly couldn’t be more grateful, but there seems to have been a mix up in my heavenly communication sigil that I usually kept on the floor of my bookshop. It ah,” he turned to watch Crowley skip to the Y, the O, and then the U, “it has turned into an Ouija board.”

“There… God…” Crowley mumbled to himself with a slight smirk as he stepped on each letter.

“Of course you’re not a celestial being, but I rather thought--”

“It’s… Me…”

“I don’t believe that Hasboro has the ability to call the Metatron.” Aziraphale began to sound a little tetchy.

“... M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T…” Crowley stomped both feet onto the T and beamed up at Aziraphale with a shiteating grin.

“Of course, dear boy. No, I understand. Thank you. Goodbye.” Aziraphale hung up the phone with a sigh.

Suddenly Crowley began to glow an unearthly glow and his body straightened to be perfectly rigid.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, sounding alarmed.

Slowly, Crowley walked to the Y with a forced stiffness and blank look on his face, while darting wild eyes to Aziraphale. He then walked to the O, then to U, and the R.”

Aziraphale scrambled to get a paper and pen, writing down every letter Crowley stepped on.  “N-A-M-E-I-S-N-O-T-M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T-A-N-D-T-H-I-S-I-S-N-O-T-T-H-E-E-N-D-O-F-T-I-M-E-S”

Crowley’s possessed corporation then walked to the “Goodbye” where he collapsed into a pile on the floor, gasping.

He turned to Aziraphale. “What the FUCK was that?” He shouted semi-hysterically, with his gasps sounding more like panting with each breath.

“Your name is not Margaret and this is not the end of times.” Aziraphale read aloud from the notepad and looked over to Crowley. “Well, I suppose I got my answer.”

Crowley pushed himself up to a seated position and stared a thousand yard stare at the Ouija board on the floor.

They both stayed silent for a moment.

“D’you got any Scotch? I feel like I deserve Scotch after that.”

Aziraphale’s face brightened. “Oh yes! I’ve got a bottle of Macallan that I picked up a few years back that hasn’t been opened yet.”

‘A few years back’ probably meant at least 20 years to Aziraphale, so Crowley picked himself up off the ground and dusted his pants. “Excellent, I want four fingers’ worth to start.”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale responded, puttering towards the back end of the shop. “And while you’re here,” he called from the back, “I’ll have to update you with everything that’s been going on. Did you know that they finally rediscovered that some books were bound in human leather? If they were to just ask me I would have told them about the volumes in my possession! Not that I’d show anyone of course, but I was there when they initially experimented with the technique, you know.”

Crowley shook his head as Aziraphale nattered on, letting a soft smile grace his face. This year might have gone to shit, but some things were worth waking up for.

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Books bound in human leather: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/20/books/review/dark-archives-megan-rosenbloom.html