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“Love. Flashes of love.”
Crowley sneered. “You're being ridiculous. Last thing we need right now is—”
A bang, a scream.
Aziraphale froze. “You hit something.”
“I didn't. Something hit me.”
Aziraphale let out a breath and got outside to see what had happened.
“Let there be light.”
How the hell did you do that?
Crowley stepped up beside Aziraphale and frowned.
I think I hit my head.
Aziraphale started healing her. “That’s it. No bones broken. There now, up you get. I can’t believe you hit a deer,” he chided Crowley, who hadn’t moved.
“I don’t think I did. Hit a deer.”
“What are you talking about? It’s too frightened to even run away.” Aziraphale miracled the light away again, but the deer still didn’t move, instead intently gazing at Crowley. He grimaced.
“No, Aziraphale, look. Really look.”
“What do you—oh dear.”
“Literally.”
Anathema stared at the two with wide, disbelieving eyes and took a step towards them. How do you know?
“Ironically, you are the closest thing to a human in miles,” Crowley said and looked to Aziraphale questioningly.
“You can’t seriously—of course we’ve got to help her!”
Yes, you do!
“Right, right, just making sure.”
“Poor dear.”
No need to rub it in.
“Apologies, my dear—oh dear, I meant—bugger…”
“We could also, I don’t know, check in with her next week when we’re sure, you know, the world isn’t ending. …Not to worry you.”
No, no I know.
“What, how do you—“
Anathema Device, professional occultist/witch. Great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter of Agnes Nutter, witch. Pleased to meet you.
“Witch, huh? What, did your latest spell backfire—” Crowley began but was interrupted by Aziraphale, who bore a slightly manic expression.
“The Agnes Nutter? Author of The Nice And Accurate Prophecies By Agnes Nutter, Witch?”
The very same.
“Oh! Dear girl—”
Crowley shot Anathema a warning glance to leave it.
“—you don’t happen to…?”
Oh sure, it’s in the cottage.
Aziraphale wriggled and made an excited noise, looking back and forth between a demon and a deer who did not share his enthusiasm.
Crowley nodded stoically. Couldn’t get much weirder than this. “So… where are we taking you?”
…
When bettyng for the crye
Keep deer and huntress in thine eye.
“That’s weirdly ominous.”
Just open another one.
…
“You. Milkbottle. I’m paying you,” Crowley said.
“What?”
“...didn't know you lot actually found witches.”
“Er.”
“Ah, well done. Now be a dear and—oh, I am sorry, my dear—argh” Aziraphale was close to tears.
"What?"
Crowley interrupted. "He doesn't like the d-word."
"That seems like personal info."
“Just go with book-girl here.”
“…You want me to watch the deer?”
“She’s watching you.”
That’s right.
“What?”
“You know Princess and The Frog?”
Thin frickin' ice.
Newt nodded.
“Well, that’s her. The green one."
Rude.
"Anyway, get to work.”
“To do what exactly?”
“Do I look like I have a plan? Just do something.”
…
In the End, Aziraphale wasn’t the only one Adam gave their body back.
Newt gasped. “You're not a frog!”