This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. To top of Derien's Trivial Little Place
Title: What Didn't Happen Later
Fandom: Good Omens
Notes: For Daegaer - the long-ago promised sequel to the second of "Three Things That Never Happened To Anthony Crowley." She gave me that for my birthday, and I told her I had an inspiration from it. I fully intended to complete it before her birthday (exactly a month after mine.) So I'm one year, one month and one week late. I beg genetics - my whole family is like this.
* * * * * *
"Ah, there you are. I was just thinking of you," Aziraphale greeted him.
Well, that explained the sudden urge which had brought Crowley halfway across town to visit the bookshop. Although Aziraphale's tone indicated the thinking had not all been pleasant, after only a minor hitch in his stride Crowley determinedly continued sauntering on into the bookshop. He should have expected this would be an upbraiding, by the warning pricking in his thumbs.
"I had the most extraordinary encounter today," the angel continued, carefully placing a bookmark and setting the volume down on the counter. "You remember the young lady I met at the book club I was attending a while back? The one who rather suddenly refused to see me anymore after," he gave Crowley a glare full of long-buried anger, "having met someone on the street who convinced her to have sex with him, thereby ruining her sense of self-esteem, making her feel dirty and cheap and undeserving of anyone nice? Oh, you DO remember her? I'm glad. Well, I ran into her in a shop, today, and we ended up having lunch and catching up on old times."
"Oh yes?" Crowley responded, guardedly. "And how is she?"
"Oh, doing swimmingly, now. Seems she had a rough time for a while, though. Got mixed up with a young man who treated her very badly. She told me the tale. It was very odd how she happened to meet him. The day after she last saw me she had a sudden desire to put on something black and slinky and go out to a nightclub. Now she's gotten psychology she puts that down to her self-esteem being low at the time and trying to use casual sex to fill the void. What was odder, as she'd never in her life had such a desire before, was that she perused her wardrobe and found just such a black, slinky dress as she had envisioned." He gave Crowley another meaningful glare.
"Probably left there by a girlfriend. She probably caught sight of the dress and that put the thought into her mind."
"Yes, well. Personally I might ascribe to the old-fashioned notion that it a demon putting ideas into her head."
"It might have helped her self-esteem, though. Positive attention often does. Besides, it was an opportunity to meet someone else who could be good for her." He'd never been clear on some of those details of modern psychology. Casual sex was now supposed to be a not-good way of increasing self-esteem? Somehow he'd gotten all confused on that - it must have been the 70's.
Aziraphale's expression was one of restrained annoyance with a simpleton. "Whatever the case, she put said dress on and went to the aforementioned nightclub, whereat she met an exciting young man. Before she knew it he was living in her house."
"Leach," Crowley inserted, scowling. "Not at all the sort of person she should have met."
"At first things were fine, but after a while he became increasingly controlling, and eventually began to hit her."
"Piece of garbage leach," Crowley corrected himself.
"One night he came home in a rage and said that she was cheating on him and had better break it off with her boyfriend and tell him to stop threatening. She insisted she had not sent any boyfriend to threaten him, and that she would never cheat on him, but to no avail. He insisted there was no other explanation for some tough who called himself her guardian angel, and he beat her rather badly."
A muscle twitched in Crowley's jaw.
"But can you imagine what happened the next day?"
"Not at all, why don't you enlighten me?"
"Her young man disappeared. Gone, without a trace. Last seen by witnesses having an intense conversation with a man in a black suit wearing dark glasses."
"How very odd."
"Yes. Well, I assured her, my dear, that I did not think he'd be returning, as I know the type."
"Oh," said Crowley, scrutinizing his cuticles, "I'm sure you're right, angel. I shouldn't expect to be seeing him bothering anyone ever again."
"My dear boy," Aziraphale murmured, sadly, as he stepped from behind the counter. "I never did understand why you felt you had any right to interfere in my life. But it was all a long while ago, now. And given that you've tried to correct the damage you did, well. I think it's best to forget the whole thing ever happened. I'll get my jacket and we can go have dinner."
Crowley quietly footed the bill for a meal extravagant with wine.