for salutosinedelectat

[sauntered_downward]

Follows this.

They couldn't just teleport themselves there. Any miracles, demonic or otherwise, would attract too much attention. No, Crowley was actually going to have to sit there, plugging their information into an online search engine, and do it all manually. Fluctuating airline prices were demonic work, and right now a trip to Japan was over six thousand pounds more expensive than if he had bought it three days earlier, which was totally outrageous. Crowley didn't know a lot about money except what it made men do to each other, he'd never had to. But now, making money appear out of nothing could turn the wrong eye on them if he wasn't careful.

Luckily, he had quite a few credit cards that never needed paying or had a limit on them. They would work in a pinch for a moment like this. He didn't know if that sort of perk-of-being-a-demon could ever be taken away from him, but he hoped not.

The flight itself was a long one, and Crowley settled himself in for it by making sure they were flying at least first class. That way they could see everyone coming at them and have a few glasses of wine on the journey.

"I don't think they know about these passports," Crowley says. "They might, but I doubt it. I had them made back during the last World War, just kept them in good condition."

The second World War was something that Crowley took responsibility for, but he hated every moment of it, and what his side did to make it worse made him sick. He was more than prepared to hide away if he needed to when things went wrong back then. And, at the time, he had also created a passport for Aziraphale, in case he wanted to come along. No other reason for that, he told himself.

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[salutosinedelectat]

Well, he's an angel. An angel who was made to do good, to protect. A Principality, even though he fails to see how he deserves to be called one anymore, after everything.

He's also not about to waste any time. He quickly goes around and hops in the passenger seat, holding on and ready.

Bet no one's ever seen one of those trollies move that fast. Nothing like a little combination of demonic and angelic panic to get you where you need to go.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley steps on the gas. The trolly moves. Not nearly as fast as the Bentley could, but it does go, shooting its way down the tarmac, towards----well, towards wherever they can go. Crowley doesn't even have a destination in mind, just away.

He glances back over his shoulder to see something dark and twisting moving down from the sky, following them at increasing speed.

"There it is!" Crowley cries. "Hold on, we're taking a hard left!"

[salutosinedelectat]

Away from the mortals, away from prying eyes and innocent lives, he hopes.

He sure takes in that suggestion and grabs onto what he can, twisting around to look behind them and oh good lord what IS that thing.

"Is it one of y--is it from Downstairs?!"

[sauntered_downward]

"Definitely not something you'd see up in Heaven," Crowley replies, taking a glance back at it. "It's got to be one of Hastur's. He's always taking bits off of one demon, gluing it on others, making it stronger, breeding something nastier under the bed."

He turns left sharply, riding them up onto a small patch of grass before back onto the tarmac, and then onto a bit of road. He digs for his mobile.

"If I remember, we're right near Narita-san Shinsho-ji Temple----might be able to do something there, get something, I don't know, blast it out of here."

[salutosinedelectat]

He bumps against the door when they turn, jostled as they go, but he really could care less about that right now.

He stares at Crowley. "A temple--what about--" Consecrated ground. Probably a good plan, certainly the only one they have right now that doesn't involve possibly destroying a whole block and ruining a couple of nights.

But... "Crowley--"

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley glances down at his phone, then up at the street, still pressing as hard as he can on the gas. "Looks like there's a whole park in the temple grounds, all that water is probably blessed. If we could lure it in there, it would be easy to knock it in. Just a few drops would do."

He doesn't fancy the idea of driving or running into anywhere consecrated. Especially throwing himself anywhere near holy water, so close and so far away from anything else, but---

He glances back. The black shape dives down, slamming itself on the ground right behind the trolly.

"I don't have another idea, do you, angel?"

[salutosinedelectat]

He stares at Crowley, then stares ahead, wide eyed, at the dark road. Holy water...and lots of it. Natural or unnatural deposits of water. Exactly the best place for them to go to either ward off or destroy this creature.

But.

He swallows dryly, feels short of breath, which is extra terrible when he doesn't need to breathe in the first place.

"I--" Think. Think, Aziraphale. "You--I'll get its attention, get it to the temple, you-- you drive out of the way."

[sauntered_downward]

"It's following me," Crowley says. "Especially if that's one of Hastur's, that means it's got my scent. It won't follow you."

Aziraphale could just get away. He could go somewhere in the temple, he could hide. It could easily just become Crowley's problem, and that would----well, it would be terrible, but he could manage it on his own. If Aziraphale was safe. But the angel could do something Crowley couldn't---touch the water, touch the blessed objects. Strike a miracle that could send the creature away.

The creature strikes again, this time hitting the back of the trolly, which swerves and shifts.

"If I drive the trolly into the water, you can teleport us both away. It might just follow it right into the water."

[salutosinedelectat]

"It's getting closer!" Yelling the obvious doesn't help, but it doesn't do any harm, either, so.

But he double takes at Crowley, still very much holding onto what he can so he's knocked out of his seat entirely. "Wh--" It is a plan, is the thing. It is a plan, but if it goes wrong, if Aziraphale makes even a single mistake, acts too late, the consequences should be about the worst possible.

Flashes of the trial. Of the small test demon. Of how they all cowered. Of the word 'assurance'. They aren't just risking discorporation.

He's staring at Crowley with genuine fear of someone who might lose everything on a single play of the cards.

"I--" He falters again. He tries to think, he tries he tries, but he's never been good at making up plans on the spot. "Crowley." The tone says all of it in one.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley's lips tighten into a thin line as he drives the trolly straight ahead. The temple gates, with a few lingering tourists, are up ahead of them, and Crowley barrels over the stairs to move up. The moment they drive over consecrated ground, he can feel it, the heat and discomfort of being there, being somewhere he's not supposed to. Somewhere holy. The thing behind them must feel it, too.

It grips onto the trolly again and slams it back, knocking Crowley up. He grips tighter onto the wheel.

"You can do it," he says to Aziraphale. "I trust you, you can save us both. You can save me."

It's just a discorporation for Aziraphale, but who knows where he'll end up without a body. Where he'd go. Crowley, well, he'd just be no more. It was almost easier that way.

[salutosinedelectat]

You can save us both. You can save me.

His ears are ringing. Why would an angel's ears be ringing? How would anyone's ears be ringing with all the awful racket of this particular endeavor?

He stares ahead, feels as the trolly rattles and shakes and is once again attacked and slammed. He's knocked against the door again - probably a bruise or four, should he ever actually get those - but he holds on tighter, keeps his eyes ahead, watches as tourists yell and run out of the way. As they start to reach the temple, ahead at the trees past it.

He's gripping the door as tight as he can. He's not even blinking.

"Okay." Quiet enough, considering the racket.

He can do this. He's got to.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley can see the glimmer of the water. No guards or anything around holy water, that still boggles his mind! But he thinks, he imagines the car can go faster. And the speed picks up, but the creature starts to circle it. Black, inky smoke, twisting in strange tendrils. Crowley can almost hear it sniffing, picking up the dying purple light in his palm that amplifies his aura and scent.

The creature twists and the trolly convulses.

"No, you don't!" Crowley says, and he presses harder. Faster. They head directly for the small, delicate looking red bridge over the body of water in the garden.

I'd like to thank Google Maps for the help

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale is pushed back against his seat, grimacing, waiting, still unblinking. Watching the car take some lower branches with it, the approaching red bridge, the rushing, the clattering and the shaking. And he has to wait, he has to wait until they're almost in the water, he has to make sure it touches the water, he--

The car crashes through the side of the bridge in a terrible sound, the water approaches at a deadly pace, he suddenly grips one of Crowley's hand on the wheel--


There's the millisecond of the front of the car hitting the water, and maybe even the splash against the windshield. But, then, a pull, and they're gone.

Right over the rest of the water, right outside the park, suddenly dropping on the hard ground of a mostly empty parking lot just outside the park limits. Aziraphale hits the asphalt with a grunt, but it's worth noting he never let go of the demon's hand.

Good thing it's dark. Can't just have a car crashing into a small lake and two people apparating out of thin air in the span of seconds, in a nice place like this.

Thanks, Momma Google!

[sauntered_downward]

There's a second, the second where the trolly hits the water, that he thinks that it's over. It's over, and they're about to crash into the water. It's over, and they're going in, and any second now he's going to be obliterated. And then Aziraphale's hand is over his, and he turns his head, and it's all right. It's all right if this is it, because Aziraphale is safe.

And then they're instantly outside of the park, landing in the carpark. He would say, if ever questioned, that he never doubted Aziraphale, not one second. But he also feels the intense desire to hug the angel, because that was a close one.

He grips his hand, glancing at the fading glowing spot on his other palm. It goes out, and he gives Aziraphale's hand a tug.

"This way!" He picks a direction. There are shops and restaurants on either side of the street. They can go anywhere.

[salutosinedelectat]

On Aziraphale's side, should he ever be asked, he will say that was the plan all along, and that he had everything under control. But he feels like he rather not bring it up ever again.

He holds onto the demon's hand (oh, sweet irony), rushing along with him. He looks back, but the lakes are too far and too well covered for him to be sure the creature died there. Certainly, it only needed to touch it, right? It should be over, right?

He looks forward again, around at the restaurants and shops. Considers the fact that they're not a particularly subtle presence here, more so than in London, but nobody seems to have noticed them. And that's fine, that's perfect.

He follows Crowley, and keeps an eye out around them, watching, sensing. "Did that do it?"

[sauntered_downward]

"For now," Crowley says. "But we'll need to stay low, at least until they work out that their big scary pet is dead."

He turns into the nearest shop, a ramen and sushi shop, and gives Aziraphale a tug inside. Not exactly how they wanted to see the restaurants and sights around Japan, but, well, it's something at least. And Crowley has no idea how many things are following them at this moment. Just the one? Dozens?

A very polite member of waitstaff steps up to them as they enter, and Crowley looks absolutely stunned. Do they look so normal right now? He feels completely ruffled.

[salutosinedelectat]

The thing about not knowing is that the possibilities are endless. There could be plants, right here, in the restaurant. That thing could still be following them, more quietly. The world could be back to ending tomorrow. Trying to consider all of the chances is just a fool's game.

He's looking around the restaurant when they're approached, and while he's still rattled, he still makes the effort to smile politely. He responds to the waitstaff in Japanese, a greeting, replies, a slight hesitation and faltering at a point, and a request for a table.

Do they look normal? Maybe. Maybe not. Possibly might be something odd to see what looks like a man in shades at night, or another one in a long pristine jacket, tartan bow tie and worn out vest. Maybe people are just polite.

They certainly have just been addressed as a couple, and Aziraphale is doing his usual song and dance of not talking about it.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley doesn't speak any Japanese. He's made it a point of not learning any language that wasn't completely local and essential at the time because it just wasn't necessary. And besides, Aziraphale can lead this. He's gotten them into and out of stranger things. Maybe not as dangerous.

There has to be some way to hide their scents, their auras, whatever it is that they're being tracked with. With everything that they send out to find them, they'll find something stronger next. Something with a better nose, faster and more deadly. Crowley knows it, and he's certain Aziraphale does, as well.

"What sort of alcohol do we have here?" he asks as they're seated.

[salutosinedelectat]

He's eyeing the room, but one will forgive him if he really just does want to settle down for a nice authentic dinner in a nice restaurant, and forget this whole ordeal for an hour or two. They did just spend over 10 hours on a flight, which nearly crashed, and were almost discorporated/destroyed by a terrible, violent creature they couldn't even identify. They do deserve to relax, no?

" Hm." He looks over the menu. "The usual, wine, beer. Sake and shochu if you'd like." He's still tense, still listening, but he keeps his tone light. Casual. Well, semi-casual.

"... Do you sense it?" He looks over at him, subtly.

[sauntered_downward]

"You order whatever's drinkable, I'll take it," he says.

Crowley looks over the menu but it doesn't even matter to him. Aziraphale always knows the best food, he can pick for them both. He looks at the door, then over his sunglasses at the other patrons. None of them look demonic, not to Crowley, anyway.

He concentrates on what he's sensing, but right now all he feels is tense. Normally, he'd chalk that up to being in a new place, new situation, very nearly being completely obliterated only a few moments earlier. But that could very easily mean a whole lot more now.

"What do you feel?" he asks.

[salutosinedelectat]

" Nothing, now." Which should be a good thing. The ideal thing. A sign that they took care of the creature and that they can breathe. He sure hopes so, anyway.

He takes a look around again, but is approached by waitstaff and broken out of it. More polite smiles, ordering drinks - which he could do with a couple of doses, now that they've landed and successfully not died - and food.

He folds his hands and looks out at the other tables. "I supposed that's that." At least, in regards to whatever that thing was.

[sauntered_downward]

"For now," Crowley agrees. He reaches up and presses a fingertip to his temples, reaching out his mind, trying to see if he can feel the thing, feel it anywhere nearby. All he feels is the city, the low levels of sin that he's used to seeking out everywhere.

"If it's still alive, it's not anywhere near us," he says. Does that mean they're safe? Certainly not. But staying around humans, staying here, in public, is probably the best they can do for the moment.

He looks over at Aziraphale and takes a breath. "Are you all right?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale looks at him, expression softening, and he does go to answer - but he falters and sighs instead, hanging his head slightly.

"Well, in one piece, so far." Which is more honest than he'd usually prefer to answer, but he's exhausted. And not even bad-day-art-work exhausted, since he does not sleep, but some way more visceral and honest, in his core.

He looks up at Crowley agai. "You?" How was it to stare actual death in the face less than 15 minutes ago?

[sauntered_downward]

How is he? Well, besides narrowly escaping actual death, seeing the water that could kill him come up to the car and just avoiding it, not to mention not having even what could have been a peaceful moment with his lifelong companion, he supposes he's doing all right. But he isn't about to say that. Aziraphale has had enough on him.

"I don't like how fast they found us," he says. "We hadn't even landed yet."

The waitress presents them with a bottle and several glasses. Despite how Crowley likes to be with people, he certainly can't be mean to this person. She's bringing him alcohol and essentially giving them a place to hide.

"We need a more permanent solution."

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale is very good at switching between polite smiles and his more genuine expressions, so they should be fine. Crowley doesn't need to take the mantle of having to look chipper towards mortals. He utters a 'thank you' to the water, and is entirely too happy to see alcohol again, their old friend. Some nice sake for the both of them.

"We do, but what?" He takes the bottle, pours them both a drink. "They're getting smarter, and clearly don't even care about making a scene." He puts the bottle back down, and stops, for just a second, thinking what could have been of the people on that plane. He shakes his head slightly, with a bad taste in his mouth.