You can't go home again [closed]

[erratic_hematic]

It's either incredibly late or incredibly early, and Spike is leaning up against the equestrian statue in front of the Natural History Museum looking, in general, like someone you wouldn't want to meet in the middle of the night. He's wearing his long leather coat despite the warm night, smoking a cigarette, and contemplating the front of the building.

The last time he'd been in (his universe's) New York, he's had a little storage room to himself down in the basement of the building. He's curious if it's still there in this universe, so many years later. Curious enough that he has both his lock pick set and a pry bar stored in his coat. Not quite curious enough yet to go and check out what the alarm systems look like.

Comments

[anguiform]

'Oh, fuckssake,' Crowley sighs, deeply aggrieved. 'I don't belong to him. We're independent operatives!'

He needs to start meeting people before Aziraphale does so that he can be Crowley's Aziraphale for once, he thinks huffily. Except that then he'd have to ~tell them all about Aziraphale, which he's not exactly inclined to do. And not that he has any desire to claim ownership over Aziraphale either. Oi.

Belatedly, it occurs to him that this bloke knowing Aziraphale at all is supremely unlikely, and he swings around, brows furrowing. 'Wait, wait, how do you know Aziraphale?

[erratic_hematic]

"I'm his star em-ploy-ee," Spike says, grinning at Crowley's confusion. He's sort of surprised that Aziraphale hadn't found a way to mentioning him yet. He's been so excited by the idea of having him in the store. Or maybe it's just that he's excited about someone being around to scare people off while he sleeps in the back.

"He pays me to sit there and scare people out of his personal collection. Not a bad gig."