Estate Sale
The last place that Crowley wanted to be was in upstate New York in December. He was a snake, after all, so being warm was pretty much out of the question when the temperature was in the negatives. Even in Fahrenheit. He had on about fifteen layers and was on his way to a quick temptation when he noticed a sign. "Estate Sale." And there was an address. There could be a lot of interesting things at an estate sale, he thought. The temptation could wait.
Crowley followed various signs with arrows until he made it to the rather enormous house where the sale was taking place. It looked more like a luxury hotel than a home, but that's what you did with money. Buy stupidly big houses that you don't actually need. He walked up to the house and signed in on the little guest book in front. Anthony J Crowley. He really did like that name. Just kind of flowed. When he stepped into the house, there were people milling about looking at all the various pieces of "look at me I'm rich." that were laying about.
"Excuse me." He said quietly. "Where can I find the books?" Houses like this always had books. The person he'd stopped did actually manage to know and pointed him in the right direction. Crowley was absolutely astonished when he walked into the rather large library. The house was four stories tall and the library stretched through all of them. There had to be thousands of books on the shelves.
"You're the first person to take an interest in this room." A short, grubby looking man with slacked back black hair and a bad suit said as he approached him.
"Are you in charge then?" Crowley asked.
"Yes. This was my father's house." He was about to start in on the sob story when Crowley waved him silent. "How much of this is for sale?" His eyes scanned the rows and rows of books.
"All of it. If you'd like I can give you a minute to go through it..." The man said. Crowley shook his head, waving him silent once again.
"I'll take them." He pulled a checkbook out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
"Um....I'm sorry?" The man tried to look confused but he had dollar signs in his eyes.
"I'll take them. The whole lot. How much?" Crowley started to fill in what he could on the check.
"There are some very rare volumes here...." The man started. Crowley sighed heavily.
"Name your price, man. I haven't got all day." He wanted to glare at him over his sunglasses but he didn't want to scare the man.
"Sixty thousand?" The man said before looking around the room again and giving Crowley an affirmative nod.
"Right. Sixty thousand then." Crowley filled in the amount on the check, put the pen back in his pocket and handed the check over to the man. "I'll need to have them shipped. I'll cover the cost of that as well."
"I...of course. Yes. Thank you, sir." It had taken the man a moment to get over how quickly the whole thing had happened.
"If you've got paper, I can give you the address." Crowley said expectantly.
"Oh yes." The man smiled and went over to a nearby desk, grabbing a piece of paper. Crowley wrote down the address and gave the man another check, this one blank to cover the cost of the shipping. He didn't care how much the man actually put on the check.
"If a single one of these books is damaged in any way when they get to this address I will be coming back here, do you understand?" This time Crowley let his glasses slip down just enough to see the yellow of his eyes. The man swallowed and nodded. "Good." Crowley then left and went on about his temptation.
Aziraphale had been expecting a typical Monday morning at his shop when he arrived. He hadn't had any new customers and Mr Franklin wasn't expected to pick up the rare book he'd ordered for another few days. He could sit at his desk and sip his cocoa and finish reading his most recent book. When he arrived at the shop, he noticed two rather large trucks out front. He was getting ready to get cross at the drivers when one of them walked up to him.
"Delivery for an A.Z. Fell. Would that be you?" The man asked. Aziraphale stood there for a moment. He hadn't been expecting a delivery.
"I....yes." He nodded.
"Sign here, sir." The man held out a clipboard. Aziraphale signed, still a bit confused. "Where do you want them, sir?"
"Them?" Had his brain actually stopped functioning?
"The boxes, sir. Where would you like us to put them?" The driver was trying not to get annoyed. The delivery was obviously a surprise.
"How many boxes?" Aziraphale was sure he could make room for three or four....
"One hundred and eighteen, sir." The man pointed to the packing slip on the clipboard. Aziraphale's eyes practically popped out of his head.
"I beg your pardon?" Where was he going to put that many boxes? And where had they come from? "Um....might I ask what's in the boxes?"
"Books, sir. Every single box is filled with books. Heavy buggars." The man chuckled.
"And how much money would you require for me to borrow one of your trucks? Just until I can figure out where to store them?" That many boxes there had to be thousands of books. Aziraphale's head started to swim.
"I'll have to call the head office, sir, but I don't think it'll be much of an issue." He nodded. "May I use your phone?"
"Of course." Aziraphale unlocked the door and gestured toward where the phone was sitting.
"Oh, sir. This was to be delivered as well." The man took an envelope off the clipboard and held it out.
"Thank you." Aziraphale said as he took the envelope. He'd be sorting through these books for years. He opened the envelope and looked at the note inside.
"Angel. Saw these books and thought you might like them. Enjoy. Anthony J Crowley." Written in the demon's handwriting. Even the way he wrote was serpentine. Aziraphale held the note to his chest and just looked at the two large trucks, sighing heavily.
"Why are you so nice to me?" Aziraphale shook his head and went inside to figure out where to put the books.
Across town, sitting in his flat Anthony J Crowley winced suddenly, feeling an unexpected pang that had come out of nowhere. It went as quickly as it came and he just shook it off.
Crowley followed various signs with arrows until he made it to the rather enormous house where the sale was taking place. It looked more like a luxury hotel than a home, but that's what you did with money. Buy stupidly big houses that you don't actually need. He walked up to the house and signed in on the little guest book in front. Anthony J Crowley. He really did like that name. Just kind of flowed. When he stepped into the house, there were people milling about looking at all the various pieces of "look at me I'm rich." that were laying about.
"Excuse me." He said quietly. "Where can I find the books?" Houses like this always had books. The person he'd stopped did actually manage to know and pointed him in the right direction. Crowley was absolutely astonished when he walked into the rather large library. The house was four stories tall and the library stretched through all of them. There had to be thousands of books on the shelves.
"You're the first person to take an interest in this room." A short, grubby looking man with slacked back black hair and a bad suit said as he approached him.
"Are you in charge then?" Crowley asked.
"Yes. This was my father's house." He was about to start in on the sob story when Crowley waved him silent. "How much of this is for sale?" His eyes scanned the rows and rows of books.
"All of it. If you'd like I can give you a minute to go through it..." The man said. Crowley shook his head, waving him silent once again.
"I'll take them." He pulled a checkbook out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
"Um....I'm sorry?" The man tried to look confused but he had dollar signs in his eyes.
"I'll take them. The whole lot. How much?" Crowley started to fill in what he could on the check.
"There are some very rare volumes here...." The man started. Crowley sighed heavily.
"Name your price, man. I haven't got all day." He wanted to glare at him over his sunglasses but he didn't want to scare the man.
"Sixty thousand?" The man said before looking around the room again and giving Crowley an affirmative nod.
"Right. Sixty thousand then." Crowley filled in the amount on the check, put the pen back in his pocket and handed the check over to the man. "I'll need to have them shipped. I'll cover the cost of that as well."
"I...of course. Yes. Thank you, sir." It had taken the man a moment to get over how quickly the whole thing had happened.
"If you've got paper, I can give you the address." Crowley said expectantly.
"Oh yes." The man smiled and went over to a nearby desk, grabbing a piece of paper. Crowley wrote down the address and gave the man another check, this one blank to cover the cost of the shipping. He didn't care how much the man actually put on the check.
"If a single one of these books is damaged in any way when they get to this address I will be coming back here, do you understand?" This time Crowley let his glasses slip down just enough to see the yellow of his eyes. The man swallowed and nodded. "Good." Crowley then left and went on about his temptation.
Aziraphale had been expecting a typical Monday morning at his shop when he arrived. He hadn't had any new customers and Mr Franklin wasn't expected to pick up the rare book he'd ordered for another few days. He could sit at his desk and sip his cocoa and finish reading his most recent book. When he arrived at the shop, he noticed two rather large trucks out front. He was getting ready to get cross at the drivers when one of them walked up to him.
"Delivery for an A.Z. Fell. Would that be you?" The man asked. Aziraphale stood there for a moment. He hadn't been expecting a delivery.
"I....yes." He nodded.
"Sign here, sir." The man held out a clipboard. Aziraphale signed, still a bit confused. "Where do you want them, sir?"
"Them?" Had his brain actually stopped functioning?
"The boxes, sir. Where would you like us to put them?" The driver was trying not to get annoyed. The delivery was obviously a surprise.
"How many boxes?" Aziraphale was sure he could make room for three or four....
"One hundred and eighteen, sir." The man pointed to the packing slip on the clipboard. Aziraphale's eyes practically popped out of his head.
"I beg your pardon?" Where was he going to put that many boxes? And where had they come from? "Um....might I ask what's in the boxes?"
"Books, sir. Every single box is filled with books. Heavy buggars." The man chuckled.
"And how much money would you require for me to borrow one of your trucks? Just until I can figure out where to store them?" That many boxes there had to be thousands of books. Aziraphale's head started to swim.
"I'll have to call the head office, sir, but I don't think it'll be much of an issue." He nodded. "May I use your phone?"
"Of course." Aziraphale unlocked the door and gestured toward where the phone was sitting.
"Oh, sir. This was to be delivered as well." The man took an envelope off the clipboard and held it out.
"Thank you." Aziraphale said as he took the envelope. He'd be sorting through these books for years. He opened the envelope and looked at the note inside.
"Angel. Saw these books and thought you might like them. Enjoy. Anthony J Crowley." Written in the demon's handwriting. Even the way he wrote was serpentine. Aziraphale held the note to his chest and just looked at the two large trucks, sighing heavily.
"Why are you so nice to me?" Aziraphale shook his head and went inside to figure out where to put the books.
Across town, sitting in his flat Anthony J Crowley winced suddenly, feeling an unexpected pang that had come out of nowhere. It went as quickly as it came and he just shook it off.
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