Happy Holidays, waxbean!

[waxbean.livejournal.com]

Title: Lost and Found

Gift for:  waxbean

Author: oddsbobs 

Rating: PG

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, two obscure characters from canon

Summary: An angel, a demon, and eBay walk into a café…

Author’s Notes: My undying gratitude to ineffabili_tea for the quick beta work.

 

 

IT WAS PURE HAPPENSTANCE that Aziraphale even came to know of its existence.  Rather ineffable, if you thought about it.  He’d not been looking for it all these years.  Not really.  He had given it up for hopelessly lost and only thought of it in that wistful way one gets when remembering a particularly delightful meal – something that was lovely at the time and you’ll always recall, but also something that is firmly stuck in the past.   

That is, until the day he happened to be walking past a television store.  Several sets were on display in the window.  A few were even turned on in order to entice customers into buying the latest in ‘High-quality Entertainment’.  One particular set was tuned in to a news show.  Aziraphale wouldn’t even have spared the store a glance if he hadn’t caught, out of the corner of his eye, a very familiar object. 

“…the latest international phenomenon,” the newswoman’s voiceover informed him.  On screen was a picture of a man on a computer.  The computer was displaying a particular website, with a particular item showcased.  It was up for sale.  Aziraphale knew without a doubt what it was.  “Users can bid for bicycles, kitchen appliances, books… even toast shaped like Elvis Presley.” 

The screen switched to a well-dressed woman interviewing a well-dressed man.  Fortunately, Aziraphale had already memorized the website logo and the name of the person selling It.  He hurried down the street towards his bookshop, where the one person who could possibly help was already waiting. 

“Crowley!”  Aziraphale wasted no time in pleasantries.  “Crowley, you’ll never believe it.  I’ve found my sword.”

 
The demon in question placed a book back on the shelf.  He had been randomly reshuffling Aziraphale’s collection.  It seemed demonic enough to fill his personal quota for the day.  “That sounds… uhm… good for you?” 

“My sword!  You know, the fiery sword given unto me by heaven?”   

“Oh.  The one you gave away.”  Crowley flinched when Aziraphale glared at him.  “What of it?” 

“I found it!  It’s in the computer.” 

“It’s… in the computer.”   

“Yes.”  Aziraphale’s triumphant smile slowly faded in the face of Crowley’s incredulousness.  “On that thing.  The Internal Web thing.” 

“Oh, the internet.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“I hate to tell you this, Aziraphale, but the internet is a large place.  Do you even know where to start looking?” 

Aziraphale pulled a piece of paper from a towering pile of miscellany and quickly drew the logo as he remembered it.

 
“We can work with that.  Is there anything else you know?”  Crowley snatched the paper and began to walk towards Aziraphale’s ancient computer.  

“It’s being sold by someone calling himself farmboy8729.  He’s based right here in London.”  

“Are you sure you don’t want to just miracle it up?  You do know where it is now.”   

“I rather think not, m’dear.  They,” he said with a significant look Upwards, “might ask questions, and I’d rather not deal with the reminder that I’d lost it in the first place.” 

Crowley rubbed his hands together and stared down at the computer.  “Let’s see… Do you have an internet connection?” 

“Well.”  Aziraphale couldn’t recall anything specifically labeled ‘For Internet Connection’.  “It came with an awful amount of plugs and wires.  Perhaps one of those is for the internet.”   

“Close enough.” 

In the computer’s defense, it truly attempted to do what Crowley wished it to do.  The poor thing was used to Aziraphale’s gentle touch and precise calculations.  It was only ever meant for simple business records.  Nevertheless, it called up a program it didn’t have, sent information over a wire that didn’t exist, and tried to contact the outside world.  Crowley and Aziraphale watched the screen, and waited.  And waited.   

When the progress bar on the screen reached about half-way, a whirring noise began to emanate from the computer.  The whirring stopped, started, turned into a squeal and then…  

FOOM.  A curl of smoke left the machine.  The screen went black. 

“I think you just killed my computer.”  Aziraphale reached out a hesitant finger, and then jerked back when remnants of static buildup on the screen shocked him. 

“It isn’t dead,” Crowley hissed.  “It’s just resting.”   

He glared at the computer. It quivered ever-so-slightly.   

“Let’s go to my place.” 
 
 

THE SWORD’S HISTORY was a long and winding one, full of intrigue and adventure.  If farmboy8729 had known exactly what he held, he would have asked considerably more for it.  Or perhaps kept it for himself.*  As it was, he was unaware of its background.   

It began, obviously, as the flaming sword of the angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden, hereafter known as Aziraphale.  The sword flamed for quite some time after Aziraphale gave it to Adam and Eve.  Which was lucky for them, really, since it was quite cold.  Eventually though, the flame went out.  It had been separated from its angelic wielder for too long.   

After that it became a tool and – in the manner of all things even resembling a tool placed in a man’s possession – Adam’s favorite toy.  It was used to poke at rocks, to poke the dirt, and (most likely to Aziraphale’s chagrin) to poke at animals.  The sword was passed down from generation to generation.  Man tried to imitate its likeness by sharpening rocks, then various types of metals.  From this experimenting sprung various tools and, yes, weapons. 

The sword was always the pride of its owner.  Whoever held it felt confident in the workings of the world.  It was present at almost every major battle since the beginning of War.  Wherever She went, It followed.  Oddly enough, however, it had never itself been used as a weapon.  Mostly it just hung around as decoration while lesser swords were tainted with blood – for even though it gave its owners confidence, it also made them feel a bit uncomfortable when thinking about using it.  Almost overwhelmed.  It was nearly used during one instance of impending war, but that incident stopped before it really got started.  No one – including Aziraphale, though he remembered more than most – could peg down such a detail when recalling the confrontation. 

This sword had also been used in the coronation of at least two regents and in the knighting ceremonies of a dozen men.  It had travelled across Europe into the Middle East during the Crusades.  It made its way to the New World and back again.  It was sharp enough to slice into stone, if the wielder wished it, which happened on one memorable occasion and involved a lot of tugging to get it back out again.  No one stopped to question why the sword never showed signs of age. 

So on and so on it passed through human history, until it finally came into the custody of the Hernez family.  The Hernez family was actually on the poor end of the economic spectrum.  How they inherited such a stunning artifact is a tale better told another day.  Needless to say, it was their prized possession.  They kept it with them when they travelled across the Channel and settled into their new home in the English countryside.  They gave it father to son, father to son, until it fell into the hands of Jaime Hernez who, after spending some time in the city longing for life back on the farm, discovered the internet and a new way of making money that didn’t involve brooms. 

*There is also the very slight possibility that he would have gone mad. When a human encounters something truly sacred or profane, he has two paths to choose from:  a) his mind, incapable of handling such things, successfully scabs over such knowledge and he lives on in complete ignorance, or b) his mind actually tries to comprehend it and winds up broken from information overload.  Most humans, unsurprisingly, take the first path. 
 
 

CROWLEY HAD RECENTLY UPGRADED his computer (again) to the newest model available.  These days, instead of getting a computer with the intelligence of a retarded ant, you could obtain one that calculated exactly what time it was in every time zone down to the microsecond, showed you how much money you’d lost in the stock exchange (regardless of whether you actually had any investments), provided several graphics programs that allowed you to ‘paint’ something as intricate as a Monet à la paint-by-numbers, corrected your spelling and grammar in new and exciting ways, and stored enough factory-installed software hidden amongst its innards to take up what little memory it came with.  It would, therefore, freeze up and crash at the first attempt to open a word document.*   

They lasted fifteen minutes on his computer before giving it up as a hopeless cause. 

* Or anything else slightly useful.  It was a wonderfully slick design, though, and fit in splendidly with the rest of Crowley’s flat. 
 
 

THE NEXT STEP, logically, was to find a public computer they could use.  Aziraphale was quite at a loss when it came to such things, so it was up to Crowley to find what they needed.  What they needed, it turned out, was a small building that smelled of coffee and electricity.  Aziraphale took in the tables full of people at computers, the harried waitress delivering pastries and beverages, the clickety-clack sound of multiple fingers typing away at multiple keyboards. 

He watched as Crowley shuffled through form after form, filling out information he was shocked to know was needed.  Registering for the site.  Signing up for something called ‘PayPal’.  It had been easy enough to find what they needed, but apparently it wasn’t quite as simple as buying the item and being done with it.   

Crowley took a moment to stretch his arms.  “You know, this would be a whole lot easier if you let me – ” 

“No!  We do this the proper way, or not at all.  I am going to offer money for it like everyone else.”   

“It was technically yours to begin with, so it wouldn’t really be stealing, you know.”  The angel raised an eyebrow.  “Fine, fine.  Have it your way.” 

Several forms later and they were back to the screen with the picture of the sword on it.  

“How much do you want to bid for it?” 

“Oh, dear.”  Aziraphale was a bit at a loss.  He didn’t want to bid too low for fear of losing out to someone else at the last second.  He also didn’t want to bid too high, as he was usually a proponent for frugality as well as wanting to avoid encouraging greed.  Besides, the sword was technically his. 

“Make a decision, angel.  Bidding time is over in ten minutes.”  Crowley tapped his fingers on the table. 

“Give me a moment, Crowley!”

 
“We can’t wait forever.” 

“Actually, we can.  Just not in this instance.” 

“Quit debating semantics and put down a price.” 

“Fine!”  Aziraphale leaned across Crowley and typed in an amount.  And just as Crowley was about to click on the ‘submit’ button… the power went out. 

“Bugger.”   
 
 

A FEW WEEKS LATER and an entire ocean away, a chubby, middle-aged man in a Burger Lord uniform approached his apartment.  On the floor outside the door was a long, sturdy box.  The man began to hum happily.  He opened the door, grabbed the package, and walked inside.   

The box was quickly opened and its contents unwrapped.  A sword – the type most bladesmiths could only dream of making – somehow gleamed in the dull lighting of the apartment.  In fact, the light almost danced like fire along the blade.  The man reverently settled it on a rack hanging from the wall in front of him.  With a satisfied nod, he left to make himself dinner. 

It was hard for the sword to stand out amongst so much clutter.  Trinkets and posters and statuettes littered the apartment.  All were in some way shiny, or colorful, or heartwarming – little pieces of beauty that made one pause and appreciate life.  Except for one item.  Across from the sword’s new resting place hung a shabby towel with an interesting grease stain.  If you tilted your head and squinted, it looked like a rather familiar face.  The man had also obtained the towel through an online auction.  He kept it purely for sentimental reasons.   
 
 

Comments

[noleemm.livejournal.com]

EPIC!

[kivrin.livejournal.com]

This is delightful! Well done. I especially like the footnotes and the description of Crowley's computer.

[waxbean.livejournal.com]

This is so wonderfully clever!

I love your thoughtful characterizations and details -- Aziraphale's computer and Crowley's computer were so in character!!!

Also, I'm very glad that Elvis got the sword. I'm sure he'll enjoy it.

thank you so much for this.

xoxooWaxbean

ps. I know this wasn't originally for me but I'm enjoying it as if it were. xoxoW

[archon-mentha.livejournal.com]

Very cute story and brilliant ending!

[amaresu]

That was brilliant. I loved the cameos, they were great.

[seagullsong.livejournal.com]

The style is very close to that of good Omens- I'm impressed. Very cute. The poor computer...
I laughed at the Monty Python reference. : )

[migratory.livejournal.com]

Awesome. So in character, and I loved the ending. Very fitting :-)

[hsavinien.livejournal.com]

Niiiice.

[mushroom18.livejournal.com]

Brilliant! I laughed so loud at the computer bits, and the fact that Word (or any program) seems to hang every bloody moment you really need it. I can so relate ;m;

[foxxfire5.livejournal.com]

Hee, this is hilarious. Perhaps he can buy it back. Or maybe Crowley will steal it--er, return it to its proper owner--for Christmas. Lovely.

[dicaxscriptor.livejournal.com]

This was awesome. I loved the details of Crowley's computer, because Word is the bane of my existence and I can *so* relate. And Elvis! Heeee.

[prestissima.livejournal.com]

Hee, this was cuddly! Is the towel Veronica's Veil or one of those Elvis-appearing-on-a-tea-cozy sort of things?

[girl-wonder.livejournal.com]

Ha. SPOT ON. I really loved this to death.

[vulgarweed.livejournal.com]

AHAHAHAHAH!!!

This is all so wonderfully clever. <3

[miss-morland.livejournal.com]

I'm impressed by how well this plot works, and how plausible it is - 'clever' doesn't even begin to cover it.

And the writing itself? Awesome. You've got the style spot-on, as far as I can tell. &hearts

*fangirls*

[ladymouse2.livejournal.com]

All this and Elvis too! No words but huge, jaw-cracking grin.