There were certain places Crowley never wanted to return to. Golgotha was one of them.
“People keep saying it’s here,” Aziraphale said, pointing several times at the map as though Crowley didn’t know. “Why do they say that?”
“Because humans uncover things and then make connections with what they think is true,” said Crowley.
“True, but… well. Hm. I suppose that just means the actual site is as clear as it always is.”
Aziraphale treated the entire thing as though he had done this every year. Or as if this would be a fun trip. Continue reading “Golgotha”
Yet Alton had gotten to live to see Coleen betray him and everything he thought she had lived for. At least Lorene never realized what Coleen really was. At least she had that. A belief in a person who was not real. A Coleen she had imagined and not the one who had actually held her as she died. She had preferred that Coleen. Coleen was glad she thought she had died with that one.
Yet nothing about Emil was like either Alton or Lorene. It had been five months since she had died and Coleen realized there was nothing she could do about starting to reflect on everything that had happened over the last few years. She had pushed that through while going through her final steps, but now she didn’t have that distraction. She thought of Ami. She thought of Alton. She thought of Lorene.
There were more people than that, but Coleen tried to keep it to a minimum. Maybe just thinking about those three would keep her from thinking about the rest.
There was no amount of numbness that could keep everything out if she thought about all of them.
Coleen needed something to do.
Coleen hated manual labour. Considering most labour was in a workforce, one she could not join for fear of being recognized, it was lucky enough. Yet Emil was right. She needed something to do. There were only so many time she could learn their house and fix all of their clothes and experiment with new meals that would taste like chocolate but be healthier.
Emil needed to live for as long as possible. As long as a mortal could. She realized she only extended the last days of his long torture, but they neared the end anyway. It had only been a few months, but in the scope of eternity another fifty years was definitely nearing the end for him.
She tried gardening and gave up after a week. Emil tutted, reminding her of the waste of all the supplies he had brought her. He pushed at her to continue and somehow it turned into his project. It was Emil with his short hair, wearing a sun hat that was supposed to be Coleen’s, puttering around in the dirt. Occasionally he would turn to yell at her. Tell her to come out and join him.
Coleen stayed inside and watched him. She hated his new hairstyle. It looked so much like Alton’s hair, reminded her so much of Alton and that threatened to twist her apathy into something resembling an emotion.
Then again, his last hairstyle had started to remind her of Lorene. And thinking of Lorene made her want to feel like crying. Because Lorene deserved those tears. She deserved that and so much more.