"Forgive me if I am misunderstanding you, Aziraphale, but it seems as though you are actually suggesting that we help-a human girl."

"Well-yes," The angel confirmed, aware of the skeptical expressions on not only Michael's, but Uriel's and Gabriel's faces as well, as though the prospect of lending their assistance where they could to a mere human were akin to a confession that they might have enjoyed the idea of another plague, "She's been working in my bookshop for a while, now, and-"

"And you feel obligated to divert our considerable resources towards her, instead of more important matters."

"I fail to see how lending our assistance to someone falls outside of the realm of the divine plan."

"What are you hoping to save her from?" Gabriel inquired, his expression nothing short of incredulous as he glanced towards his two companions for a brief moment, before returning his attention towards Aziraphale, who was standing a mere few feet away, "She'll be dead along with the rest of them in a few years, anyway. What's the point?"

"Gabriel is right, Aziraphale. It would not be prudent to protect one human when there are so many other tasks that are far more important, at the moment."

"But-surely you must be aware of her situation," Aziraphale pressed, his fingers interlocking in front of the well-worn fabric of his waistcoat, knotted together in clear evidence of his mounting distress. He had been sure, at the start of his endeavor, that he would be able to find someone that would prove sympathetic to Fiona's plight, no matter how long it may have taken him to find that person, first-hand. But now, it seemed as though all of his hopes had been for naught, the obvious amusement at his insistence on sparing a second thought for a human, of all things, that had taken over the features of his three cohorts seeming to indicate that he was not about to receive the favorable outcome he had hoped for, at all, "Her father is a-a rather irascible drunk!"

"Then she should consider herself lucky that she will not have long to suffer his presence in her life."

"He murdered her mother, Michael!"

"And that requires us to devote countless resources to protecting her above all else?"

"It should."

"Explain," Uriel demanded, one dark brow quirked in obvious disbelief at the idea that Aziraphale would ever stand a chance at providing suitable explanation for his apparent desire to take action, "Tell us why she matters so much to you, and we may consent to help."

"She-I happen to consider her a very dear friend."

"That's all?" Gabriel scoffed, shaking his head in obvious amusement over the ridiculousness of the entire situation, and stepping forward to clap Aziraphale on the shoulder before the other angel ever had a chance to recoil, "You're certain there's nothing else special about this girl?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite-I don't quite see what you mean."

"I mean, with how you seem so determined to keep her safe, one might almost be persuaded to believe she's been a part of your life in ways other than what one might engage in at your bookshop."

"Oh, I don't know, Gabriel. The bookshop might prove decent quarters for certain things, as well."

"I-I never!" Aziraphale exclaimed, flushing beneath the influence of both Gabriel and Michael's blatant laughter, as well as the suggestion that became so apparent in their expressions as well, "I would never presume to-to take advantage of her in such a way! What you suggest is-well, it is completely out of the question!"

"Why? They're just toys, after all. Or at least they are, as far as we are concerned," Michael suggested, sharing a thin smile with Uriel, before turning her attention towards Aziraphale once more, "Why not have a little fun before they're gone, altogether?"

"I can assure you, Michael, this young woman hardly deserves to be toyed with."

"Perhaps I might be able to appease you, Aziraphale, by taking a look at what you think is so troubling to this girl, myself," Gabriel cut in, aware of the startled and somewhat suspicious expressions that had taken over the faces of both Uriel, and Michael as well, and yet choosing to press on, regardless, a half-grin tugging at one corner of his mouth as he spoke, "After all, it's been some time since I've been-down below. Might do me some good to get a change of scenery."

"I-you will agree to help her, then?"

"If I feel it necessary, Aziraphale, I suppose I will."

"Oh thank you. Thank you," The angel enthused, relief allowing his fingers to unknot themselves, even in spite of how some small part of him did not feel at all comfortable with the strange glint that had taken root in Gabriel's eyes, "When should I expect you?"

"Soon enough," Gabriel informed, dropping his hand from its place upon Aziraphale's shoulder, in favor of stepping back to stand between Uriel and Michael, only the slightest of glances towards the latter giving her any indication that he had a different plan in mind than what Aziraphale himself seemed to suspect, "But Aziraphale?"

"Yes, Gabriel?"

"Do yourself a favor, and enjoy this girl while you have her. It might not be too long until someone tries to take her off your hands."

…

Fiona sat before the mirror in the changing room at the back of Sal's bar, her lips pursed into a frown as she attempted to apply some concealer to the finger-shaped bruises encircling her arm with little to no luck at all. Of course, she could hope that the dimness of the bar's interior lighting might keep it hidden away, particularly when coupled with the darker sheer fabric of her top. But that still did not entirely prove enough to assuage her lingering fears that someone would discover it, regardless, a sigh escaping as she reached for the tiny bottle of concealer on the table before her, only to find herself flinching in surprise as the sharp squeal of protesting hinges indicated that someone had opened the door in order to enter the changing room, themselves.

"There you are," A familiar voice called, the click of stiletto heels indicating Sydney's approach, and forcing Fiona to scramble to rearrange her expression into something less apprehensive as she felt the other woman come to a stop at her side, and place a hand upon her shoulder not that long thereafter, "Sal's about ready to open the doors, and he was asking about you."

"I'm almost done," Fiona managed, forcing a smile that she knew almost immediately did not pass muster, if the slight lift of one of Sydney's perfectly sculpted brows was any indication at all, "I am, I swear."

"Uh-huh. That's not what I'm worried about."

"What-what are you worried about, then?"

"I'll give you three guesses," Sydney quipped, shifting to pull over one of the unused chairs that was left by the mirror used by one of the other girls who had already vacated the room in favor of venturing back towards the bar, and taking a seat beside her coworker and friend with a soft sigh before going on, "Something's bothering you."

"I-no. No, I'm fine."

"And I'm the Queen of England."

"Well then, in that case, Your Majesty, I think we both ought to get to work before Sal finds a reason to fire us," Fiona suggested, abandoning the bottle of concealer as a lost cause, and rising to make a mock curtsy for Sydney's benefit, only to find herself flinching in surprise as her friend reached for, and secured her wrist in a gentle hold that had her entire body freezing in seconds, flat, "Sydney-"

"Work can wait," The other woman insisted, releasing her hold upon Fiona's arm as soon as she recognized the way in which she had stiffened almost immediately in response to the contact, despite the utter lack of ill intent behind it, "Sit. Please, Fiona. Sit."

Doing as she had been told, despite being more than a little reluctant to risk even the beginnings of a discussion over precisely what it was that had her so out of sorts, Fiona smoothed her hands across her thighs, her molars chewing at the inside of her cheek as she tried to ignore the reality of exactly how much skin her skirt did not cover in favor of watching Sydney in wary anticipation of what she might say or ask next. It was not that she didn't appreciate the other woman's concern. In fact, it was the exact opposite. But still, the idea of bringing anyone else she had come to care about in such a relatively short expanse of time in even the slightest bit of proximity to her father was nothing short of terrifying…

And the idea of what he might do to a woman like Sydney frightened her far more than even the prospect of his potential interaction with someone as kind-hearted as Aziraphale, her teeth clenching as she resolved to remain as vague as she could in her answers to whatever her current companion might ask.

"One of the customers hassling you? That guy that seems to love your section so much?"

"No. No," Fiona assured, her brow furrowing a bit at the thought of how readily she had come to defend the man she still only knew as Anthony, despite the fact that aside from a few meager conversations, she hardly could say she was familiar with him at all, "It's not him."

"But it is someone."

"It's not a customer, Sydney. It's no one that's ever been here."

"Who, then?" The brunette questioned, shifting just a bit to cross one leg over the other such that one stilettoed foot bobbed aimlessly in the air while she simultaneously rested her elbow on her thigh, and her chin on her hand as well, "Your other job?"

"No. The bookshop isn't the problem, either."

"Then what, sweetheart? Because I know enough to recognize when a woman wants to get as far away from something or someone as possible, and right now? That woman is you."

"It's just-it's someone I honestly didn't expect to come back into my life for a while," Fiona confessed, glancing down at where her hands rested in her lap, and frowning for a moment before deciding for an answer that was as close to the truth as she dared to get, at least for now, "And we don't-we don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Is this someone the reason behind that bruise on your arm?" Sydney mused, aware of the honestly startled expression that had taken over her companion's features, and reaching forward to take Fiona's hand in her own before the younger woman had a chance to pull away, "I saw it when I walked in the door, Fiona. It's not that hard to miss."

"But the-the concealer-"

"Doesn't really do the trick, when someone knows what they're looking for."

"And you do?"

"More than you know," Sydney replied, her eyes holding Fiona's as she simultaneously relinquished her hold upon the younger woman's hand, in favor of lifting the hem of her shirt just a bit to show a thin scar above her hip, "Ex-husband. More than a little fond of the bottle, and determined to make me pay for my mouth."

"I'm so sorry, Sydney."

"Don't be. I got the arsehole back in my own way. He's in jail, now, and here I am."

"Working for Sal," Fiona supplied, sharing in a reluctant laugh with her companion, though the smile she gave her did not quite reach her eyes. Truthfully she was more than a little surprised to hear that Sydney had ever been the victim of anything in her life, having seemed to walk through life with the sort of ease that could only come about through the confidence she seemed to have in spades. But she supposed all of that just went to prove that no matter how capable one might seem, the reality of their situation might very well be far different…

And that was something that she found herself taking some encouragement from, whether she truly ought to be or not.

"You know, Sal's not that bad if you can ignore the leering. And the comments," Sydney began, resettling the hem of her shirt in its original position, and leaning back in the chair she occupied with an almost lazy shrug before adding another comment in for good measure, "And the wandering hands."

"How on earth could anyone forget the wandering hands?" Fiona grimaced, but soon turning to laughing instead, this time with a bit more sincerity, and moving to stand as Sydney did the same, "We really have to go out there?"

"I'm afraid we do, if we want to get paid. But I think I already know of a way to make the night way more tolerable, for one of us, at least."

"Oh? How's that?"

"I think I caught sight of your little friend when I was coming in, so at least you'll have something fun to look at when dealing with all the other men trying to cop a feel."

Though she really didn't want to admit it out loud, Fiona would have been a liar to pretend that Sydney's information did not have her smiling genuinely for what felt like the first time since her father had taken over her couch…

…

"Tired of seeing me yet, love?" Crowley asked the young woman as she placed another beer on the table in front of him, his amusement only increasing as she flushed just as he had expected her to, before managing her own reply.

"Definitely not."

"After another tip, then?"

"What? No!" Fiona exclaimed, her expression startled, to say the least, as she eagerly denied the man's supposition, only to find herself realizing her mistake as soon as she saw the corner of his mouth starting to twitch upward into a smile, "Oh, you-you weren't being serious, were you?"

"M' always serious, pet. Part of my nature."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Do tell," Crowley encouraged, swiping the beer bottle from the table, and taking a drink despite his honest preference for finer liquors, as a rule. Somehow, the idea for specifically requesting such a beverage, however, even if it could be found in the establishment, seemed as though it might just be in poor taste, and although the demon could not even begin to fathom why that mattered one way or another, he was still apparently reluctant to risk such a thing, his fingers lingering around the neck of the bottle, while he waited for the young woman standing before him to reply.

"You just-you seem like a man who enjoys a good joke, that's all."

"And do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you enjoy a good joke?"

"Maybe," Fiona shrugged, honestly surprised that she was able to manage a slightly mischievous smile of her own, though she would have been a liar had she attempted to say she was not pleased by the slight widening of her companion's grin in return, "Depends on the one telling it, I guess."

"Ah, so you're particular."

"I suppose you could say that, yes."

"None of your other patrons amuse you, then?" Crowley surmised, aware of how Fiona had frowned just a bit in response to the inquiry, and effecting a shrug to ensure she did not think he was prying simply for the sake of getting her into trouble, "I've had a chance or two to observe them while you were otherwise occupied."

"Oh?"

"None of them seem very fun, if I say so myself."

"And you-you are?" Fiona mused, folding both arms across her chest, and only just managing to suppress a wince as the act caused her fingers to inadvertently brush against the bruise her father had left upon her arm. If the man were as observant as he claimed to be, he would likely have noticed the entire thing, whether she wanted him to, or not. And for some reason, just as she was reluctant to involve Aziraphale, or Sydney in her affairs, the idea of this man knowing anything other than that she was just another waitress in a bar was far more daunting than she cared to admit.

For some reason, the idea of him seeing her as weak and vulnerable was simply something she could not bear.

Shaking herself before the thought could make itself known in her expression, however, Fiona once again dropped her hands back to her sides, her fingertips tracing against the top of the table for a moment, while she struggled with the idea of simply turning and heading back to the work that Sal would likely have expected her to have seen to, already. But something in the way the man was looking at her, even though she could not exactly say she saw his eyes beneath the shades he always wore, held her to the spot, her teeth chewing at her lower lip for a moment, until he finally took the liberty of replying, and distracting her from the nature of her own thoughts.

"I like to tell myself that, yes. And you're here, after all. Talking to me."

"And it's-not for the tip," Fiona added, once again managing a smile as she saw her free admission had caused Anthony to chuckle softly in response, his fingertips toying with the label on the beer bottle he had replaced upon the table in such a way that the young woman soon found herself unwittingly distracted by the precise movement involved therein.

"I should hope not, pet. I hadn't pegged you as the sort to hurt a man's feelings like that."

"Would it? Hurt your feelings?" The young woman questioned, honestly curious as to the nature of his reply, though she hoped that curiosity was not written as plainly upon her face as she feared it was, "You don't-you don't have to answer that, if you don't want-"

"Think I want to, though," Crowley admitted, risking a glance behind where Fiona stood, and noting that Sal himself appeared to be watching the two of them with no small degree of curiosity from where he lingered behind the bar. Though he was nothing short of uncertain in the wake of his apparent decision to play along with the girl's inquiry, it would have been a lie for the demon to pretend that a part of him did not wish to give her employer every reason to believe that she was still earning her keep, his hand drifting away from the half-empty bottle of beer to snake long fingers around her wrist, the better to give her a gentle tug around the table to where he was seated so that he might pull her to a seat in his lap with one arm curved around her waist.

"Just play along, love...wouldn't want you getting into any trouble with your boss."

…

Well hello there, darling readers! And welcome (finally!) to a brand-new chapter in Fiona's tale! Once again, the muses appear to have gotten away from me, particularly with how the chapter ended. So, hopefully my little diversion isn't too troubling? I really do swear there is a method to my madness, and hopefully all will make more sense in time!

As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every single one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story thus far (and special thanks to CJ/OddBall, ChiTown4ever, and NomNomNomNomYUM for leaving such lovely feedback the last time around)! I really do love reading your thoughts, and I appreciate them more than you know! And of course, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter every bit as much as they appear to have enjoyed the last!

Until next time, dearies…

MOMM