Chapter Text
The first time he saw him. It was just after twilight, the light nearly extinguished from the skies. It was the beginning of winter and felt every frozen inch of it.
Vicar Ezra Fell had been closing the ground around the Parish late in the evening and checked the front door one last time to be sure they were locked. Then he’d make his way back to his cottage for some note taking for upcoming sermons, letters to his church, and some quiet reading.
That’s when he noticed the stranger for the first time.
They had just been at the edge of his sight, but somehow not trying to hide or avoid being seen. A passing stranger wasn’t odd around here, but The Father did slow his step midway from his task at hand to look at the stranger. What made Them odd was that he was alluring. Hair so red and shoulder-length. Long, thin features that were so chiseled he could see them in detail from some distance. And being all in black, The Father thought perhaps it was another man of the cloth. As his eyes adjusted to the fading light it was clear it was likely the opposite; the clothes were stylish and modern. Black jeans, a tailored black jacket over bright red underclothes, a light sash of some sort around their neck.
It was a frigid winter night that promised the first true snow very soon. And Ezra wanted nothing more than to be in his simple home by the heater with a quilt over him reading.
But this new person wandering by the grounds of his simple parish that he knew everyone at was as eye-catching as if a giraffe wandered by.
Hands thrust in his pockets, the stranger stood unmoving under a lamp unblinking yet clearly staring back. Ezra felt a tiny hint of disdain from their whole posture. He wasn’t one to stereotype a person for being dressed in black and assuming they were antisocial or a hooligan. Hardly, what would that say about a man that addressed his flock in his black robes? Rather the whole attire was so refined Ezra wondered if it was a very well off or famous person looking down at a humble man of the cloth.
He stopped, turning bodily towards the stranger as he still stood before the large parish doors, offering a small smile.
The man remained unmoving, like he was waiting for a cue to leave or approach.
“Good evening,” Ezra said. “Can I help you in any way, my dear son?”
That man scoffed. Ezra wasn’t surprised or offended.
He had elicited that reaction to that very question before, and quite often with some very sarcastic reply which he was expecting any moment.
Instead, the man looked crestfallen, lowered his head, and turned away, leaving.
The Father was torn between relief and disappointment. He didn’t need some hooligan or troublemaker causing him or his followers concern. But the man was so unique. So sleek. So... different.
“Well, have a pleasant evening then,” he called.
The figure didn’t slow.
“And... don’t be afraid to ask me for help if you are looking for it.”
That stopped the man. Ezra held his breath, having not thought past this second.
Even with more distance between them, Ezra could still see that the man's face was surprised.
Feeling like the beacon of compassion he very much hoped he was for all, Ezra folded his hands to his front and smiled.
The man now looked around himself before stepping off the lighted path into the darkness.
Ezra strained and scanned the area, but was flustered; he somehow missed which way the man had gone.
He couldn’t think of a decent reason to walk down the path without looking too curious or perhaps inviting a mugging. Besides, his small cottage was faster to walk to the other way, though that path wasn’t much of a divergence and the bridge was charming in the dark…
Oh, nevermind.
Shrugging his scarf up to his chin he set off home.
__________
The next night, he was walking down the path on his way back to his cottage.
The longer path.
Snow had fallen and continued to fall and The Father couldn’t resist seeing the whole world lamp lit in the dark with the fleecy white blanket. The muted air surrounded him like a hug. The lamp lights fought a delicate battle against the flickering curtain of flakes tumbling against the black wall of night. The stone bridge was caught in the fairy-tale grip, glazed with white . Ezra couldn’t help but pause under the electric lamps protruding from one of the structural pillars and marvel at the beauty of the moment.
The Creator can paint art I am blessed enough to walk in, he thought. Even if I walk it by myself…
“Coming down steady, isn’t it?” a voice, inches from his ear said.
He was startled, naturally. The noise from his mouth was akin to a bird squawking.
His heartbeat smashed inside his ears. His breath felt as if it were flying away, and he couldn’t catch it.
Then his mind raced as he took in the Red- haired Stranger, standing right beside him, and panicked further.
I did not even hear him there! Oh how embarrassing!
Was he trying to get the drop on him and mug him? Was this just a silly prank? And to make matters worse, the man was incredibly handsome in person. Not just attractive. Unusually stunning with long features, hair redder than he thought possible, and the largest eyes of the strangest shade he had ever seen.
Ezra started to sound less like a dying chicken as he collected his thoughts and breath.
“Oh, uhm! Hello!” he sputtered. “I’m so sorry... you, uh... startled me.”
The man smirked an irresistible long toothed smile, making Ezra relax slightly.
“Uhm, yeah,” the Stranger finally said. “S’pose I did.”
Ezra righted himself. The Stranger remained a few feet away as if to stay just out of reach, making it feel like there was still a barrier between them. But his demeanor was curious and not at all bothered by Ezra’s reaction in the least. As a matter of fact he appeared to have expected it and was waiting for him to finish his panic.
Taking this as a good thing, Ezra raised a hand and stepped forward.
“Well, uhm, no harm done. I’m Father Fell.”
The Stranger’s eyes widened. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his black leather jeans, which made Ezra halt.
The gesture didn’t look defiant or indignant to Ezra; it looked more like a reflex as the Stranger considered him.
Ezra opened the hand slightly and smiled.
“Oh, well, I mean no harm. Do you have a name, son?”
Now the Stranger looked cautious but curious.
“I’m older than you,” he simply said.
Ezra blinked but remained unfazed, even if he was certain this fellow couldn’t be of the same middle age as him.
“Oh, well, then, sorry. No offense meant. I call many by that and... ha, you certainly had me fooled, Mister...?”
Again, the Stranger looked constrained and stammered, making Ezra feel like it was a riddle.
“Mmmnkk... uh, yeah. I’mmm...”
“Very well then,” Ezra soothed, laying his mitten-clad hand down against his other, “No need then. Though, should you feel the need to share more, you can tell me your name any time if ...”
“Crowley!” the Stranger spat as if he just remembered it.
But there was a new enthusiasm in those eyes that made Ezra even more confused.
Oh, I hope this fellow is not high or drunk to a point I’m going to be talking in strange circles all night in the snow.
“Well, then, Crowley, pleased to meet you.”
He stepped forward, extending his hand again.
Crowley regarded the hand but moved no further, remaining in his spot like he was part of the bridge. Somehow, he radiated an unreal light from his flawless skin and muted the dim light around him more than seemed possible. And that hair, rippling down.
Odd, I can’t tell if he’s putting on the air like he’s an alien that just arrived or something else. He seemed to react when I was direct before, so let me try this.
“You have permission to shake my hand or not, if you want, ” Ezra said.
Crowley’s eyes widened, yet he did raise his hand.
Bare, no gloves, and very pale. This compelled Ezra to remove a mitten and bare his hand as he grasped it.
Ezra had to instigate any shaking, but he hardly noticed this continuing oddness.
“Oh my!” Ezra clasped his other covered hand over Crowley's, rubbing back and forth.
“You are so very, very cold! Dear boy, how can you tolerate that!”
Crowley shrugged his shoulders.
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“Oh well! I say, you are the stronger man than I! You feel like you are carved from ice!”
It wasn’t just the chill in those hands that made The Father say that. The fingers were lean and sculpted. Tipped with long nails. They could have been stone in the warmth of his own hands. Time and sound disappeared around him as Ezra held them and stared down at them. Longer than most people's hands and thin like bones. Not to mention the nails were not only painted black but pointed.
Pale, so pale. And no warmth. It’s like he’s not real.
Still slightly in this trance, he glanced at the face. The features were more than perfect. No model or airbrushed actor could have such perfect symmetry. The eyes were painfully large, molten amber in color, and the blackest centers that Ezra couldn’t fathom why they felt so deep.
Ezra blinked and released Crowley’s hand.
“Oh, uhm...well. I must ask, how may I help you?”
Crowley scoffed and looked sideways.
“Well, that’s the thing, you really can’t help me...”
“Well, I’d certainly be willing to try,” Ezra injected with a smile. “I do believe I said before I’d be happy to, and you seemed keen on that offer.”
Crowley looked back at Ezra like a man caught, mouth sideways.
“Yeah, man of your word and all that, I imagine,” he muttered. “Help anyone or anything you thought might need saving.”
“Uhm, do you feel you need...” Ezra paused, trying not to appear condescending- “Saving?”
Now his new acquaintance looked momentarily melancholy, staring deeper than before.
“I’m... nnngk... I can’t be saved.”
Ezra felt a small catch in his thinking. Crowley was avoiding answering much of anything unless given the right invite. But he also had gone out of his way to approach and engage with him. And a strangely lovely but eccentric person asking for attention only to keep pushing away, but not leaving, made Ezra’s mind wander.
This is ridiculous, but I truly wonder if he’s not of this world. Perhaps he was sent from above, and this is a test? He wants to say something... wait, I’ve got it.
“Well, then, Crowley,” Father Ezra said graceously, “You already know that I would argue anyone can be saved...”
Crowley’s mouth was opening to already dispute back , but Ezra raised a hand and continued.
“...but I already know you’d counter my point, so how would this be; is there something you’d like to confess?”
Crowley looked caught again, but trapped in his spot.
“And,” Ezra added , “Though it’s not a church or my regular space to do such an act, I give you my permission to say whatever you desire to say.”
“I’m not human,” Crowley blurted.
Ezra felt so clever. Perhaps this was a test, and he was being guided through it for reasons yet to reveal themselves. He had no doubt this uncannily ethereal stranger wasn’t of this earth, but perhaps he was sent to Ezra as a guide. He remained calm and open.
“Well, then, Crowley, I assume you had a reason to meet me.”
“I’ve been watching you,” Crowley said with the smallest smile.
Ezra felt his heart skip a beat.
“Oh, well, may I ask why you have been watching me? “
“It’s something I do when I see someone I want to get closer to,” Crowley said
Ezra clasped his hands together and felt like he was floating a bit.
“Uhm, why would you want to be closer, my friend? You aren’t... a ghost are you?”
An actual look of confusion went across Crowley’s face.
“Eh, not... nah, not really. “
Ezra chuckled.
“Oh, well, are you an angel perhaps?”
Crowley’s brows raised.
“Wot?”
Ezra waved a hand his way.
“You said you are not human, you are watching over me, and you wanted to come closer. Perhaps you were a wayward fallen angel looking for guidance...”
Crowley laughed. It crackled through the cold air, making Ezra pause again.
“Oh I’ve been called a lot of things,” he sputtered before regaining his breath. “But an angel? Ha, no. I’m a vampire.”
Father Ezra did notice Crowley’s front canine teeth were rather long as he grinned wolfishly at him. And there was no breath to be seen in the frigid air from him, whereas Ezra had visible puffs coming from his mouth.
Ezra found he couldn’t come up with the right response as he wondered how much his faith was doing what it should to protect him and how much he had allowed this very charming person claiming to be a vampire to be closer to him. Reflexively his hand worked the cross around his neck up over the front of his frock, letting it rest on his scarf.
Crowley scoffed like it was funny, but clearly was waiting for a response.
“Uhm, well,” he finally managed to say, “That’s very interesting to know. Thank you for sharing this, Crowley.”
“You wanted to know,” Crowley gleefully replied.
“And uh, may I ask... is there something you want from me? You said you were watching me?”
Crowley was devilish in this low light, but something shivered in his eyes.
“I wanted someone to talk to,” he said.
“Oh. Well.” Father Ezra righted with all the religious strength he hoped to project . “So happy you chose me, then. But, you must know that I am a man of my faith.”
“I know that,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “Why did you think I wanted to talk to you?”
Ezra was feeling the cold seeping into his limbs and bunched his mittened hands to his coat front.
“Oh, uh, I thought that my devotion and faith might repel you and...”
With a motion faster than anything he had seen from another person, the blur of Crowley’s arm snatched the cross from around his neck. He held aloft and away by the cord, raising his other hand to chuck a finger under Ezra’s chin. A very cold and firm finger.
“Not at all, Angel,” Crowley smirked, leaning into his face.
Ezra hadn’t realized he had backed up to one of the pillars holding the electric torches.
He fisted the front of his coat with a mild fear but also embarrassment. And growing colder.
“Eh, you’re getting cold,” Crowley suddenly realized. He continued to dangle the cross as he moved back. “Let’s walk a bit. Get your blood moving a bit.”
