Work Text:
Mesopotamia, 3004 BC
Crowley walked through the rain and the dark, his wings outstretched. Huddled beneath them were five children, two older teenagers and their younger siblings. Their parents, drunk on palm wine, had not noticed when Crowley led them away. When they woke, they would not care their children were gone. Easier to start with the unwanted, Crowley had figured - the abused, the neglected, the rejected and abandoned. He would come back for the children who were loved, but he would give those families what little time they had left to be together.
He strode up a gangplank that was not there, the children following without hesitation, the desert night too dark for them to see there was nothing beneath their feet. He led them unseen through the crowds of animals, through Noah and his family moving among them. Only one living thing noticed - a dog broke away from Japheth’s side to follow, knowing the scent of human pain and determined to comfort.
The deepest hold stretched impossibly as Crowley led them through narrow aisles between the massive stores, leaving a room at the far end the size of a not-yet-invented football stadium. He snapped his fingers, and there was light.
There. Safe, as promised. He turned to leave, to go back for more, when a tiny sniffle broke the silence.
The oldest boy pulled his little sister into his arms, comforting her as best he could in spite of his own sorrow and fear. The other children huddled close and the dog pressed against them, whining softly in worry. They looked so small, so alone, in the vast empty room.
Right. Humans needed things. They weren’t like the other animals, content simply to live and to be in the moment. He had trouble remembering that sometimes, still. Well, there was little enough a demon could provide for love or comfort, but he could take care of the material things, at least. Another snap of his fingers and the huge room filled with cots, all soft linens and pelts. Another, and along one wall a table grew and filled itself with ever-renewing food and drinks. The children fell on the food like they hadn’t eaten in days - which they probably hadn’t, with the rains washing out crops before they could ripen. Oh yes, and can’t forget - one last snap and the other wall filled with bathing cubicles and latrines - just holes down out of the hull for the latter, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about hiding smell along with sound and light.
He sat down at the table. The children paused, hunching over their food as possessively as any demon.
“Look, you lot. You’re the first. But there will be more, many more. I’ll be bringing other children here - all of them.” It didn’t count as a good deed if God Herself wanted them dead, surely. If She meant to cleanse the world of sin by killing everyone but Noah and his family, then it HAD to be demonic to preserve that potential for evil, to smuggle it right into Her shiny new world right alongside her oh-so-holy chosen ones. Bringing sin to the garden all over again, just like old times. Or at least, that would be his argument if Below ever found out.
Not the kids, you can’t kill kids!
He hoped to G- to Sata- … he hoped dearly that they never did.
“When I come back with others, I want you to welcome them and get along with them. They’ll be scared and sad, just like you. You will be each other’s family now.” He looked at the five small, dirty, uncertain faces, and felt sadder than a demon ever should. “Treat people better than the world has taught you to - you’re all you’ve got.”
The children nodded solemnly, sorrowful and wise behind their few hard years. The littlest slipped from the table and ran over to Crowley, hugging his legs as hard as she could.
Crowley had not known until that moment that a demon could cry.
He let her cling for a long moment, patting her back awkwardly, until she let go and returned to her meal. He turned to leave, the mountainous piles of stores closing the room behind him and leaving the hold dark and silent once more.
Some five-thousand-odd years later, Crowley looks into the basket he’s been handed and thinks about other infants he was responsible for, long ago.
He has many reasons to want to save the world, but the only one he never mentions to Aziraphale is a tiny village in present-day Iraq where they still remember and love and honor him.