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A hand on his chest, glowing golden eyes, “treat me as a dream” whispered directly into his mind. The first time he was wrapped in the warmth of obsidian wings he was frightened, trying to find his way out or through. As the wings opened he found himself under a full moon on flat plains watching snow in big lazy flakes fall from the sky. They watched in silence, the carpenter and the demon, and listened to an owl in the distance.
A hand on his chest and his eyes flew open, “would you like to see something?” A silent nod, the warmth and a sense of floating. Infant turtles racing to the water’s edge with grey whales breaching off shore. “I am dream for you.” The flowing red hair retreating on their return. He didn’t sleep for days.
The third time they rested in the forest of the Amazon, watching a woman wash at the shore with brightly colored birds perched in the trees near her. They spoke this time, the carpenter overwhelmed with new understanding of the world and his role on earth. The demon, and asker of questions, listened and reflected. The carpenter wept, and the demon silently took them to China to watch a toddler take her first steps into her father’s joyful arms.
They chose a word that when thought or spoken could snap them together. The carpenter needed counsel and comfort these days, as he spoke bold truths and felt the world expand and contract around him.
They chose the word Peace. Counsel, comfort, clarity. Available at the feather tips of a demon for this one man.
Say peace and a hand is in his, he is held in the dark, a kiss on his temple. Say peace and in the middle of the desert you can argue and scream until the demon shouts the words that bring clarity. Say peace and and be reminded of the truth of the world in a snowflake. Say peace and receive a ripe fig when you are hungry.
Most demons knew how Crowley had such a special place in hell but would never speak of it.
Before the carpenter lost consciousness for the first time and as the weight of his body pulled on the inside of his wrists he saw a figure running away with flowing red hair draped in black with their head bowed and their hands against their face.
With all the angels and demons of the world watching the moment all but one heard the words escape the carpenter’s lips, “Crowley, my love, I need peace.”