Chapter Text
We’ve received word that there’s an angel living on Earth. He’s been there since the Beginning. He doesn’t seem to be carrying out heaven’s orders. In fact, he seems to be ignoring them. This is the chance of a millennia-- find him, trap him, and tempt him.
Chapter One
The demon had tracked the angel to a smallish town. Beyond that, he couldn’t get a fix on the angel’s location. There was no trace of heavenly power being used here-- no miracles at all. When tracking angels, the demon could usually feel the good they did. Not here. There was nothing. Just...humans.
The sun was starting to set as he drove into town. A few miles out, there was a car stalled by the side of the road. A man stood looking under the hood, scratching his head. The demon didn’t stop. Sure, he knew a fair bit about motors, but what kind of demon helps people? He kept on driving.
The demon made a circuit of the town’s main roads. The only place that had any amount of activity was the pub. Parking his car, the demon sauntered towards the building. It was as good a place as any to start his search. Besides, he could use a drink.
The bartender greeted him as he walked in. “Hello there! You wouldn’t happen to be the musician who was scheduled for tonight, would you?”
The demon panicked. Well, that would give me an excuse to hang around. “Yeah, that’s me.” He paused. “Sorry I’m late, I had car troubles,” he added, thinking back to the man on the side of the road.
“Oh, that’s all right. We’re just glad you made it. The mic’s all set up for you.”
“Okay, I’ll just go get my guitar. Left it in my car,” the demon said with an apologetic smile.
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Crowley,” the demon answered. “Anthony J. Crowley.”
Crowley returned to his car and removed a guitar case from the backseat. It hadn’t been there until a moment before, but that was one of the advantages of being a demon. Things just worked out. He hadn’t the foggiest idea how to play it, but he wasn’t concerned. He had faith things would go his way when it came down to it.
Re-entering the pub, Crowley strode up to the stage and unpacked the guitar. A beautiful red sunburst guitar was nestled in the velvet padding. The guitar was made mainly of mahogany, but Crowley didn’t know that, nor did he care. It was expensive and made him look like he knew what he was doing, and that’s all that mattered.
Crowley got up on stage and strummed a few chords. Never mind the fact that he’d never even held an instrument before. He started to sing. “Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste.” Sure, the song choice was ironic, but that was Crowley for you. He did feel slightly bad when he claimed to be Lucifer, but he didn’t write the song. The things these mortals came up with! The final chord of the song rang through the pub. Crowley made a slight bow and took a hold of the mic, letting his guitar hang to the side. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” The pub’s patrons gave a cheer and raised their glasses. “Lovely, lovely,” the demon said, hamming up the Scottish accent. He could already tell that the London accent he normally used wouldn’t do him any favors in winning these people over. In all his years living amongst them, he had come to understand something that his fellow demons never had, and that was to never undervalue the assistance and ingenuity of humans. They were capable of so much that Crowley’s bosses couldn’t even dream of. But for now, all he needed was gossip.
He launched into another song-- a slightly raunchy number about fat bottomed girls, which earned another cheer from the audience. As he sang, Crowley gazed around the pub. Half the town had to be here, so there was a chance that the angel was here now, if he was trying to blend in among the humans. Then again, he might be secluded, hiding himself even from these people. As far as he could see from his vantage point, the pub was full of regular humans. They seemed as mundane as any he’d met, not that it’s a bad thing. Sure, being a demon had its advantages, but at times Crowley just wanted everything to slow down a bit.
After a few more songs, Crowley left the stage and sauntered over to the bar for a drink. Before he even asked, the bartender set a bottle on the counter in front of him. “That’s some talent you’ve got. Been playing long?”
Crowley smiled. “Oh, yeah.” He stopped. That wasn’t enough to sell it. “This is going to sound funny coming from an acoustic guy, but I’ve always looked up to Brian May.”
The barman smiled at that. “Oh, a Queen fan, are we?"
“You could say that.”
“Sure,” the man laughed. “What, with all those Queen songs you were playing up there!”
“Say, is there anywhere in town I could stay the night? It’s a bit late to get back to the last place I passed, and I don’t really fancy sleeping in my car.”
“Of course! That fellow over there runs a bed and breakfast with his wife. I’m sure they could find room for you. Jenkins!” he called, waving the man over.
Crowley finished his last song. The pub’s patrons had been filtering out for some time now, and only five were left, seven if you counted Crowley and the bartender. Without another word, he placed the lovely guitar in its case and headed for the door. Before he made it there, the bartender stopped him.
“Are you going to be in town long?”
Crowley thought about it. “I guess I could stay,” he mused.
“What would you say to playing here a few nights a week? Everyone seemed to like your songs tonight.”
The demon pretended to mull it over. “Alright, I’ll do it.”
“Great!” said the bartender, a grin breaking across his face. “Oh, I almost forgot! Stop by here tomorrow and I’ll give you your pay.”
“Right.” Money. Humans exchange goods or services for money. Crowley had never held a paying job before. If he wanted something it just appeared, or he’d open his wallet at the register and exact change for whatever he was purchasing would appear in his hand. “I’ll do that.”
Without a further word, Crowley walked out of the bar and to his car, following the directions that Jenkins had given him to the bed and breakfast.