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Heaven, 1347 AD
Crowley stood in the pristine halls of Heaven, not listening to a word Michael said, practically vibrating out of her skin. After way, way too long, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon all nodded and departed in turn, and Crowley could have collapsed in relief, turning to Gabriel.
“Nice work, Coriel,” Gabriel said.
Crowley barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Crowley.”
“Oh, right,” Gabriel said, his face twitching. “You’re still doing the… name… thing.”
“Only been thirteen hundred years,” Crowley pointed out, then shook herself. Now was not the time to get into an argument. She needed Gabriel’s good-will at the moment. “Look, Gabriel, I was hoping that I could get an extension on my miracle budget for a little while?”
Gabriel blinked, his smile dropping away. “Why? You’ve never exceeded the budget before.”
“I know, but…” Crowley hissed out a soft breath. “You know what’s going on in my area right now, with the plague an’ all.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gabriel said. “But why does that mean you need more miracles?”
Crowley blinked. She’d thought it would be obvious. “So I can heal them?”
“Heal them? Why would you do that?”
“Because they’re suffering,” Crowley said, a little more slowly than she’d meant to. “Look, I’m a bloody Seraph, I was built to do this sort of thing, I just can’t do it on the budget I’ve got now.”
“Coriel.” Gabriel’s hand landed, hard and heavy, on Crowley’s shoulder. “You’re not getting attached to the humans, are you?”
“‘Course not,” Crowley said, giving up on the name thing for now. “You know me.”
“Of course, of course,” Gabriel said. “You know, though, if you are getting attached… I mean, I heard that Re-Ed just got a new shipment of automated wing combs? How crazy is that?”
“Mental,” Crowley said, hoping desperately that the jolt of fear that the mention of Heaven’s Department of Re-Education sent through her wasn’t visible. “I’m good, though. Honest. Was just… y’know, like I said, Seraph. Built for this. No worries, though, I’ll keep it under budget.”
“Under budget? Coriel, you shouldn’t be healing humans at all,” Gabriel said, his fingers digging almost painfully into Crowley’s shoulder. “You’re an angel. You’re above them. They don’t matter, yeah? Not in the grand scheme of things. Focus on saving souls and thwarting demons, not on individual mortal lives. Remember, every moment that a human’s alive is a moment they can sin!”
Gabriel’s face broke into a grin on the last proclamation, like it was some empty corporate platitude that he was using to cheer up an upset employee, and Crowley supposed that, to him, it was.
“Got it,” she said, grinning back, as sure as she could manage. “No healing. Stay above the humans. No problem.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear!” Gabriel said, clapping Crowley’s shoulder once more before finally, blessedly, letting her go. “Knew you’d get it, champ. Keep up the great work down there! I wanna see your next report on my desk in two weeks!”
Crowley nodded and flashed Gabe another flippant smile, taking her leave as quickly as she could physically manage.
It wasn’t until she got back down to Earth, until she was surrounded once again by the stink of disease and death and the unrelenting press of hopeless misery, that what had just happened hit her.
No more healing. No more healing at all. She was meant to watch the humans suffer, aloof and uncaring and supremely unhelpful, yet again.
“Well, fuck.”
###
Crowley was already two sheets to the wind by the time Azra tracked her down to whichever tavern she’d stumbled into now, an hours-old (or was it days old? How long had she been at this?) miracle shielding her from view just enough that she could drink unmolested.
Or, mostly unmolested.
Crowley looked up at the sound of Azra’s voice, her head lolling back to stare at him. “Y’re here.”
“Of course I’m here,” he said, or at least she thought that was what he was saying. He was wearing all black, the long, water-repellent cloak of a plague doctor, and there was a beaked mask tied to his belt.
“Y’re a bird!” Crowley slurred, pointing to the mask. “Or– yur a bunny. Bunny-bird. Bird-bunny. Wait. Tha’s not a thing. Is it? Dun remember.”
“My dear, what on Earth happened to you?” Azra asked.
Crowley groaned loudly, letting her head thunk down on the table.
Azra sighed softly. “I think you ought to sober up.”
“Don’ wanna,” Crowley muttered, not bothering to pick her head up. Her eyelids felt rather heavy, too. Being asleep sounded kind of nice, actually.
“I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be incorporated if you don’t,” Azra said, laying a hand on Crowley’s back. “If you don’t do it, dear, I’ll be forced to.”
“Ugh! Fine. Fine. I got it,” Crowley muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and miracling the alcohol out of her bloodstream.
Immediately, the reality of the situation set in again, and she groaned, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.
“What happened?” Azra asked softly. “I haven’t seen you this drunk… well, ever, really.”
“S’Heaven,” Crowley grumbled, gesturing for Azra to cut down. “Cut me off.”
Azra stared at her. “C-cut you…?”
“Not like that,” Crowley clarified quickly, glancing up at Azra briefly. “M’not… I’m not allowed to do any healing miracles right now. Supposed to stay ‘unattached’, do the whole passive observer thing.” She grimaced. “Gabe was a right wanker about it.”
“Oh,” Azra said softly, a gloved hand resting gently on Crowley’s back. “Oh, Crowley… I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Crowley said. “Just… not allowed to relocate without permission, not allowed to heal at all… easier to be drunk.”
Azra was silent for a long moment, then said softly, “You… you are allowed to thwart me though, aren’t you?”
Crowley looked up at that, her brow furrowing. “Bunny…”
Azra straightened up. “I, I won’t do anything to get you in trouble, but… I can steal food from the stores in town, I can steal medical supplies, on top of– of what I’ve already been doing, and– and of course, you can’t know how much I took, so you could add some more, and maybe it could be blessed to protect those who ate it, or something. That’s thwarting me, that can’t possibly be against the rules.”
“I can’t ask you to do that for me,” Crowley breathed. “I know how much you love them.”
“Yes, but I love y–” Azra cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head. “You aren’t asking, my dear. I’m offering. Or, rather, I’m telling you what my plans are for tomorrow, as a, a courtesy, under the Arrangement.”
“Bunny…” Crowley said, reaching out, laying her hand atop Azra’s.
Azra’s turned, and he laced their fingers together, squeezing Crowley’s hand ever so gently. “You ought to head home, my dear. I don’t intend to let you off easy tomorrow just because I found you nearly unconscious today.”
“Didn’t think you would,” Crowley said, squeezing Azra’s hand back. “Bunny… thank you.”
“Don’t let Gabriel hear you saying such things,” Azra said quietly, his hand lingering in Crowley’s for a moment longer before he pulled it free. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
“See you,” Crowley said, and then Azra was gone as quickly as he’d arrived.
Crowley stared after him for a long, long moment, before she slapped a couple of coins down on the table and made her way out of the tavern, blinking in the unexpected mid-afternoon sun. She probably should head home, get a nap in before she started working in earnest, before Azra…
Crowley had to fight back the smile that threatened to overtake her face as she hurried home. She still hated everything about this shit century, this fucking plague, but maybe…
Maybe, if Azra was with her, all hope wasn’t lost quite yet.