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Golgotha, 33 AD
Crowley stood vigil beneath a cross, as she’d promised the man upon it that she would.
She didn’t know him all that well, really. Passive observer, and all that. But last night, in that garden (gardens! Always, always, it was a garden, and she still hadn’t quite worked out why), he’d been so… he’d been so scared, so human, in a way that she hadn’t seen from him before, and she– well, she couldn’t bloody well just leave him there, could she?
He’d seen her for what she was immediately, because of course he had, and so she’d brought her wings out, and held him close, and let him cry tears of blood into her shoulder. He’d asked her if she could be with him, if she could make sure that it all went to plan, and she’d agreed, because… well, how could she not? With what he was about to go through, and for her side no less…
Another scream split the air, accompanied by the wet thunk of a nail piercing flesh, and Crowley just managed to hold back a wince.
“Oh, the poor dear.”
Crowley hadn’t felt Azra approach, but she wasn’t entirely surprised. If anyone else would be here to watch this, it would be him.
“You don’t have to be here,” Crowley said. “I promised him I’d stay, but… you don’t have to watch this.”
“Who else would?” Azra asked, his voice soft but his words no less heavy for it. “At least, as something other than a spectacle to gawk at.”
Crowley tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “Still. You shouldn’t feel obligated to stay. Figure you’ve seen enough.”
“And you haven’t?” Azra asked. “I’m staying, Coriel.”
“Oh! I’ve changed it,” Crowley said. She hadn’t seen Azra in years now, not since she’d made the decision. “My name. I changed it. It’s Crowley now.”
“Crowley,” Azra said, as though he were trying it out. “It suits you. Is that… is that technically allowed, Up There? I know Hell’s rules are lax, but…”
“There’s a half a dozen forms I had to fill out to make it happen, but…”
Crowley’s voice trailed off as another scream sounded, this one louder, longer, interspersed with begging, pleading, cries to his Father, as the poor young man was hoisted upright.
Azra’s gloved hand found Crowley’s, warm and gentle and comforting even through the leather, and Crowley squeezed it gratefully, steadfastly ignoring the tears threatening to blur her vision.
“Did you ever meet him?” she asked.
“Briefly,” Azra said. “I showed him all the kingdoms of the world.”
Crowley blinked over at Azra, just for a moment, before returning to her steadfast witnessing. “Why?”
Azra sighed. “He’s human. I think. He… well, he had a choice. I thought it dreadfully short-sighted to try and keep him from making it.”
Crowley sighed. “I… I mean, I never really talked to him much. Just last night, and he was… already kind of gone, by then. Knew what was coming. What was he like?”
“He was…” Azra’s hand twitched in Crowley’s, briefly, as another shout rent the air. “He was kind. He just… wanted everyone to be kind to each other.”
“Ah,” Crowley said, glancing again at the demon beside her. “Yeah. That’ll do it.”
Azra looked back at her, just for a moment, then squeezed her hand again and looked front.
Crowley followed his lead, and together, they stood there until Jesus of Nazareth died.