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In Aberdeenshire, near the river Dee in the Cairngorms National Park region of Scotland, Crowley wished he could be walking peacefully by the soft moonlight along the well worn, yet unknown path to most in the area. Taking delight in its twists and turns was always something to which he greatly anticipated.
Fall had come early and Crowley very much enjoyed the feast for the senses Autumn provided. He missed the crisp bite of cooler temperatures against his skin. He slowed the piece of shite Robin Reliant he was driving and rolled down its window, hoping for a whiff of that Autumn mountain air.
The fresh scent of burning leaves was accompanied by the curls of smoke lifting in the air across the moon's silvery gaze. The symphony of wolves in their nocturnal serenade of the forest was particularly heartwarming and always gave him a rush.
Crowley never feared them for if they crossed paths, it was they who sensed his true personage, giving him a wide berth and due respect.
That being said, a level of respect existed between himself and nature. Respect for the order of things in both the natural and supernatural world. Surprises rarely happened and when they did, he made sure to pay attention.
Despite having no need of a car, he'd procured one with the shittiest, most unreliable reputation on purpose. Alas, there was a method to his madness.
He'd been back in this neck of the woods with Juliet, making a collection on an accord with which he'd entrusted her to transport in the usual manner. He'd teleported on an errand, then to get his rental. Crowley toodled along for hours rather pitifully, hoping to avoid the misfortune of running into any of his witless minions.
Now as he rolled along, Crowley listened to the spluttering of the engine. Where normally the sound of vehicular treachery out in bumfuck midlands would fill the average Joe with dread, for Crowley it was music to his ears.
He pulled over and climbed out to examine the infernal heap of unreliance. Sure enough, twenty minutes later he heard the distinct sounds, imperceptible to the human ear, of someone carefully approaching. Crowley didn't turn, he went along with the examination as if none the wiser there was a unique kind of predator closing in on him.
"Good evening, I dinnae mean to startle yae, perhaps a may be of assistance, yer a long way from town and services-ah Crowley?" a kind voice asked from the dark.
"Hello Callum! How are you? Family well, I presume?" Crowley politely inquired.
"Aye, care tae see for yerself then?"
"I would."
As they began their trek towards Callum's humble abode, he assured Crowley, "There's no need for that confounded vehicular ruse yae know. Give me a ring anytime."
"Who calls anymore? It reminds me of when you and I first met, I suppose," Crowley thoughtfully explained.
Callum simply grinned warmly, recalling that fateful event which put them on each other's paths.
After several miles of walking, following the smoke to the slope of a modest hill, there appeared a lovely stone cottage which stood much the same as it had for the last hundred years. Crowley noted the updates of modern electricity and the white background noise of a television pinging his ears.
How he envied this creature, his consistent serenity!
At the sound of the door opening, a cacophony of yips and howls rang out followed by a group of seven or eight unusual beings. They bore the likeness of normal, happy children save for one major difference; their heads, like their mother and father, were that of wolves.
"Did yae help them, Da?"
"He dinnae require ma help, but I've brought him home anyways. Kids, this is ma good friend, Mr. Crowley," Callum introduced with enthusiasm.
At the sight of Crowley, all grew quiet. Callum's wife popped out if the kitchen to peer into the entryway. She started, yet recovered remarkably well. Extending her hand to him, Crowley knew her unease, as she too, was aware of who he was.
She gave him a genuine smile and said, "Good evening, Your- Mr. Crowley."
His congenial demeanor towards them, his many gifts over the years, had lessened her unease, but it never truly went away. Crowley respected that, yet continuously endeavored to improve upon her perception of him.
"Sorcha, you're looking fine. And what is this? Your seventh litter?" He complimented and posed, taking in the numerous, curious eyes aimed at himself.
"Aye, the wee bairns grow too fast," she remarked, wiping additional flour from her hands.
"They do indeed," Crowley smiled and then remembered himself. Pulling out a small tin he'd been hiding in his pocket, he asked, "Tea?"
"That's lovely, the pots on. Git settled and I'll bring it out," Sorcha briskly turned back into the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Callum's pups still stared at him, thoroughly wide eyed and unsure what to make of this entity before them, whom they sensed had enormous power.
"Have yae finished yer maths for the night?" Callum asked his brood.
Most nodded, a few shook their heads.
"Go on then," he lightly directed those in need of the tasks completion to finish, "the rest can have some cocoa with us."
Several children clamored for a coveted position on the family room rug, so as to be right in the thick of things when the grown ups spoke.
Callum took Crowley's coat and hung it on the coat rack, then they joined the joyful bunch in the other room.
"Mr. Crowley?" One of them cautiously asked.
"Yes..um…?"
"That's Alfie," Callum informed.
"Yes, Alfie?"
"How d'yae know ma Da?"
Even though he knew it'd be fine, Crowley still turned to Callum for permission to tell the tale. He wolfishly smiled back at Crowley, granting permission. So Crowley settled on a sofa, graciously accepted the tea from Sorcha(ironically the blend of Scottish Morn) and began the tale.
"Back in the seventies, I'd been in the area on..business. I enjoy chilly, moonlit walks so while on the very path I took this night, I stumbled across a most peculiar creature and was compelled to aid him. From that run in was born a firm, lasting friendship."
Another little one then asked, "Mr. Crowley, what was the creature?" and
"What was he doin'?" a little girl pup in a pretty yellow dress inquired.
Crowley thought the pups adorable and found himself wishing his hell minions had half their curiosity.
"It was a Wulver, your father to be exact. He was trying to help change a tire on the vehicle of stranded tourists. Of course he was meeting with opposition, given his grand appearance."
"Humans are always scared of us," Alfie reiterated in disappointment.
Callum softly declared, "But we dinnae allow that tae stop us from offering help, son."
Crowley had to disagree for the sake of demonstrating when to take their own safety into account. "Well, you do when they're swinging a tire iron at you. Remember kids, safety comes first."
Callum could've been offended by Crowley's undermining but instead laughed it off, utilizing his friend's explanation to underline when to give up the ghost.
"That's a fair point. But the man's wife was expectin,' out here she coulda caught a sniffle. When it escalates tae violence such as tha, yae pack it in."
"I stepped in and told them he was alright, that he meant no harm," Crowley divulged.
"Then wha happened?" Alfie wanted to know.
"Reason escaped them and they ran off screaming. Their choice, I'm afraid. Your father asked who I was and I asked him the same. I come across many creatures, but none so like your father. None so pure as Wulvers. He brought me here and introduced me to your Mum. Every few years I'd come back for a visit and bring them loads of fish."
"We get fish! We give them to people Da says are down on their luck!" Alfie hollered in excitement.
"You do, and it's so very kind. I appreciate the work to which your species has been called. I've another fish invoice for you Callum. Good for another decade."
"Crowley, yer too generous!" he heard Sorcha call out from the kitchen.
"It's nothing, my dear."
"Nevertheless, we're thankful," Callum quietly appreciated, placing a furry hand over his heart.
"Mr. Crowley, tomorrow's a holiday. Are you staying with us?" Alfie wondered.
"Ooh nice thought ma boy!" Callum raored in exultation, "it's that U.S. custom, Alfie read about it where yae give thanks for what you've been blessed wit and decided we should be giving thanks as well. Sorcha and a couldna agree more. How about it, Crowley? Fergus rang, says he's coming for it as well…"
Crowley had planned on firmly declining, yet at the mention of his namesake, decided it was too good to pass up. "Why not?"
Callum's pups all erupted in squeals and hurrahs. That night and all the next day, Crowley allowed himself to be climbed upon, snuggled, and fed to bursting from Sorcha's fine cooking. By the next afternoon, he was truly sorry to leave. Sometimes being the King of Hell was the pits.
"Callum, don't ever change, my friend. See you next time." With a hug for his dear friend, he disappeared.
Little did Callum know, Crowley had put not only his family, but his entire species on Hell's no fly zone. They were simply too good for this world.
And what was the position of King good for, if not to lay down an edict of protection for creatures so very deserving of it?