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268 AD - Rome
It had been a while since Marcus "Gothicus" Aurelius Claudius II had seen the red haired daemonic filth that polluted the lavish marble halls of his palace. He hadn’t exactly been calm then, giving off the impression as if Letus himself was hot on his heels. It was as if he had been expecting the grim sight of Charun around every corner.
But not this time...
This time he was furious.
A raging fire burned behind the smoked glasses hiding his serpentine eyes.
“Daemon Crawley. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Claudy. This was not part of our deal.”
A low, brassy chuckle reverberated off the marble walls as Claudius II looked down upon this pitiful creature.
“And what exactly would the this be that you are referring to?”
“This.”
With a snap of his fingers Crowley summed an exact replica of the decree that Claudius had signed not that long ago.
“Why are you banning marriages for young men?”
“Women serve only as a distraction for our soldiers. You said it yourself, the end justifies the means.”
“Do you fear the gods, Claudius?”
“What are you talking about you old fool?”
“Do you not fear Juno’s wrath.”
“What use has she ever had in war?”
“For you just made an enemy out of her, and more importantly, me.”
“What are you saying, you serpent.”
“When you will die, and I can promise you, you will, look to the sky and beg for Her forgiveness…
You’ll need it.”
With that, the Daemon turned around and sauntered away, magically slamming the door closed behind him.
…
It wasn’t long until word of the red haired demon posing as a priest reached Aziraphale’s ears.
The Metatron himself had descended to demand the lowly principality figure out this serpent’s wily plan, and put a stop to it.
He had no idea what to expect.
What he hadn’t expected was for Crowley to be acting as a priest for a wedding.
Sure, he used the wrong pronouns when referring to the Lord, which may or may not have resulted in a union blessed by Satan Himself, but those were little details that could easily be overlooked.
Crowley didn’t let it show if he had noticed the Angel at the ceremony, but after bidding the blessed pair goodbye, he knew he could not pretend to any longer.
“What are you doing here, Angel.”
“I could ask you the same thing Dear. Posing as a priest, what for?”
“Just encouraging some humans to desert.”
“It looked like you were doing a lot more than just that.”
“You know me Angel, just trying to spite some pompous Arch-Douche that’s all.”
“I know Dear, it’s just…” A faint blush was creeping up Aziraphale’s face, giving a faint pink hue to his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll be careful. If Upstairs has found out you’re doing this, we can only hope Downstairs doesn’t find out as well.”
“I can handle myself, you know.”
“Oh…
I see…
Well, I’m sorry for trying to keep you safe I guess.”
“Angel, Wait!”
Too late.
The doors had already closed behind him.
Crowley didn’t know why tears welled up in his eyes.
He wouldn’t show them anyway.
Good Demons don’t cry.
And especially not about their stupid Angel.
…
269 AD (Whoever said God doesn’t play games with the Universe?)
Crowley had got to hand it to the Romans, they knew how to keep a Demon from escaping. Blessed Golden manacles had tied his hands and feet together while he slept, and no less than four burly guards escorted him to Claudius’ palace.
“Well, well, well… Look what filth the cat dragged in.”
His mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour.
First things first, keep my composure, then hope that he slips up.
“Gotta say, I’m impressed with these guards you have. Big guys, each and every one. Very kinky of you. And here I was thinking I was a creature of sin!”
“Silence! We shall not let your silver tongue sway us, foul beast.”
“I mean, I’d personally wait until after the third date to bring out the manacles, but you know me...”
A meaty fist plunged into Crowley’s stomach, leaving him gasping for air.
“Is that all? Bit disappointing. That’s nothing compared to what Lucy…”
A second fist, this time aimed at his jaw. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth. Then they started bringing out the clubs, making him see stars.
Funny…
They look different then I remembered.
…
When Crowley woke up, they had moved him to a cold and damp dungeon.
Wind blew through the dungeon and bit at his corporation.
“You know, it took me a while, but I think I figured out what you are…”
The brassy voice of the emperor of Rome thundered from through the bars
“The way you try to hide your goat eyes should have been the biggest hint, to be honest…
But now I figured out your species, foul Lupercal.”
“Yup”, Crowley croaked in response. “Valentina the Lupercal, that’s me.”
He had meant for it to sound sarcastic, but the effect was lessened by the fact that his corporation couldn’t seem to talk without feeling a stabbing pain in the chest.
That can’t be good.
“I shall behead you at your very own festival. That’ll show your gods not to mess with me. ‘Claudius the Lupercalia slayer’ they will call me! Not that you’ll live long enough to see it happen.”
With that, the Emperor turned away, laughing a hearty chuckle.
…
Crowley had no idea how long he had spent shivering in that cell, clinging desperately to what little warmth his human corporation could provide. He had tried to catch some sleep, only to wake up shuddering due to the cold winter air blowing through his billowing clothes.
Every so often the jailor’s daughter came by to give him his food.
He didn’t touch it.
Instead, he spend his days making small talk and discussing their lives.
She was a bright young lass, exited at the prospect of spending large quantities of time discussing different poets of old. Crowley would spend hours reciting poems by heart, and soon the girl would do so as well. She’d always loved them, but was unable to read them due to a nasty birth defect leaving her blind.
She always carried herself with purpose, and a spring in her step.
But not today.
Today was different.
“This will probably be the last time I will be able to visit, mister Valentine.
The emperor has forbidden me from speaking with the prisoners.”
“That’s alright Idaea. I have enjoyed our conversations, but alas, all good things come to an end. It’s the way of life I guess.”
“You talk with such sadness, like you have the tortured soul of an immortal trapped inside the body of man.”
“If you’d have lived the life I have, you would understand.”
A ruffle of paper drew Idaea’s attention.
“I just have one regret… My Angel shall never know what fate has befallen me. Oh how he’ll fuss. Show him this letter. He’ll know it’s from me.”
A lull fell in the conversation. When the prisoner started to talk again, his voice was choked with regret.
“I just… I don’t want him to see my fallen body. I’m afraid of the things he’ll do in his rage.”
“I’ll do my very best. How will I’ve known I’ve found him.”
“You’ll know, in that I have faith. There’s no one in the world quite like my prissy little Angel.”
“I shall cherish the memory of you forever. No obstacle shall prevent me from exclaiming your tale for all to hear…
I only wish I could see you…
If only I could.”
Hesitantly Crowley looked into her eyes, knowing full well the trouble he’ll be in if anybody found out.
“I could grant you that request.”
“I would want for nothing more.”
“Do you trust me, Idaea?”
“I know I’ve nothing to fear.”
“Even though you know nothing of the horrendous deeds I’ve committed?”
“I know you now… That’s all I need.”
Then open your eyes.
Crowley watched as the blind woman looked around the world with reborn eyes, hardly able to imagine taking in the wonders of Her Creation for the first time in her life. He had long since forgotten it.
He had forgotten about Before.
Then her eyes were inevitably drawn to the final monstruous feature Crowley was cursed to be unable to hide.
“Your eyes…”
“I know… Believe you me, I know…”
Tears pressed against the corners of his Serpentine slits.
“They’re beautiful”
…
270 AD
Marcus Claudius II was dying.
It had started with a burning fire flaming through his marrow, scorching the vulnerable flesh of the Faucus. Soon after, the sounds that inhabited the world started sounding dull, and the light would leave soon after.
It should have been a triumphant occasion. Claudius would go into history as an undefeated victor.
Surely, Pluto would look favourably down upon him, granting him access to the unspoiled riches of Elysium…
Why then did the fear of God clamp around his heart like a cold fist of dread.
He was sure he had perished when his vision cleared up and was greeted by the sight of an angel.
Platinum curls formed a halo above his head, and giant dove wings filled the room.
“Azrael shall be coming for you shortly, mortal. But until then, You shall have to do with little old me.”
“Agent of Juno… Surely the Impostor Lupercal did not speak true…”
“You’ve made some powerful enemies Imperator, death shall bring you no peace.”
Fear began flooding this pitiful man’s eyes. As time passed, fear turned into dread, and then into emptiness. Cries begging for forgiveness fell onto deaf men’s ears…
The soul would never make it to heaven…
Aziraphale would make sure of that.
…
1976 AD - Wessex
It’s late at night when Antony J. Crowley finally passes out, limbs sprawled chaotically over the floor.
Freddie had listened to his friend ramble through the night, telling unbelievable tales with such sincerity that he could do no different than believe the Flash Bastard.
He would never tell Freddie what was bothering him, but it wasn’t hard to guess it had something to do with the painfully obvious.
They had done so much for him, Antony and his Angel, but they would never let him repay them.
Maybe the time had come to give them a tiny nudge in the right direction.
Confident in his decision, Freddie climbed behind his piano, and started to sing.
“I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things
We can do the tango just for two
I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings
Be your Valentino just for you”