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Crowley was pathetic.
Deep down, he always knew he was. I mean- if he was actually a worthy demon, he would’ve killed the goats and the children in cold blood. It would be so much easier to have ever been a real demon.
But beyond that- he’s pathetic, because now, he’s considering dunking his head in holy water because his best friend- lover? no. Crush of, like, six thousand years, rejected him.
“I forgive you” was still ringing in his ears. What does that mean? “I forgive you,” for kissing him? I forgive you, for not accepting the offer to be an Angel again?
Speaking of that- where the fuck did Aziraphale get off, thinking he could ever come back? That he could betray everything he is, that he could just walk right back into the arms of the people who’ve caused him so much pain? Who left all the fallen to rot in their own filth, doomed?
He understands, though. Sometimes, on the particularly cold nights, he wishes he could have deniability the way Aziraphale does. The ability to walk right into the arms of people who he wouldn’t have to pay first.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He would. He would have to repent. Aziraphale had never Fallen in the first place. He doesn’t realize that God has abandoned him.
It’s not Aziraphale’s fault. He knows that. And it’s not like he’s mad at him, he’s just- so fucking lonely.
He would take being lonely over betraying himself and all his experiences any day, but every other time he’s been lonely, at least, he’s known there was a nice little bookshop and some hot cocoa or whiskey waiting for him. An ear, and kind eyes, that didn’t war for payment in return.
But, as he said, nothing can last forever.
Angels were supposed to last forever. Maybe if he had never asked, never expected an answer, hd wouldn’t be here. No, definitely. But he’d still be stuck.
The way Aziraphale is right now.
Should he have went up with him? At the very least, to protect him? To try and get him out?
The idea of going back up to heaven to stay makes him feel nauseous.
He’s not a demon. Demons don’t get scared of that kind of thing. And he’s not an Angel either, angels wouldn’t get scared of that, specifically. It’s not like he’s human, at least not actually. No human could preform miracles, or come back from being discorporated. But that’s what he feels most like right now.
He is neither. More human than ethereal.
He used to think that Aziraphale was the same- but, well. He’s proven his Angel-ness, alright.
And all that, all that love and pain, and the constant effort to get away from the title of “Angel”, that all led him right back to a church, getting cross-faded with his legs up on the pew in front of him.
He and Aziraphale really are doomed.
He’s cold. Why is he cold? He feels like he’s been sleeping out in a blizzard.
Oh, death is sitting next to him.
He must be worse off than he thought, for death to be summoned to him.
He scoffs. “You know, you’ve seen it all. You’ve watched me and him, the entire time. We watched you manifest for the first time with that lion, and you’ve just kept running into us. Any time we got into trouble. The bombing with the nazis, you were there. The world wars, whenever Aziraphale would get stationed around active battlefields. You watched him discorporate a couple times.” He laughs bitterly, his tequila sloshing around in its bottle. “You caused it, even though, honestly, we both know you had no choice.”
He sighs when Death doesn’t respond. “I’m so goddamn tired. I don’t.. know what to do. Megatron succeeded, he successfully got him back up there, and I fell right into helping him isolate us from each-other. And now.. what am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can plan a raid on heaven, I don’t even have Hells forces backing me up. Though, truth be told, they’re on the same side, so, they probably wouldn’t be down for it anyways.”
Death doesn’t respond, just staring at him.
He sighs and looks up at the altar, where the bowl of holy water sat. “Do you know, how everything happens?” He ponders idly. Waiting. “You must have to, right? You have to know where to go and when, it’s not like you can leave humans deaths running late.”
He takes another hit, on the off chance that death might respond. He doesn’t. “Why are you here? You don’t need to come so early.”
He gets an answer, surprisingly. If Crowley was more sober, he would think something about waves of bone chilling ice, that make you feel like you’re already dead, but he’s not, so all he manages is a faint shiver. “Demon Crowley, it is not your time yet.”
Crowley laughs bitterly. “What, are you out of lines?”
Death goes on. “There is something more coming. Something far worse. If you die now, your loved one will never escape.”
Crowley glances over. “Whose side are you on, anyway? You never turned us in, but you know full well of the arrangement. And you don’t save angels from Hellfire.”
“I am impartial. I am a system of the universe. I am only a horseman in the technical sense. I am much more integral than famine, pollution, and war are, although they are my siblings.” It pauses. “Demons and Angels must have their mutual weaknesses. Holy water and Hellfire are cut from the same cloth, much in the same manner the institutions of hell and heaven are.”
“Demon Crowley. You have much of your life to come. This next battle will be your last major one, and then you will be left in peace. You and your counterpart alter the course of the universe. You dying here is simply not to be. But, only if I am here with you. That is why I have come.”
Crowley scoffs, taking a gulp of tequila and looking away. “So what, do you just change what you want? Alter the course of history to be whatever you want? Or are you taking orders from God?”
“I decide to arrive before someone’s death at irregular times. It is entirely dependent on outlying factors and how long my other appointments took. That is all.”
He scoffs. “So, basically, you’re not telling me?”
Death nods.
He sighs. He can’t really argue with Death- it is just as much on it’s own side as Crowley himself is. He drops the joint and stubs it out on the floor, standing up and relishing in the pain. “Congratulations, Death.”, He rolls his eyes, “You have officially saved a life.”
Death inclines it’s head in goodbye, and Crowley leaves the church.