Work Text:
I've been searchin' a long time
For someone exactly like you
I've been travelin' all around the world
Waitin' for you to come through
Someone like you
Make it all worth while
Someone like you
Keep me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
I've been travelin' a hard road
Baby, lookin' for someone exactly like you
I've been carryin' my heavy load
Waitin' for the light to come shinin' through
Someone like you
Make it all worth while
Someone like you
Make me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
I've been doing some soul searchin'
To find out where you're at
I've been up and down the highway
In all kinds of foreign lands
Someone like you
Make it all worth while
Someone like you
Keep me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
I've been all around the world
Marching to the beat of a different drum
But just lately I have realized
Baby, the best is yet to come
Someone like you
Make it all worth while
Someone like you
Keep me satisfied
Someone exactly like you
Someone exactly like you
Someone exactly like you
The best is yet to come
Oh, the best is yet to come
Someone exactly like you
Someone exactly like you
-------------------------------
I've been searchin' a long time
For someone exactly like you
I've been travelin' all around the world
Waitin' for you to come through
---
Muriel was dusting the bookshop early one morning and listening to the radio. She loved “Golden Oldies”, although many people might object to the current definition of “oldie”, when there was a heavy knock on the door. If she were anyone else, she would have been annoyed because the CLOSED sign was prominently displayed, but she was not like anyone else on Earth. Instead, she smiled broadly and skipped to the door, but when she opened it, she jumped back and brandished the feather duster like a weapon.
“Oh no you don’t! You’re a demon, and you’re not welcome in this shop!”
She hesitated, trying to think of some official angel response.
“Begone?”
Furfur grimaced and straightened the collar on his jacket.
“I am not interested in coming into the bookshop,” he said irritably. “Shax sent me with a message for Crowley. Is he here?”
Muriel knew the bookshop was warded against demons and Furfur didn’t seem hostile, but she wondered whether she should let him know that Crowley was not currently in the bookshop, and neither was Aziraphale. It was just her, a Scrivener 37th Class, the lowest ranking angel in Heaven who was now stranded on Earth.
“What is the message?” she hedged. “I will give it to him.”
“No. Shax said I had to deliver it in person.”
“Wait here, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Muriel closed the door, leaving Furfur on the stoop squinting in the bright sunlight. She immediately felt sorry for him and took one of Crowley's plants off the small bench near the door and placed the pot gently on the floor. She opened the door and handed the stool to Furfur.
“You can sit on this while you wait,” she said helpfully. “Would you like a cupperty?”
“A what?”
“A cupperty,” she repeated. “To drink.”
Why would I want that?”
The demon seemed more confused than annoyed.
“Humans like it. It’s nice.”
“I’m not interested in anything humans like! I certainly don’t want anything ‘nice’!”
Furfur was on firmer ground here.
“Ok, great!”
Muriel closed the door. After a few seconds, Furfur moved the stool into the shade of the bookshop and sat down. The sun was very bright. He had only been to Earth a couple of times, but this was the first time he’d been outside during the day, and he didn’t like it. He felt exposed. Hell was crowded, but there were too many humans walking past him on the sidewalk. He’d changed his corporation to fit in with the humans, and no one noticed him, but he still felt uncomfortable and out of place. He’d be glad when he delivered the message and could get back to Hell.
Inside the shop, Muriel dialed Crowley's number on the cellphone he’d given her.
“Wha?”
“Mr. Crowley? It’s me, Muriel.”
“I know. What do you want?”
“There’s a demon at the door. He says he has a message for you from Shax.”
“Demon? What demon?”
“I’ll check.”
Muriel opened the door and leaned out far enough to see Furfur sitting near the stoop.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Furfur. Crowley knows me.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Muriel shut the door and put the phone to her ear.
“Mr. Crowley?”
“Yeah.”
“He says his name is Furfur and that you know him.”
“I know him,” Crowley growled. “Where is he?”
“He’s sitting outside the bookshop.”
“Do you feel threatened?”
“No. He seems nice enough.”
“Demons aren’t nice. Tell him to wait, and I’ll get there when I get there.”
“Ok.”
Muriel opened the bookshop door and leaned out.
“Mr. Crowley says to wait there, and he’ll get here when he gets here.”
She shut the door.
Furfur fidgeted on the stool. Even in the shade, the sun was too bright. Obviously, he didn’t mind the heat, but Hell was lit with buzzing florescent lights. Natural light was…well, unnatural, and he was getting a headache. Maybe this was why Crowley always wore dark glasses.
Furfur was a low level demon who had spent the majority of his career processing new souls. It wasn’t a great job and he aspired to more, but he hadn’t managed to attract the attention of the higher ups, which is actually a good thing in Hell. Because he had been mostly left alone, he’d had little opportunity to become truly evil. Angels fell, but they weren’t necessarily evil when they dragged themselves out of the sulfur pit. Evil came with practice and exertion, and since most demons were lazy, many had not made much effort to become particularly loathsome. They just toiled away at their jobs and tried not to get discorporated.
Now, Furfur had this new position under Shax, and she was so overwhelmed she didn’t have time to discorporate any demons except the occasional Eric, which was expected, but she hadn’t even done that much. Furfur thought her time on Earth had “softened” her and he was glad for that. New bodies were a lottery, and while he would have liked to be taller and more formidable, his current corporation fit easily under the radar, and he wanted to keep it. Although, he would never admit it, he wasn’t what you would call “demon evil”. He was more “low-grade, incompetent micro-manager evil”.
Furfur rubbed his eyes and his temples impatiently. When he worked for Hell, Crowley was a high-level demon and his status rose every year he managed to survive on Earth and meet his quotas. Furfur wasn’t sure how retirement effected Crowley's standing, but he suspected that Crowley hadn’t given Hell any choice in the matter, so Crowley must be quite powerful. Furfur was becoming impatient, but he would wait as long as Crowley made him.
On the other hand, Furfur didn’t necessarily have to be this uncomfortable while he waited. He knocked on the bookshop door and the angel answered it almost immediately.
“Yes?” she asked pleasantly.
“About that cupperty?”
“Would you like to try one? That’s great. Give me a tick.”
Furfur sat down again and pondered the angel. He’d only met a few angels before, and they were jerks. Granted, Aziraphale had never been rude to him, but the demon was concerned about being smited? smote? by the others. This new angel was something completely different. She wasn’t simply “not rude”, she was nice. She was very nice. Furfur didn’t think anyone had offered to get him anything in his entire existence, although his memories of Heaven were a bit sketchy.
A few moments later, Muriel came out of the door carrying two cups and saucers. She handed one to Furfur and sat on the stoop next to him.
“I thought I’d keep you company,” she said happily. “I’m Muriel, by the way.”
Furfur held the cup, a confused look on his face.
Muriel lifted her cup to her lips and demonstrated, sipping loudly.
“You’re meant to drink it,” she explained patiently.
Furfur was apprehensive, but Muriel’s smile was so encouraging, he followed her example. The tea was hot and a little acrid. He nodded approvingly before he remembered to frown.
“I prefer mine with a lot of sugar,” Muriel said, almost conspiratorially. “I wasn’t sure what you would like, but Mr. Crowley drinks coffee, and he says he wants it ‘black and bitter as his soul’, and that’s how I would describe tea without sugar.”
Furfur had a little trouble following all that, so he just nodded again, relieved he didn’t have to speak because he had no idea what to say to an angel.
“Oi!” Crowley shouted angrily as he stepped out of the Bentley. “What’s going on there? Muriel, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I was keeping Furfur company while he waited for you. I made us a cupperty.”
“He doesn’t need you to keep him company and you certainly shouldn’t be making him any tea!”
Furfur glanced cautiously at Muriel, but she seemed unphased by Crowley's attitude and was smiling more brightly at Crowley than she’d smiled at Furfur. He didn’t understand angels, but now the angry demon was looking at him.
“What the fuck do you want?” he demanded.
“Shax wants to talk to you. She ordered me to bring you down to Hell where you can speak privately.”
“I’m not going down to Hell! I’m retired, remember? If she wants to talk to me, tell her to come up here herself.”
Furfur frowned.
“She’s not going to like that,” he responded.
“I don’t give a crap what she likes or doesn’t like. I don’t work for Hell, and I certainly would never work for her, now get lost!”
“Mr. Crowley!” Muriel scolded gently. “You’re going to get Furfur in trouble and it’s not his fault you don’t want to go back to Hell.”
Furfur stared at the little angel and the Crowley rubbed his face in frustration.
“Fine,” he said finally, and addressed Furfur.
“I’m not going to Hell, but I’ll give you a note telling Shax to fuck off.”
Crowley stomped into the bookshop and slammed the door. A few minutes later, he came out with one of Aziraphale’s fancy envelopes.
“My response is in here,” he told Furfur and handed him the envelope. “Now, bugger off.”
Crowley glared at Muriel.
“Get in the bookshop,” he said gruffly, holding open the door. “Now.”
Muriel took the cup and saucer from Furfur.
“It was very nice to meet you, Furfur,” she said politely before she went into the bookshop.
Crowley looked sourly at Furfur.
“Beat it,” he said, and slammed the door.
Crowley locked the front door with a snap and turned on Muriel.
“What have I told you about consorting with demons?” he demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He was my first demon, apart from you, and I recognized him from when…you know.”
“Yeah. I know him. We’ve met a couple of times.”
“He didn’t seem so bad.”
Crowley ran his hands through his hair in frustration and possibly something else.
“Listen to me,” he said earnestly. “He’s a demon. He’s bad. Trust me.”
“Ok, but if you were so worried, what took you so long to get here?”
“I was halfway up the coast,” he explained. He sounded tired.
“Oh,” Muriel whispered sadly. “Shall I get you a cupperty?”
“Nope. I’m going straight for the whiskey.”
“I’ll get it for you!” she said brightly “Why don’t you just sit down. I’ll be right back.”
“Fine. Just make it quick.”
Crowley slumped onto the sofa and dropped his head into his hands. He hadn’t been this harsh with Muriel for a long time, but this was a bad day, and she understood. The only time he drove up the coast alone was when he really missed Aziraphale, and Muriel knew it. Granted, it didn’t happen as often since the angel came down from Heaven to apologize, but it was still difficult. The only reason he hadn’t left was because he still worried about the little angel. It was worse now that Furfur showed up.
Muriel came from the kitchen carrying a whisky bottle with a highball glass balanced upside down on the neck for Crowley, and a cup of cocoa for herself. She handed the demon the bottle, and he poured whiskey into the glass, emptied it, then poured a second drink. Muriel sat in the desk chair across from him.
“I’m sorry I upset you when I spoke to Furfur,” she said.
“It’s ok. You did the right thing by calling me. You let me know immediately if he shows up again, yeah?”
“Of course.”
She took a sip of cocoa.
“Do you want to hear what I learned today?”
Crowley sighed, but made himself comfortable, snapped the blinds shut, turned down the lights and took a sip from his glass.
“Hit me,” he said.
If the Supreme Archangel had looked into the bookshop at that moment, he would have seen a demon draped elegantly across a sofa, listening intently to a small angel who was enthusiastically describing all of the things she had read that day. Occasionally, the demon would nod or speak, but mostly he listened. Eventually, he turned into a red and black snake and the angel gently covered him with a blanket and spent several minutes tenderly stroking his head. He might have hissed, but it wasn’t sincere. Maybe it was undignified, but it felt good, and nobody would know. Nobody but the Supreme Archangel, anyway.
The demon was awakened the next morning by someone pounding on the front door of the bookshop. He growled and dug deeper into the blanket, but the pounding continued.
“Muriel?” he yelled.
“Coming!”
A moment later, she opened the door.
“Oh, hello! It’s nice to see you again,” she said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”
“Who is it?” Crowley growled.
“It’s Furfur.”
Crowley was in his human form and halfway to the door in an instant. He put himself between Muriel and Furfur and snarled down at the other demon.
“I told you to get lost,” he hissed.
“I have a note from Shax. She told me to deliver it personally. I’m supposed to wait for a response.”
“Muriel,” Crowley said very quietly. “Get me a cup of coffee.”
“You bet!”
When she was out of earshot, Crowley glared down at Furfur.
“Just what are you playing at?” he demanded.
“I’m just doing what Shax told me to do!”
“If I threw you out and told you to never come back, Shax would just send another demon, wouldn’t she?”
“Yup.”
Crowley sighed.
“Let’s get this straight,” he said in a very threatening tone. “If any harm comes to that angel, I will hold you personally responsible. You know what that means, yeah?”
Furfur nodded solemnly. This was no time for bravado. Shax might be a Duke of Hell, but, even retired, Crowley was probably more powerful. Besides, Furfur kind of liked Muriel, and was happy for the excuse to come up to Earth. He certainly didn’t want any harm to come to her.
---
I've been travelin' a hard road
Baby, lookin' for someone exactly like you
I've been carryin' my heavy load
Waitin' for the light to come shinin' through
---
Furfur stood outside Shax’s office waiting for her to draft a reply to Crowley. Any demon worth his salt would have been tempted to peek at the messages, but Furfur couldn’t read. He could only process incoming souls because he learned to identify the important words, and he made the damned fill out their own forms, claiming it was part of their torture. He complained that he couldn’t get ahead, but he knew why. He still liked to beef about it, though.
“Furfur!” Shax bellowed a little while later. “Get in here, NOW!”
Furfur entered her office and stood at attention in front of her desk.
“Take this up to that…traitor and wait for his response.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
An hour later, after straightening his jacket and slicking down his hair, he pounded on the bookshop door. To his delight, Muriel opened it right away.
“Oh, Furfur!” she said happily. “You’re back.”
“I have a message for Crowley,” he stated importantly. “I brought it right away.”
“Is Hell far away?”
“It is,” he answered, “because Shax won’t let me take the elevator, so I have to take the stairs. It’s a long haul, let me tell you!”
“I’m sure. I’ll tell Mr. Crowley you are here. Would you like a cupperty while you wait?”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. As a matter of fact, I was just going to have a cupperty myself.”
“Oh, well, if you were going to have a cupperty, it would be rude of me not to join you, right?”
“Yes! Absolutely. It would be very rude.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t join you then. Imma demon, after all.”
Furfur looked frustrated by his revelation.
“Well, I’ve decided I don’t want a cupperty, so it would be very inconvenient for you to force me to make you one.” Muriel made her sourest face. “It would be monumentally rude!”
“Then, I will have that tea…please. I mean…now!”
Muriel nodded encouragingly, then shouted into the bookshop.
“Mr. Crowley! That horrible demon, Furfur, is here again. I thought you told him to never come back. Shame on him.”
She winked at Furfur then hurried into the shop.
Crowley came to the door and glared at Furfur as he took the envelope from him.
“Why the fuck doesn’t she just come up here and talk to me herself?” Crowley grumbled. “I know her. Written correspondence is definitely not her strong suit.”
Furfur overheard Crowley and smiled to himself. So what, if he told Shax that Crowley insisted on passing notes? He was a demon. He lied.
A moment later, Muriel appeared, handed Furfur his cupperty and sat on the stoop next to him while he drank it. Crowley scowled but didn’t say anything. He was reading the latest missive from Shax and frowning.
“Did you tell Shax I would only communicate by letter?” he shouted.
“What? Me? No!” Furfur insisted.
“That’s what she says here.”
“Oh! I must have forgot.”
“Mr. Crowley! Don’t be so cross. You don’t want to go to Hell, and you don’t want Shax back up here, do you? It only makes sense to do it this way, right?”
Crowley scowled at Muriel, but easily read her expression. She felt sorry for Furfur because he was stuck in Hell, and she was right. He didn’t want to go Down and he didn’t want Shax on Earth.
“Fine.”
“Goodie!”
“Whatever. I’ll be back with a response later. I have other things to do first.”
Muriel grinned at Furfur.
“I guess you’re stuck here. How inconvenient for you.”
“I guess. It’s terrible.”
“Have you ever fed ducks?”
“Wha? Ducks?”
“Just a tick.”
“Mr. Crowley! I’m going to show Furfur how to feed ducks. Will you text me when you are done writing your letter?”
“Absolutely not! You stay in this bookshop where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Please, please, please?” Muriel wheedled. “We’ll go to the closest pond, so we won’t be far.
The demon rolled his eyes. He was powerless against begging angels.
“Fine,” he said wearily, “but don’t keep me waiting when I text you.”
“Ok. See you!”
Muriel looked at Furfur and smiled. He didn’t think he had ever seen anything that bright before, not even the sun.
——
I've been doing some soul searchin'
To find out where you're at
I've been up and down the highway
In all kinds of foreign lands
---
Muriel didn’t know what Crowley and Shax were discussing, but it seemed to require almost daily correspondence. Normally, she would be interested, or even worried, but she was too busy shepherding Furfur around London.
Crowley hardly bothered to object when she begged for permission to give Furfur a tour of London. She knew how to use public transportation and had gotten Metro and bus cards. Muriel also earned a wage, so she had her own money which she used to take Furfur to all of her favorite places, like the natural history and art museums.
“This painting is from France,” she said one day. “This came from Egypt,” she said on another occasion. “Going to the museum is like traveling all over the world, only you don’t have to go anywhere. Isn’t that great?!”
Furfur nodded, a bit uncertain. He had only ever been in Heaven, which he did not remember, or Hell, which he recalled too vividly. Now, he didn’t care where he was as long as it was with Muriel. The moment he started to let himself be happy, though, he’d remind himself that this was only going to last as long as Shax needed to communicate with Crowley.
“Mr. Crowley,” Muriel asked one afternoon as he walked into the bookshop, “what are you and Shax talking about? It seems to be taking an awful lot of time.”
Crowley growled.
“She wants me to help her pick the next demon to act as Hell’s Emissary on Earth because I refuse to do it.”
“Oh, really?”
Muriel tried to act disinterested, but she needn’t have worried. The demon was preoccupied.
“Yup, but I don’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“Why do you keep responding to Shax’s letters, then?”
“Because she’ll fuck it up if I leave it to her, and I don’t want to have to deal with a shit demon on Earth, and since there is no official emissary from Heaven, it would be up to me as the only celestial to intervene.”
“I’m here.”
“I know, but you aren’t ‘official’. You shouldn’t get involved. Also, I have no idea how powerful you are. You could get discorporated, or worse, and I don’t want that on my conscience.”
“Oh.”
A moment later, Crowley’s head snapped up and he made as if to sniff the air.
“Furfur,” he growled, and failed to notice Muriel’s happy smile.
“I’ll get the door,” she said, and opened it before the demon had a chance to knock.
“Another letter from Shax,” Furfur said importantly.
“Oh, great! Do you want a cupperty?”
‘“Not if you’re going to have any.”
“I wasn’t. It would be too much trouble.”
“Fine then. You better get to it.”
“Great!”
Crowley came to the door and took the envelope from Furfur.
“What the fuck does she want now?” he growled.
“How should I know?”
Crowley went back to the sofa to read Shax’s latest correspondence while Muriel sat on the stoop and talked to Furfur while he drank his tea.
“Do you think we’ll have time to feed some ducks today?” she asked.
“I dunno. It didn’t take Shax long to write this, so it’s probably pretty short.”
“Do you ever sneak a peek to see what they are writing about?”
“Nah. Why would I do that?” Furfur hedged, shrugging. “I don’t care.”
“Oh.”
Muriel leaned forward, and whispered.
“I’d read it if I had the chance.”
“You would?” Furfur seemed surprised. “That sounds more like what my lot would do.”
“I was a scrivener,” Muriel said, uncertainly, a bit troubled to think that her curiosity was inappropriate for an angel. “It was my job to read and write things.”
“I can’t read,” Furfur said very softly.
“What?”
“I can’t read.”
“Really? I thought all angels could read and you were once an angel.”
“I don’t remember that much about being an angel. Maybe I lost the ability when I fell. You forget a lot when you spend centuries in a pit of burning sulfur.”
“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry I said that!” Muriel was genuinely distressed, close to tears. “I didn’t know! I feel awful, now.”
“Don’t feel bad. How would you know?”
Furfur forgot to sound cross, which was something he tried to do with Muriel because he was a demon and that’s how it was.
“I could teach to read, if you want.”
“What?”
“I could teach you to read. It’s not hard and you used to know how to do it. I bet it would come right back to you in no time.”
“Nah. I don’t want to.”
Furfur was worried. What if Muriel realized he was a stupid demon. For some reason, that idea bothered him.
“Think about it!” She encouraged. “If I taught you how to read, you could peek at the letters and all sorts of other important documents. That would be very wrong of you!”
“That’s true! But what if I couldn’t learn?”
“I know you can because I would be a very good teacher…even though I would only teach you under duress. Besides, you must be very clever, or you wouldn’t have been able to do your job for all that time, and Shax wouldn’t have picked you for this assignment.”
“Ok.”
Furfur was pleased she thought he was clever.
“Let me get a book!”
Furfur almost called to her to not bother, but he was too easily influenced by her enthusiasm. He cursed under his breath, just to make it look like he hated the idea.
“Ok,” she said as she joined him on the stoop with a thin book with lots of colorful illustrations. “We’ll start with this.”
She leaned forward and started to show him the different letters and the sounds they made. Muriel had no idea how long they had been at it when Crowley came to the door.
“Here!” he said and thrust the envelope at Furfur. “Tell Shax to leave me alone after this. I don’t work for her or Hell anymore.”
“Ok,” Furfur said quietly, turning away from Muriel’s sad expression. “I guess I’d better go.”
“Yeah,” Crowley growled before slamming the door. “Get lost.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
“Bye.”
——
Three days later, Crowley and Muriel were in the coffee shop. Crowley was drinking espresso and Muriel was staring glumly at her cupperty when the demon’s head shot up.
“Demon!” He said.
“Furfur?”
“No. I don’t know this one. You stay here.”
He walked toward the door and looked at Nina, his expression very serious.
“I’m locking this door. You all stay in here. Do not leave until I tell you it’s safe. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He marched out of the coffee shop, and with a snap, locked the door. Muriel stood at the window watching him walk toward the elevator from the Down and noticed the strange demon as it made its way onto the street. It was huge and ugly, inappropriately dressed and had barely disguised its Hellish characteristics. It stood out immediately, and for once in a very long time, the residents of Soho noticed.
Crowley strode very quickly, intent on heading off the demon when the clueless creature stepped off the curb and into the path of a bus. In an instant, the demon’s body flew into the air and landed on the roof of the vehicle before being thrown onto the street in a broken heap. With a wave of his hand, Crowley disposed of the body, fixed the damage to the bus and wiped the memories of all of the human witnesses. He turned back toward the coffee shop, snapped his fingers and unlocked the door, but he didn’t return. He went straight to the book shop.
“I guess I’d better go and see what happened,” Muriel said as a way of apology to Nina.
“Yeah, and when you find out, come back and tell me all about it. Your cupperty will be on the house.”
Muriel didn’t know what the barista meant, but nodded agreement anyway. That happened a lot, although much less than it used to.
“Crowley?” She said as she entered the bookshop. “What happened?”
“Shax is an idiot. What was she thinking with that demon?”
“I know. He was very conspicuous, and didn’t even know how to look for cars!”
Muriel didn’t mention that she had almost been hit by a taxi before Crowley took her hand and showed her how to look both ways before crossing the street.
“You know how to contact that demon…Furfur, right?” Crowley asked, impatiently.
“Um. No.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait to see what shit demon she sends up next.”
“Oh. Ok.”
Muriel was disappointed that Crowley couldn’t somehow summon Furfur, and vowed to find out how to do that if she ever saw him again.
Two days later, as they walked back from the coffee shop, Crowley's head jerked up again and even Muriel could sense the latest emissary from hell. This one was bad. It stunk with evil. They both turned toward the elevator.
The creature that emerged had masked the bulk of his demonic features, but the rage that emanated from it was palpable and it roughly grabbed a woman immediately upon exiting the elevator. She screamed.
“What the fuck!?” Crowley cursed, and ran across the road to intervene.
The new demon was large, but Crowley was stronger. Muriel suspected Crowley was probably more powerful than all of the demons left in Hell even though he never said anything. She was confident he would take care of things. After all, he’d been taking care of things…including her…nearly from the first moment she’d set foot on Earth.
As soon as he was close enough, Crowley grabbed the demon by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Surprised, the demon released the woman, and with a careless snap, Crowley erased her memory and the memories of everyone who’d witnessed the attack. He angrily pushed the demon back into the elevator and, to Muriel’s horror, summoned a wicked looking knife and thrust it under the demon’s ribs, directly into the place where its heart should be, and twisted it. He dropped the knife and body onto the floor of the elevator and violently pushed the Down button. He miracled the blood from his clothing and walked slowly back to the bookshop. Muriel followed right behind him.
“Mr. Crowley? Are you ok?” she asked.
He rubbed his eyes and hair, and looked tired.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You killed that demon!”
“He’s not dead. I just discorporated him and sent him to Hell as a message for Shax.”
“I’m glad he’s not dead.”
“I almost destroyed him. I was one second away from summoning a “blessed” blade.”
“You can do that?”
“Yup, although it’s not common knowledge, so keep a lid on it, ok?”
He looked tired and a little sad.
“Of course.” She said readily, as sat next to him on the sofa and took his hand. “Even if you didn’t destroy him…”
“Yeah. I haven’t killed anything in a long time.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“It shouldn’t but it does, and I couldn’t take any chances. I don’t know what that demon was capable of doing.”
He paused.
“But, more than that. I was angry. Furious that he…”
“I know. He should never have touched that woman.”
“That has been forbidden since almost the beginning. There are rules for demons on Earth. What was Shax thinking? What the fuck is wrong with her?”
Muriel patted Crowley’s hand and he allowed it. Even though he tried to keep her at arm’s length as much as possible, he was comforted by her concern. All of this made him very, very sad, and for the thousandth time, he missed Aziraphale.
A moment later, he lifted his head and gently pulled his hand back from Muriel.
“Furfur,” he said with relief.
Muriel answered the door on the first knock and looked seriously at the demon.
“That went down like a lead balloon,” he said quietly, as he handed her the envelope for Crowley.
“Yes.”
“I was there when the elevator opened,” he explained. “I knew something had gone wrong. Everyone did. It was explosive.”
He leaned closer, gestured with his head toward Crowley, and whispered.
“Who is he?”
“What?”
“Who is Crowley? We could all feel it.”
“I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it. I’m sure he wouldn’t tell me anything, even if I asked.”
“Muriel?”
“Yes, Mr. Crowley. Here I come.”
“Good.”
Muriel delivered the envelope, poured Crowley some whiskey and made two cupperties. She didn’t care if it made Furfur appear less demonly, she needed a drink. They sat silently on the stoop, almost touching.
“I’ve been in Hell for a long time,” Furfur said finally. “Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of really horrible things, and this wasn’t really that bad by comparison, but I was afraid.”
He sipped his tea.
“I’ve been afraid millions of times,” he said quietly, “but this was different because I wasn’t afraid for me.”
Muriel looked up, surprised.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “I understand.”
Crowley opened the door and thrust the envelope at Furfur.
“Take this to Shax,” he ordered angrily.
“I will,” Furfur said as he stood, handing Muriel his cup.
“Good.”
Crowley closed the door.
“Bye,” Muriel almost whispered.
“Yeah.”
A week later, Crowley was sitting in the coffee shop. He lifted his head.
“Demon,” he said.
“What?!?” Nina exclaimed. “Shouldn’t you get out there? The last one they sent was pretty bad.”
He shrugged.
“It’s only Furfur.”
“Oh. You mean the demon that Muriel is sweet on?” Nina teased.
“What?”
“Isn’t that the demon Muriel likes so much?”
“Is it?”
“What’s wrong with you? Do you mean you haven’t noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“Geez, Crowley. You really are dense. Think about it. Muriel is teaching him how to read, has taken him to museums, and to feed the ducks. She’s sweet on that demon.”
“Fuck!”
Crowley glanced toward the elevator and watched Furfur walk quickly to the bookshop. Muriel opened the door immediately, and he spoke to her excitedly. A second later, the little angel slammed the door in Furfur’s face, leaving him standing, stunned, on the stoop.
“You’d better go see what that’s about,” the barista advised.
“Fuck!”
Crowley walked quickly across the street and approached Furfur.
“What did you do to her?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” Furfur said, confused and distressed. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Hmph.”
Crowley entered the book shop and slammed the door. He locked it with a snap.
“Muriel?”
She didn’t answer. Crowley knew she was in the bookshop, but he couldn’t help reacting when he called to an angel and got no response.
“Muriel!” he said with a hint of worry. “Where are you?”
“I’m here, Mr. Crowley,” Muriel said from the back room, her voice choked with tears.
“What are you doing back there?”
“Nothing.”
She sniffed loudly.
“Are you ok?”
“I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me.”
“Muriel?” Crowley said, as he entered the back room. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Mr. Crowley,” the little angel sobbed and threw her arms around him.
There was a time when he would have stood there, completely clueless about how to deal with being held in a death grip by a small, sobbing being, but thousands of years later, he almost reflexively patted her back.
“What’s wrong? What did that little dick say to you?” he growled.
Muriel couldn’t answer for several minutes, and Crowley finally conjured a handkerchief. His shirt was soaked with tears and other bodily fluids. He took her firmly by the shoulders, led her to the sofa and sat down beside her.
“Tell me what happened.”
“Oh, Mr. Crowley,” she sobbed. “Furfur told me that Shax has named him to be the next representative of Hell on Earth.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“That means he’ll be tempting humans to sin and damnation!” she wailed. “I can’t be friends with him anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m an angel, and what he will be doing is horrible.”
“Oh.”
There were many things Crowley could say at that moment. He could point out that humans are inclined toward sin, so there really wasn’t much actual tempting to be done. For the most part, all Crowley ever did was suggest a particular course of action and humans generally went for it on their own, and took it much farther than he ever imagined, although he always took credit. He could mention that, if Muriel liked Furfur as much as Nina thought she did, the junior angel should be happy that Furfur would have an excuse to spend more time on Earth. Finally, he could remind Muriel that he and Aziraphale had been on opposite sides for thousands of years and managed to be friends, but then he remembered how that had turned out, and shot to his feet.
“I gotta go.”
----
I've been all around the world
Marching to the beat of a different drum
But just lately I have realized
Baby, the best is yet to come
---
Two days later, Crowley was roused from his drunken stupor by the obnoxious ringtone that heralded a call from Muriel, and cursed. He had no idea how she had talked him into downloading “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan as a ringtone. It always made him think of pathetic dogs and was very depressing.
“Wha!”
“Mr. Crowley? It’s Muriel.”
“I know. What do you need?”
“Furfur dropped off another note from Shax.”
Crowley quickly forced the booze and hangover out of his system.
“Did you talk to him?”
“No. I wouldn’t open the door. He pushed it through the mail slot.”
“Ok. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Thank you. Bye.”
Two minutes later, Crowley pulled up in the Bentley, sensed Furfur, and spotted him slouching by the Dirty Donkey. It was hard to tell with demons, even the ones that modified their corporations to fit in with humans, but Crowley thought Furfur looked wretched. Crowley ignored the dejected demon and entered the bookshop with a snap.
“Muriel? I’m here.”
“Oh. Hello, Mr. Crowley.”
The Metatron had once described the junior angel as “dim”, and Crowley had always disagreed with that characterization, but he had to admit that Muriel’s light was barely visible. It was obvious she was still very upset about Furfur.
“Give me the letter.”
“Here you go.”
Crowley sat on the sofa and opened the envelope. He sighed.
“What is it?” Muriel asked.
“Shax wants me to ‘train’ Furfur to be Hell’s Emissary on Earth.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“If I don’t, and Furfur fucks up, Shax will just send another demon and we both know she makes some monumentally bad decisions.”
“I suppose,” Muriel said sadly. “I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Shax says I should train Furfur because he needs to be able to oppose Heaven’s Emissary on Earth. Did Heaven send another angel?”
“No. As far as I know, I’m the only one.”
“Do you think Hell believes you are Heaven’s Emissary?”
“Maybe?”
Suddenly, Muriel perked up.
“If I’m Heaven’s Emissary, I can thwart Furfur’s evil deeds,” she said happily.
“That’s a good thing?”
“Oh yes! Maybe I can keep him from doing any real damage.”
“Is there a problem if I give him some tips?”
“What? Not at all! You were a terrible demon. Teach him everything you know. I think I can handle him.”
Crowley stared at Muriel for several seconds, but her expression was as guileless as ever, until, at the last moment, she winked. When did she get to be so clever? He should doublecheck her status or try to gauge her power, but he’d leave that for another day.
“I guess you’d better go and tell him the news,” he said finally. “I’ll be out shortly. I need a cup of coffee first. Have him meet me at the coffee shop in an hour.”
“Ok!”
Five minutes later, Crowley was seated at his favorite table, sipping espresso and watching Muriel speaking animatedly to Furfur who was trying to look evil, but could barely suppress his delight.
“Do you think that will go any better for them than it did for you?” Nina asked as she peered over Crowley's shoulder.
“Who knows?” the demon sighed. “I guess? Those two are nothing like us. In fact, I’ve never met anyone like Muriel. If anyone can make it work, it’s her.”
“Yeah.”
“At least I hope so,” Crowley whispered.
Nina put her hand on his shoulder briefly then walked back to the counter.
“Me too,” she thought.