Chapter Text
Crowley got into the car and began to drive.
He was mad.
Mad at the world, mad at God, mad at Aziraphale.
He'd never been mad at Aziraphale. Not this much.
It hurt.
It hurt so much he wanted to jump into a bubbling vat of tar. He wanted to swim in holy water. He wanted to walk a million miles barefoot on consecrated ground. He wanted-
Someone jumped onto the hood of his car.
Crowley swerved, not hitting other cars purely by demonic miracles.
He opened the door, and ran over to where the pedestrian was lying on the ground.
"No, no no-" Crowley muttered. He did not want to deal with this right now.
The figure sat up, rolling their shoulders. "Ah. I was right. This whole miracle thing isn't that hard." She smiled up at Crowley.
"Muriel?"
She smiled. "Oh, you've remembered my name!" He could feel the joy radiating from them. It made him sick.
"Yes, I did- why did you jump onto my car?"
Muriel shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you. It was the first thing that popped into my head."
Good lord. They sent this down to live on Earth? They'll eat her alive. "Well, let's... not jump on cars, alright?"
Muriel nodded nervously. "Is... 'us' time over, yet?"
"Um, yes it is, actually." He said, looking around. Most people had lost interest. "Congratulations on the uh, bookshop, by the way. Don't mind me. I was just leaving."
"Oh..."
"I can... give you a ride to the bookshop?" He offered. He hadn't gotten very far, they were only about five minutes away.
"Sure. Although, if you don't mind me asking, why didn't you leave with Mr. Fell? I thought you were going to Heaven together."
"Yes, well, so did Mr. Fell, but I can't."
"Why not?" She blinked at him.
Crowley looked away. "Get in the car." He muttered.
Muriel got into the passenger seat, taking off her Inspector-Constable hat to fit. Crowley sighed, waving his hand and changing them into a matching light-blue waistcoat and pants, with a white undershirt and tie.
Muriel looked down at themself. "What'd you do that for?"
"I can't, in good conscience, let you keep walking around dressed like that." He'll be damned if he associates with anyone dressed as awful as that. (He was already damned, but the point still stands.)
"Oh, but, I like being an officer."
"But you're not an officer, are you?"
"Well-"
"Impersonating an officer is against the law, you know."
Her face dropped. "Oh, no. Really?"
"Yes. Yes. Now... now you're a detective."
"Oh, yay! Wait... that's not illegal, is it?"
"No! It's fine!"
Crowley pulled into the bookshop. I didn't think I'd be back here so soon. "Go on." He said. I'll sell all his forsaken books. That's what I'll do..... No I won't.
He turned to leave, when a meek voice called out.
"U-um, Mr. Crowley?"
He stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"I just wanted to say thank you." Their smile was blinding.
Crowley blinked, turning around completely. "What for?"
"Well, I just- today was exciting. Wjen we snuck into Heaven and- well, it might have bee bad, but. That's the most fun I've ever had in- well, ever, really. I felt so... important. I've never felt important before." She said this all with a big smile on her face, and Crowley wondered if they realized just how sad it sounded.
"Um, well, you're welcome." He nodded to her, then turned around again.
"Mr. Crowley?"
"Yes, Muriel?"
"Well, I just, I'm kind of new to this whole Earth-thing. But you, you're not! And you probably know how Mr. Fell ran the bookshop, and if you're going to be staying on Earth anyways... I was wondering if you could... help me out?"
Crowley ran his tongue over his teeth. "Nah, you'll figure it out. Smart cherub like you? You'll be fine."
"Oh, I-I'm actually not a-"
"You'll be fine, Muriel."
"Yes, but- but you're the only friend I've really ever had." They said, somewhat desperately.
He watched her reflection in the glass of the doors' windows. She was watching him imploringly, hands clasped together as if in prayer. Crowley didn't like that.
He turned around. "I've got to go, Muriel, I'm sorry." He couldn't stay here.
"Oh." Her hands fell to her side, and they lowered their head. "That's alright then."
Crowley nodded curtly, then walked to the door. His hand was on the handle, when he froze. He grit his teeth. He wanted out, but every single atom in his body was telling him to stay. Damned corporations.
He tried to justify it to himself. It's a right demonic thing to do. He thought, but then, but I'm not with hell, anymore, am I?
No, but I'm still a demon.
What has the poor cherub ever done to me anyways?
She reminds me of Aziraphale.
That's no reason to abandon her. It's not her fault she's an angel.
Crowley had never had a problem with morality before. He'd always followed hell as far as he could. There had never been an internal battle within himself because he was always so sure of what to do. But now, Crowley was fighting with himself. For all of Crowley's wretchedness, all his bad deeds, he was still an angel, deep, deep, down. Even more than that, he had become more human than demon in some places.
I don't care. I have to leave.
Like Aziraphale did?
Crowley ripped his hand away from the door, as if it was made of holy water.
"Mr. Crowley? Are you alright?"
"Just dandy, cherub. You know what I just realized?"
"Oh, well, still not a cherub, but what?"
"I can't take the Bentley into space." He threw his hands into the air. "And my plants! They need oxygen! There's none of that in space!"
Muriel shook their head. "No, I suppose there's not."
Crowley sighed. "So, I guess... I guess I'll have to stay with you."
"Really? Oh, thank you Mr. Crowley!" They ran up to Crowley, arms spread wide. Crowley took a step back, eyebrow quirked. "No hugs?" Muriel said, a smaller, shy smile tugging at their lips.
"No hugs." Crowley growled.
Muriel nodded. "No hugs."
They stared at each other for a little bit.
"Now what?" Muriel asked excitedly. "What do we do?"
Crowley shrugged. "Whatever you want to, I suppose."
Muriel spun around in a circle. Her eyes locked onto a window. Crowley turned, following her gaze to the Bentley.
"We should take your plants inside."
"Absolutely not, you cannot drive- my plants?"
"Your plants. It can't be good for them living in the car."
Crowley frowned. "No. I suppose not."
"Trapped in that car all day. It must get hot, no?"
"Very." He was willing them to stay alive.
"Well, let's get them inside, then." She said, marching towards the door.
He grinned, opening the door for them.
Muriel made their way to the Bentley. Crowley waved his hand, unlocking it. Muriel gently picked up a box of plants and began to bring it inside. Crowley watched her, then grabbed two boxes, balancing them against his hips and following her.
"We should put them by the windows. Plants need sun." Crowley told Muriel, who was standing in the center of the room, confused.
"Oh. Okay." She laughed, setting down the box and placing one pot on the floor next to the window. "Living things are so silly. Depending on other things to survive."
"Mm. Yes. I suppose." Crowley said, placing the books from a table into Muriel's empty box, and pushing the table closer to the window. He put a fern on the table.
"They're very pretty, though." Muriel said, walking back out to the car. Crowley followed.
"Yes, they are."
Muriel got a box out of the car and handed it to Crowley, then got the last box out of the car. They tried to close the door with their elbow. Crowley rolled his eyes under his glasses and pushed it closed with his foot.
"Thank you." Muriel nodded to Crowley.
Crowley muttered faux threats, jerking his head to the bookshop. Muriel nodded. They walked inside and Crowley closed the door with his hip.
They finished setting up the plants in the window.
Aziraphale's window.
All Crowley ever wanted was to live here. Put his plants there. Be with Aziraphale.
Crowley quickly sat down, grabbing a bottle of wine and bringing it to his lips.
"So... what do we do now?" Muriel asked.
"Beats me, kid." Crowley said, slamming the now empty bottle onto the table and grabbing another one.
"Oh my." Muriel muttered.
Crowley slid onto his feet. "Do you uh... want anything?" He gestured to Muriel with the bottle.
"Oh, no. That's alright. I don't drink."
"No, not alcohol. Just... anything. Do you want anything uh, else."
Muriel thought for a moment, then shook their head. "I'm fine. Thank you."
Crowley picked up another bottle, and guzzled it all in one go. "All I've ever wanted..." He whispered to himself.
"What was that?"
"I- go to bed." He said quietly.
"I'm sorry?"
"Down the hall. There's a guest room. Lie down. Close your eyes. Take deep breaths. Sleep."
"I don't-"
"Go." He snapped. He didn't want them to see him cry, and he was so close.
Muriel nodded, hurrying off.
Crowley took deep breaths, leaning heavily against the table. "All I've-" He sobbed, and looked up at the ceiling. "All I ever wanted was to be with you. Not even- not even with you. I could cope if you didn't want to- you're my best friend, why did you have to leave me?" He fell to the ground, a crumpled mess.
Crowley climbed his way onto the roof, along with multiple bottles of wine. He was lying on his back, staring at the stars.
"God, come on. Really? I- I mean you take the stars away from me then you try to take earth from me, and then you take him? Wh- what did I ever do to you?" He through his hands into the air, chuckling madly.
"If you'd told me there weren't any stars in Hell I never would've- hiccup- I would've been on your side, I swear!" He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes.
"Oh, who am I kidding- listen I'm happy down here! I know I am, you know I am, you great, all-knowing bastard! Couldn't you just let me stay happy?"
There was no answer. There never was.
"Aziraphale isn't the angel you want as your next Gabriel. He's a rotten, rotten, angel. Well, so was Gabriel, but- Aziraphale doesn't like your rules! He likes people, he likes sushi, he likes music, an-and books, and there isn't any of that up there, and there won't be, if y-you kill everyone down here."
Crowley smashed his fist on the roof. "Aziraphale used to like me, y'know. Well, I mean, of course you know. You're you."
Crowley sat up straight, pointing accusatorily at the sky. "You're a rotten god, you know that? You. Are. Awful!" He screams.
"I was thinking about it, actually. After Adam, 'n all. You know how he- heh- how that little boy banished Satan? Not by angelic influences or demonic influences. Just- just being a person. And you want to take that away? That power, that perfect innocence? You wanna kill it and start all over?" He rambled nonsensically.
"Just like you killed our innocence..." He leapt to his feet. "We were angels too, you know! Every single one of us! And you just threw us out, for what? F-for asking questions? I just needed someone to guide me! And since you wouldn't, well, Lucifer would!"
He ran his hands through his hair, breathing heavily.
"I hate him." He lurched to the edge of the roof, hanging half off it. "I hate you!" He screamed at the ground. "This isn't glorious free will, Lord."
He rolled over, pulling himself fully onto the roof. "And there were no stars down there. No nebulas. No galaxies." He threw his hands into the air. "Nobody told me that!" He yelled into the night.
Muriel was going to cheer up Mr. Crowley. She got right up as soon as the sun rose (she hadn't figured out how to breathe the previous night, and so never slept) and went over to the store next door. It was closed.
That was fine. Perfectly fine.
It was raining.
Also fine. Muriel had never felt rain before. She looked up into the rain, blinking, startled, when a drop landed in her eye.
They sat outside the store, until a car pulled up to the store across the street. The sign read Give Me Coffee, or Give Me Death. Which was strange, because death was not a pleasant experience (from what she had heard). What would all those humans do if one day they were given death instead of coffee? What even was coffee?
Two women got out of the car, pressing their lips together quickly before the blonde one crossed the street. Muriel stood up.
"Excuse me! Ma'am! Hello!" She ran up to her, stumbling as the ground changed heights.
"Hi! Hi, love are you alright?"
"Oh, yes, I'm fine. I just-"
"Well, let's get out of the road, dear."
"Oh, yes, yes. Of course. Of course."
The blonde woman dragged them back to the record store. She unlocked the door, and let her inside. "Come on in, there's a love." The blonde woman said. "How long have you been out there?"
"Oh, just since the sun came up. Anyways-"
"Oh dear, why?"
"Well, you see, Mr. Crowley was very upset last night, and so-"
"He kicked you out?"
"No... He sent me to bed. He never kicked me. That's preposterous." Muriel had learned that word in the book she had taken the day before. "I just... I think... he's sad? And I'd like to try to cheer him up."
"Oh, um, h-how?"
"Oh, I don't know. I've never had anyone to cheer up before."
"Right... Listen, what's your name?"
"Muriel." She stuck her hand out. "What's yours?"
"Maggie." She didn't take Muriel's hand. "What's wrong with Crowley?"
"Oh, well, I don't know for sure, and it's not my place to speculate, but I think it might have something to do with Mr. Fell."
"Oh no... it didn't go well, then?"
"Everything went great! For Mr. Fell, anyways. He got a promotion! But I guess Mr. Crowley didn't want to go with him... What does Mr. Crowley like?"
"Um- I don't know? Coffee."
"There's a coffee place across the street!" They said excitedly.
"I know."
"What even is coffee?"
"It's like hot water ran over coffee beans."
"Oh." Muriel definitely knew what coffee beans were.
Muriel made their way across the street, Maggie behind her. Cars beeped at her. They smiled and waved.
Muriel opened the door to the coffee shop.
"Um, we're not open for another fifteen minutes." The woman behind the counter said.
"Sorry, Nina." Maggie said from behind Muriel, who had run up to the counter.
"What does Mr. Crowley like to drink?"
"Um, why?"
Maggie stepped behind the counter, whispering to Nina, whose face dropped. "Did... did he not...?"
"I don't know, we told him what to do!"
"Don't worry about him. I'll take care of him. I just need... coffee." Muriel said brightly.
"Six espresso shots?" Nina asked.
"If that's what Mr. Crowley likes."
"Yes, I suppose. Oh, Eccles cakes too." Nina said, beginning to bustle around behind the counter.
"Should we- do you think- do you want us to come over, too?" Maggie asked as Nina handed Muriel a cup and a small paper plate with a few pastries on it.
"No, that's alright. Wouldn't want to crowd him." Muriel smiled warmly. "Thank you, have a good day!"
Crowley rolled over. His head hurt. He hadn't gone to sleep drunk since the fourteenth century, and waking up was awful. The sun shone in his eyes. He put his sunglasses on.
Crowley slinked off the roof into the bookshop. He checked Muriel's room. It was empty, the covers untouched.
"No." He muttered.
He ran all about the store. "Muriel? Muriel?"
No no no no no nonononono. Crowley had sent them away and then they ran away and left Crowley alone and why was he so damn unlovable why was he so broken why was he so-
"Mr. Crowley?" A sweet voice rang through the store. Crowley ran down the stairs.
"There you are, cherub! Where were you?"
Muriel raised a paper coffee cup into the air. "Coffee. And cakes. Breakfast!" She said happily.
Crowley sighed, composing himself. He grabbed the coffee cup and downed it in one go. "Have a cake, they're good."
Muriel looked down at them. "That's alright. You have some." She shoved a cake into his face. Crowley took it and ate it slowly. It was warm, freshly baked.
They sat in silence for a little bit.
"I didn't mean to snap at you." Crowley said gently.
"Oh, I know. It's alright." Muriel said kindly, chuckling a little. Crowley looked at them sadly. "Although, I couldn't quite figure out sleeping, or breathing."
Crowley shook his head. "It's alright. It took me a while to figure out, too. I remember-" He laughed, "When I first started breathing I would have these- these coughing fits constantly." Crowley remembered it hurting. Crowley remembered being (just a little) scared concerned.
"Oh no." Muriel laughed, pulling their knees to their chest.
"Yeah... after that I got the hang of sleeping, but I could never seem to wake up in a timely manner."
"Why'd you start sleeping and breathing anyways?"
Crowley thought. "I think... well, everyone else was doing it, I wanted to, too. See, I wasn't much of a leader, more of a follower, really."
"Really?"
Crowley nodded. "Mm-hm. Yeah."
"Well, you're certainly a leader now."
"You think so?"
Muriel nodded.
"Huh. Yeah, I s'pose."
"But I've always been a bit of a follower, so, what would you like to do today?"
Crowley stretched in the armchair, sliding so his head was on the bottom and he was looking at the ceiling. I want to get the fuck out of here. "I'd like to feed ducks." He said.
"Ooh, ducks? I'd like to feed ducks too, I think."
Crowley stood, slapping his thigh. "That settles it then. Ducks."
"Can we picnic?"
"What?"
"I read about it last night. You take food, and you eat it outside on a blanket!"
"I know what a picnic is, I just- you didn't seem so keen on eating."
Muriel thought for a moment. "Oh. That's right. Well-" She took an Eccles cake and took a big bite, closing her eyes. She chewed, then opened her eyes. "This is fantastic. We should tell Nina how good her pastries are. Then go on a picnic."
Crowley shrugged. "Alright. Let's go."
They walked across the street, to the coffee shop, pushing past all the people in line. Crowley glared at a man who tried to complain.
"Hello, Nina. I just wanted to say that your Eccles cakes are fantastic. Thank you so much!" Muriel nodded, then turned on her heel.
"Crowley?" Nina called. Crowley looked over his shoulder. "What happened?" She asked.
Crowley shrugged. "You give bad advice." He walked out of the store.
"That wasn't very nice." Muriel said.
"Well, it was true. Should I be rude or should I lie?"
Muriel paused. "Neither. Just- don't say anything."
"That's how you folks do it up in Heaven, then? Just ignore any and all problems?"
"That's how I do it. Although, I don't really have problems."
"Of course not."
They got into the Bentley, and Muriel sat in the back seat. Crowley couldn't decide if he was grateful for her not taking Aziraphale's place or resentful for highlighting the fact that Aziraphale wasn't there. Muriel couldn't have known what they were doing, but the empty space on his left ached like nothing had before.
"What type of food do you bring on a picnic?"
Crowley blinked. "I don't know... I haven't been on a picnic sine... oh, since 1832. Sandwiches or a charcuterie board of sorts is always safe, I reckon."
He waved his hand and there was a picnic basket in the back next to Muriel. "You know, last time there was a picnic basket in the back of my car, it had the antichrist in it." He mused.
Muriel gaped at him. "Really?"
"Yep. You, dear cherub, are sitting where the antichrist once laid."
"Oh..." They looked a little unnerved.
"Don't worry, it's not contagious."
"Good." She said, looking a little calmed.
Mr. Crowley drove them to a park near a pond with lots of ducks in it and spread the blanket out on a relatively flat patch of land. Muriel sat across from him, spreading the food out.
Neither of them ate much, Muriel still was a little cautious of eating, and had only eaten the Eccles cake so Mr. Crowley would take her on a picnic, because picnics are pretty and fun and no one is ever sad at a picnic.
Mr. Crowley, however, did not seem to have read the books in Mr. Fell's bookshop, because he was not having fun and was very sad. Muriel couldn't even appreciate the pretty flowers with him moping around. It made Muriel sad.
Muriel was in the middle of moping- she didn't do it quite as good as Mr. Crowley- when Mr. Crowley tapped her with his foot.
"What's wrong cherub?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.
"Nothing's wrong with me, something's wrong with you!" They said, exasperated.
Mr. Crowley looked slightly taken aback, and, when the shock dissipated, even sadder. He looked away from them, lips pursed in something between a grimace and a snarl.
"No, I didn't mean it- not like that-" She stuttered, reaching out for him, "I just meant you're the one who's sad. I don't know why, and I can't seem to fix it."
Mr. Crowley looked at her, brows furrowed beneath the sunglasses. "Me?" He asked, voice cracking.
"Yes! I wanted to go on a picnic to cheer you up, but it didn't work and I just- did I do something wrong?"
Mr. Crowley lurched forward, gently grabbing her shoulders. "No, no, cherub, you didn't do anything wrong, why would you- why would you think that?"
"You're still sad!" She said, trying to keep herself from crying.
"Oh, Muriel, I'm sad because... not because of anything you did, and certainly not because of anything you can fix. I'm just- I'm sad. I'm a sad person, really. I'm going to be sad for a while, it doesn't mean anything about you. You- you're great, and I'm so happy that you cared enough about me to want to do something nice for me, but I'm still- I'm still upset."
"Why?"
Mr. Crowley sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Well, for starters, I can't say I'm happy about Aziraphale leaving. There's nothing you can do to fix that, it's just the way things are now, and I'll get over it, eventually. I promise, okay?"
Muriel nodded, collapsing into Mr. Crowley's arms, wrapping their arms around him.
Mr. Crowley held her back.
It was nice.
Crowley was not a fan of hugs, by any means, but even a demon can only go through so many emotions in one day before they are in desperate need of a hug.
Especially when said hug comes in the form of a bright, sweet cherub practically bursting at the seams with love and kindness.
So, if Crowley enjoyed the hug more than he usually would, and stayed in it for as long as possible, that was between him and God.
Crowley miracled them a bag of frozen peas, and they sat at a dock (which was probably privately owned, but trespassing was the least of Crowley's crimes) and threw them at the ducks. Muriel rolled up their sleeves and hung over the side of the dock, their hair dipping into the water.
"Gah! A fish is in my hair! Mr. Crowley, look!" Her arm was waving wildly about, gesturing at him. Crowley sighed, hanging off the edge as well. Muriel dragged their hands slowly through the water, then stopped to let them rest. An orange fish came up to her finger and nibbled at it. She giggled.
Crowley rolled his eyes when Muriel splashed him with water, and when they spent twenty minutes trying to fish a plastic bag out of the pond with a stick, and when they tried to copy a child's cartwheel and failed miserably, and when they hit their head on the Bentley. With each eyeroll Crowley came closer and closer to the acceptance that this was his life now, looking after a playful, pure, clumsy angel with about as much menace as a daisy. When they got home to the bookshop, Crowley had made a list of reasons to stay alive.
Reasons for Anthony J. Crowley to Stay Alive:
No. 1- Muriel
No. 2-
It's a short list. He knows. He's working on it.