Crowley Saves Javert (and neither is very impressed)
Crowley was there as the tall man in his heavy black woollen coat lifted himself up onto the parapet of the Pont au Change.
He would never be able to tell what exactly motivated him to surge forward into the air just as the man on the bridge let himself fall down towards the Seine below. But surge forward he did and he was just able to reach the man before the man reached the water. Having only been designed to lift one body, his wings really shouldn't have been strong enough to lift both of them up, but that really didn't occur to Crowley and so it didn't really occur to his wings either. Thus, within thirty seconds both demon and man were back on the bridge where it all started, and each was extremely annoyed with the other.
"Why did you do that?" demanded Javert, shaking the demon by the shoulders as if he had personally affronted him.
"Why did you do that?" demanded Crowley in turn. On his part, he was appalled. He had been around for almost five thousand years and seen some bloody awful things and had never attempted to off himself once, thank-you very much. (1)
"What are you?" asked Javert, feeling like a change of topic was in order. "Wings, and your eyes – admittedly I cannot see them very well in the dark, but they appear to be a snake's – you are certainly not human."
Crowley smirked. This will be good.
"I am a demon."
The man's reaction was weird. Crowley was used to shock, disgust, horror, terror… not a sort of pained resentment. And it did not seem to be directed at him either, but seemed to be aimed at the situation at large.
"A good demon, that's rather like a saintly convict," Javert muttered to himself darkly. Then he addressed the demon. "No. I refuse to be party to a hell that cannot even get its roles right. Besides, that would completely defeat the purpose of escaping this one." Then he picked his hat and his identification seal off of the parapet, placing his hat back on his head and his seal back in his pocket.
"Good day," he said to the demon. Then he paused, gesturing sardonically to the darkness around them. "Or good night, if you prefer." Then he abruptly turned around and walked away leaving a very bemused demon in his wake. Crowley shook himself out of it with great difficulty. It was true that he had not understood half of the exchange, but one thing seemed certain. He had not idea how it had happened, but apparently he had convinced the man not to kill himself.
Then Crowley too, left the bridge, blessing under his breath as he did so. It was a just as well that he had got that commendation for the carnage earlier that day or else there would be a lot to make up for.
He was not meant to be good, after all. It just sort of… happened.
(1) Repeatedly drowning himself in alcohol was another matter entirely.