Title: Faces Without Names
Character/Pairing: Crowley, Lilith
Rating: PG
Word Count: 432
Summary: Too much work and no play makes Crowley a dull boy.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Before his promotion, he'd been just another underpaid, overworked demon.
All right, so it wasn't terribly difficult to torment a soul for all eternity, or until they went demon themselves, whichever was first, but it was bloody boring. Every soul was the same story, the same methods... It never took more than a few centuries before he knew exactly what made each soul tick and exactly what would break them.
Occasionally, for a change in pace, he tried out a new technique or two, but sometime between two-fifty and three hundred years he grew weary of the soul and gave up all pretense, breaking them and then reporting his success to the head office. He had little penchant for the whole tormenting business, but, if he had to be honest, that was why he was so damn good at his job.
While other demons reveled in the torture, the screaming, the crying and pleas for it all to end, he didn't have a taste for it. Sure, his tormenting wasn't exactly what you could call gracious or forgiving, but it was still quick and efficient. Intelligence would win out over brute force every time, he knew, and that was exactly why he was the top-ranked tormenter in Hell.
Not that he wanted to be, of course. That meant more jobs from the higher-ups — more of the same with nary a bonus nor a pay raise. Typical, really. It wasn't like he could expect any sort of acknowledgment of his accomplishments in Hell, of all places.
Until someone finally did notice his fine work, and he found himself promoted and doing more important work for Hell's finest.
More important and, perhaps best of all, more interesting.
Not to mention the much appreciated raise, plus benefits and vacation days.
He really, really liked the vacation days.
It wasn't until Lilith stole him from Alastair that he discovered what it meant to mix business and pleasure.
She told him, quite eagerly, that he had Potential (and oh, how that capital P made him feel) and that, under her, he'd be doing a far more beneficial job for Hell. His skills were being squandered by Tormenting and Torturing (completely under-appreciated by those departments, they were, he could only agree), but she had the perfect position for him over in hers.
The best thing about being promoted to Salesman wasn't the cushy position, the slew of new powers, or the trips to the surface. No, the best thing was being named.
Crowley, Lilith told him. You are Crowley.
It was, Crowley thought, nothing short of perfect.