Chapter Nine
With nothing left to do but wait, Murron decided to take advantage of the lull to explore the land the house was built on. Crowley remained housebound, finding nothing interesting about farmlands. Growley, when he wasn't on patrol, accompanied Murron on these wanderings.
As it turned out, the couple owned a fair amount of acres. A chicken coop was situated in the rear yard, currently housing three fat chickens and a rooster. Growley snuffled the wire cage, sending the chickens within into a flurry of feathers and squawks. Murron wondered if the birds could see Growley or if they were just reacting to the sudden disturbance of their coop. Regardless, it was an amusing sight, and Murron was in dire need of cheering up. After awhile, she coaxed Growley away from the panicked hens and they continued across the fields.
There was a fenced area where a lazy brown cow stood grazing, plus a speckled horse some feet from it, also enjoying the lush green grass. Murron steered Growley away from the animals, sensing he would only spook them and cause trouble. She rested her hand on the rise of his hackles as they moved through the steadily rising grass, their ankles being tickled by denser plantlife. If, a mere year ago, someone had told Murron she'd be taking nature walks with a fiery hellhound at her side, she'd have called them crazy. As it was now, such activities were almost normal.
She'd miss their strange company when all of this was over. Oh, Murron was very aware they'd have to part for awhile. Once it was safe to poke their heads back into the world, Crowley would no longer need Murron's assistance. She knew he'd still come and see her, as per terms of their deal, but she also felt it would be less frequently. So, even with the world potentially ending around them, Murron decided to fully enjoy the moments they had left.
She and Growley took a few turns around the property before returning to the house. A familiar figure was roaming the front of the gravel driveway, looking incredibly anxious. Murron squinted. "Rose?" she muttered. Growley's fur rose beneath her hand, his upper lip curling back in a snarl. "It's okay, Growley. Go back in the house. I'll be fine," she assured the hellhound. He reluctantly shimmered from view, presumably transporting back inside. No doubt he'd make Crowley aware of Rose's presence; Murron would have to get the other witch's reasons for being there out of her before he came out. She jogged to the front yard, waving towards Rose. Rose, catching sight of her, met Murron halfway.
"What're you doing here? How'd you find me?" Murron asked in a rush as soon as their hands met in a tight clasp.
"I dowsed for you," Rose explained, just as swiftly. "I heard what happened! Are you okay?"
"You shouldn't be here!" Murron insisted. "Or did you not see what happened to Corrine?"
"I haven't done anything to you! Or to him!"
"I can't promise he'll see it the same way. You should go, Rose. Now."
"But Murron!" Rose protested even as Murron began pushing her away from the house. "You're not safe here!"
At that, Murron stopped. She seized Rose's arm in a vise grip and hissed, "I am safer here with Crowley than anywhere else! How do you think I've managed to get this far? He's done more for me than any of you and you were supposed to be like sisters to me! No, Rose, I'm not leaving him. If you or Beth or Angela try and threaten him, in the name of Lucifer or anyone else trying to kill him, you'll have to answer to me. I'm not that novice you knew two months ago. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt him. Even you."
"He's a demon, Murron! He'll turn on you the first chance he gets!" Rose snapped back, shaking herself free. "If you come back with me, I can hide you, keep you safe - you know I'm not on Lucifer's side!"
"No," Murron repeated. "I trust Crowley, a lot more than I trust you right now. Corrine tried to kill me! Did you know that?"
"Yes, and your demon killed her! How can you be okay with that?"
"I have never once tried to govern what Crowley does. I know he's a demon and I know he has different methods. I accept him for what he is. I trust him to keep me safe. He didn't have to take me with him. He could've easily left me behind. He could've smoked out and saved himself. He's strong enough. But he didn't. He stayed with me, helped me, and brought me here where I could be safe until all of this is over. You have no idea what we've been through together, not at all!"
"Why is he even with you, anyway?" Rose demanded next. Murron froze, recalling the lie she'd fed Rose that day at the supermarket. Realization dawned in Rose's eyes and she began shaking her head in disbelief. "You wanted him, didn't you? He was your demon deal! Murron, those stories we told you were meant to be cautionary! You weren't supposed to throw your soul away for him!"
"And yet here I am!" Murron cried, spreading her arms wide. "I am healthy and more learned than ever before! Yes, Rose, he healed me! I didn't even have to ask! He just went ahead and did it! Did you know I can also see hellhounds before my time? Because I can! He's given me so much in the meager two months we've been together. I'll never be able to repay him, not even when it's time for him to collect my soul!"
"How could you?" Rose moaned. "No demon is worth your soul! Murron! You have your health! You could get away now!"
"I said no!" Murron bit across her. "Get out of here, Rose, before I let him do to you what he did to Corrine!"
Rose gasped, genuinely surprised at Murron's words. "Murron!"
"Leave or I'll do it myself." Murron's fist clenched, her eyes taking on a reddish glow as the power swelled within her. The air around Rose began to shimmer, her skin beginning to erupt in first degree and second degree burns. Rose drew back from Murron's field of influence, clutching her scorched arms.
"For your sake, Murron, I pray you haven't made a mistake," Rose told her quietly, continuing to back away. "You could easily regret it."
"That's between me, myself, and I," Murron replied coldly. She kept her gaze on Rose's departing form, the other witch making good her escape down the road. Once she was out of sight, Murron relaxed her fist. The built-up heat drifted off her in a steam-hiss as she turned and went up the porch steps. As she reached the front door, it opened and Crowley appeared at the threshold. His face was solemn as he stepped aside to let her pass, closing the door behind her in silence.
Crowley never asked about Rose's appearance and if he'd heard Murron's defense of him, he kept it to himself. Though, sometimes over the course of the next two days, she caught him looking at her in this entirely new way. If she hadn't been denying it to herself, she could have sworn another wall had fallen between them. She felt the way his eyes followed her, particularly when he didn't realize she was watching him. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, but always she stopped herself. He'd deny everything, anyway, and she wasn't sure she could have her heart pulled in that many directions again.
One afternoon, while Crowley was gone to points unknown, Murron sat on the rear porch, a glass of iced tea in one hand and Growley's head pressed into the palm of the other. The sun was making its way towards the horizon, coloring the landscape of the sky a pearlescent pink. She gazed at the lazy clouds as they drifted along, her thoughts a wandering jumble. A dim memory that could have easily been a dream flitted in and out of her consciousness. She was in bed, it was the middle of the night, and the only light in the room came from the windows. She remembered opening her eyes for only a moment and looking towards the door, almost as if by instinct, and seeing what could have been Crowley's shadow staring into the room. Believing it was a trick of the light, she'd rolled over and gone back to sleep. But now, in her waking hours, she really had to wonder: had that really happened? And if so, what had he meant by it?
More and more she believed he'd overheard her speaking to Rose. She recalled his words from what felt like forever ago, how no one had ever stuck their neck out for him. He'd thanked her for it then and all she'd done at that point had been create the sigils. Since then, she'd trusted him enough to control her body not once, but twice, and to secure her safety when everything was blowing up around them. She wondered if she was his first true friend, and not one that was only looking out for what he could give them. She genuinely valued his company and his thoughts, however sparingly he shared the latter.
The only thing that really depressed her was the fact she knew those deeper feelings she fostered for him would never be returned and could possibly never be spoken aloud. However, she never once thought to hold it against him. As she'd told Rose, Crowley's methods were different and this surely extended to whatever emotions he might still possess. She didn't think him incapable of forming bonds with others if the interests were mutual - particularly survival or some kind of beneficial gain - which is what had happened with them. She'd done her share to keep him alive and he'd returned it in kind. Perhaps that was the best she could hope for. Perhaps it was all she really needed.
Still, she couldn't help wondering, wondering at that new look in his green eyes, wondering at how he assumed almost a sentry position around the house even with Growley there. He was waiting for something, that much she could sense. They were both waiting for it, waiting for the Apocalypse to be curbed and for their lives to regain some normality. Maybe he was there now, in secret, watching as it went down and would return shortly to report the result. Turning her gaze back to the sky, now a deeper rose hue, Murron wondered how quickly the end would come, if it would come at all.
The sound of the back door opening drew Murron from her thoughts; she twisted in her chair to see Crowley standing behind her. Growley rose and greeted his master, shoving his blue head into Crowley's slack hand. Murron's brow furrowed. "What is it?" she asked softly. Crowley's expression was difficult to decipher, the brilliant green of his eyes dimmed to a lackluster shade. "Crowley?"
"It's over," he intoned quietly. "The Apocalypse is over."
The Apocalypse is over.
These words rang in Murron's ears long after Crowley had said them. She was in the bedroom upstairs, perched on the bed, her arms around her in a stabilizing self-hug. Crowley himself was elsewhere, taking Growley with him. He'd waited long enough for the news to sink in, then disappeared again. Murron had relocated to the bedroom to collect her thoughts. She'd been up there for three hours, still unable to wrap her mind around the truth.
Part of her felt it was almost too soon. Too easy. They'd spent weeks on the run, forever checking over their shoulders for Lucifer's followers. To have it all be over was almost too much to take in. What more, the end of the Apocalypse also potentially signaled the end of their time together, at least for the moment. Already she felt he was chomping at the bit to get back out there and scope the scene in Hell and elsewhere. She couldn't really blame him; his entire world revolved around his ability to do his job. With Lucifer gone, possibly his followers with him, Crowley could resume business. Yet that left her wondering: where did she fit into all this? They'd only gone through two and a half months of their year together; how frequently now would she see him? Where would he go? Back to Hell? Find another place to live? Where would she go? These questions and more burned in her mind, dragging her energy levels down with them.
Eventually, she succumbed to sleep, awakening only when she heard Crowley enter the bedroom. Lifting herself up, Murron turned anxious eyes to the demon king, following his every move as he approached the bed and sat beside her. Her gaze searched his face, partially hidden in shadow, her breath catching and holding in her chest. "Crowley?" she prompted softly, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice.
Crowley turned his head towards her, the heavy lids of his eyes lifting to meet her stare. "I want you to know, Murron, that I will not forget what you've done for me," he began, his voice as soft as hers. "It might not mean much coming from a demon, but thank you."
"Don't be silly, you know I -" Murron interrupted, almost afraid to hear his next words. He laid a gentle finger on her lips, stilling her words.
"Let me finish." He held her eyes for a moment, mutely asking for her silence, then removed his finger from her mouth. "Good girl. In return for your assistance, I'm willing to extend your contract to the full ten years. The same stipulations would apply." He paused, allowing Murron to absorb this. The full weight of his offer pressed down on her. Ten years. He'd be with her for ten years. A decade, with him. The enormity of the gesture brought tears to her eyes and they slid down her cheeks unchecked.
"What do you say?" Crowley asked, his hand sliding up her neck to cup the back of her head in his palm. He tilted his head, his gaze lowering to her parted lips, damp with her tears. He meant to seal the new deal with a kiss, she realized. Her heart leapt into her throat. Everything inside her screamed to take the new deal, to finally be kind to herself, to indulge in this amazing man's presence. More than that, she wanted to feel his mouth on hers again, deal or no deal. Unconsciously, Murron lifted her face to his, her eyes closing as the distance between them lessened.
But before she could feel the thrill of his lips on hers, to savor that fiery tingle she still recalled from the first night, she whispered, "I can't." Her throat constricted, cutting off her voice. Crowley drew from her slightly, his eyes searching hers. The separation, however meager, struck Murron like a physical pain and she pressed fumbling fingers against his jacketed chest. "I can't. I want to, but I can't. It wouldn't be fair. We've already decided on a deal. Why change it for me and no one else? It isn't fair."
"Murron," Crowley began, stopping when she shook her head quickly. She offered him a trembling smile, his face blurring through her tears. She blinked them away swiftly, not wanting to lose sight of him for even a second. She curled her fingers into the lapels of his suit jacket, unaware that she was pulling him towards her even as her eyes denied him. The amount of bravery pouring from them affected even the Crossroads King and he loosened his grip on her neck. "Are you sure about this?"
Murron gave a shaky laugh, thick with her sadness. "No, but I know it's the right thing to do. I can't keep you caged for ten years, Crowley. No one should. In the short time we've had together, you've given me more than anyone else I've ever known. Because of you, I'm a stronger person, a better witch. Because of you, I'm well again. But even for those reasons, I could never think to chain you to me. I've already leashed you to me for a year, a year we're already two months into. Please don't ask me to be that arrogant. I couldn't take it."
"You brave stupid thing," Crowley said, with that same note of teasing in his voice she'd grown to adore. "What the hell were you doing making a demon deal in the first place? You're not nearly selfish enough to."
"Oh, but I am," Murron replied wisely. "I am remarkably selfish." Her smile grew in strength, though pain still echoed in her eyes. "I was selfish enough to try for a king, wasn't I?"
Crowley smiled, though even his was tinged with something different. "Stupid woman," he said affectionately, pulling her to him. Murron fell into his embrace with a choking laugh, her arms folding and pressing against his chest. The hug was awkward and even a little uncomfortable, but to Murron, it felt like the warmest, safest place to be. "Stupid, stupid woman."
Murron unfurled her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, burying her face into the space beside his neck. Yes, she was a stupid, stupid woman. But at least she was an honest one.