With Rowena now living down in hell, Crowley found it much easier to balance his personal and professional lives. His demons were completely unaware of the enmity between mother and son vanishing. They only saw him go in and out of what appeared to be different rooms in the corridors of hell. Unbeknownst to them, it was always Rowena's tiny apartment. It had only been bewitched to look like different doors. To clear up any confusion for Crowley, Rowena marked the door with an invisible sort of paint, that would only show up when Crowley's eyes were looking at it.
Since bringing his mother down into hell, Crowley found himself transforming into a completely different person. Although his demeanor in hell never changed a bit, personally, he found himself growing happier, and finding out more about his mother in the span of one week than he had known in three centuries. Now, he finally started feeling that kind of unspoken bond that parents and children were supposed to have. They shared a sense of black humor, and said comments dripping with sarcasm to one another and snickered to each other about the absolute stupidity of other people. Slowly, they found it easier to loosen up around one another. The hospital had been a stiff and formal setting. Sitting in his mother's living room and talking to her so honestly seemed to break the tensions between them. Slowly, they began to leave the past behind them. Slowly, they became a real family.
Despite their growing closeness, Rowena found herself feeling a kind of emptiness that she hadn't felt before. At first she thought it was because she had none of her old mechanisms of control. Her laxatives, ipecac, and scales were gone. But somewhere inside, she knew that wasn't it. She found it happened the most when her son left her apartment, and strangely enough when he came. She couldn't figure out what the ache in her chest was. The more time she spent with him, the more she hurt. It was driving her mad. She was so happy to be with him- really, she was. So why did it make her feel so… regretful? And then, one night when she was trying to sleep, it hit her. She felt guilty for missing out on her son's childhood. He had only been eight years old when she had gone, and she had missed so much. She would never get that time back.
The idea of lost time had seemed so trivial to her back when she had first left her son. She had had all of the time in the world, or at least it had seemed that way. There was always time to go back. That's what she had always told herself. Now, looking back, she realized what a fool she'd been. Childhood was fleeting. If only she'd understood that when her son had been little.
At first the sadness restricted itself to the lonely hours of the evening. It haunted her, and the ghosts of the past flew inside of her and hid in the hollow of her ribs. But they didn't stay there like she thought they would. They filled up her ribs and then trailed up her spine until they reached her brain. Then, when she thought they couldn't get worse, the nightmare spilled over into the day. Gradually, the sense of loss deflated her. It affected her so much that eventually, her son began to notice that something was wrong. He didn't say anything at first, mostly because he didn't want to pry and he wanted her to come to him on his own. Eventually, though, he grew impatient and asked.
"Alright, Mummy. What's going on?" He asked.
She looked up at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You aren't doing well. What is bothering you?"
She let out a long, slow breath. "I've been thinking too much."
"About?" He prompted.
"About how much I missed throughout your life. Your first kiss, your first date, the birth of my grandchild…" She paused, unsure of how to continue. "And I realized that I will never get that time back. I'll never get to rock you to sleep in my arms again or watch you play… I sacrificed all of that for my career… And even though it ended up bettering my career, I regret all of it… I've been losing sleep over it, actually." For a long time, he didn't know what to say. Rowena took the silence as an indicator and went on. "…And now I'm driving you away." She put her hand over her face in a desperate attempt not to cry, but felt her face crumple and her body begin to shake with silent sobs. "I would give anything to get that back."
Crowley froze for a moment at her blatant display of emotion. That was the most he'd ever seen her feel. He opened his mouth to say something but no words would come out. The truth was, he would have given everything to have it back too. He just didn't know how to say that.
"I… I would too." The words were pullled out of him somehow. She looked at him in surprise.
"What?"
"I missed you. Then… Now… That hasn't changed." He had to pull the words out through his teeth. Emotions were incredibly hard for him to express. But his mother's smile made it worth it. She scooted closer to him.
"I miss my wee sausage." She said.
Crowley hesitated, maybe a moment or two, before speaking. "You never lost him."
They shared a look, and then Rowena pressed a gentle and loving kiss to her son's temple.
"I love you, Fergus. That will never change." Crowley moved his hands and placed one over his mother's, smiling a little to himself.
"I know, Mummy. I know." Rowena felt herself grow overwhelmed. Suddenly she was exhausted, weeks of emotional turmoil having taking their toll.
"Maybe we should talk this over tomorrow morning. I'm getting tired." She said.
He nodded, grateful for the interlude. "I'll see you in the morning then."
With that, Crowley left the room
