More Omens

"I'd just like to say," he said, "if we don't get out of this that… I'll have known, deep down inside, that there was a spark of goodness in you."

Crowley gazed into the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. Dark eyes settled on the deep red liquid, it being almost ironic that his eyes could match that same hue when provoked enough. The thrill of drinking had seemed to dwindle in the last couple of months, but this didn't stop the demon as he took another long pull and rested his head on his arms.It had been some months since the "Incident" and Crowley had decided it time to take a long vacation; or at least, a vacation from trying to tempt the human race. Granted, he had been away from that kind of work for some time but it was time for a proper get-away. The issue with the Apocalypse had only made that more apparent, especially when it had almost come down to him fighting The Devil. Yes, that was an eye-opener to the face that it was indeed time for Crowley to get out of the business for a while.
The only other thing that the passing of the Adversary into blessed neutrality meant was that his long time co-worker and enemy turned confidante had to return to being what he was: an angel. That was the trouble with working with Them. The Angels. Those attuned to God. It was sickening to him, in a way anyway. He had been part of that once. Well, not for too long, he fancied the more dangerous and rewarding life. Little did he know that it would be just as boring and repetitive as that of an angel. Irony at its best.
Realistically, in the last few months, the time had gone by slower than usual and had just as much, if not less mundane activity to go along with it. It had occurred to him to end his sabbatical but it made more sense to just stay away because with worktime there always comes work. And when you're a demon there's always something to be done.
He was lonely. That wasn't a hard fact to notice, but nonetheless it made him almost ache. It had never been this way before, this intense, this filling yet empty at the same time. There had always been this constant in his millennia, or at least knowing that there was something to look forward to. The Great Plan. The Ineffable Plan. The Great Ineffable Plan. That went right out the window, or so Crowley thought anyway. The day they realized that the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast That Is Called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan and Lord of Darkness was in fact, not interested in taking over anything. He actually turned out to be, not only the wrong kid, but about as normal as a kid could get minus the fact that he had a following that called themselves the Them. Then again, they could just be called his group of friends that were in need of a leader to keep them all entertained. Either way it seemed that he had no interest in taking over Heaven or Earth and that was just fine to Crowley.
So he made his way back to his flat in London just far enough away from the action of Tadfield and the surrounding areas to keep his sanity after The Incident. England appealed to him and he had spent a good portion of his time there since, well, time was time. Eden had nothing on the main streets of London when it snowed. That was paradise. His flat was pretty large and well furnished. This was mostly because during his time, which was all of time, he had accumulated a pretty large stack of money to do with what he pleased. He chose a lavish place because, well, what was going to happen to him? Would they send him to hell for being selfish? He had come from that and had no intentions of going back anytime soon.
The large expanse of his flat was clean, precise, and empty. Oh, there was every comfort and luxury needed to lead a very happy life but with no real direction it had no meaning. It was decorated in expensive black and crimson décor (what could be expected of a demon, really) and gave a kind of homey feeling to a guy that would tempt millions in the grave attempt to save his damned soul. Not that Crowley had any desire to save his soul. Or damn millions to a fate like his at that.
So the night would go on as it always did and Crowley would sit before the television as he did very other night in vain attempt to entertain himself. Though as he sat down on the black couch he blinked a few times, something he rarely did, and got the vague impression that someone was watching him. This was very much unlike the usual Crowley who never had paranoid feelings like this. As a demon it was his job to make others paranoid, and this annoyed him. So, he got up and searched the flat; aided only by the weight of a silver candlestick in one hand.