Disclaimer: I own very little.
A/N: Yup. Crowley gets doused with holy water. I'm evil like that.
...Of course, it serves him just right for what he did in Neutral Omens...
Chapter 14:
Holy Homicide
Crowley was feeling rather satisfied with himself as he walked down the street. It was only one more day till Christmas, people all around him were stressed and annoyed and about to snap, and he had a gift for his angel. Well, so he didn't have it with him right then and there, but he had it arranged, and was just on his way to go to get it. He was absolutely sure Aziraphale would love to have his sword back.
For a moment his thoughts drifted back to his own sword. He'd had one, too, back then, almost identical to that of his angelic lover. However, when he had been cast out of Heaven, he'd left it behind. Who knew what had become of it now. Most probably it had been destroyed. A tiny part of him ached strangely at that thought, but he ignored it. He was a demon now; he had no use for a cherub's sword, even his own.
He'd been good with it, too. Almost as good as Michael, and that was definitely saying something. His brother had been rather proud of him, too; that was what he'd always been telling Cro -- Carowiel.
Of course, the said brother had definitely not been too proud of him when he had Fallen.
A tiny sigh escaped his lips at that thought. No, it wouldn't do any good to think of his brother. He'd probably already forgotten ever having a little brother called Carowiel, and if he did remember, he most likely wanted to forget. He'd always been so proud of his powerful, talented little brother. To see Carowiel Falling from grace must have been quite a blow to him.
Crowley shook his head, hoping to banish such thoughts from his mind. It would indeed do no good to think about his brother, who was long gone from him. It was better to concentrate on the matters at hand.
His hands were mostly healed by now, too. Aziraphale hadn't been able to heal him, as it would have only made the results of too much holiness worse, so his own healing powers had done it. By Christmas, he was sure, his hands would be just right again, with no sign of ever touching an angel's sword.
...Not that he regretted it, of course. There were few things in his life that he truly regretted, and taking that cherub's sword was definitely not one of those. After all, he had slain the Hellbeast with it; if he hadn't done that, it might have hurt Aziraphale even more. And the angel would have died for sure.
And he most certainly wouldn't have that.
Yes, he did love the angel. More so than he should have, probably. Demons in general weren't supposed to love. Well, of course they weren't meant to have free will, either, and he had that, too. Besides, he'd never been much of a sticker to rules. That was exactly what had made him a demon at the first place. His sense of irony certainly appreciated this situation, if nothing else.
His sense of supernatural picked up a touch of angelic power, and he frowned. It couldn't be Aziraphale, that he knew. A few lower angels, he identified the intruders a moment later; not even one principality among them, unless he was sorely mistaken. They wouldn't be more than annoyance even if they didn't know about the hands-off policy. He rather hoped they did know, though. He didn't have time for messing with them at the moment. After all, he had a gift to get for his angel.
Suddenly, his mind started to scream at him in alarm. Every single demonic sense he possessed was beeping in alert at some unidentifiable threat. Just then he sensed the angelic presence having come almost to his side -- or, rather, above. Looking up, he saw three flying angels almost right above him, all invisible to humans. One of the angels was carrying a rather suspicious-looking bucket.
Then, with a gleeful shout of, "Demon, begone!" the angel emptied the bucket.
Right at Crowley.
Gabriel frowned as he noticed Raphael staggering a bit. "Are you quite all right, love?" he asked gently. Noticing the tiredness the other was obviously trying to hide but didn't manage, he frowned even more. "You should have told me you weren't up to getting out of bed yet!"
"Well, I was at the time," Raphael replied, smiling weakly. "However, it seems I still at least tire easily."
"Well, that's it. You're going back to bed right now," said Gabriel sternly. "And no buts. We can go to see Aziraphale and his dear demon after Christmas -- tomorrow we'll certainly have no time to."
"Oh, no," said Raphael, who knew that Gabriel really wanted to visit his brother before Christmas. "I'll take just a little nap and then I'll be as good as new. We'll go to see Aziraphale after that. Okay?"
"Well, if you say so," replied Gabriel, still looking a bit hesitant and worried. "Just go and take that nap now. I'll wake you in a couple of hours; that should leave us with more than enough time to visit Earth."
"That sounds like a perfect plan." Raphael flashed another tired smile. "I'm sorry, though, I really am."
"For what?" asked Gabriel, looking genuinely confused. Well, he probably was. Gabriel often was like that. "Now, let's get you to bed. You definitely need it right now."
Raphael was only too glad to obey.
A/N: Anybody want to guess just who's Crowley's big brother?
Next chapter:
Azi to the resque! ...Although he's a bit late, it seems.