Hastur scowled as he watched Crowley saunter out of Hell. "Flash git," he growled as he stepped into Beelzebub's office. "You summoned me?"
"What are you up to? Why are you bothering with Crowley?"
"I don't trust him."
"He'zzz a demon. You're not supposed to."
"Something's off."
"So you had hizz house blessed?"
Hastur sniffed and looked away. "Should have killed him, slowly and painfully," the demon complained.
"We bathed him in Holy water. It doezzzzn't affect him."
"Something doesn't smell right. He's tricked us somehow. I saw him. He went through it all right."
Beelzebub regarded him for a minute. "This izz about Ligur."
"You don't kill one of your own!" Hastur hissed.
"Izzn't that what you're trying to do?"
"That's different. He started it! He deserves to be punished!"
"Crowley waz a favourite of our Lord Satan's. He was tried and sentenced. The Lord wants no more said about it."
"But he's up to something. I'm sure of it."
The prince sighed. "Follow him. Obzzerve him and see what you find. Do not let him see you. If he catchezz you, you're on your own."
XxXxX
"Oh thank the goddess!" Anathema declared as Aziraphale finally arrived back at the cottage.
"Have I been gone long?"
"Days!"
"Oh dear, time really does move slowly down there," his gaze shot to the stairs leading up to his friend. "How is he?"
"Well he went through a spell of screaming just after you left," she said following him up to see the demon. "Then he went quiet and has been still ever since."
Aziraphale removed his glasses and set them aside. "Crowley? It's me, I'm back. I made it out. I think you'd have been quite proud of me."
Crowley looked even worse, his face was pale and gaunt and twisted in a constant expression of pain.
"Any idea what we do now?" Aziraphale handed over the hellfire.
"Well one; I think you should change back. If this works waking up and coming face to face with himself is probably not a good idea."
"Right, Yes, of course. Right. Here goes nothing." He concentrates very hard on reversing Adam's wishes, ever so slowing returning to his normal form. "That's a lot harder than it seems," he sighed.
"Right. We think we found a solution. It's hard because no one ever talks about saving demons, it's just not done. We burn the sulphur using the hellfire and apply directly to where his heart would be."
"Won't that burn him?"
"We don't have any choice. The blessing is eating away at his very soul."
"He always said he didn't have one," Aziraphale told them softly. "Something he really did lie about."
"He probably doesn't think he has one," Newt told him. "I mean, who ever would think a demon had a soul, let alone one worth saving?"
Anathema disappeared to prepare the sulphur. It didn't take long, emitting the most awful smell, one that Aziraphale has just got out of his nose.
She returned with a vial of blood red liquid that burned with a blue flame held between a pair of tongs. "Ok," she choked. "If this doesn't bring him round we're going to have to summon him," she warned.
Aziraphale didn't like the sound of that but nodded nonetheless.
The witch stood over Crowley as the angel pulled back the blankets. "Ready?" she asked, looking at him and Newt.
The angel took a deep breath and nodded, praying.
She tilted the vial and dribbled it on the demon's chest in a circle. A sickening sizzling began followed by the most unholy screams Aziraphale had ever heard.
"Crowley?!" the angel shouted. "Crowley, please! Can you hear me?"
After what seemed like an eternity the screams subsided and he became unnaturally still.
As time passed nothing changed.
"Time for an evocation," Anathema sighed. She pulled out a parchment and laid it on Crowley's chest. On it she'd drawn a copy of Crowley's snake inside a triangle with runes at each corner. Lighting incense she passed it over his body whilst chanting.
Aziraphale suddenly felt very ill at ease. It was all very wrong but he was at a loss. Crowley was surely dying in front of him and he had no other answers.
For a long time nothing happened and they began to give up hope when a hissing began to fill the room.
The witch stopped chanting and stepped back, moving toward the door.
"C..Crowley dear boy? I...it's me, Aziraphale." He couldn't hide the tremor in his voice.
The demon's eyes snapped open and he lunged at them screeching and hissing.
Anathema held out a cross towards him forcing him back.
Leaping back, he landed in the top corner of the room, pressed against the ceiling, wings curled round to protect himself as his hissing continued.
Newt ushered them out of the door slamming it shut behind him. "Well that went well!"
"He has wings?!" Anathema rounded on the angel. "What kind of demon has feathered wings?!" She stalked downstairs leaving the men to follow her.
"Are we just going to leave him there?" Newt asked nervously.
"He can't get out, I placed wards everywhere. It's like an impenetrable cell until I release him. Adam said about black wings and I dismissed it. He has wings Aziraphale!"
"Well yes."
"Demon's don't have wings. Not normal demons."
"Well they must."
"No. They don't. You know who has wings other than angels?... the Princes of Hell!" The witch's volume was rising.
"But he's Crowley," Aziraphale shrugged. "He hated hell. I told you he's a terrible demon."
"How did he fall again?"
"He never really talks about it. He just says he never meant to and that he just hung out with the wrong crowd. Sauntered downwards, he said."
"Hung out with the...Shit shit shit. Did he fall with Lucifer?"
"Well, yes. At least I think so. Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters! We have no idea what we've just summoned!"
Aziraphale frowned. "I don't understand."
"For a smart man you can be incredibly stupid," the witch huffed.
"Yes, Crowley has mentioned that."
"If he's one of the original fallen angels then he's one of the princes of hell. If he's a Prince of Hell and we've summoned him then he's just reverted back to his true demon self."
"And that's not good."
"Did it look good to you?" Newt asked.
"Well I mean Crowley must be in there still. We just need to find him."
"Do you have any idea how long it must've taken for him to become Crowley?" Anathema asked.
A cold heavy knot appeared in Aziraphale's chest. "I can't give up on him. Prince of Hell or not I have to get him back."
Anathema looked at Newt and sighed before looking back at the angel. "What if we can't?"
"I refuse to think of that as an option."
"I guess we better try and figure out which one we are dealing with," Newt said. "I'll get the tea and biscuits."
XxXxX
"Well we know he's not Lucifer or Beelzebub, right?" Newt asked.
"Right," Aziraphale nodded.
"Well that's two off this version of the list."
"Three if you take off Satan. We all know he isn't him," Anathema reminded him.
"Right. So that leaves Moloch, Chemosh, Dagon and Belial," Newt sighed.
"Not Dagon. I've heard Crowley uttering about them. They're quite a big deal down there," the angel told them.
"Ok. And then there were three. Do you know, once upon a time I would never have dreamed in a million years I'd be sat in a room with a witch and an angel, with a demon in the guest bedroom trying to figure out which demon he actually is. My life has become so very strange." Newt shook his head.
"Well," Anathema spoke as if she hadn't heard him. "Moloch is associated with the burning of animals and sacrificed children."
"Certainly not!" Aziraphale was sickened at the thought. "This is a demon who transformed paintball guns into real guns but ensured everyone had miraculous escapes!"
Anathema raised an eyebrow. "That's not very demonic."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you. He wouldn't kill anyone, well not without good reason. He's saved my life on many occasions. Once at great physical cost to himself. If Hell had found out about it they'd have discorperated him instantly."
Newt looked at him. "Are we sure he's even a demon?"
"I've seen him change from a snake to a person and been to Hell for him, twice. He's definitely a demon."
"Ok. Chemosh; destroyer. Human sacrifices."
"Next," Aziraphale said, cutting Newt off from continuing.
"Well that just leave Belail. Angel of lawlessness. Belail
means "without a master", and symbolizes independence, self-sufficiency, and personal accomplishment."
Anathema and Newt looked at the angel.
"Well. I suppose out of all of them that is the most likely. I mean it sounds more like him than any of the others but I still can't believe he's a Prince of Hell. He's the worst demon in the history of demons. I mean he'd take credit for humanity's idiocy when he had no hand in it. He'd sleep for centuries just to avoid it. So now what?"
"Well at least we know we could be dealing with one of the least ruthless," Anathema stopped short. "Something's changed. Something's here, I can feel it pressing against the wards from outside."
"What do we do?" Newt asked, unable to keep the trepidation from his voice.
"Do you think someone followed you?" Anathema hissed at the angel, keeping her voice low.
"I'd say that was a strong possibility wouldn't you?"
"What do we do?"
"The wards are safe, are they not? Then we wait. We may yet be able to reach Crowley and bring him back. He could help us," Aziraphale said decisively, snatching up Anathema's cross and taking himself back upstairs.
He stopped outside the room and took deep breath. "Crowley my dear. It's me, Aziraphale. I'm going to come in, please don't attack me." Gulping he opened the door and stepped inside.
Crowley was still perched near the ceiling, his wings now splayed slightly and Aziraphale could see his face. The demon's eyes seemed to glow in the muted light as he hissed like a snake waiting to pounce, his teeth bared showing off his elongated canines.
"Anthony J Crowley! Now you behave yourself. This isn't you. What's happened to my dear friend? What's happened to the demon who's saved my life on numerous occasions, risking his own? The friend who's treated me to lunch more times than I'd like to admit. We have a visitor outside who I'm positive is not friendly in nature and I'd very much appreciate it if you'd come back my love."
There was no change in Crowley's stance, claws dug into the walls anchoring him in place as his snake eyes didn't blink. It was the first time in centuries, nay millennia, that Aziraphale felt unnerved by them and he hated the feeling.
"Crowley please. Try to remember who you are," the angel begged.
The hissing started to sound more like a screech and he retreated out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Gulping back tears he did the only thing he could; resolved to get rid of the unwelcome visitor himself. Having a malevolent demon inside the cottage was one thing but he couldn't allow Newt and Anathema to come under threat from the outside too.
XxXxX