Once again Crowley flopped onto the motel bed except this time more out of exhaustion than a flare for the dramatic. The past few days had taken a lot out of him, he was practically running on empty. But it was nothing a few hours rest couldn't fix. He felt the bed shift under him as Barnaby sat down on the edge. The boy picked up the snake-skin case from the floor and fidgeted with the latch.
"What now?" he asked popping the case open. Reaching inside Barnaby began to sift through the disorganized jumble straightening the folders into a pile.
With a groan the demon pulled himself into a sitting position, rest would have to wait. "Hopefully, one of those files will tell us where Aziraphale is,"
Barnaby gave him a confused look, how could these little slips of paper do all that?
"You see if I was some big bad corporation, I'd want to keep all my skeevy illegal things in the same place, harder for people to just stumble onto. So all we have to do is find-" Crowley reached over Bart's shoulder and pulled out the boy's file, "-Laboratory E, and that should lead us to straight to him,"
A spark of hope flared in the boy's chest. The idea of going back horrified him, but if that's what it took to be reunited then he'd leave in a heartbeat. Even though he'd only known the angel for a few days, the man was part of him. The love and comfort he'd been longing for his whole short life without knowing it. Sure Crowley was fun, exciting, and kind in his own way, but it wasn't the same as Aziraphale's warm softness. It tore a gaping hole in his heart loosing what had finally made him whole for the first time in his life.
Remembering something Crowley, began to leaf through the stack of papers before selecting one from the bottom of the stack. Cain's file. He'd almost forgotten it. It probably was nothing too useful, but in the demon's experience knowing who you're up against is half the battle. He flicked open the manila folder and started to read. Cillian O'Neil was surprisingly young only just turning 29. Even with that he'd been working for Avis Labs for the past ten years, hired at the young age of nineteen without even submitting an application. And all of his time working there stationed at the same place, Laboratory E. With a frown Crowley flipped the page. Immigrated from Ireland which in itself wasn't too surprising. But the demon stopped when he reached Cain or Cillian or whoever's criminal record. In the most recent ten-years it was fairly mellow, the occasional ticket for road rage here and there, the worst of it most likely being covered up or unknown to the government, but what caught the demon off guard are the oldest notes.
Cillian O'Neil was fourteen at the time still living in Ireland. An unhappy family life, deadbeat dad, alcoholic mother, and twelve year old little brother with Asperger's. Apparently the two brothers didn't quite get along because once or twice a month they would get called in by the neighbors to break up fights. But there was never enough cause to get the boys taken away and the parents didn't seem to care so there wasn't much the police could do. Until one night the younger brother's body was found in a ditch beaten beyond recognition. There were no prints, no murder weapon, no witnesses, and a helpful rainstorm washing away any other useful clues. With such violent murders it's usually an on the spot thing, but it was so well covered it had to be premeditated. And that left Cillian as the only suspect. He had motive, means, basically everything except evidence. So after a lengthy trial the teen walked free. There were a few more incidents on files after that but it pretty much cuts off when Cillian drops out of high school and runs away at sixteen. But somehow he must have attracted the attention of Avis Labs, with them reaching out to him and offering a job.
Cain, Crowley had just assumed he picked the nickname to sound cool. But whether it was given to him or he took the moniker on himself, it ran much deeper than that. For a moment the demon pondered if the man kept the name out of shame or pride. A constant reminder of his shortcomings or a deadly warning to his peers? Maybe a bit of both.
"Did you find it?" the small voice snapped Crowley back to the present.
"It's nothing, not what we're looking for," the demon closed the file and slipped it to the side. No need to upset the boy. Accepting the man's answer Barnaby gave a shrug and turned to the briefcase. Crowley had packed It as many papers as he could fit, it would take some time to sort it all out. This must have also came across the demon's mind because to Barnaby's surprise swiped up the case and spilled it's contents into the middle of the bed in one fluid motion. Tossing the empty case face up next to the mess he gave a little clap.
"So here's the plan Bart w-"
"Barnaby,"
"So we work at the same time, checking each file's title for Location E. And if it's not we just toss it back into the case," explained Crowley ignoring the boy's interruption. For example he picked up the closest folder and gave it a quick scan before sending it sailing into the open snake-skin suit case. It a little demonic miracle it landed right inside.
"Here give it a try," grinning he handed a file to the boy. Barnaby cautiously opened it starting at the symbols. He couldn't do this, he had no idea how. But he had to, he had to help. Not knowing what to do, he just stared at the paper and with each passing second the feeling that he should be doing something was pressing harder and harder. The anxiety and helplessness that had been gathering in his stomach was starting to spill as he intensely fixed his brown eyes on the paper.
"Is something wrong?" Crowley didn't need to be able to sense fear to see something was bothering the boy. His small face was scrunched up in concentration, hands trembling slightly as he intensely fixed his brown eyes on the paper. For a second his own panic surfaced into the demon's mind. What if he just handed a child something not even an adult could stand to see? How could he be so careless!
Quickly the demon pulled the file from the boy's hand and flipped it around. But it wasn't some dark horror, just a distribution center in Belize. A wave of relief passed over him quickly followed by confusion. Looking over the paper he could still see a pained look on the boy's face.
"What's goi-"
"I'm sorry, but I-I can't," his olive face was quickly turning red, "I can't read," the boy said it as if admitting a crime.
"Oh buddy, it's okay. I should of asked, it's my fault," Crowley felt like kicking himself. Even if Bart was a normal boy, he would have some trouble reading the long words. What did he expect?
"You know, when all this blows over I can teach yo-" the heart-felt promise got caught in his mouth. How could he promise that when he had no idea what was going to happen the sweet boy? Crowley had been so focused on Aziraphale that he completely forgot the future. Just ditching Bart with some random humans was out of the question, even without the wings. He couldn't just abandon the boy after all of this. But he couldn't straight up adopt him either. His barren flat was no place to raise a child and over the years Anthony J. Crowley had upset a good many dangerous people. Of no threat to himself of course but Barnaby was just a mortal. Still a pang of jealously flashed in his heart at the thought of someone else raising the kid. His shook his head, he'd cross that bridge when he got there. Now he had a mission, the rest would have to wait.
"You can do that?" Barnaby asked meeting the demon's shaded eyes.
"Everyone has to learn it from somewhere. Took me a couple decades to pick it up," said Crowley. Seeming reassured by that, Barnaby gave a hesitant smile and sat up a little.
"Then I guess it's up to me," shrugged the demon looking down at the files. A sly smile reached his lips as he reached a hand over to flick on the television. Chuckling under his breath as Bart jumps up in surprise and wonder at the moving pictures.
"I tried running his plates but they're not in the system," Cain explained to the head of security, "Except with a 1933 Bentley it's not that hard to track down,"
"So?"
"They're hiding out in a small motel just within the city limits. And checking the online records the room is booked under an Anthony J. Crowley, " continued Cain with a hint of pride in his voice.
This caught the director's attention, "Are you sure that this is the man?"
"Absolutely,"
"Fine, take a strike team. But remember if you mess up it's your position at stake," he warned darkly. Cain nodded, he knew. There was much more than just a job at risk if he failed. He had to be perfect this time, he thought stepping out of the office. He moved down the hall and into meeting room 4. Even though, the less than legal parts of Avis Labs was better known in the security department, he still had to play it safe. One leak could spell disaster.
Inside most of his team was already waiting for him. He picked them out himself over the years, criminals, ex-military, some police who didn't mind bending the rules. Men and women who didn't mind watching over the morally questionable parts of the program, occasionally making people who are a little too nosy disappear. Not necessarily the easiest co-workers but they got the job done.
"How did it go?" asked Owens. The others looked up, finally noticing Cain had entered.
"We got a strike team cleared and are to engage imminently,"
"Okay I rally up a dozen or so and sto-" he rambled. Owens made a good second in command, a logistics man, always thinking of the details, but sometimes missed the bigger picture.
"No," Cain barked. That was his mistake last time. "We go low profile, You, me, Edwards, Martina, and Vick," If the bookseller hadn't seen him coming, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. No, this time he was going to do it right. Get in, shoot the man, capture the asset, and leave. For a second his team looked like they wanted to argue but held their tongues. Here Cain's word was law.