Slipping his hands under his shades and rubbing his eyes, Crowley gave a groan. He'd been working on this for hours, and still he had nothing to show for it except a splitting headache. With a sigh, he tossed the file into the already overflowing briefcase. He only had about ten files left and not a single mention of Laboratory E. What if he hadn't even grabbed the right one?
"How did you get all of those in there in the first place?" Barnaby asked looking up from his toy cars. He laid flat on his stomach relaxing his wings, fidgeting with the small models contently.
"Well, it took a little bit of a miracle..." Crowley admitted leaning back. His serpentine eyes glancing over to the windows. They had pulled the blinds when they first got the room. Wouldn't want any awkward, hard to explain situations. A shadow crossed the window as someone passed by. It was getting late, strange for people still to be wandering around. Speaking of that, it was time Bart got some sleep.
The demon reached over and flicked off the Golden Girls, "Come on, it's past your bedtime,"
"What's a 'bedtime'?"
"Just get ready for bed," chuckled Crowley. The last thing he needed was a grumpy seven-year-old in the morning. Watching from the corner of his eye, another shadow crossed the window. Possibly the same guy heading back to his room. With a shrug Barnaby headed to change and Crowley moved to clear off the bed. Gathering up the small cars and settling them on the nightstand before closing the briefcase and sliding it under the bed. He left out the last few files, night-vision was given for any demon and a little light reading wouldn't hurt anybody. After that he would rest, recharge a bit until sunrise. Though he stopped admitting it, he was still running low. These last few hours had helped, but it wasn't a substitute for real rest. With miracles it wasn't a weariness affecting the body as much as the mind. It took energy away from his celestial form which in essence was connected to his mind, his being, not necessarily his body. And as long as his brain was working, he wasn't recharging as fast as he should.
"Goodnight, Mister Crowley," thin arms wrapped around the demon's chest in a tentative hug, unsure if it was okay. With a smile, he gave an affirming hug back. Relaxing against the bigger man, Barnaby tightened his grip.
"Night," Crowley stayed like that for a few moments before letting the boy slip out of his arms and into bed. Bart wrapped himself in the covers and bundled himself in his wings like a little nest. Standing up and stretching, the Crowley cast one final glance around the room before flicking off the lights.
Owens straightened up in his seat as the motel room went dark. Finally, he thought. They had been casing this place for hours and his legs were starting to fall asleep. He was some dying to get in on some action. Besides Owens was more than ready to put all of this behind him. This mess was really getting on his nerves, shady back-alley deals he could deal with but missing children was another thing. He slipped out his handgun and put his palm on the handle.
"That's it, let's g-"
"No," Cain growled from behind the steering wheel. "We don't want to rush this," he narrowed his dark eyes at the pulled curtains. Watching for any indication of life. But they stayed completely still, not a flicker of motion. The targets must have turned in for the night. Perfectly unaware. With a resounding slam the back van door closed.
"Nothing, the coast's clear," reported Martina taking her seat between Vick and Edwards. She pulled out a rifle from under the seat and began to meticulously check it. Almost lovingly running her hands over it as she adjusted the pieces. She got this rifle years ago, through wars and robberies, it was her lucky charm. Fiddling with the long-range scope she cast a hopeful glance toward their leader. But Cain's eyes were stayed locked on the dark window. And as the minutes dragged by, it stayed unchanged.
"Okay, quick in quick out. Vick take point," he growled slipping into the parking lot. Four shadows quickly followed close behind, careful not to make a sound. Like ghosts in the night they made a beeline to the motel room door, moving on instinct ingrained long ago after years of fieldwork. Pressing his back against the wall, Cain focused down at the lock. It was one of the electronic types, a magnetic key card scanner. Easy. Waving Edwards forward, the Irishman glances over his shoulder. Not a single soul.
Edwards pulled what looked like a phone out of his pocket and pressed it against the plastic plate. Tapping in a few commands the small light on the plate flashed from red to green. Pulling his sidearm out in front of him, Vick easily inched the door open. Silently he stepped through the threshold aiming his muzzle into the inky blackness. He took another step, but before he had a chance to flick on the light something hard slammed into his side. Air was forced out of Vick's chest and his sidearm from his fingers. Desperately he grappled blindly for his attacker but couldn't seem to get a grip on it. Realizing this Crowley rushed forward again, this time slamming the man's head into the nightstand.
Taking in his breath the demon looked down at the now limp body, but his victory was short-lived. Two more men barged into the lightness room, scanning for dangers lurking in the dark. Yellow eyes instantly recognized one of the hulking men and fury began to burn hotter in Crowley's gut. Cain, the man who started this whole nightmare. Diving at the closest one, Crowley knocked the smaller one off his feet before the thug could let off a shot. But much to the demon's dismay he couldn't reach Cain before the red-head flicked on the lights.
With a hiss, Crowley shielded his eyes as light flooded the room. And before he could find his bearings a solid fist barreled into his jaw. Staggering back the lanky man caught himself on the bedpost instead of toppling headfirst into the floor. It had been a while since he last had to take a punch, a good decade or so. Ignoring the spinning in his skull, Crowley pulled himself up just a little too late to keep Cain's knuckles from grazing his ribs. A wave of burning ran through them give a new sharpness to the demon's rage. Lashing out with more strength than a man should have, he propelled his own fist into the larger man's temple. Cain shuttered back from the blow but somehow managed to stay on his feet. Like some sort of beast he planted his feet and gave off a snarl.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Exactly, you bloody bastard!" yelled the demon in a mad lunge. But this time Cain was ready, pushing away Crowley's fist before it could even get close. And for the first time since stepping into the room he finally got a chance to look at it. A basic low-end motel, telly, bed, a nightstand with some toy cars on it, and a bathroom down the hall. But to the Irishman's annoyance, not a child in sight.
"This is none of your business. Just had over the boy, and stay out of this," Cain growled as he was clipped by one of the demon's thrusts. Without missing a beat the human threw back his own fist in retaliation.
Crowley easily pivoted out of the way, "Not until I tear your god-damned throat out of your god-damned body!"
This caught the military man's attention, "This is personal for you, isn't it?" He narrowed his eyes on the livid demon like a cat on an injured bird, "But I think I would remember a son of a bitch like you,"
Crowley didn't bother with a response, rushing forward with a shout. But instead of slamming his fist to the human's skull, he wrapped his bleeding hands around Cain's thick throat. Not expecting the swift maneuver, the hulk of a man barely had a chance to register what was happening before the two tumbled to the carpet. Cain bucked under the choke-hold and jammed his knee into the smaller man's stomach but Crowley held on steadfast. Cain tried again harder and harder in his frustration, but still the shaded man on top of him was stronger than he looked.
The demon was barely thinking anymore, simply reverting back to his natural instinct. He was exhausted and in pain, which all seemed to bleed together into rage. All he could see and could think was of squeezing the life out of the squirming mass of flesh beneath him. He clamped down his fingers tighter and tighter, feeling the slams against his stomach and chest weaken. Cain's eyes seemed to dull for a moment before snapping onto something above Crowley's shoulder.
A pair of hands pulled the demon off of his victim and threw the lanky man-shaped being to the ground. A fourth man had slipped in and now was pointing a handgun at the demon's chest. But Crowley knew better, even behind a steeled face a slight quiver of the hands said it all. This man wasn't a fighter, no matter how unfazed he was by violence. Using this to his advantage, Crowley sprung to his feet and darted straight into the path of the gun. The under-trained man barely had a chance to blink before it was out of his hands and flying across the room.
The man watched its path as knuckles slammed into his cheekbone. But there was a reason Cain chose him for the mission, he snapped back quickly and pulled Crowley into a headlock. The read-head grappled at the hold unsuccessfully, he simply wasn't at the right angle. With a hiss, he jammed his shoulder with all the force he could muster into his attacker's gut. Gasping for air, the thug released the chokehold for a second before unceremoniously tackling Crowley's torso. The two began to thrash around like an ungraceful ameba of arms and legs each trying to get the upper hand.
Face pressed against the cheap carpet Cain began to stir. His throat burned with each breath and tiny dots danced in the corners of his eyes. How long had it been since someone had come this close to taking him down? At least five years. And that man weighed at least double than this twink. It wasn't natural for a man that size to be as strong as he was. Straining his muscles the Irish-man lifted himself onto his elbows. He'd heard of adrenaline doing crazy things to a man, but this was a completely different game. Pulling himself to his knees, Cain's eye caught a flicker of movent under the bed.
Still struggling with the under-trained man, Crowley reached out and grabbed a fistful of black curls. The man yelped in pain and desperately tried to jerk away. Crowley's small moment of sadistic satisfaction was cut short as a high pitched scream pierced the room. Golden eyes snapped with rage to Cain now on his feet, grappling with a squirming Barnaby in his arms. The child was in full panic, failing about and flapping as if trying to take flight. Bone and russet feathers made an awful crack as it crashed into the already crooked nose. Cain grit his teeth and snarled as blood started to rush down his face. It was far from his first beak and definitely wouldn't' be his last, he wasn't going to let his target slip through his fingers again.
Crowley pushed himself forward but a persistent arm around his neck pulled him back. He didn't have the time to deal with this! Hissing the demon jammed his nails into the soft flesh hard enough to draw blood. His attacker's yelp was cut off as a pulse of unearthly energy rushed from his arm and into his whole body. The man dropped like a bag of bricks. Crowley hardly noticed, crossing the room in two determined strides. He grabbed a fist of Cain's shirt and slammed the larger man against the wall.
"Put him down now," snarled Crowley tightening his grip. Cain narrowed his eyes trying to lock them with the dark shades. It was becoming harder to keep a grip on the boy, especially when he was forced to use only one arm. The Irishman knew he couldn't defend himself like this. He pushed Barnaby away and swiftly pounded his fist into Crowley's stomach. Even as air rushed out of his chest painfully the demon held on and tapping into supernatural strength flipped the larger man over his shoulder. Cain grunted and pulled Crowley down with him.
"Mister Crowley!" Barnaby took a step closer brown eyes wide with fear.
"Bart, stay back," warned the lanky man deflecting a fist. The boy hesitated a second before backing up against the far wall. He wanted to help, to stop the monster of his nightmares from hurting his friend; but Crowley's tone held him in place. He couldn't disobey, after all those years obedience was ingrained within him. So, Barnaby watched helplessly as tears began to overflow. His whole body began to shake and the world seemed to fade, leaving the child unable to move or even think, so absorbed by his terror.
But Crowley didn't have the chance to help, Cain was on top of him landing blow after blow into the demon's chest and face. Crowley tried to push him off, kicking and punching, but he was long past exhaustion and his human form was starting to fail. His head rattled with each punch, little stars danced in the corners of his eyes. Every cell in his earthy shell was screaming in pain. But he couldn't give up, not after going this far. Failure now not only meant losing all hope of finding Aziraphale, but dooming Barnaby back to a life worse than death. Alone for the rest of his days with test after test, all the while knowing what kind of life he could have had. Crowley wouldn't let that happen, he would fight to his dying breath to protect that young life he only had just started to get to know.
But there was nothing he could do. Almost lost for strength Crowley let his hands fall to the carpet. As another blow sent a spasm through his body a piece of cold metal touched his fingers. Just almost within the demon's reach. He stretched further trying to inch it into his grip.
"So you decided to give up?" Cain grinned, his face horrible with his own blood and twisted in malice. But he wasn't going to relent his attack, not until the lanky man was dead or unconscious, Cain didn't really care which. The sooner he could get this roadblock out of his way the better. Beneath him the man had stopped struggling, laying limply with his arms to either side of him. Cain felt himself relax, it wouldn't be much longer now. With another punch, Crowley's strange sunglasses were knocked to the side. The demon's now revealed eyes remained closed.
The Irishman paused, it was over. He let his muscles relax and unclenched his fists. All was left to do was grab the boy and dispose of the body. And who knew, maybe the higher-ups would give him a few weeks vacation for his efforts. With some effort Cain stood back up to his feet, turning his eyes to face Barnaby. The boy was trying to press himself closer against the wall, he was shaking like a leaf. Russet wings puffed out in an animal instinct to make himself look bigger. But when Cain looked into the child's watering eyes, he could see that the boy wasn't entirely there. The brown eyes were unfocused as if looking far away and flickering to follow something that was only in his memory.
A flicker of movement caused Cain to twist his head back. In an instant, his eyes locked with a pair of unearthly yellow ones, pupils long black slits like a cat's or maybe a snake. Something cold drove into the large man's head making him to fall back to the cheaply carpeted floor. Vision blurring, Cain looked up to see the barrel of his own handgun pointing back at him. Behind it stood the lanky man he thought was out for good. But somehow the gun wasn't his biggest concern. Those eyes seemed to stare right into his soul. This wasn't right, that man wasn't human.
Every ounce of his demonic instinct was screaming at Crowley to pull the trigger. End this, now and forever. It would be so easy, just a little squeeze of his finger and instant revenge. He wanted to, he really did. But a small gasp reached his ears. Barnaby was watching from the corner, looking slightly more aware but still distant. The boy took a feeble step forward, face contorting with conflicting emotions. He was relieved that his protector was winning, but something about Crowley's face scared him. He looked angry, wild, like some sort of beast. A best with yellow eyes. After just barely coming out of his flashback, all of it was too much for Barnaby's clouded brain to process.
Crowley paused. Barnaby had already seen so many horrible things, what right did he have to show him another. This wouldn't bring closure, all it would do is hurt him. With a sigh, the demon lowered the gun and snapped his fingers.
Sorry, this took me so long. Who knew all it would take to give me writing time is a pandemic? I promise I have not given up on this story, I'm just busy with school. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the update. You all are amazing.