"Oh my somebody! You're in love with his Supreme Archangelness!"
The office seemed to hold its breath - like a vacuum of sound where the only discernible noise was the faint buzzing of flies, creating an eerie backdrop for the conversation. Crowley's attention was fixed on Beelzebub, and he couldn't help but observe the subtle changes that swept across their features. He noticed a faint flush of colour spread across their usually stoic countenance as he looked on. (Crowley hadn't seen that expression in years!) It was a telltale sign of embarrassment that seemed incongruous with the commanding presence they had cultivated over the years.
It was a sight that was oddly endearing in its own way, this uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. Beelzebub's face contorted with a mix of emotions, and it was evident that they were caught off guard, unable to quickly refute the claim that had just been made. For his part, Crowley knew love had a curious way of weaving its threads even amidst the oddest and darkest circumstances. However, this was even odder than the oddest.
But a burning question demanded an answer, a curiosity that Crowley couldn't resist speaking to. (Because he could never resist giving voice to his questions, no matter how much trouble he got into.) "How?"
How Gabriel, the self-righteous prick?
How did it happen in the first place?
How do they not know that Gabriel is in the bookshop when one of their flies is with Gabriel as they speak? Though, that last one Crowley would keep to himself. Have to protect the ungrateful Angel, after all.
"Well, you did it," They claimed, still trying their best not to make eye contact with Crowley, "Maybe I was just following your example."
Crowley fought against the instinctual urge to deny deny deny that had been ingrained within him for the last six thousand years. If anything, Beelz was the one farther in the wrong, so really, he shouldn't feel the need to hide here. Damned if it wasn't tempting to continue to hide away anyway. Safer too, in the wake of his and Aziraphale's argument earlier today. What stopped him from denying it was how lost Beelz looked. Crowley could remember that feeling if only a bit. Thrown out of Heaven, only to find just a smidgen of that belonging in one of Heaven's angels, only to not know if you could touch that Heaven without burning. Still, his fellow demon had no idea how dissimilar the situations were. For all his faults, his Angel was always inherently good. Able to go against Heaven for the same reasons that several demons had originally gone against it (though those reasons were usually lost in the sheer madness driven by the fall). Aziraphale was capable of that type of thought. Gabriel, for all the time that Crowley had known him before falling and for the few meetings they had unfortunately been through since, had not seemed capable of that. In fact, he seemed to enjoy trying to bring about Her Almighty Plan.
"It's not quite the same -" Crowley started, but cut himself off. It wasn't his place to inform Beelz of all the small (increasingly attractive ways) ways Aziraphale defied Heaven for the humans. So instead, he played it off and allowed a grin to come to his face, "Are you quite sure that you don't want to change your mind, find a nice little demon to play house with?"
The flies got aggravated, and Crowley raised his hands in a show of surrender.
Crowley had questions - Crowley always had questions. Some of them started to answer themselves:
Did he even love you back? Gabriel had no memories and was on the lam from Heaven; the survey says that the feelings were (impossibly) reciprocated.
How could you love someone like that? But then, Beelz had been a demon for a long time, even if they had been an angel before, staying this long in Hell changed someone. Two beings of slightly twisted morality finding one another was a story the humans told many a time.
Why should I help you? That answer was the most complicated and most straightforward of them all. For one, Crowley would help Beelz because he had always liked them. He had watched them be created, watched as they stood proudly in Luci's inner circle, watched as they had fallen and cried as their wings burned away, but they still remained faithful to Luci. Crowley had never been highly connected with the angels under Luci's command. Beelz was very much the only exception to this rule. Of equal importance, Crowley had to help because Aziraphale had no idea what he was getting himself into.
"Well, what do we know about my darling brother's disappearance so far?" Crowley inquired, not intending to hint at the idea that Aziraphale had anything to do with it.
"According to what I'm hearing, on a grapevine that most certainly doesn't exist, upstairs is seriously troubled about Gabriel's disappearance. I've heard that anyone they find involved in this affair will be dealt with." The look they gave Crowley, the intonation of the voice, for a moment, Crowley wondered if they knew Aziraphale was involved. Crowley shifted in his seat, reminding himself that if Beelz knew because of the fly, they certainly wouldn't have called Crowley here to find the archangel.
"How?" Crowley was hesitant and hoped that Beelz took that as worry to his own wellbeing should he get involved.
Beelz walked back over and took the seat next to Crowley once again. There was a pause, dramatics that they had likely learned from Luci themselves, "Extreme. Sanctions."
Crowley just stared at them - Had Luci really let his own people believe that existed? How did he ever get angels to defect if they believed in that? - Sure, Crowley couldn't prove or disprove the existence of the Book of Life. If it had been used, he wouldn't remember because that person would no longer exist. However, such a book had yet to be in the early days. He would have seen it; there had been so few angels. It could have been created after the fact, but honestly, it really didn't seem like Her type of thing. She had always been... Well, a little more ineffable than that.
Still, the fact that Beelz still believed in that somehow made Crowley want to help them even more. They were willing to go against the threat of non-existence for the person they loved.
Even if that person was Gabriel.
In the possible event that Crowley helped, that would also get Gabriel far away from Aziraphale. The Angel would probably be happy too, because the two of them would have successfully helped Gabriel, and they would no longer need to argue.
The silence went on for another moment as Crowley considered his options. Beelz seemed a little impatient, not that Crowley blamed them, "So if you find anything or hear anything, you'll come to me first, yeah?"
Crowley crossed his arms, still didn't know the answer to that question. There were plenty of reasons to help them, plenty of reasons not to as well. And still more than enough reasons to drop Gabriel somewhere random and let the archangel figure stuff out for himself. Either way, first thing was first, he needed to speak with Aziraphale. And maybe, maybe, apologize to the angel for taking things a little too far.
Shut your stupid mouth, and die already.
Or maybe it wasn't too far, but he would apologize to the Angel anyway - not for what he had said or done, but for upsetting him.
"I don't know anything right now, but if I hear anything, you'll be the first to know." Which might not have even been a lie, Crowley wasn't certain yet, but he did feel that pull to help Beelz.
The transition was jarring - as if Crowley had blinked and been transported from the sweltering inferno of Hell to his Bentley's cool, familiar embrace. The leather seats comforted him as he settled into the driver's seat. He leaned forward, his forehead meeting the chilled surface of the steering wheel. It was a momentary respite, a pause in the relentless pursuit of a solution, a chance to gather his thoughts even as urgency pulsed in his veins.
There was little time to linger in contemplation. Even if the Book of Life wasn't a viable threat, there were still whole legions of Heaven looking for the archangel, demons nipping at their heels under the rule of Beelz looking for their lost love.
With a determined resolve, Crowley inserted the key into the ignition, the satisfying click a signal that they were back in motion. He didn't spare a moment for gentle acceleration; his foot pressed the gas pedal with a force that made the tires squeal, a rush of speed that matched the situation's urgency. The Bentley roared to life.
Time to go back to the bookshop, Crowley decided with a determined focus, God damn it, Aziraphale!