(no subject)

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Date: January 24, 2001
Status: Private (Crowley)
Setting: Hell mostly
Summary: Time for a new assignment





Sometimes Hell got impatient. Sometimes they didn't bother with radios or televisions or phones. Sometimes even dropping information directly into their main field agent's brain was too slow. And sometimes they didn't trust said agent not to run off or melt his superiors like he had the last time they wanted to talk to him. Which is why a bloody great hole suddenly opened under Crowley's feet when he left the Manor grounds to poke around LowerTadfield and he vanished.

He somehow managed to land on his feet, coiling into a defensive crouch, hands up and senses on high alert, the adrenalin in his system temporarily mitigating his fear and allowing him to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. This didn't bode well... He wondered what they'd found out about. Mictain? Ligur? Aziraphale? Suddenly, there was a dangerously saccharine voice from behind. "Crawly."

Crowley swiveled, a correction on his lips, which was fortunately swallowed when he saw just who was addressing him. He sank to one knee as if it had been his intention to do so from the beginning of the gesture. "Lord," he said simply; his mind blank with terror. He hadn't spoken directly to Lucifer since before Eden.

"Crawly," Lucifer repeated, his smile fractured, all sharp edges and broken light. "It has been some time, has it not? Though I did get your letter... You did well, little serpent. Not that I care to have that pretty little moron bumbling around playing soldiers, but it has rather distracted Heaven to lose their favourite so suddenly. Shame it wasn't Raphael."

Staring at the ground and trying to figure out what was going on - commendations did not come directly from the Morningstar's lips - Crowley said, "Thank you, Lord. I tempted Raphael as well and nearly had him before he escaped back Up There. But I will continue the effort should I come across him again."

Lucifer took a step forward and wove his fingers into Crowley's hair: petting him. Crowley froze. Was he going to be expected to take Belial's place as Lucifer's plaything? He wouldn't smell of angel, at least. Not anymore. Well, no more than anyone else at the Manor. Don't think about it. Was he as strong as Belial? Could he tolerate this knowing that there was a possible escape? How bad was it going to be to make him willing to take that path?

The Morningstar bent to whisper in his ear. "Very good. Now, there were two other matters I wished to discuss with you."

"Lord...?"

With that, Lucifer's grip tightened and he pulled Crowley to his feet, his beautiful features contorting suddenly with rage. "How dare you?!"

Ignoring the tearing in his eyes and the burning of his scalp, Crowley was dumbstruck for a moment. But he knew better than to ask questions and had a fair idea that by not explaining, Lucifer was trying to get him to admit to something. Well aware that the Morningstar would be angry either way, Crowley chose to remain silent. He would still be punished but wouldn't reveal anything in the meantime.

"Why did you go after it?" demanded Lucifer finally, shaking the lesser demon.

And now silence would only be seen as disobeying. "Go after what, Lord?"

"Constantine's file," he hissed.

Oh. There must have been protections on it. He hadn't really thought about it... But it did make Lucifer look bad to be bested by a human, so he certainly wouldn't want that information out there. And then the imp must have given him away. Ironically, Crowley was now going to be punished for the one thing for which he was actually innocent. Would he be believed? No.

"I met the man, Lord, at Tadfield Manor. He knew too much. I needed information on him, so I asked an imp for his record. I had no idea..."

Lucifer's voice was cold and his hand unforgiving. "And now you do. What were you planning on doing with this precious information, then?"

"N-nothing. It isn't my business. The man is yours."

"He is. And he will appreciate my personal attention for eternity." As casually as if they were discussing the weather, Lucifer ran a finger down Crowley's chest and in its trail, his clothes and flesh parted. The scratch began welling blood immediately, oozing droplets onto the shining, immaculate floor. "Yet you feel pride, little serpent, don't you? Little demon who thinks he knows something to his master's detriment." The Morningstar paused and leaned closer, his breath cloying, the sickly-sweet smell of decaying honeysuckle. "You know nothing," he whispered menacingly, then straightened up again, "Azazel!"

Oh, dear Adam, no...

When the Head Torturer appeared, Lucifer tossed Crowley at his feet as though he were a china doll. "Azazel, I want you to teach this little snake how to keep his mouth shut when he has information that does not concern him." To Crowley he said, "It's a preventative measure, you see. I want you to remember how small and pathetic you are. Living around humans so long has made you think you're more powerful than you really are. Consider it a lesson in humility. Isn't that nice? I will grace you with a virtue." There were reflections of the holy being he had once been in the beneficent smile he cast upon Crowley before turning to leave.

As Crowley was dragged away, he didn't fight, or scream, or beg. He refused to satisfy that part of the Morningstar's sadistic nature. The pain would come regardless. He might as well try to keep some of his dignity.

"Oh..." It was such a tiny sound. An almost hopeful sound. As if this had been a mistake. Lucifer turned sweetly back to them. "I almost forgot the third thing." Striding forward, he gently caressed Crowley's cheek and let his hand drift down the lesser demon's face. "Your new mission, Crawly." New mission? He wouldn't be killed? "Bring me back Belial." With a snarl, the Morningstar squeezed tightly, crushing Crowley's jaw.

Crowley's thoughts dissolved into shock and pain, but the relief of darkness, of unconsciousness never came.