My Dearest Warlock

You May Not Get A Wahoo

Beelzebub, upon taking on look at Crowley, decided that the journey hadn't been worth it. What would be the fun in killing someone that looked like a dad through and through? And what would they do, drag him down to Hell when an angel that could kill them was right there, looking like Beelzebub was trying to steal his dream husband? Maybe the angel thought that.

Why would Beelzebub settle with Crowley? The mere thought of them hugging the great annoyance was enough to make them puke. And the thought of their lips touching his? That was, well, worthy of a bath in Holy Water. The idea of a romance between them was nasty, almost as much as the idea of Heaven winning the Great War.

Beelzebub figured they might be happier if Heaven won the Great War. The angels, despite being celestial creatures with deadly intentions, had little patience. The angels would put Beelzebub out of their misery quickly. A romance with Crowley would- likely- be eternal.

Maybe, they figured, they should just leave the annoyances alone. The dumbasses might go on to get married and raise a child together, and they might leave the next world ending event alone. And looking at them, Beelzebub could see that they were already in love. And Hell, they already had children. Or, well, at least one little gremlin child.

Would having family make them stronger or weaker? On one hand, there was this whole 'love superpower' that Beelzebub had heard about. If there love was strong enough, they might rip apart the next Apocalypse just like they had this one. Having a family could make them weaker too. The urge to protect the mortal flesh that they defined as family and friends would obviously hinder them, so Heaven and Hell could have extra time. The threat of death to the mortals that Crowley and his angel adored would be enough to stop them.

Beelzebub was so dumb. Looking at the Crowley's hair and laidback posture, they realized that they probably should have told Hell he'd been stuck living out the rest of his life as a dad. That idea was miserable. Being an eternal dad sounded awful, and Beelzebub was far from a dad. A domestic house husband would be enough to terrify the demons for months on end.

The idea of confinement was rather... terrifying to a bunch of demons. Having been once confined to Heaven and all of Heaven's rules, they never seemed to recover again after that. The idea of living in groups larger than four seemed terrifying, and many demons chose to spend their time alone. Establishing deep and meaningful relationships between themselves seemed nearly impossible. So far, the only demons to establish a meaningful connection were Hastur and Ligur, and Crowley- unless you counted whatever Azazel had with some Americans, then you had four demons. Hastur and Ligur had a relationship that mocked that of a dating human couple, and Crowley had one with an angel.

Was there something special about those demons? Was there something genetically special- inferior even- about them? What made them unlike every other demon? The real question was: could Beelzebub use it to their advantage?

They sure could. Crowley would be remembered as nothing more than a sniffling husband. That would surely calm down the situation in Hell. The idea of saying these things filled Beelzebub with a childish delight. It was so simple and clever and easy- it was everything that Beelzebub needed it to be.

"Stay out of my way, you overdressed city rat." Beelzebub looked Crowley in his eyes, seeing him look down at them.

Overdressed was, perhaps, a nice way of putting it. Bulky black platform heels, which Beelzebub was sure must have went out of style by now, was his choice of shoes. They could picture Crowley running around the house and dancing to a slower song about music with them on. The low-cut grey shirt he wore showed more skin than Beelzebub wished it did, and the skinny jeans were tight enough he could have been wearing a second layer of skin. And all this, with a leather jacket.