Forget Me Not

Thank satan for good friends

Crowley's shoulder hurts, his leg kills, and his headache is splitting. Driving home is no picnic. Every time he presses in the clutch his knee feels like it might pop out of place. Crowley does his best not to pay it any mind and focuses more on getting his memories back so he can get Aziraphale back.

When he gets to his floor he's speaking aloud to himself, "in the black bullets. Where would they be? I've got to find those mints. Black bullets. Black bullets."

In his flat he wastes no time tearing through the mess. He has even less concern for keeping things tidy than he did the night he looked for his nonexistent birth certificate. Today he's sober, slightly concussed and maybe hung over, but sober. Crowley has no luck in the living room and in the kitchen he pulls every drawer off their track and dumps out the contents.

Nothing in the kitchen. Crowley is starting to panic. What if I've tossed it? What if it's gone? Because who would hold onto a random candy tin? Oh, fuck! He stumbles over a stool in the hallway and cusses aloud. Crowley searches the hall closet but everything is already in the floor. It's only towels and extra loo rolls anyways.

There's a knock at the door. Crowley doesn't get visitors, so it's extremely odd. He wonders if it's those people from the bookshop. The demon snatches an empty liquor bottle from the counter and his sunglasses then makes his way to the door.

Whoever is at the door knocks again, harder this time. Crowley peaks out the peephole. To his surprise and relief it's only Rory. Crowley unbolts the door and cracks it to talk.

As soon as the door opens Rory let's out a sigh, "thank god! We thought you might be dead, man. No one's been able to get ahold of you."

Crowley blinks. Confused, he just says "what?"

"You didn't show up for work," Rory squints, "you okay, Tony?"

The demon checks his watch. It's a bit after 9. He completely forgot about work and honestly doesn't care.

"I'm fine," he says, "still under the weather. Look, it's not a good time."

Rory presses the matter, "sorry for dropping in but your mobile kept going straight to voicemail and Ms. Graham says that your job's on the line. Also Elena thought I should check on you."

Crowley rests his forehead against the backside of the door. Shit, yeah, my phone, he thinks. He peeks his head out the door crack, "yeah I turned it off yesterday. Conrad kept bugging me."

Crowley allows the door to swing open a bit more than intended. Rory's eyes grow wide when he gets a look at the other side of Crowley's face.

"Tony! You're bleeding," he exclaims, "are you okay? What happened?"

The demon reaches up and touches the cut on his forehead, that has a trail of dried blood beneath it. "Oh, yeah," Crowley can't think of an explanation at the moment. His concussion makes concentrating difficult and makes him quite dizzy. Crowley stumbles back, slightly.

Rory is a good guy who's truly worried about his friend. "Whoa!" He steps into the flat and makes an effort to catch Crowley but he catches himself. "What happened? Did you fall?"

Rory is taken aback by the state of Crowley's flat. He and Conrad had been over once or twice and he knows this isn't what it normally looks like. Crowley is a neat, organized person so this disastrous mess is shocking.

"Yeah, I tripped and bumped my head," Crowley lies. Rory sees all the liquor bottles and connects some dots. He asks his friend just how hard he hit his head. The tall man figures that it couldn't of been a little bump to leave a gash like that. Of course Crowley tries to downplay it.

"You're not fine, Tony," he presses, "I think you need to go get checked out."

Crowley doesn't have time for this. "I'm fine. I'm fine," he insists. "I'm actually in the middle of something so I need you to leave. It's important."

"What is? Drinking yourself into an early grave," Rory snaps. He draws a deep breath, "I'm not stupid, Ton, I know you're in a bad way. It's not hard to see you've been hung over, not sick. I don't know what's making you spiral, though. So tell me what's so important."

Crowley's chest grows tight. "I just- I have to find something, okay? It's really important." He cracks his knuckles nervously. "I can't worry about work or anything until I find it."

Rory clicks his tongue and thinks for a moment. He crosses his arms over his chest while he scans the room. "Okay. What is it?" Crowley only makes a questioning grunt in response. Rory asks again, "what are we looking for? I think you need to go to the emergency room so if finding whatever is the only way to get you to go- what is it?"

Crowley wets his lips. Fuck, why do you have to be such a helpful person, he thinks to himself, half angry and half thankful that Rory won't leave. Extra pair of eyes can't hurt.

"You know those mints, Old Fashioned Black Bullets? That's what I need to find." Crowley knows it sounds ridiculous.

Rory's brow raises in disbelief. He scoffs, "mints? That's what's so important?" He throws his arms up. "Seriously, Tony! People have been trying to get in touch with you all morning, worried sick! And you're here looking for sweets? Unbelievable!" He spins in a circle, unable to fathom the audacity.

"It's not the sweets." Crowley scratches his jaw, awkwardly. "It's um- it's what's inside the tin." What am I going to say? My consciousness? That's mad. "If you insist on staying will you just trust me."

The lanky lad rubs his eyes and concedes, "alright, alright. Okay, where should I look."

The demon spins around to scan his living area, which makes him so dizzy his stomach threatens to turn. He inhaled deeply before saying, "I think only the loo and bedroom are left."

They go into Crowley's room and decide to split it down the middle. Rory is a bit uncomfortable going through his friend's private belongings but Crowley assures him it's fine. Crowley sits on the floor outside of his closet, picking through every article of clothing, while Rory searches through the dresser.

"Like just a little tin? I'm not seeing anything," Rory says after riffling through Crowley's jewelry box. He walks towards the far side of the room where Crowley is seated. "Are you sure it's here?"

A deep sigh is the only response the demon can give. He lays back onto a pile of pants. No, he thinks. If it's not then, how will I- Crowley thinks of Aziraphale, being pushed down on the floor. He remembers how scared the angel looked when he heard someone come in. They're probably hurting him right now. His eyes sting.

Apparently Crowley looks as upset as he feels because Rory switches up his mood real fast. "Hey! I'm sure it's here, we just need to keep looking! Come on man." He playfully nudges Crowley's foot with his own. "Have you looked up here?" Rory points to the top shelf in the closet.

"Yeah," Crowley says, grimly. "It's all down here." He gestures to the mess around him.

The shelf is right at eye level for Rory. He steps up and stands on his tip-toes to get a better look. Crowley's sure there's nothing up there. It was only that cardboard box and that's on the floor by the bed. Rory sticks his arm up on the shelf and hops to reach further back.

"Are you suuure?" He says it in a bit of a sing-song manner. Crowley sits up to see his pal holding a little black and white can. Relief shoots through him.

"No fucking way!" Crowley could hug him. Rory holds it up victoriously before bestowing it to Crowley. The demon reads the paper on the lid that says not to open or throw it away.

His smile is wiped away when he realizes that he has to kick Rory out. Crowley rubs the back of his neck and coughs. He knows this isn't about to be fun.

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Okay, super long chapter! I know I'm also a tease to cut it off right there. Thank you so much for reading, though. If you really like my work please vote for it and share!