'Til Death Do Us Part - Crowley x Reader

Chapter 12

London

The faint light of dawn crept over the empty suburban street in London, casting a muted palette of pastel hues across the row of houses. The Bentley, a sleek black silhouette, sat parked along the quiet road, its engine purring before coming to a hushed stillness. In the driver's seat, Crowley switched off the engine and reclined in the passenger seat, the leather upholstery cradling him in its embrace.

His phone buzzed, a message from Shax illuminating the screen. The text instructed him to meet her at this peculiar rendezvous, albeit later in the morning. Crowley glanced at the message, the glow of the screen reflecting in his serpent-like eyes. With a flick of his wrist, he stowed the phone away, realizing he had a few hours before the appointed meeting.

As the sun timidly ascended, casting a soft glow on the sleeping city, Crowley closed his eyes, allowing the solitude to envelop him. The events of the night danced in his mind like elusive shadows, each memory a thread in the intricate tapestry of his immortal existence. He pondered the cosmic intricacies, the alliances and betrayals that defined his life in the celestial and infernal realms.

The hum of the city, a distant murmur, seemed to fade into the background as Crowley sank into contemplation. His thoughts, as elusive as the dawn's early light, weaved through the labyrinth of his memories.

The need to leave Y/N's apartment had been an instinct, an impulse born of the weight of the revelation that had unfolded before him. The vision lingered in his mind, an indelible image that played out like a surreal nightmare. Y/N, his beloved, standing at the precipice of cosmic calamity.

As the vision flashed vividly behind his closed eyelids, Crowley grappled with the incredulity of it all. Y/N, the person he loved, was she truly the catalyst for the end of the universe? It felt preposterous, impossible even. Yet, the vision held an eerie authenticity that gnawed at the edges of his skepticism.

Denial crept in, a familiar defense mechanism. It can't be real, he reasoned. But the weight of the vision, the undeniable truth it carried, silenced his internal protests. Crowley's mind danced on the precipice of conflicting emotions — the love he felt for Y/N warring with the responsibility to prevent the unimaginable.

"I can't leave her," he muttered to himself, the admission tinged with a desperation that bordered on vulnerability.

His thoughts whirred, a tempest of contemplation. Crowley, the serpent of ineffable plans, found himself facing a conundrum with stakes higher than any deal he had ever brokered. A solution eluded him — how could he avert the end of the universe and still hold onto the one he loved?

In the midst of Crowley's contemplation, his phone buzzed with a familiar ring. Glancing at the screen, he saw Y/N's name flashing on the display. The timing was both serendipitous and inconvenient. Ignoring the call, Crowley let it go to voicemail, a deliberate choice driven by the need for solitude in his contemplation.

He couldn't bring himself to speak to Y/N just yet, not when the weight of the universe pressed upon him. The thought of her voice, filled with concern and care, felt like a distraction he couldn't afford. Crowley closed his eyes, seeking refuge in the quiet darkness that unfolded behind his lids.

Crowley, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down upon him, closed his eyes. The faint hum of the city, a soothing lullaby, seemed to cradle him into the realm of sleep. As his consciousness slipped away, dreams and shadows danced in the periphery of his mind.

However, the tranquility of rest was short-lived. A persistent knocking on the window jolted Crowley back to awareness. His eyes fluttered open to the sight of Shax, a familiar and yet unsettling figure, rapping on the glass.

Crowley, unimpressed by the intrusion, wound down the window with a casual flick of his wrist. Shax wasted no time in delivering her message. "You're in trouble," she declared, her tone carrying an air of urgency.

A sardonic smirk played on Crowley's lips. "Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. However will I cope." he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shax, undeterred, arched a demonic brow. "Are you making fun of me?"

Crowley, never one to miss an opportunity for a comeback, countered, "Would you know if I was?"

Shax, her patience evidently thinning, cut to the chase. "Mind if I come in?"

Crowley, behind the wheel, sighed in resignation, his expression betraying the annoyance that often accompanied dealings with demons. Turning to face his unexpected passenger, Crowley braced himself for whatever news Shax bore.

Shax wasted no time. "Gabriel has disappeared," she stated, the words hanging ominously in the air.

Crowley's expression remained unchanged, though the gravity of the situation wasn't lost on him. "So I understand," he replied tersely.

Shax leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "I've spoke with Beelzebub, and we believe Aziraphale has something to do with it."

Crowley couldn't help but roll his eyes at the suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds unlikely."

Shax, undeterred, pressed on. "A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of archangels could've performed."

Crowley, the picture of nonchalance, raised an eyebrow and hummed in feigned interest.

Shax, undeterred, continued, "Somewhere very close to your friend's bookshop. Are you telling me you don't know what caused it?"

Crowley's response was laced with sarcasm. "How'd you know I didn't do it?"

Shax's eyes narrowed, and her tone turned ominous. "Help us, and we will be grateful. And otherwise, you'll be disliked by Heaven, hunted and eliminated by Hell."

Crowley's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. The car, a sleek black vessel, came to life with a low purr. Shax's threat hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the delicate balance between cooperation and coercion that defined the supernatural realm.

Shax, undeterred by Crowley's stoic demeanor, pressed further. "So you do understand I'm threatening you?" she challenged.

Crowley's gaze remained on the road ahead, a smirk playing on his lips. With a nonchalant flick of his hand, he started driving. Shax's figure blurred and dissipated, leaving only the echo of her threat hanging in the air. The Bentley glided through the city streets, and Crowley, ever the enigmatic force, pondered the implications of the miracle that unfolded under the watchful eyes of angels and demons alike.