Archive of Our Own ^beta

Crowley stopped the car. He was breathing hard and only just managing to keep the anger to the fore to avoid the disappointment and despair from overwhelming him. He took a deep breath and head-butted the steering wheel.

The car made a cutesy old fashioned “honk” in response. That was the last straw:

“My….car” *sob* “… doesn’t….make…” *sob* “that….” *sob* “noise”.

Perhaps is was the trauma he'd been through. Perhaps it was the banging of his head against the hard surface of the Bentley. Whatever it was, it made Crowley pass out...

….sometime later he woke with a sense of being watched. He quite often had that sense, but this time really, really hoped he was wrong. He turned his head apprehensively and discovered that, no, he hadn’t been wrong: Shax was sat beside him with a mildly curious expression and a bright gleam in her eyes.

“Is this a good time?” she asked with perfunctory politeness.

Crowley just grunted, so she tried again “only, I can come back if it’s not, but…”

“A good time!” he yelled, “oh, let’s think: is this a good time??!”.

The uncomprehending look of his fellow told him that he hadn’t been understood. He sighed and said wearily: “no, it isn't a good time. Now go away…”

His brain caught up a second later and curiosity overtook him. “No, wait a minute, what are you even doing here? Aren’t you meant to be leading the ‘hordes of the damned’ down in Hell?”

Shax took a quick breath in. Not sure what to do with it, she waited for half a second and then let it back out again with an irritated little *huff*. She decided not to make a big deal of it, certainly not in front of Crowley.

She tried for a matter of fact tone of voice “it didn’t work out. Seems management had other ideas”. She could see Crowley’s grin just starting to emerge so carried on hurriedly: “what about you? Aren’t you meant to be in the bookshop with that angel?”

Crowley effected a nonchalance he didn’t feel “it didn’t work out. Seems he had other ideas”. His self-control nearly broke toward the end of the sentence, but he managed to keep it together with a forced smile. More of a grimace really.

Shax wasn’t really up to speed with the whole human expressions thing so didn’t notice anything wrong. She thought she’d hidden her own bitter disappointment at the way Hell had ungraciously declined her offer of leadership quite well though.

After all hadn’t Beelzebub herself suggested it? Apparently that was part of the problem. She probably hadn’t ought to have mentioned it at all really. Irritating, she was usually so good at reading a room and knowing what to say. This time it hadn’t worked.

Crowley watched the slight twitch and emergent frown on his companion’s face. He watched, and he waited. The frown deepened, but there was no signs she was going to say anything further.

“Well, been *lovely* catching up with you. Must do it again some time. Gotta get going now though, people to see, places to be…” no reaction. “That means you leave now” he explained patiently.

Shax tried the breathing thing again. In and out again with a little *huff*. It seemed to help slightly. She turned to Crowley and completely failed to see how irritated he was.

Then she burst into tears.

It wsn’t fair, she’d done so well, so much work, she’d led legions of the damned, she’d tried so hard, all these years, so much work, so many demons bribed or persuaded to help her, to help Hell win, it had all taken so long and then her chance… and now they didn’t want her!

The last words were a wail, a plea for pity. She gulped down the tears and squinted at Crowley through half closed eyes. He seemed to believe her. Well, there was no reason he shouldn’t, it was how she felt, it was just the whole emotion thing she was trying out for the first time. The actual feelings behind it were genuine.

“They don’t want meeeee!” she sobbed, closing her eyes and sinking her head into her hands.

The thought echoed somewhere in Crowley and he suddenly felt unexpectedly sorry for Shax. In her own way she had done everything right and it hadn’t worked. She had played the game according to the rules and should have won. She should be an Arch-Duke of Hell by now.

Yes, but on the other hand, she was a sneaky, underhand, warmongering bastard. Well, she was a demon, that was what they were meant to be like wasn't it? A demon though, who had threatened Aziraphale! A demon who had dared to threaten, his angel… his angel….

Only he wasn’t *his* angel was he? Aziraphale had quite clearly shown that he was *Heaven’s* angel and was willing to put that ahead of their friendship. Worse, so much worse than that, he thought Crowley would want to join him!

Hadn’t he being paying attention all these years? The whole point was you didn’t have to be on anyone’s side. You could be your own side. They could have been their own side, and instead… instead, he had tried to convert Crowley to Heaven’s side. Convert him! As if he’d ever want to join Heaven again!

Now here he was. Not on anyone’s side, no-one else. Just him. All alone…

From feeling sorry for Shax he started feeling sorry for himself.

“He didn’t want meeeee!”he sobbed.

The two demons were both in floods of tears now. Each sunk in their own misery. Shax forgot she was meant to be in control here. This was a way to get Crowley back on their side. If she could do that, if she could impress the Dark Council by converting Crowley back to Hell’s side…

Suddenly some of Crowley’s words got through to her and hit her so hard in the chest she almost choked. He’d said “do you ever just wonder what’s the point?”

It hadn’t made sense at the time, but now it resonated. What was the point? She couldn’t answer. The tears were real now.

“What’s the point of it all?” She sobbed out loud this time. Even if she did persuade Crowley back, what would it matter? It wouldn’t change anything. All those allegiances she’s forged, all those favours she’d accumulated over the centuries and now they didn’t want her. She was on her own, back on earth with all her favours used up and no-one to help. All alone.

Crowley felt the emotion rolling off his fellow demon. It mixed with his own emotions and loneliness, his despair and his sadness was amplified. He heard her question and asked the same of himself: “what was the point?”

He reached over to pat his compatriot-in-misery on the back. Taking his cue she responded by trying to do the same.

Now they were in each other’s arms, shaking and crying. The tears flowed freely for some time before either of them realised their position.

Shax was the first to pull away. She was uncertain what to do now, how to process the emotional outburst. She tried the breathing in and out thing again and this time it seemed to help.

Crowley was shaken by the movement and abruptly sat back in his seat. “Errrr” he started.

“Ummm” Shax said in response.

They looked at each other and both started to speak

“...”

“...”

A pause, then Shax gave a deft flick of her wrist and all signs of distress disappeared. Her face was once again immaculately made-up.

Crowley wiped his eyes on his sleeve and bared his teeth in what might have been an attempt at a smile.

The both tried to speak again:

“Lets not talk about this…”

“This didn’t happen….”

Crowley and Shax shared a moment of relief as they both realised the wanted the same thing.

Crowley said carefully “so, this didn’t happen right?”

Shax agreed “no, it didn’t. Didn’t happen. In fact, I was never here”.

“No, no. I wouldn’t let you even *be* here. Certainly not… oh no…”

“Definitely not” Shax said firmly.

Crowley put out his hand to shake on it. Shax looked at the hand for a few seconds.

“You’re meant to shake it”prompted Crowley “it’s a human thing, means ‘it’s a deal’, kinda like a promise”.

“You mean not to tell anyone… about this… *ever*?”

He nodded.

Shax took the proffered hand and waved to to and fro for a few seconds. Crowley couldn’t be bothered to correct her.

“Oh. I got your mail” she said in clipped tones, entirely back to her usual self.

“Just leave them on the seat” he sighed.

Then she was gone. No warning. Just gone and only a pile of envelopes left.

Crowley didn’t pay them any attention. If he had he would have seen one with familiar writing on it. Writing he would have recognised from a certain page of a certain book that he had previously found very useful. It was addressed as follows:

“Mifter Crowley - of ye blacken chariot”

Although he hadn’t yet read the content it would be signed “Agnes Nutter, Witch” and the contents would prove very useful indeed…