The Fallen Guardian

Chapter Three

Crowley is a demon, a spectral being that needs no food or sleep.

But similarly, like his best friend, who loves mortal food, Crowley loves to sleep, he slept all throughout the 14th century once. He did not like that decade, hence the extra-long nap.

This wasn't all that different. The Fallen are the elite among Demons, they Fell with Crowley. Like him, they each had a painful bath in boiling sulfur. Even though falling means something different now, your wings being burnt to a crisp, being stripped of your Grace, practically becoming human. Needing food, sleep, oxygen, can die a mortal death.

Crowley isn't so sure which one he would've preferred, it took forever for his wings to heal, although they are now almost always impossible to take care of now, feathers always rumpled, looking greasy, even though Azirphale assures him they are anything but, and they were a weird mix of muddy gray-black.

At least he didn't lose them in the Fall.

But the Fall took a toll on many of his brothers and sisters. Many killed each other in a blind rage, a lesser few destroyed themselves in shame, leaving the number of the Fallen diminishing rapidly. Not many were left.

Now he's the only one.

That alone made him tired enough to take a small nap. Which may or may not have lasted a day or two.

But his time of resting was interrupted in the early morning the next day, the sun was nowhere near to coming up yet.

"Hello...?", he groans, groggy, voice raspy from sleep.

"We need to talk.", Dean's voice came in through the phone.

The Hunter sounded unusually rattled. This woke Crowley up instantly, already sitting up in bed, throwing off the covers.

"Where?"

"425 Watermain.", his answered where clipped, but his voice shook, despite the human's best efforts.

"What's it about?"

"... Sam and my mom."

Dean hung up, and Crowley was filled with dread and worry.

₹

Crowley stood in the living room with his arms crossed, sunglasses hiding his eyes as he stared at Azazel talk to the poor girl, Liddy, he believed she introduced herself as.

Of all jobs he had to be assigned, it had to be with this guy, who is as crazy as he is smart. Making it ten times more difficult for Crowley to shift the situation where there is less bloodshed than there has to be spilt.

Azirphale has always told him he wasn't a very good Demon.

But that didn't mean he couldn't disobey orders, that would mean torture at his end, or worse, Death.

"I'm sorry Liddy.", Azazel says, taking off the stethoscope he used for the 'checkup', "It's a Metazoans."

"Where?", Liddy asks.

If it weren't for his glasses the two would be able to see Crowley close his eyes in dread. He hates making deals with mortals like this.

"His liver his lungs.", Azazel answered, "It's time we talked about arrangements."

"No, you have to do something, Doctor Brown.", the girl says desperately.

'Don't worry.', Crowley thinks to himself as he watches the psycho work, 'He'll do something alright.'

"There is one thing. A cure actually.", he tells her urgently, taking her hand in his, "But I'll need your help."

"What do I have to do?", Liddy asks.