Good omens 2.5

Backroad to hell

The Bentley flys down a country road. Crowley's speedometer reads 160 mph. The speed limit on said road is 40. Crowley has always driven fast, ever since a car could go fast. It would be inaccurate to say that he goes on a drive to calm down. What the demon really does is burn it all off. He lets all his anger run it's course until there's only ash left. Crowley has a lot on his mind at the moment. He's just found out that the powers of hell want his angel like the axe wants the turkey.

The demon bangs on his steering wheel, "ahhhhh! Why can't anything ever just work out! Couldn't get the angel! Couldn't get away from heaven or hell. Couldn't even kill myself!" Empty liquor bottles roll and clank on the floor board. He doesn't actually remember what happed the night before. He must've blacked out somewhere around the time he got home. Even when miraculously sobered up, whatever damage the alcohol did is set.

Crowley wonders why hell couldn't just get over it. It wasn't like Aziraphale or him had provoked them. They just showed up with a platoon of demons. "I mean for hell's sake, we gave them exactly what they wanted! You want the ass-angel fucking Gabriel? He's right here! Not my fault you didn't recognize him." That last part isn't true. "You just come and ruin our night then get all bent out of shape when you get blown up!? I mean- really? I swear- if they touch Aziraphale I'll burn hell to the ground!" He takes a second to think about that, can't really burn hell, can you? Big pit of fire's kind of the point. "I'll bring a great flood down on them like God to Noah," he nods, more satisfied with this answer, "point is I'll kill them all."

Crowley is driving with purpose but has absolutely no destination. The only real motive for traveling west is to avoid the sunrise. He feels like complete shit. His muscles ache and it feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his temple. It seems like facing the sunrise might be enough to get him discorporated. He's done a fine job keeping the hangover at bay but the gig had to be up at some point.

Crowley miracles himself a bottle of water. (Plastic water bottles were actually a little demonic invention of his own.) He gulps it down in one go but it does little to help his sandpaper mouth. Maybe it's the increased irritability but destroying hell is the only plan he's come up with. "I'll just find a large amount of holy water and flood the place. Easy-peasy." Crowley knows it's not, though.

Another factor is pulling at him. That factor is the damsel that needs saving. Crowley can't help but think, should I really go through all the effort for him? He wouldn't for me. Could just call him up and be like, "oi, Shax is looking for you." And be done with it. Something about the idea of doing that makes Crowley's body feel even more shaky. His palms sweat on the steering wheel. No, it's better I just do it myself. He sighs, knowing that he's got to come up with a real plan then.

"Okay, think. Think," he says to himself. Killing some demons might not be off the table, but weeding out the right ones would be quite the task. "Maybe I could bargain with them," Crowley takes a moment to think about it, "yeah, I could surrender myself if they'd leave Aziraphale alone. I'll pay for his crimes instead." It could work, hypothetically. "I'd up-play the fact that he's archangel supreme and that means he's way more powerful than some principality. I'd be destroyed, myself, though. They want his head, would Shax accept mine as a replacement? Could spin it that it'd be more punishment to Aziraphale also."

Crowley wasn't sure if that was true. It causes a lump to form in his throat. Of course my death would hurt him, it'd have to right? We've been friends for thousands of years. He'd get over it, though. Crowley clenches his jaw. He said it himself, nothing lasts forever.

Crowley drums on the steering wheel. "Well, then, I'll call up Shax, tell her, 'look I know you want Aziraphale but I can't let you do that. You can have me, though. Try me for his crimes and when you inevitably find me guilty you can have justice against a traitor to hell as well.' Oi, that won't be enough icing on the cake." Crowley knows Shax. She's not too clever but she has ambition. A surrendered demon instead of a real enemy of hell won't be good enough. "Also, 'think about it. I was good enough bait. Means you know he cares 'bout me. Think of the pain it'd cause him. Last longer than a quick burning.' This might just work," Crowley says proudly to himself. "I might just be able to keep the bastard safe after all."

Then the big hole in his plan is exposed. How could he keep Aziraphale safe if he didn't exist? Also what's to keep Shax from just torturing Crowley and baiting Aziraphale anyways? Crowley slams his head back against the head rest. Bad idea. Splitting pain shoot through his already aching head.

The Bentley's radio turns itself on. It blares "5 O'clock World" by The Vogue's. Crowley screams! "I said no music!" Bentley gets a few more lines out before Crowley slams his fist down on the dash. The radio immediately shuts off. What is up with this blasted car? Crowley thinks, why? I understood "Ain't No Sunshine" but why a song about working for the man and living for the weekend? Ooooh! Crowley let's out a twisted laugh, "you think I should get a job!"

Crowley realizes the car is right though. "Oh, no. I have to get a job," he tilts his head up, pressing it into the headrest. "Guess I need to apply for a position."

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Hey guys, I'm sorry this is chapter was mostly just plot development. Hope you're enjoying and please interact to let me know how you're liking it. Thanks!