Good Omens: The Devil's Favor (Crowley x Aziraphale)

Chapter One: The Hellish Proposition

Normandy, 1066 AD

The scent of brimstone and sulfur speckled the air, and for once, it didn't come from Crowley. He straightened in his chair, for nearly the first time in his life, then tasted the air. His tongue flicked out, reading the particles that swirled around him. It was close, but that didn't narrow down its source. The dining hall held at least three dozen humans, each snatching handfuls of bread and meat from the row of tables that stretched down the center of the room.

Servants bustled in and out of the opening leading to the kitchen. More than half of the staff had passed by his chair within the last ten minutes alone. The demon hissed unable to pinpoint the source of the stench. None of the other patrons commented on the smell. It was a bare hint against the onslaught of meat, dripping with sizzling juice, and wine that sloshed over the rims of goblets. The humans had even been too preoccupied to notice Crowley checking the air with his tongue. Yet, someone, or someones, had seen his gesture, not that they counted as human.

His golden eyes narrowed as a half dozen figures stalked up behind the row of chairs toward him. Crowley returned to slouching in his chair. He couldn't risk appearing nervous, despite the fact that every single person strolling up to him now was, in fact, a demon.

Over the millennia, Crowley had run into the occasional one or two for a brief time, usually to give a message or a commendation, but this, this horde of demons, couldn't be anything but trouble. And, he recognized every single one of them.

"Dagon. Surprised to see you away from your nest of paperwork."

The demon gave Crowley a full, pointed sneer. "I've taken on a new pet project. See, the lords of Hell, announced a fun new challenge yesterday, and I intend to win it."

Crowley forced a return smile and glanced at the others in the group: Hastur, Ligur, and a few others he'd met once or twice: Kilgur, Bludgur, and Festur.

Each of them held wicked smiles that would've been at home on a gigantic starved shark. One that had just found a group of drowning humans in the middle of the sea.

"Must be good to bring you lot out of the dirt. Lemme guess, promotions, favors, big muck-covered office with your own squeaky chair to wheel around in?"

Hastur blinked his black eyes in response. "What's an office?"

Dagon circled to the other side of his chair in a slow prowling fashion. Her eyes never left Crowley. "Well, yes, a promotion. But, it's the favor I want, the most sought-after favor in Hell, only a rumor, till now." The demon leaned down, hissing in his ear. "A favor...from our lord Satan himself."

Crowley flinched away from her. He had to will his heart back into a normal rhythm as he stared. "You-you can't mean? Come on; they can't be serious. He's never agreed to that before. If that were the case, then every demon in the pits would be up in arms over it." Even as he spoke, his blood froze down his veins. Demons would indeed even dare the gates of Heaven for a chance at that. But, they had to be joking.

Dagon didn't answer him, just stood and ambled back to the group. "You're welcome to join us. We know our odds are better this way but don't be stupid, I get to be the one to ask our Lord for the favor. However, I will reward those who help me with the challenge." The demon paused, eyeing his disbelieving expression. "Did I mention it came from the Dark Council?"

"The Dark Council?" Crowley almost choked on the words. "This big challenge thingy came directly from the Dark Council?"

"Not something any demon would dare to lie about, now would they. What do you think, Crowley? Care to join our forces of darkness?"

He could almost see the scales shimmer across Dagon's face beneath the skin. Whatever it was would be outrageous and possibly impossible. Probably impossible. He'd be completely and utterly insane to even attempt whatever they had planned. Discorporation would be almost guaranteed. However, for some reason, a soft angelic face popped into his mind. He didn't understand why, then he blinked, realizing that a favor could come in handy should anything ever happen to a certain Guardian of the Eastern Gate. Not that Crowley would ever let anything happen to him, but to have something in place just in case.

"What exactly is this challenge that will most certainly involve massive amounts of death and destruction?"

Dagon gave him something close to a beaming smile, but it hinged closer to an eel showing its teeth to its next meal. "Oh, don't worry, Crowley. I know it'll be something you've wanted since you came to the surface."

"Which is?"

The whole group stood grinning and made Crowley want to slither under the table if they kept it up much longer.

Dagon continued, "It's the biggest achievement for any demon really. Just the death of a certain angel. One that has been here as long as you have, Serpent."

Crowley froze in place as his heart had completely stopped in his chest. They wouldn't. They couldn't.

"Help us, Crowley. Help us destroy, Aziraphale."