“There was nothing he could lose that he hadn’t lost already." - Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
“Moments later, it occurred to Crowley that his earlier assessment of having nothing more to lose had been a tad premature.” - Infra-Black, a Good Omens fanfiction by Hekateras
Crowley screams. No human could ever make a sound like that.
It is a scream of agony torn from the throat of someone well-versed in the concept of pain. He’s a demon. It’s in his job description, no matter how much he has tried to avoid it over the years.
It is the scream of a being who has just watched half their soul burnt to ashes by an enemy who does not laugh at the action but worse – looks bored by it.
It had never occurred to him. The very idea had been unthinkable, not because his mind shied away when it presented itself, but because he had simply never considered it as an option. It had never occurred to him.
Crowley had never entertained the possibility that even Hell would come up with such a punishment as to – as to –
When you have known someone for almost six millennia, you begin to take their presence for granted.
They had arrived on this world together, after all.
Crowley had always assumed they would leave it together as well.
He was wrong.