Chapter Text
Right... So, there's that...
Crowley watched as the pristine silver doors of the lift closed. He glanced at the woman serving coffee, then at the woman sleeping soundly over her counter. He got inside his car. A song playing on the radio:
A nightingale sang
In Berkley Square...
Crowley abruptly turned it off —he didn't have the energy for this— and steered away from the familiar streets of Soho, once oddly comforting, now plain painful. He kept on driving with no clear destination in mind.
Even if Hell gave him his flat back, he wouldn't want to return there. Too many memories, too much to reckon.
After what seemed like hours of driving, a song began to be heard in the distance, and Crowley followed the melody.
So tell me how, tell me how
You're gonna settle the score when you look at it now
Neon lights glimmered in contrast with the black of the night, the music was coming out from an old warehouse, now renovated to be a nightclub, and Crowley parked.
You ain’t even in the game anymore, go ahead, take a bow
He needed a distraction. Alcohol and loud music seemed like the best way to drown the echo of their conversation.
"I need you..."
The angel's voice imprinted in Crowley's mind. No, he doesn't. He left that very clear. And Crowley didn't need him either.
Don’t you need you around anymore, around anymore, around anymore
The lyrics were externalising his thoughts. Hearing them out loud made him realise the lie in those words.
So face front, don’t look back. So face front, don’t look back
It’s not a stunt, it’s time to paint it black
He wanted to move on, perhaps the pain would subside, but it was so fucking hard, impossible even, after everything they went through.
He walked to the bar and asked for the meanest whiskey they had. No need to worry about being sober. He was going to sleep in his car anyway.
Nothing lasts forever and that includes me and you
They say never say never, tonight I’ll see it through
He spat some of his drink back into the glass. This bloody song. Was it that necessary to throw those words at his face? Now?
Crowley looked up beyond the ceiling, then began to get up, ready to leave.
Did you think you were clever? You had something to prove?
He froze and turned back to the screens playing the song. A knot formed inside his throat, and he tried to make it disappear by swallowing the rest of his drink, now fire running down through it.
Gave you a moment to weather, now I'm gonna watch you lose
He sat back down and asked for a second glass. And a third one... And a fourth one... And...
Go ahead take a bow, take a bow
He could leave. He could miraculously change the song or force the speakers to stop working. He could stand up and rip them off the wall.
So face front, don’t look back
But he didn't. Somehow his curiosity got the better of him, and he kept listening. It might be the alcohol. Crowley knew that wasn't it.
From a friend to a foe, both ways lead to the same road
Don’t tell me that’s the way it goes, it’s just the path you chose
He clenched his fist around the glass, and the pain from the newly formed cuts from the crystal was numb compared to the pain in his chest.
Aziraphale made his choice, and his choice wasn't Crowley, at least, not in the way Crowley wanted to, wished for, or planned. Not the way Crowley thought would benefit everyone.
From a friend to a foe, both ways lead to the same road
Don’t tell me that’s the way it goes, it’s just the path you chose
Nothing lasts forever and that includes me and you
They say never say never, tonight I’ll see it through
How many drinks did he get already? Crowley couldn't care less. The loud drums rumbled in his head, but the lyrics resonated in his chest.
Did you think you were clever? You had something to prove?
Gave you a moment to weather, now I'm gonna watch you lose
"You're so clever. How can somebody so clever be so stupid?"
The past made its presence heard. He genuinely thought they were past that... Apparently not.
Tonight I see it through
"I forgive you".
The phrase echoed. Two different situations, different places, and different contexts. However, the despair was worse the second time around.
The angel's face —after Crowley let go— was still a puzzle in his mind, a terrible and painful one. One that Crowley wasn't sure if he wanted to solve.
He kept on drinking, and the memories got fuzzier with each swallow. It helped his mind but not his heart. Still, one out of two was better than none.
So face front, don’t look back
The song ended, and another started almost immediately, encouraging people to stand up and dance. Crowley obviously didn't.
He stayed on his stool for Satan knows how long and only left the bar when they started closing.
He paid and left, leaving an intact glass behind.