Chapter Text
Chapter I: Genie of the lamp
London, Tower Hill Street, 14 March 2000
“Angel, are you sure this is a good idea?”
Crowley grumbles into the receiver of a payphone. He'd been thinking of getting himself a cellphone, but he isn’t sure he would want to deal with carrying around one of those bulky little boxes that humans bring with them wherever they go. Maybe within a few years, they’ll become more functional and have a more appealing design. For now, Crowley thinks that dear, old, perfectly working phone booths are much better. After all Aziraphale has returned to his home near New York, and his phone number has remained unchanged.
Crowley regrets not managing to convince Aziraphale to stay with him for the night instead, but he’s happy about the afternoon that they spent together.
“Sometimes I get the feeling that our bosses might be watching us. It’s probably better to be transparent from the beginning so as to not make them suspicious.” Aziraphale retorts, sitting by the desk as he sips white tea from his inseparable mug with the wings.
“I would have preferred not to say anything to anyone, but if that is what you want…” The demon shrugs. “When were you planning to go to your people?”
“As soon as possible. I’ll ask Gabriel and the others to meet me.”
“Then I’ll do the same with Beelzebub and her gang.”
- Maybe we can meet at the entrance? - Crowley ponders.
- If we go at the same time, it’s very probable that we can meet at the crossroads outside! - Aziraphale rejoices, before reminding to himself that he can’t consider that a date.
Comstock, Chamberlin Farms LLC, County Route, 14 March 2000
Staring at the starry sky and the moon reflecting over the lake, while breathing the healthy air in the hills, Jessica tells herself that this trip, after all, isn’t that bad. She goes back inside the tent that she is sharing with Phillip and she notices that her brother is engrossed in reading something.
- At least he's not using my video game.- she ponders, before her curiosity takes over and she leans toward him.
Her eyes fall immediately on a picture of a stunning brunette with pin-up curves who is wearing very little.
“Alright, so now you’re a fan of porn, are you? Just wait until I tell mom and dad about that!” She makes him jolt, using a threatening tone.
“You’re always such a idiot! What porn? This is Wonder Woman!” the kid laughs at her.
“Who? The teenager frowns.
“Geez, Jess, where the heck do you live? Haven’t you ever heard about her? She is the legendary Amazon Princess and, under the alter ego of Diana Prince she decides to remain on Earth, helping the humans and fighting the villains!” He explains, visibly thrilled.
“Well, that’s weird, I was sure you liked more male heroes, such as Batman or Superman…”
“Oh, please, those pompouses asses! Male superheroes are a bunch of idiots, swaggers. Superheroines are much better. Besides she has such cool powers: she has super strength, she is so clever, she can bear every kind of pain, she has a lasso that forces people to tell the truth and when she wants she can become invincible!” Her brother keeps his tale, skimming through the pages of his comic to display what he’s talking about.
“Hey, you really like her! What about you, would you like to be a superhero?” Jessica asks him, intrigued.
Except for when he sleeps, there are very rare times when Jessica thinks her little brother is lovely. This is one of these few times.
“Well, I wouldn’t be a pompous ass for sure, I would never grow tired of saving the world, without asking anything in exchange and I would have the most amazing costume ever!” He daydreams.
“I think that superhero costumes are just useless and stupid!” Jessica scoffs.
“Because you didn’t see the one I plan to have… but even without being a superhero myself, I would like to be friends with someone who is a superhero, I would protect his or her identity, no matter what, and I would be so damn proud of him… or her.” The kid beams at her.
“I’m sure that superhero or superheroine would be extremely grateful to have you as his or her friend.” She smiles at him.
Paradise, Fourth Heaven , 15 March 2000
“... and that’s why I assume it could be extremely useful to acquire some human beings that can help us to preserve the welfare and safety and the serenity of a quiet life.” Aziraphale concludes the exposition of his idea - of course, it’s Crowley’s idea, but he can’t reveal that to the archangels Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon.
They’re staring at him in utter disbelief.
“You have a remarkable idea, Principality Aziraphale,” Gabriel says with his typical mannerisms, followed by a hypocritical smile.
- That’s it, play with your oh so precious humans while we think about very important matters, it’s only a matter of few years, we’re almost there.- the sly archangel with purple eyes muses.
“Go ahead with that, we’re impatient to see the results.” Michael gives her approval, which is as phony as her colleague's.
“Oohh, I’m sure I won’t let you down,” the Principality gloats. “But, of course, I’ll have to pick my protege very wisely. It’s not something you can do lightly, and…”
“I’m sure you can pick wisely somewhere else?” Sandalphon says with a cold smile, urging Aziraphale to leave.
Aziraphale smiles at him the same way.
“Sandalphon is right, you’ve monopolized our time long enough," Uriel urges him with the same ‘affability’, showing him the exit. "You can go back to your earthly matters now.”
************************** (In the meantime)
Hell, Fifth Circle, 15 March 2000
“So? Not even a weak ‘wahoo’? Geez, you were more excited when I told you about the M25!” Crowley grumbles at the end of the meeting.
“Demon Crowley, for what it’s worth, you may proceed with your project.” Beelzebub states resonantly, although she’s bored to death, rolling her eyes from the throne with the bones horns-shaped.
“Other demons, go back to your work… if I had known before, I would have not asked you to come here for nothing,” she adds, growing more and more irritated.
- ‘For nothing’? How rude. No one understands my genius! - Crowley retorts, his ego insulted.
“Crowley, Crowley, you’re a constant letdown. You want to resort to using humans because you don’t know how to act as a demon anymore, am I right?” mocks Hastur, one of the Dukes of Hell.
“You understood bloody well nothing about the explanation of my project, but what should I expect? Between you and your friend, I guess that the iguana Ligur has on his head is the one with the biggest brain!” Crowley laughs, scornfully.
“Hey, I said nothing against you!” Ligur, the other Duke of Hell, protests.
“Not yet, but you would.” The snake demon strikes back.
“Sure I would, I hate you!” Ligur growls, challenging him with his look.
“So have you already found your protege?” Hastur asks Crowley, curious.
“Of course I have. With my skills and phenomenal intuition it was a piece of cake to find him. It’s just a matter of a few days before you see him in action!” Crowley brags.
Truth is that he’s just spectacularly bluffing. Demons adore blustering, even more among them. Crowley was so engrossed in explaining his idea that he had not even remotely thought about putting it into practice.
London, New Cross Road, 5 April 2000
Finding a protege was way more difficult than Crowley thought. During the last week, he strolled around Soho, Elephant Castle, Victoria Station, Paddington, Piccadilly Circus and many other areas’ suburbs without finding anyone. Or rather, those places are crowded with ill-intentioned people, criminals of every kind, and violent boozers, but they’re not who the stubborn demon is looking for.
Crowley doesn’t even know for sure what he’s searching for, but he’s fully aware he hasn't found it yet.
That morning he orders himself to take a break from searching and takes a walk through the quiet area of New Cross to relax a bit. And that’s where he feels it.
A beautiful, almost intoxicating repressed rage, a dormant desire of revenge that is waiting to be unleashed. And Crowley craves to be the one who is going to set it free.
He tries to figure out where it’s coming from and crosses the street. It leads him to a bench with a view on a rather bizarre building. Sitting with his back towards him, he finds the source of the call so irresistible to the demon.
It’s a boy, probably a student. The boy seems to be fighting back tears as he tries to fix the pages of a few books that have been brutally glued with chewing gum. With painstaking care he manages to bring some of the pages back to their original splendor, but many others rip and tear as he pulls, only making him more frustrated. Crowley decides to intervene, finding any excuse to break the ice.
“Excuse me, do you know what that monument is all about?” The red-haired demon wonders, pointing at the strange sculpture at the side of the building.
“I don’t know for sure, but I like imagining that they’re the synapses in the brain,” the student asks, without looking up.
Crowley is stunned by that particular answer, but even more but the boy’s voice, so similar to his, save from the oh so British accent. Well, definitely too similar.
It must be the same thing the boy thinks, because he abruptly raises his gaze, meeting someone who somehow seems to be a more than twenty-year-older version of himself. After all, Crowley has never been younger than his forty-six years old as a human, but he has the feeling that if he ever had been twenty years old, he would have looked like this.
The brown-haired boy bursts out laughing, out of the blue. “Oh, c’mon. You can tell me! You must be an actor who Riley and his gang hired in order to scare the hell out of me!” The student hypothesizes, passing a hand through his messy hair.
“Who the heaven is Riley? And who are you? Wait, I got it, you must be one of Hastur’s demonic miracles, in order to throw me off!” Crowley figures out, snapping his fingers in front of him more than once; but since he’s a human being and not an optical illusion, the boy doesn’t fade away.
“Who the hell is Hastur? Anyway, I’m Kevin and, geez, stop snapping your fingers in front of my face!” The human snorts.
Crowley is more and more fascinated.
“So you’re real. And you have got this wonderful, amazing rage. Besides, you look like me so damn much, it must be a sign.”
“A sign of what? Are you going to tell me who the hell you are?” The other loses his patience.
(End part I)