𝙀𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 || 𝐶𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑑

|FOUR|

eight hundred years later and knight crowley eusford hasn't aged a day. between each question he asks, you sense his dread of knowing each answer. amusing. he always was a man of emotion; or at least before vampirism.

he was brave back in the day, and you suspect that much hasn't changed either. though he appears calm and collected, after spending so long infiltrating his dreams, you can read him a little bit better than most others. you can detect the uncertainty hidden behind his carefree expression, and sense the discomfort through his loosely crossed arms.

you know him.

like an owner recognizing a lost dog, there's a sense of unwavering familiarity. as if sanctuary has somehow wandered into your vicinity, washing a sense of comfort over a long lost and damned soul.

like recognizes like.

though the centuries have passed you by, it feels as though crowley were just as vulnerable as the state you found him in so long ago; as if the two of you are destined to meet each time he's at his lowest. only this time, dreams have become reality and you're suddenly a tangible part of his world.

it's safe to say the human has always intrigued you, whether he's found as human or vampire, that fact has not changed. not in one century, and surely not in eight.

"your demeanor hasn't changed." you comment, pulling crowley out of his distracted state, drawing his attention back to you. "you're no different than you were before."

though you sound amused, something twinges in your chest. though he may not have changed, the circumstances certainly have.

crowley does not seem offended by this. in fact, he seems almost relieved to hear such simple words. as if the thought of having changed over such a period were a cruel thought at all. you cringe. not outwardly, but something inside is repulsed at the prospect of crowley's outwards loathing towards what you can only assume, is his vampirism.

"what is it?" you coo, reaching a gentle hand up to caress the side of his face, a familiar gesture to which he automatically leans into. "do you not like the taste of blood?"

despite your light teasing crowley breathes out a laugh, "it's been growing on me plenty over the years." he's also amused. 

you tilt your head, rubbing your thumb lightly over his cheekbone. you watch his face, studying each youthful detail preserved so well throughout the long, long years.

"but you're disgusted by it, yes?" you question, a curious tone overlapping your continuing teasing. he hesitates, then nods.

"it's not the blood that bugs me, it's the-"

"people." you finish, voice barely above a whisper. you understand, though you would never let him know that. "you always hated hurting people unnecessarily. you're kind."

your words seem to shock crowley, as well as stir something in him.

"i guess," he shrugs, pulling away from your touch at last. "i just forgot what it felt like to care for a long time."

you're quick to let out a dry chuckle, but you nod anyhow, turning away from the man before you. "well, i'll guess that you've remembered."

"yes." he breathes, relief flooding his voice. "and i don't know if it's because we're face to face in person, but you really are different."

you turn back, raising a well taken care of eyebrow, incredulous. "not that you really knew me to begin with." you scoff, folding your arms over your chest in faux irritation.

crowley chuckles, placing a strong hand on the top of your head, which really does irritate you. you step back, slapping his hand away.

"you were always pretty whimsical, but you never had so much power." he argues, shrugging in nonchalance as looks out the window once more.

you stare blankly, knowing full well that he can't possibly be such an idiot.

"you're wrong." you quip, uncrossing your arms and moving them to your hips. crowley doesn't respond, and makes no effort to show that he's even still paying attention. "it's called masking, and every angel learns it."

"so what? you come from heaven?" crowley jokes, but you know that part of him really would like to know the answer to that. his curiosity was always in peak condition.

a short silence settles before you respond, best thinking how to explain where it is you originate from. "not exactly." you say, voice light and upbeat, masking the uncertainty of your own response. "see, heaven doesn't truly exist. nor does hell. there is only the city of obsidian, and purgatory."

"the city of- wait, fucking purgatory?!" clearly, crowley is having a hard time grasping the concept, eyes wide with something akin to horror.

"i know, christianity lied to you. boohoo, go cry yourself to sleep." you roll your eyes, waving off the not-so-ideal reaction of the man on front of you, who's now turned to stare, mouth agape dramatically. "and pick your jaw up off the floor."

crowley shakes his head, an attempt to snap himself out of the stupor you'd sent him into. he gestures for you to continue, utterly impatient in the face of unanswered questions.

"yes, crowley. fucking purgatory." you shoot back at his impatience, rolling your eyes a second time, suddenly regretting ever saying anything in the first place. "but purgatory is only for lost souls, those who aren't able to make it to the city of obsidian. the city however, is home to dark and light souls of every kind. this is where you go when you die. or should i say if, you die."

when you turn back to face crowley his eyes are closed, and he's over-dramatically leaning against the wall for some kind of support.

"and everyone just gets along up there?" he questions, glancing at you with one eye as he talks. "is that it?"

you struggle to find the words, elbowing crowley in the shoulder aggressively. "no, you miscreant. in the city, everybody has their own paradise or torture. but it's your choice. you can even choose to be reincarnated, but from what i hear, that option is a little less popular than the others right now."

"and torture is more popular?" crowley blanches, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he processes this new information.

you raise a hand, gesturing an ehhh by turning your hand from side. "kind of? some people feel as though they deserve to be punished for crimes they've committed in their life here on earth, but it only lasts as long as they see fit for themselves."

this however, does seem to put the vampires mind at ease. he visibly relaxes, tension leaving his broad shoulders as he leans back against the wall. this time far more calm.

"i think i understand." he nods, more to himself than you, and you know that he gets it, he's just still wrapping his brain around the differences between his catholic teachings, and your reality.

"you said you're a fallen angel?" he asks, raising his head to fix you with a quizzical expression. you nod once again. "how did you fall if not from heaven?"

there it is, the question you were prepared to hear but definitely not prepared to answer. you're a true actress though, and would never let it show how deeply uncomfortable the question really makes you. you giggle, a hand coming up to slightly cover your mouth as you do.

you're not sure you'll ever get over the depth of this wound. therefor, with absolute teasing confidence, you tell crowley with what he can only assume to be sincerity:

"i'll tell you when you're older."