Title: Fallen

Rating: M – not for people under 18.

Disclaimer: If I could make money from this, I wouldn't be posting it here.

Summary: Naomi wakes up in the middle of a crossroads, not knowing how she got there or why. Realizing the angels have fallen, she sets off to form a plan to reclaim Heaven and exact revenge on Metatron. That is, until Crowley throws a wrench in said plan.

Author's Note: This story hovers somewhere between canon and fanon. While I make a solid effort to align the story with facts from canon, well, sometimes fanon takes over and makes me do naughty things—like putting Crowley and Naomi in a story together.

Chapter 1: Crossroads

As she opened her eyes, they were met by a blinding light. It was her first impulse to be afraid. She held her hand in front of them to try and shield this light that was impeding her vision. Gradually, her eyes adjusted, allowing them to widen from their squinting position to see that the source of this light was simply the sun, which shone brightly overhead. Calming herself, she managed to sit up and survey her surroundings. Little flashes of a memory played in her head, but in her confused state, she couldn't recognize or place them. Intuitively, she knew them to be of grave importance, but didn't quite understand why. In earnest, she tried to focus, but she felt too weak, too vulnerable. Glancing around her, she saw absolutely nothing except a road which stretched in four directions. There was not a soul-or monster-in sight, only a couple of birds flying overhead, their wings beating against a backdrop of expansive blue sky. It all seemed so peaceful, and that was so very wrong somehow.

Gathering what little strength she had and with much deliberation, she rose and found herself struggling to stand on shaky legs. Blurry images of an event that she was certain to have happened bounced around the insides of her head, pounding as they collided with her returning consciousness. She almost fell over. The face she was seeing gradually came into focus as the fog of her coma lifted. Fear jolted through her as one image presented itself clearly to her.

Metatron.

She gasped and suddenly remembered what had happened. She'd warned him to stay away from her; she'd told him she had work to do, which included preventing him from expelling the angels and cutting them off from Heaven. There was a bright light and pain, a lot of pain, as he drove her own drill into the side of her head. It happened so quickly. Then, there was darkness. Somehow, she'd ended up here, wherever here was. And she was alive. She tried to remember anything else, but couldn't. She wasn't sure if it was because she wasn't able to remember anything else, or if there was simply nothing else to remember.

She wondered how long she'd been unconscious. Metatron had by now taken over Heaven, she was sure of it, which meant that she was stuck on Earth and unable to go home. She wondered about the other angels. They would have been cast out of Heaven by Metatron, they were no doubt wandering the Earth lost and confused. They would be looking for leadership, and she needed to make sure they didn't align themselves with an angel who would do them further harm. She tried listening for other angels, and heard nothing but radio silence which she attributed to her weakened state. It seemed that she was even more alone than before. She needed to form a plan of action. Many thoughts entered her mind: where would she go in the meantime? What should she do first? The most crucial question, however, was how she managed to be alive right this very minute. It bewildered her, but most of all, it made her uneasy. She didn't like questions she couldn't answer.

Knowing she couldn't stay where she was and that she desperately needed to regain her strength, she remembered the abandoned house that served as her home on Earth when it suited her purposes. It was in a rural area, away from everything and everyone. No one could find her there. It would give her time to recuperate sufficiently enough so that she could begin working on a plan to reclaim Heaven for the angels. Most of all, she wanted to see Metatron disposed of in the most painful way possible. He would rightfully pay for what he had done to her and her brothers and sisters. She would make sure of it.

Right now, the world was in chaos. It was angel against demon, and angel against angel, and Metatron against all the angels... It was enough to make her head spin, and spin it did. In the blink of an eye, she arrived at her destination. Her strength was totally drained by the travel, and upon arrival at the abandoned house, she collapsed on the floor. Once more, she fell victim to unconsciousness.

She felt her cheek lying against something cool and smooth, but it was what she smelled that jolted her awake. Suddenly, she sat up and saw a ring of fire encircling her. The flames stood tall, burning hotly in shades of orange, red, and yellow. Her eyes darted around the room until they fell on him; she could feel her face contort with utter contempt. He grinned, which only served to further infuriate her.

"Hello, darling. Sleep well?"

"Crowley." It wasn't even a question. She bared her teeth as she helped herself up. He had her trapped and this realization made her even more infuriated, if that was possible. He stepped closer to the fire, and she saw him look her once over.

"The one and the same. I heard a nasty rumor about you, Naomi. Glad to see it's not true." The way he drawled "nasty" made her want to hit him. She was not one to engage in senseless acts of violence, but she could find five reasons to justify a punch to his face.

"I do not have time for this. Undo this trap this instant, Crowley."

"I don't think so, sweetheart. You and I have business to discuss." He pulled up a chair and another demon brought him a drink. He was savoring this, she could tell. The last time he'd tried to make a deal with her, she'd disappeared on him before he could even make a proposal. This time, she'd have to listen, but she already knew her answer would be no to whatever scheme he was going to lay out before her. She knew every single one of his lies, his tricks, the aces up his sleeve... They'd known each other almost since the beginning of time, and she was well-versed in his angles. So, well-versed, in fact, that she didn't listen to anything he had to say.

"You and I haven't any business to discuss. I will never, ever do business with the likes of you, you bottom-dwelling amoeba." She crossed her arms in front of her. She would've really liked to smite him, except now, she had no defenses, thanks to his trap.

"Oh, I think we do. You see, we're both trying to save our homes—you Heaven, me Hell. The angels have fallen—"

At this, something in her snapped and suddenly, she unleashed her wings, which spanned across the room. Her eyes glowed brightly, menacingly. The anger at Metatron and fury at Crowley met inside and she didn't want to hold back anymore. She brought herself up to her full height.

But Crowley wasn't intimidated. "Oh, calm down! For once would you listen to me without getting your knickers in a knot?"

Her wings remained out, but the glow in her eyes receded. Just. "When I get out of this trap—"

Crowley was getting impatient. "And who said I'll ever let you out? Look, love, we're fighting the same battle. I don't want to be sealed up in Hell no more than you want to have to stay on Earth for the rest of eternity. We can help each other out." He walked halfway around the circle of fire, looking thoughtful. Scheming, more like it, Naomi thought. "Here's the thing. If you don't agree to help me, which in effect would be helping you, too, then not only will I never let you out of the trap, but I will tell my boys to start capturing angels at will. And I'll torture them until they reveal the secrets you think you are protecting, just as I did Samandriel. I will torture them until they can't take it any more and they die. Maybe I'll even start with Castiel, who may be the only one who knows how to reverse the spell that cast you lot to Earth in the first place. All the while, you'll be watching and listening to their begging and pleading and screaming. Do you understand?" His dark eyes bore into hers, and she could see the flames from the fire dancing in them.

She reared her head back and spit on him. "You are vile. And you wonder why you should be sealed away in Hell?"

Taking a handkerchief from his jacket, he wiped his face. "Don't get hoity-toity with me; I've seen you play with your food, after all. You have some delicious methods that I hope you'll get a chance to show me during our tenure together. There was a time you would've considered it foreplay."

A tiny bit of crimson crept up her cheeks, though she successfully suppressed a shiver. What she did—was doing—was protecting her family. Everything she did was to protect them, not for the sake of torture itself. No one was killed for the pleasure of it. She stood up straight with an air of defiance about her. She jerked her chin up haughtily.

"And don't give me that piece that you were doing it to protect Heaven and the angels, blah, blah, blah. You are ruthless, deceitful, conniving...and if I'm being perfectly honest, it's quite a turn on. As you well know..."

"Oh, shut up."

"Keep it up, darling, and I might have to find us a bed in this place." The amusement on his face was revolting. She had to turn away. "Listen, after we're done saving our respective homes, you can resume your arrogance, ascend back to Heaven in style, and flap your wings at anyone who will listen. Until then, we can bat for the same team, so to speak. Just hear me out."

Not seeing any other option, she agreed to listen to him. But, as she emphasized over and over in her mind, not that there was any other option. "All right. What do you propose?"

"It's quite simple, really," he sipped his Craig. "We find a way to kill Metatron-"

"Metatron?" she asked surprised. "What has he done to you?"

"I have a bone to pick with him, that's all."

"You make it sound like he took your candy."

"Something like that. Would you like to let me finish, or do you actually enjoy staying in that trap?" She rolled her eyes. When she didn't say anything more, he continued. "Anyway, our mutual desire to see Metatron dead should be tickling your fancy. I'd even let you do the honors with the torturing."

"Unlike you, I don't torture for the pleasure of it."

"Keep telling yourself that, love. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. So, we get Metatron out of the way, and we keep Abaddon from taking over Hell." He saw her open her mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And before you ask why a pure, innocent being like yourself would ever get involved in a fight over Hell, let me remind you that Abaddon has a special hatred of angels and plans to make you and your little winged friends bow to her. I don't mind angels, as long as they stay out of my way. Right now, she's in Hell drumming up support for her pathetic cause. If she manages to take over Hell, you and your comrades will be her bitches. Eternity is a long time, and just between you and me, I don't think being someone else's bitch is a position in which you'd flourish."

"Let me see if I'm understanding you correctly...you want me to be your bodyguard?" She walked around the circle with her hands clasped behind her back. Now it was her turn to be amused.

"It sounds so indelicate when you put it that way."

"You are indelicate, so it's fitting."

"Help me defeat Abaddon, and I will give you my word that as King of Hell, your angels will be off Hell's radar. That is, unless they do something to piss me off, which they usually do." He eyed her pointedly and took another drink of his Craig. "We get rid of Metatron, and the angels get to return to Heaven. Tell me, which part of this sounds unappealing?"

Naomi walked a bit around the circle, then looked at him to ask, "And why should I trust you?"

"What makes you think you have a choice?"

"I want a guarantee, and your word isn't good enough. A demon's word is as good as a nest of wasps." She knew she had no other options. Crowley was holding all the cards to her fate, but she had to extract some sort of guarantee from him that he wouldn't pull any tricks or double-cross her, as was a demon's nature. And Crowley was as dangerous and treacherous as any ten demons. He was, after all, the King of Hell. It was ludicrous that she even consider a promise from him as binding. As if he would actually follow through on it! The thought of it was laughable.

"I see the wheels turning in your head," he said as he got up from his chair and moved closer to the fire. He stood within reach of her. "If you're worried about any kind of dodgy promises from me, perhaps we can make a deal in the usual way. That way, we both hold up our sides of the bargain. When it comes down to it, I don't trust you any more than you trust me."

"I have never given you any reason to distrust me!" she exclaimed angrily.

"Really? Remember the time in Greece—"

"Oh, not that again!" she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I told you, I—"

But he held a hand up to stop her. "No matter. We will never see eye to eye on that—"

"Because you're stubborn and unyielding! I explained everything!"

"And a tidy explanation it was. Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't buy it then, and I'm still not buying it. I've been screwed over by angels in the past. And you're an angel; therefore I don't trust you." He grinned. "I know you have your little secrets, Naomi. I'm going to find out what they are before this is all over."

She was instantly taken aback, but retained her composure. She didn't want him to think he'd succeeded in striking a nerve. Observing him critically, that cocky attitude and smug face of his told her that he wasn't bluffing. What could he possibly know? How could he possibly know anything? He was Crowley; he was likely trying to play mind games with her, distorting the truth to his advantage for the sole purpose of getting her to agree with any type of deal he felt like offering. Her vessel's blood boiled with swelling rage. He was deceitful, underhanded, beguiling...

"Fine. Write up a contract," she acquiesced bitterly.

"You mean a paper contract that we have to sign? Don't want to seal a deal the traditional way?" He wriggled his eyebrows, making her want to slap him.

"You're despicable."

"It would save us time. I promise not to bite this time."

She gave him her most withering glare. "I have an indescribable urge to smite you right now."

"Do you? Save it for the bedroom, love. Nothing like a little smiting to fuel the passion between the sheets."

He looked too pleased with himself when he saw that he'd managed to make her blush. She hated him all over again. "Just make up a contract and I'll sign it. After reading it, of course."

"Of course. The thorough, meticulous bureaucrat wants her contract. You pore over paperwork like other people look at nudie magazines."

"I am not a bureaucrat!" Her eyes once again glowed and her wings flapped, sending a gust of wind throughout the room, though sadly not making as much as a dent in the fire that encircled her.

"Oh, put those things away!"

"Just make the contract. And make sure every I is dotted and every T crossed or I will make you rewrite the entire document. Do I make myself clear?"

"Er, one more thing, love."

Now she was the one becoming impatient. "What is it?"

"Well, as I mentioned, I don't trust angels. I need further insurance that you're going to keep your end of the deal."

"That is preposterous! That's what the contract is for!"

"Yes, but seeing as you don't have a soul for collateral, I'll need something else to bind you to the agreement." He walked the circumference of the fiery circle before finishing his thought, which annoyed Naomi. "I want your grace."

"Absolutely not." She shook her head and paced back and forth in her enclosed space in a frenzy. "That's a ridiculous request. Insane!"

"I'm playing with fire! Surely, you can understand that I don't want to get burned. I don't want to risk you disappearing or conspiring against me at any point."

"You're expecting me to be like you, and I'm far, far from being like you."

"Right. Here's a newsflash. Just because you preferred the sanitized fluffy white cloud in the sky over the pit and racks doesn't make you the righteous creature you think you are. You'll do anything to get what you want and woe be unto the person that gets in your way, sweetheart," he laughed.

"That's not true," she hissed, baring her teeth.

"Drop the pretense." He sounded somewhat admiring and amused at the same time. "Look, I appreciate the fine skills you've sharpened over the past millennia. Why do you think I chose you and not some other incompetent angel? Now, as for your grace—"

"I won't give it to you," she fumed.

"Remember what I said," he retorted. "I can have an angel brought here at the merest snap of my fingers. Oh how the screams would be music to my ears..."

She mulled it over crossly. She couldn't let him torture her own kind. It was her duty to protect them. She would have a chance to ensure their protection for all of time if she and Crowley succeeded in their mission. There was a possibility they could return to Heaven if they were successful. It was her duty as a leader, as a warrior. Crowley only saw her as a mindless bureaucrat. She would show him.

Of course, this was all contingent on Crowley keeping his end of the deal.

Just as he raised his fingers to snap them, Naomi spoke up. "All right. I will offer my grace as insurance. But how can I help you if I'm human?"

"In times of peril, it may be necessary to return your grace for a short period of time. If that does happen and you break the deal during that time, your angels die. I will come after you, and you'll wish you were dead. I can promise you that."

"All right. Contract first, then if everything is agreeable, I'll give you my grace." Though the situation was far from ideal, she had no choice but to trust Crowley. If she were being honest with herself, the whole thing felt like a death sentence. She was no stranger to death, having been dead less than a day before thanks to Metatron, but she'd like to avoid being dead again, if at all possible. She had responsibilities to attend to.

Crowley disappeared, probably to make up the contract. He returned so quickly, though, that she was suspicious.

"Simply sign at the bottom, love." He held up the contract and handed her a pen.

"I don't think so." She took it out of his hands and began unrolling it.

"Don't tell me you're actually going to read it?" he scoffed incredulously.

She gave him a look that said she was going to read every single word. Twice.

"Bureaucrat," he muttered under his breath. He sighed and found a chair as Naomi began reading. She took her time and resisted being rushed by Crowley's sighs and grumblings. About three-quarters of the way down, she came to a clause that made her look up in irritation.

"What?" Crowley asked.

"I am not sleeping with you 'in the case that we find ourselves in a situation in which there is no way out but death and the death is final with no chance of returning in either a corporeal or spiritual form, or if the Earth should be on a course toward imminent demise that is final and irreversible.'"

He shrugged. "You can't blame a man for trying."

She primly marked through those lines and kept reading.

Finally, after marking the contract with her changes, she paused briefly to contemplate the matter. She tried to convince herself that what she was doing was the right thing to do, that her actions and decisions were in the best interest of the angels. Any nagging doubts were pushed from her mind. There wasn't time to waste on them. If she was going to go through with this, she needed to be totally committed.

And there was no other choice than to be totally committed.

Sucking in a deep breath, she wrote her name on the line and handed the contract back to Crowley. There was no way of backing out now. He took the pen and wrote his name beneath hers, and once he was finished, a demon was summoned to fetch it.

"Now, sweetheart, there's the little matter concerning your grace..."

"Yes." She inwardly flinched. Her grace was her essence and without it, she was a mortal, susceptible to the same diseases and weaknesses that befell them. Without it, she was no longer an angel.

Taking a knife and vial from his jacket pocket, he proffered them to her, his arm extended over the fire. But she shook her head.

"To remove one's own grace is the greatest sin one can commit. I cannot—will not—agree to that. If you want it, you will need to take it from me."

"You angels and your trite rules." Snapping his fingers, the fire ring immediately vanished and he approached her. She tilted her head back, swallowing back her humiliation at this act of submission to a demon. Raising the knife to her throat, he paused. Naomi searched his face. Was it resistance that she saw? Repulsion?

Slowly, he drew the knife across her throat, making the wound deep enough so that it created a gaping hole. Her grace pooled at the opening, a phosphorescent substance that stood out in sharp contrast from the blood that trickled out. Stoically, Naomi didn't move nor make a sound. Crowley swiftly captured the substance with a vial, and it was all over.

The sudden absence of her grace left her feeling strange. In a swift moment, her legs buckled and she felt as weak as she did when she awoke at the crossroads earlier that day. Lightheaded, she collapsed, but Crowley reached out in time to catch her.

"How does it feel to be mortal?"

"Unimpressive," she mumbled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It's not forever. Besides, there are certain things that are much better when you're mortal."

She swore she could see a salacious gleam in his eyes, but she felt too poorly to care.

With the snap of his fingers, they were in a bedroom upstairs. Crowley helped her over to the bed where she lay down, unable to do much else. She was conscious, but very, very drained. Another snap of his fingers healed the laceration at her throat. The pain from the wound she felt upon the loss of her grace was gone, which was a small comfort.

He held up the vial, illuminated by the angel's grace. "I'll be keeping this close to my heart." He tucked it safely into the breast pocket of his jacket. "Or, I should say, where my heart would be if I had one."

She snorted and felt her eyes closing against her will. It was a sensation she'd never felt before. How strange this all was.

"Well, you need your sleep. That's that thing humans do at night time in these contraptions that are called beds."

"Miserable termite..." she muttered as she drifted off to sleep, oblivious to everything in the world and all the planes beyond. It was a comfortable darkness that embraced her.

It was at least an hour before the miserable termite left her side.

End Notes: I'd love to know what you think. I'd also love to know if there are any other Crowley/Naomi shippers out there so that I can totally fangirl with you.