I've posted this story before- this is a slightly more revised/edited version. More chapters to come. Thanks to those who have followed it & share our mutual love for Crowley!

Chapter 1: A Demon Goes to Church

Crowley never was one for church. Too much religion and righteous people, or at least pretending to be righteous or worse, pretending to be religious. Being a demon had its advantages however, butut being the King of the Cross Roads, well the advantages just kept on coming. His personal favorite trick as a soul-snatching demon was reading the hearts of every mortal being that crossed his path, and knowing their very, truly, dark desires.

He used it often when he was just a plain cross roads demon, reading the desperate souls willing to throw their lives away for wealth, glamour, fame, revenge,… yada yada yada. Now, he barely used it. After all he was the King, people and demons were too afraid to lie to him, too afraid to betray him. Fear had become his ultimate weapon.

Today however, Crowley was reminded on what it was like to be just a normal man. A man who attends church and sits in the very front, dressed in his Sunday best. All black Armani suit and posh Italian leather shoes. It's a difficult task pulling off a black-on-black suit, luckily for Crowley the best tailors resided in Hell.

Casually he leaned back in his seat, eyeing the human patrons entering the church. This lot was dressed to impress, he thought snidely. He watched them closely, reading this pathetic heard of sheep like open books. Some had little to no desire left in their hearts—others pulsed with needs unmet and were pleasantly desperate. But today, the majority of the masses focused their hearts to God. Not on themselves or temptation. Only a handful of people bother with mundane thoughts of their plans for the afternoon—gardening, walking the dog, a quick run to the store, masturbating when the wife goes to the store, blah blah blah…

The masses, Crowley noticed, were suburban white people with too much money and time on their hands. Their beliefs were callous and shallow, only believing in God because they feared Crowley's side of life. The nasty, hot bit. He smirked. He'd probably see half of them in the pit, especially the ones who considered God as a hobby, rather than a religious entity.

Crowley turned away from the sheep and focused his attention center stage. It was one of those alternative new wave churches were the band was a bunch of pimpled faced teenagers. There was a light show, followed by a large screen that displayed Bible verses. Cliché, but from what Crowley gathered, it worked for the sheep. It was spiritual and lively. Gone were the days of Latin and stern preaching.

Today was the days of American Idol sing-alongs and atrocious motivational speeches. He rolled his eyes, not certain he would be able to tolerate this. He would have preferred getting his carcass dragged across hot coals in Hell. But alas, he must stay in this revolting church. After all, he made a deal. And if Crowley was good at anything, it was keeping his deals.

An atrocious twenty minutes later, the show finally started. Lights danced and thrummed across the large stage. Crowley wondered if he was about to see a Broadway show as the music scored to life and vibrated through the seats, electrifying and wowing the crowd. He arched a contemptuous eyebrow.

Why did he have to play altruist now? He scowled fiercely as the teenagers began their horrific singing. He only did it once a year, he told himself reassuringly. It's not like he did this a lot. Besides, Crowley knew why he really did this and it was to remind himself of the man he once was. The simple tailor from Scotland who did good things for his customers, neighbors, family, etc… It was to pay homage of a life that had been good to him while he was still a moral man. He lived a full, happy and maybe even a blessed life before his greed and stupidity got the best of him.

Now, the only way to pay respect to those grand days was through his random act of kindness. Not in redemption, not out of necessity, and most importantly- not for himself.

Crowley might have been a rotten apple to the very core, but he wasn't all bad- really. Sure he was King of the Cross Roads, massacred, slaughtered and tortured humans, monsters, demons and a couple angels through the course of his life but he did do some good here and there. Good that he never discussed or revealed to his peers, who might lose their respect and thus- fear of him should they ever come to find out about his altruistic side. But it was only once a year. Once. Where was the harm in that?

Last night he answered a random cross-roads summons. He decided that it was time to pay respect, and be generous to the soul on the other end, even though they probably didn't deserve it. Still, he had principles and he would follow out this good deed of his, no questions asked.

But when he arrived, he discovered something he hadn't expected or anticipated. Something he was beginning to wonder was destiny… fate even, if he believed in that mumbo jumbo.

This girl just got lucky, he told himself as he stewed uncomfortably on his bench-seat, listening to the religious gospel turned rock'n'roll. He didn't know what was worse- purposely victimizing himself to such racket, or these Christians ruining perfectly good music.

The song eventually ended but on a high as the sheep cheered and applauded the performance, cueing the man of the hour. If he didn't know any better, he would have believed these people were about to worship this mortal man as their God.

It was then that Crowley saw the girl—the girl from last night. Her eyes were casted downwards in a vacant expression. Her face pale, ashen and her slender body was dressed in a pale, boring blue dress. Her light brown hair was severely knotted in a tight bun and her naturally beautiful features were hidden by her passive body language. She walked from behind the curtain of the stage to her reserved seat, along with her mother and siblings behind her.

Crowley followed the pretty little Christen with his dark gaze. This was not the same young, fiery girl he met last night. The one he encountered was passionate and vivacious. What he saw now was an empty shell, playing the role her family and God commanded. He sneered.

He saw her mother- who took her seat promptly with her family, eyes locked to the stage in anticipation. The mother's features were regal and sharp, dressed in all white suit dress with a fancy church hat. She had wealth and power written all over her. The siblings were two younger boys, mere children and another young girl, this one about ten from the looks of her. Beautiful just like her elder sister. The sister that tried to sell her soul to a demon.

Her name was Sarah Redmond, barely 18 years old and lived in uneventful Pennsylvania. She was no one special. No one significant. Just another all American girl with a bright future.

What made her special today was that she had summoned a cross roads demon the night before and happened to get the King of the Cross Roads instead. A King whose random act of kindness would end up being her saving grace.

Sarah barely looked up from the tattered old Bible she had clutched in her hands as the Pastor finally made his smashing appearance. The crowd roared hungrily. Crowley glanced up to the stage and saw a handsome older man stride out. The bright lights making him appear lofty and god-like. His rich brown hair was folded neatly back, his pearly white teeth sparkled in a large award-winning smile and his suit was nearly as flawless as the man who wore it. An impressive sight for a man of God, Crowley thought dully.

Sarah turned white, fear hinting at her grave features. He felt an unusual spark of anger breathe to life inside his chest. He arched an eyebrow at himself. Interesting.

He never cared or took personal interest in anyone or thing, but this one felt strangely different from the others. Maybe because the personal gain here was not a sin. Rarely did he see that these days. The majority of the requests from human were of monetary gain or power. This however was vengeance. Pure and simple. And from a young woman who was pure in intentions.

Still, she was tainted. Violence and cruelty had been inflicted upon her at a young age, making her resent the world that caged her. A cage, whose mangled wires were beginning to coil and tighten around her, suffocating whatever purity she had left. He saw it last night. The little dove of a girl unable to do anything but flap her wings and cry out for a serpent to save her. A serpent like himself.

The sermon began with more ghastly playing from the pimpled faced band. Crowley finally snapped once Pastor Redmond began to preach. He preached of love and kindness, forgiveness and mercy.

Crowley noticed that there was a vacant seat behind Sarah. He took it within a blink of an eye, barely noticed by anyone- they were too enraptured by Pastor Redmond's stirring performance.

He took the opportunity to lean forward in his new seat, feeling the heat from the young girl's tantalizing neck, letting his lips hover behind her ear.

"You're father puts on quite a performance, Sarah." He whispered darkly to her.

She stiffened instantly. She knew who sat behind her, what demon whispered in her ear.

"Don't worry, dove… I'm only here for the show."

Her fear kept her from turning around and acknowledging him. He couldn't blame her. But who was she more afraid of—him or her fanatical father, Pastor Henry Redmond.

Her back was ram-rod straight the rest of the sermon, which ended on another ridiculous song and light show. By the time it had finished, Crowley wondered if sitting through endless loops of Disneyland's ride Small World would have been less painful.

When Sarah rose with her family to greet her father, she finally looked Crowley's way. It was fleeting but he could see the absolute terror etched in those bright golden eyes. He winked at her. Panicked, she abruptly turned away. Crowley stood too, shoving his hands into his pockets, watching.

Pastor Redmond hugged his small boys like an affectionate father, or at least playing the role of one as he then kissed his youngest daughter's temple and his wife's expectant cheek. When he reached Sarah, Crowley took an instinctive step forward but stilled, realizing what he was doing. He was protecting the girl and the anger that had shimmered just below the surface throughout the sermon, now boiled hot in his chest.

Crowley was absolutely fascinated by this reaction. It had been a long time since he felt anything other than contempt.

The Pastor caressed his eldest daughter's cheek, smiling down at her before stepping away to the masses, shaking hands. Her stiff shoulders trembled.

After a few minutes, the crowd dispersed into the lounge area where coffee and bland pastries were being served. Crowley followed. Families gathered to drink their coffee, shake hands, and mingle. Sarah remained stoic and silent besides her mother.

This was not the woman he met last night. That one was full of fierce determination. She was desperate yet hard. Today however, she was lifeless and cold. And he didn't care for it.

Pastor Redmond strolled in, grinning and clasping hands. The performer and the liar. The man of God and the predator. Men like him riddled the most fowl places of Hell, filling the swamps of blood and mud with their vicious, retched souls.

The Pastor made his way to his family, and so did he. Sarah finally looked up from her shoes to meet Crowley's eyes as if sensing him.

"Hello, Miss Redmond." He smiled coyly. "I believe we have an appointment this morning?"

She bit her lower lip nervously, flushing a scarlet red that delighted him. Her innocent beauty enchanted him like it had last night.

Pastor Redmond stepped forward, surveying him suspiciously, still maintaining his ridiculous smile—after all they were being watched by his flock. Appearance was everything. Crowley could relate.

"Hi there, I don't believe we have met."The Pastor stretched out his well manicured hand.

Crowley lifted an eyebrow, but not his hand, indifferent to the polite gesture.

The Pastor smoothly lowered his hand, appearing unaffected. "Well, I'm Pastor Redmond. I'm always excited to meet our new members—even the ones reluctant to join. I don't think I caught your name."

"The name's Crowley. King of the Cross Roads and bona fide demon." He replied casually, as Sarah's mouth fell open, stunned.

The Pastor laughed easily. "I'm sure. At least, I'm sure we all feel that we're our own demons at times. But it's good to see new members joining us on any day."

"He thinks I'm joking," Crowley said to Sarah. "Darling- are you trying to catch flies in that lovely mouth of yours?"

She instantly slammed it shut, wetting her lusciously pink lips. Pink just like her cheeks.

He remembered vividly how those large, delicious lips tasted against his last night. It set the burning ember into a flame inside him. Strange, he thought, how an innocent young woman could cause such a stir in an ancient demon.

Normally his tastes ranged in the naughty, extremely naughty, and downright dirty variety. Well, it was always good to broaden ones tastes and today he wanted the beautiful Christian girl. And vaguely wondered how he could possibly posses her. But alas, he had his principles and spoiling this dove was against them.

"Do you know my Sarah, Mr. Crowley?" the Pastor asked, his voice holding a slight edge.

Crowley's dark eyes never left hers. "I met her late last night. She summoned me- well one of my demons. I happen to be in the neighborhood when the call came in. I made her a promise, a deal sorta say. So wha-la, I'm here. At your beck and call, my dove."

The fear faded from her eyes then as something different entered them… relief? Hope?

"Did you think I would not hold up my end, Sarah?"

She nodded stiffly. "I thought you tricked me…"

"I don't blame you." He replied coolly. "Demons have a tendency to do that. Lie, cheat, steal, kill, maim- etcetera, etcetera. But last night—well, let's just say I invested myself into your little endeavor and won't be leaving until I've paid due."

"What are you talking about, sir? What is this Sarah?"

"Nothing to worry yourself, Pastor. Just a bit of business."

"What business is that?"

Crowley smirked. "The kind that involves a trade."

The Pastor's face tightened in anger. "What trade? Sarah…? Sarah wouldn't make deals with strangers."

Her lower lip trembled.

The Pastor stepped forward suddenly, reaching for his daughter's arm, attempting to draw her away. Crowley moved quickly, blocking him. Sarah let out a small gasp of surprise, shocked by Crowley's protective manner.

A stormy look crossed the Pastor's pristine face.

"Okay- Mr. Crowley, tell me what she promised you and I will settle it myself. No need to involve her anymore."

"Sorry Charlie, but I already sealed this deal with your Sarah last night."

His eyes widened and his gaze turned fiercely onto Sarah. Crowley watched as the Pastor attempted to wrangle in his anger. It was quite a sight.

The Pastor took a bold stepped forward as he whispered darkly, "Whatever you think you know about my Sarah- or whatever association you have with her, it ends here!"

It was Crowley's turn to intimidate as he moved forward, his gaze sharp and edging on the verge of demonic black.

"Save your posturing for someone who gives a damn Pastor. Because frankly, you're eating up my time. But if you want to get down to it, fine—let's get dirty shall we, Pastor." Crowley smiled coldly. "I must first compliment you on your show—you really know how to woo the crowd. You're revered and worshiped." He hummed in approval. "Such power and authority, my, my. I'm almost impressed. Good thing you've got your looks, Pastor. You know what they say about sex appeal? Really goes a long way, 'specially with the ladies, doesn't it big boy?" His smirk faded into a cold rage.

"What about your children? Do you put on a show for them before you creep into their beds? Or do you slither in like the snake that you are while they're asleep?"

The Pastor's nostrils flared and a vein pulsated in his forehead, ready to pop.

"Your kind," Crowley continued. "Usually gets a special kind of punishment where I'm from… It involves lots of painful torture—eventually leading to getting your cock ripped off and fed to the Hell Hounds, before of course, they disembowel and eat you alive."

"You're insane!" The Pastor said.

He reached for his wife and family, trying to pull them away, while other members of his flock were beginning to take notice to the disturbance taking place in their holy church.

"Leave now, Mr. Crowley! Or be escorted out, sir."

Men from his flock appeared at Crowley's side, ready to throw him out once the command was given. Sarah, all of a sudden, stepped from behind him, that fiery spark of life he'd seen the night before had finally returned. He smiled smugly.

Sarah had swallowed her fear, eyes hard as stones. She said nothing, simply nodded at him, telling him what she wanted- he could feel it in her heart and soul. And he was more than willing to give it. He focused and harnessed his powers onto Pastor Redmond, clenching his insides with crippling force.

The Pastor stumbled backwards suddenly, gripping his chest, gasping out in pain. His wife shrieked and grabbed at him as he slumped to the floor, writhing and kicking out in pain.

The congregation flocked to his side, calling for help and an ambulance. But it was no use. Crowley fisted his hand tighter and squeezed the very life out of the man's heart, and in doing so he felt the man's sinful deeds ooze from his soul. Pastor Redmond was a hideous man who deserved a worse death than this. He twisted once more, making the Pastor scream out.

Pastor Henry Redmond was dead before anyone had time to dial 911. Hysterical cries echoed through the church, along with sobs and muffled weeps.

He glanced towards Sarah now. Her face was pale and vacant again.

He knew it would take her some time to process and understand. But this was what she wanted. This was what she was willing to trade her innocent soul for. The death of the man who hurt and molested her. A man who had turned his intentions on her youngest sister, forcing Sarah to make the deal with a demon to stop him once and for all.

"Is he in Hell now?" She asked softly besides him.

"Of course. I didn't lie about that bit with the hounds either. I'm sure my pups will be delighted with their newest treat."

She finally looked away from the mob to Crowley. "Will I go to Hell too, now?"

"No. Your soul is still yours."

"Then why did you help me?"

He gazed down at the young girl, who he knew would grow up into a beautiful woman someday. A soul he would never touch or know. "I consider it my random act of kindness for the year. You're just lucky it happened to be you, dove."

Her eyes suddenly watered, brimming as she said with trembling lips, "thank you, Crowley."

He cleared his throat awkwardly and took a breath. "Yes, well- you're welcome. I don't usually hear someone say thank you—unless it's in a weeping, begging kind of tone." He shrugged. "Hopefully we won't meet again, Sarah. Stay in school and out of trouble, eh?"

She nodded absently, her expression warming to him. He wondered what he looked like through those eyes. A demon? A true, real-life monster? Or something else…? Something more?

Yet as he continued to look into those eyes he realized that Sarah Redmond was merely looking out from behind the bars of her cage. A cage he could not penetrate or break her free from. She would have to do that herself. He hoped that someday, she would. If she was strong enough.

"Hope to never see you again, dove. Good luck with the rest of your life." He said sincerely, and with that- Crowley vanished.

TBC