Eustass Kidd for Pirate King

     In the beginning, there was little more either could do but take the hand they've been dealt.

     Obeying didn't stay Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠’s hand, but the thought of giving him their disobedience to fuel his beatings of the other was inconceivable.

     But Crowley took solace in Aziraphale having clearly thought of something, even if there was no way yet to share the plan; because each beating, each humiliation, each time he was drug out to be made a spectacle of, he remained hard-hearted and uncowering. And it clearly unnerved the former archangel - his former (boss) having never seen him battle ready before.

     Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠ had never known Aziraphale the Soldier, and it clearly showed as each beat down failed to reduce the angel to the cowering sycophant that he was used to lording over. Only once did Crowley ever get the glee in speaking up in his angel’s defense; Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠ had drug the two of them out to be made a spectacle, soundly beating Aziraphale in front of an audience of jeering demons [Not all jeering, to be honest. Many were starting to regard the repetitive display with growing wariness]. At one point, Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠, easy to please the crowd, forced Aziraphale’s head to the ground with a polished shoe, taunting the angel.

     Telling him to beg, and he'd stop.

     When Aziraphale said nothing, but the demon's chanting turned to beg,beg,beg, Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠ changed tackics, showing the first crack in in newfound power.

     "Beg me to beat you instead of him," the archdemon keened. "Beg me not to turn my fist to your precious demon paramour. Beg me not to snap his wings for my own amusement"

     But Aziraphale said nothing, only glaring harder. but it wasn't an anger, but a defiance. And it set the room on edge. the demons chants softed, petering out, looking between the angel at their feet and the new demon above.

     "The deal was if he ever made a sound, you'd break a bone of mine for every syllable uttered." Crowley mock-whispered, clearly playing the part to try and appease Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠'s growing wrath at his own uneasment, but clearly for the benefit of the crowd. "Just as you swore if he tried to defend himself to you, you'd remove my limbs one at a time - like the snake I truly am."

     Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ sneared, a fist full of Crowley's hair as he drug the demon from his shoulder and forced him front and center, eyes off the angel to the two occult enemies facing off. Crowley was still bound hand and wing, and Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ still exuded more power than all the room combined, but the demons watching didn't seem to have picked a favourite to back yet, spirraling Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ 's rage all the more.

     "The two of you continue to try and defie me; Look where you are! you have lost! You're in Hell, literally! You think you have power here? An disgraced angel, and the cast off? The demon who fell not for any grand ideas, but because nobody else wanted him! A default demon? Neither of you have any ambition or purpose, what's the point in either of you even existing!?"

     "Why does She favour us, you mean?" Crowley prodded, prompting the gathering demons to perk up - there was weakness in the air, and it's cracks were growing. Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ snarled, throwing Crowley's to the ground, pinning him down and beating on him with curled fists. Demonic power let him hit harder, faster, let him rain blows down more efficiently than he'd ever been able to as an angel.

     "You're a demon, She can't favour you!"

     Suddenly, he was pushed aside; pale even in the grime of Hell, Aziraphale's brightness filled his vision, and Gabri̩e̢̫͓͔̣͕̿ͧ̄ḷ̡͔̻͚ͥ͛ lit into the angel, ripping free feathers and spilling golden blood across the floor.

     There was no chanting from the demons gathered, no egging on the bloodshed. Instead they remained eerily quiet witnesses to the archdemons' breakdown. It broke Crowley's heart to watch, but he knew he couldn't stop it, not yet. "You can beat us all you like, but you can't change Her Will. I may have Fallen with the rest, but She cast you out Herself! Personally! You -"

     "Shut ú̴͙͕̙͎p̘̼̈," Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ  raged, his voice fracturing as it broke the human vocal cords, true voice echoing off the dirty walls, "You Š̷̼h̵͎͝ū̴̹t̵̳̔ up! or I'll tear him apart! I'll rip him in to tiny pieces and feed him to the Hellhounds, I'll-"

     "You'll do it anyway, without with out my compliance! I've no reason to stay my words, you dirty smear of a demon! Terrible angel, and a pathetic demon. A waste of everyone's time. You'd be better off diving back in the pits, because once the novelty of a new demon wears off, no one will bother listening to you anymore. You don't have any power, you're a circus attraction. A new shiny thing to keep the gaze of the simpletons, but even then, something else will come along and you’ll be forgotten -"

     He couldn't look at Aziraphale, couldn't watch Gabri̩e̢̫͓͔̣͕̿ͧ̄ḷ̡͔̻͚ͥ͛ tear into his beloved at his own words, could not watch the demon slam his angel’s face against the ground in his growing rage, over and over. He pressed all the vitroiy and discust he possessed into his words - the strongest weapon he'd even found, sharper than even Aziraphale's flaming sword, and pressed on, "You have no one's repsect here, they'll all murder you as soon as look at you, the council parades you around as a trinket, but they'll never give you a possition. You don't deserve respect because even in Hell you have to earn it, and you can't even do that properly-"

     "I'll destoy him-" Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡e̶̛̱͚̟͗̆͜l̷̩̖̘̈͊͒͢͠ threatened, claws dug through Aziraphale’s corporation, and into his true self.

     "So what, you've been trying since day one," Crowley sneared, "Go ahead! Do you think that will make it stop? Big bad gabby, afraid of little Crawly. Got his feelings hurt~"

     "S̵h̷u̵t̸ ̴u̸p̴ s̶̫̔h̵͕͆ú̵̹t̸̠͂ ̵̱̕ǔ̶̺p̸̢̈́ s̸̡̨̨̡̡̨̨̧̡̡̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̪̼̪͍͎̹̟̥̝̻̻͈͉̟͔͓̺̹̯̭̟̲̰͙̞̹̗͎̳͇̰͎͉̦̟̦̬̣̟͎̹̦͈̙̯̤̣̹̳̝̩̦̜̣̘̰̖̘̟̭̦̜͙͕͙̯̟͙̩̜͇̖̭̟̫̱͚̦̠̪̱̦͉͈̻̹͇̲̻̩̩͕͈̤̭͚̯͈̱̼̟̜̟̳͇̻̝̟̩̙̫͖̯͚̤̉̍̔̍̀̍͂̐́̃̓̄̋̈́͑͒̈́̋͛͊̂̏͆̈́̇̂̀̓́̿̇͂̇̔̎͋͛̍͑̂̾̆̄͐̉̓̈͌̄́͊̽́̈́̔̈́́͐͂̓̊͐̿́̑̃͑͐͂̍͂̔̈́̒̈́̓͂̈́̌̌̾͋̈̓͛̅̀̽̆̅̌͗̈́̀̽̋͌͊͊̎̍̔̏̈́̄̊̿͐̃̐͋̈́̽̂̀́͛̆͛͒́͑̉͐̀̐͛̍̄̏̓̾̓̏͌̇̄͆͐͑͒̃̓͛̑̅̄̆́̅̌̑̍̊͆͑̔̋̋̅͆́̇̓͗͋̇̆̀͗̽̿̏́̋͛̋͌̅͌̎̌͒̈́̒̈̉̏̽̾̋̈́͒̉̒̈͋̏͊̋͗̊̍̍̇͛̇̍̽̎͛́͛̐̊͐̅͑̈̀͊͌͒̅͘͘̚͘̚͘͘̕̕̚̚͘͘͘̚͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅḩ̷̨̨̡̧̨̡̡̡̧̧̨̡̧̢̢̡̨̢̧̧̡̢̧̡̨̛̛̛͓̼̲͕͈̤̮͙̬̳̺̱͖̳̟̜͈̞̘̥̰͈̣̰̞͔͔̯͖͎̗͇̠͙̲̤̖̙͍̬͖͙͎͓͎͈͕͔̼̥̠̬̝̘̣̖̩̜̲̳̩̣̣̬͓͈̟͔̦̩͕̙̠̭̪̦̹̼̲̟̫̺̞̮͙̮͔͖̼̯̥̜̱̻̲̠̜̯̥̣̼̣͖̼̹͎̼̪̺̹̜̥̯̥̩̫̳͖̙̖̮̠̥̪̻͎̮̤͙͉̦̯̤͇̺̺̫̮̪̰̪̤̗͕͙̜̰̯͔̭͔͇̤͉̪͕̬̘̜̼͔̩͕̜̱͙̳̭̹̝͈̺̠̘̹̹̠̪̲̫̫͔̱̳̮̺̼͕̥̟̲̰̤͓͚̠͚̮̞̰̦̺̜͉̦͚̤̘̜̩̣̘͉̟̖̙̳̠͚̺̱̼̰̠̫̖̭͖̲̬̭̬̳̖͈̫̝̜̺̪̮̩͖̺̻͖̙͖̩̬͔̮͚̘̙͈̱̝͔͗͆͑͌̃̒̈̂̌̑̈͌̐̄̈́̐͋̀͆͑̃̍́̔͑͊́̾̾̋̽́͂̈́̂̈́͐͋̌̆͆̒̃̈́͆̌̀̂͑̀̈́̒̋̂̽̀̇̈͊̔͊͛̂̈́͋̉͋͐̾̊̒̈́̒̈́̇̓͛͐̊̀̇̿̓͌̈́̂͋͐̈́̔̊̇̆͒̽̀̌̈̈́̋̀̅̈́͊̉͂̅͊͛̽̏̈̈̓́̊͌̈́͌̊̿̎̊̆̈͛͗̈́͐̂̀̎̂͐̐̏͋͑͂̀̌̅̓̐͗́̔̎͗̽̓͗͂̏́̾̌͌̏͛̋̇͂̑̅̂̾̏̆̀́̈̊̓̈̈́͌̀͑̓͌̈́̏̉̑͐̏̋̎̉͑̈́͌̐̒̔͗͊̄͐͊̂̈́̔̐́́̾́̒̇̔͌͒̆̾͂̽̃̀̅̚̚̚̚̚͘̚͘͘̕͘͘͘͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͠͠͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅư̴̡̡̢̢̡̨̛̛̱͍͎͔̱̪̪̰͉̯͎͔̘̰̝̯̜̝̼̮͓̮̰̭̗̺̻̰̳̲̜̦̹͓̘͍̹͈̰̺̘̟̟̫̦̩͇̣̬͙̻̦̻͎̫̖͍͍̠̎͛̐͋̆͒̋̽͒͗̏̑͑̈́̔̈́̌̈́̈́̂̔̔͐̅̈́̏́͗̉̾̄̈́́́́̔̀̎̾͂̈́͗͗̅̐͛̌̀̏̀̽̐͒͆̂̍́̾̔͊͌̈́̉̽͗̓̏̽̎̍̽̒̈́͌̉͂̈̿͛̆̇̔͋̅̈́̆͐̅̓̎̉͗̈́̋͋̅́͋̊͊͂̊̎̀̊̒̀̒͑̃̃̇́̀̄̿́́̔̍͂̂͐͊́̏͐̏͋̌̔̆̈́͗̈́̈̈̋̓͐̎͂̏̆̏͋͆̄̈́́͒͛́̚͘͘̕͘̚̚͘͘̕̚̕͘͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝ẗ̷̡̢̢̧̨̧̢̧̢̧̡̡̢̡̡̡̡̢̧̨̧̡̧̗̖̣̺̝͕̟̫͎͉͇̘̟̰̘̺̝̩̬̰̯̥͉̹̹̣̳̻̠͙͖͙̖͕̼͈͍̦̝͕̠̹͍̲͉̫̳̺̝̞̼̯̟̱̜̺̳̖̜̘͕̼̰̺̱̮̙̲̥͓͕̳͙̖̙̗͚̮̪̯̩͖͖̗͖̭̫͈̬̗̭͎̪̼͍͎͚͈͓̥̱̫̝͈̜̥̝̱̼͉̯̼͎̗̫̩̣̲̤̫̪̘̪̲͉̭̹̳̼̯͚̫̜̻̰̤̱̩͕̪̩͚͕̯̱̰̪̘͓͍̘͙̺͈͚͚̝̦͔͎̦̩̥͚̠̫͕͎͓͚̭̣͔̮̦͕̬̮̬̲̭̝͈̜̩͖́̽̑̑̃̓̇̓̇͋̈̾̓̓͐͆͒͑̓̍͛̆͆͊̅͗̃̀̄̍͌̐͊̐̽̽̇͑̏̀̈́̓̆̌̇͗́̈́̋͒͌͒̀͌̈́̈́͐̉̿̒̅̓̌̄̂̆͗̅͆̄̇́̍͒̿̈́̈̌̐̏͌̃̈́͋̈́̂̍̒̃̈́̓͗͋͑̾͊̓̇̉́̄̉͆̓̒̃̊͑́̾̏̎̇̅̊́͒̆͒̈́̽̓̑̓̈́́̒̅̽͛͒̀̇̌̌̽̈́̂̊̃͑͊̏̀̂̄̀̈́̄͌͋̊͆͒́̿́̒̉̔͒͆̓̎̈̃̅͗̏̏̀͐̆̓̆̈́̊͊͒́́̐̔͊͂̋́̆̏̀̌̈́͛̈́̽͊̋̆͌̓̀̓͗̔̉̂̕̕̕͘͘̕̕͘͘̚̚̚̚͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̧̧̧̨̨̡̢̡̡̨̡̡̡̨̨̡̧̛̛̹͓̙͕̜͖͈͇͇̥͙̰̞̣̝̻̦̭̬̞͕̮̫͍̻̙̳̘̟͔̮̰̤̫̝͚̣̗̰̜̼̻̯̹͙͖̞͈͙͔̠̫͈̖̞̼̠̝̻̟̠͕͇͍͚̘̦̱͉͙̦͎͇̬̝͔̞̟̥̳͚̦̟̲̲̦̟̙̥̮͖̮̦̰̙͇͈̻̦͙͇̫͔̫͍̗̟̹͚̝͎͈̟̫͓̞͖̝̪͉̺́́̇̔̄̽͗͑͗̈́̄̓͌̈́͊̉͂̒͆̉̍̀́͐́̔̉̊́̓̌̈͗̔́̈̏̆̌̚̚͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅu̶̡̡̧̧̧̡͚̟͓͚̲͈̠͇̥̲̻̲̼͈̖͎̥͈̞͍̤̲͍̞̰̙̻̟̘̬̳͙̣̙̘͚̙̯̦̺͕̗̞͉̫͎̲̞̦̖̜͇̥͚̻̼̭̣͍̠̼͙̞̜͓͔̪̖̱̘͖̟͈͙̬̣̣̲̦̱͕̖̒̿͆́̀̌̒͛́́̽͌̊̂͑̾̋̍̾͛͋̄̎̍͘̚̚͘̚̕͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅp̶̢̨̢̧̧̢̡̨̛̛̛̰͓͓̻̼͍̠̭̘̲̦͓̤̱̫͍̳̰͈̮̯̻͈̞̦͕̩̗̜̹̮̝̱͉͈͇̻̰̯͍̠̙͕̥̙̖͕͉̞̼͍̰̘̫͙̟̝̖͇̬̥͙̩͔͉̞͈̞͕̠̮͖̩͕̤̭̖̝͇̝͚̞̖̠̩̳̹̳̭̝̝̮̫̯͚͙͈̻͑̆̾͊̑̒̎͒̐̂̔̅́̄͛͊̊̿͛̄͋͆̄̉͛͂͊̍̀̂̄̾̐̅͐͌̿̓̃͑́̋̄͒̾̂̅̿̈̋̋̄̚͘͘̕̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅ!" he snarled, letting Aziraphale drop to the floor to try and silence Crowley himself. For a moment the crowd started to close around them, but paused as the discarded angel stirred.

     Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ  had a fist in Crowley’s hair again, slamming him into the wall, "I swȩ̶̳͉̘̒ả̵̡̢͇̅̐r̴̯̱͓̆͑͘̚," he snarled, slamming the demon again, "If you D̷̥͈͍̄͐̿̉ó̶̳͉. Ņ̷̗̲̤̋͗̆̕o̷̻̙̐͝ẗ̸͕̫͜ͅ. S̸̘͓̫̆̍̈́̏h̶̞̗̐̔̔̇͜ͅǔ̷̗̾͠ţ̸͍̠̯̒. U̷̺̅̐p̷̦͈͎͛̆̐͝!!!"

     "You'll what?" Crowley grinned, face bloody and broken, "You’ll never let us go, never stop? Why should I?"

     "I̴͉̕'̷̝́l̷͉̉ļ̷͊ ̵͇͋k̶̦̓i̷̖̽l̶̮͝l̶̤͆ ̸̹͝y̸̧͝o̵̥̚ū̵̺!"

     "I know," Crowley cackled, soundly like he'd utterly lost his mind, grinning back at his attacker, "No matter what we do, you'll never stop. So why bother?

     He lapsed into laugher, Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ throwing him to the floor, but unable to kick him as he was grabbed from behind. Aziraphale had staggered to his feet, and was attempting to restrain him. Crowley continued to laugh.

     Fist in Aziraphale chest, the angel not even attempting to escape, Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ  sneared down at the laughing demon. "If you stop laughing, I'll let him live."

     Crowley just grinned up at him, "Alright then! Fine, I acept! Now what? You can beat us to the point of death each day, just to stop before we can finally escape?"

     Aziraphale smiled down fondly at the demon, before surging forward suddenly, punching Gabri̩e̢̫͓͔̣͕̿ͧ̄ḷ̡͔̻͚ͥ͛ and the sheer shock of the action causing the demon to let him go, staggering back. "I’ll kill you!" Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ snarled, closing the gap in an instant, tearing into Aziraphale, ripping the angel open. The angel did nothing to stop him.

     From the floor, Crowley pushed himself up slowly until he was in a sitting position, calmly watching from where he rested against the wall. He wasn't smiling.

     Infact, he looked a little sad. He might have been crying actually, watching. if demon's could cry. and he's face hadn't been beaten so soundly that anything but blood dripping down could even be seen.

     Aziraphale made no effort to stop the onslaught, and soon his corporation gave out. His true form was too weak to flee back to Heaven - too far away to make the journey, trapped as it was by Hell's power.

     On the floor, in a soft, casual voice, Crowley simply stated. "But I stopped laughing."

     Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ turned to him in confusion; the angel’s light wisping as the body dissolved away now that there was no power inside to sustain it. As evenly gazed as a soundly beaten demon could give, Corlwey looked up from his spot, the demons around them pressing together. Closing ranks.

     Gabri̩e̢̫͓͔̣͕̿ͧ̄ḷ̡͔̻͚ͥ͛ looked around, his anger and rage turning to fear. The tide had turned abruptly against him, and he didn't understand why. "The biggest difference I've learned, about angels and demons... is that.. Demon's don't lie. Did you know that Gabri̩e̢̫͓͔̣͕̿ͧ̄ḷ̡͔̻͚ͥ͛?"

     "Of course you lie, you're-"

     "No." One of the watches interrupted, "We twist, we omit, we add colourful phrases to ugly truths. But we don't lie. Deal's *only* work, if we uphold our end. It's the only way we keep the souls we bargain with. If we lie - Heaven gets them, no matter what evil was involved."

     "Funny, innit." another demon pondered aloud. "Angels lie right to each other's faces. But not us."

     "Don't misunderstand," one clarified, a few grumbling, clearly this was a known thing for the speaker, "we are deceivers by design. We'll gladly take credit for others' deeds if misgiven. And we don't go around correcting falsehoods. But... We can't just... blatantly break a deal. And to do so with an audience?"

     There where a few 'tut tut's whispered, the faces surronding Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ grinning, and gleeful. As much fun as it was to have watched him tourture the pair, there was truth in the fact he was unliked. Plenty coveted his new found power and notoriety.

     And now he'd given them a reason to take it from him.

     In the fury of bodies and suge of demonic power the group closed in on the archdemon. One on one, they would not have dared openly attacking; they would have taken it up with the council, and hoped to be rewarded. But with so many of them, their own share of Gabri̩e̢̫͓͔̣͕̿ͧ̄ḷ̡͔̻͚ͥ͛'s power was up for literal grabs, and it was all Crowley could do not to be smothered in their wake.

     He had a more pressing matter at hand.

     When a human dies, they are not immediately gone. An echo of them remains, and humans have learned how to cradle it, to force oxygen through the body, force blood through the veins, until smarter humans with better tools can try and return life to them. And many times it works.

     This is what Crowley focuses on now. Cradling the afterburn of Aziraphale’s grace in his own body for safety. The only body to selther him in is Crowley's own, and he holds the faint mist in himself, coiling around it to try and prevent it from dissipating more. He'll have a break down later; if his dreams are still haunted by burning books, the sight of Aziraphale literally being murdered in front of him is never going to leave him - no matter the end results of today.

     He doesn't know if this will even be the end of Gabri̴̯͑̿́͢͡eͫ͑̀̒ͧͪ̏͘l̂̃ͦ, but all he has the power to focus on now is protecting the breath of his best friend, to try and weave it back together, to spark it back to life. but there's so little remaining, the ends refusing to twist together, and while a wild thought that holy water might help - he's too far from any to attempt to seek it out.

     He needs something else in the meantime, carefully pulling strands of himself apart, looking for the more neatural and human taints of himself he can find. He just needs a little, enough to give the (mist) something to (condensation) onto. Something to sure as support and kindling, until FINALLY!

     Yes!

     It's not just a spark, but a tiny dew drop, collecting inside him. He has to keep his own core pulled away - can't risk it evaporating again - but shelters the little (droplet) within him.

     He just has to hold on to this, protect it, until he can get it to someone with better tools than him.