#darkbaptsm

“Crowley, I’m serious.” And it’s hard to be taken seriously when she’s being treated like a pet. Sabrina is pretty well known for her outrageous ideas in general, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when the question was sprung. But, that’s a ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ for you.

“Why not just, talk to the ꜰᴀʟsᴇ ɢᴏᴅ?”

      ❝ Lemme just ask you something then-- which makes more sense? That Michael J. Fox, who is, apparently, a lot bigger than I remember him being-- is, you know, me, and I'm just here in, whatever the hell town this is. Or-- or. Time travel. And, you know, some kinda... Twilight Zone... alternate reality... time thing. ❞

for @darkbaptsm (c)

WHEN SHE WAS A BABY, the demons known as hastur and crowley were required to be at her birth. to bare witness to the herald of hell, to watch as edward and diana spellman were given permission to watch over the newborn. crowley was assigned to keep an eye on her, for the most part. made into a godfather (they hated the word because it didn’t describe their role in her life properly and, god? no), and anytime the spellman’s couldn’t get what they needed, crowley would appear with a basket; ready to take care of sabrina. she had a special place in their heart, and they would sometimes take the trip across the ocean with the bentley always surviving the trip back and forth. their imagination was always the highlight of the trip.

there would come a time when she was old enough to make the trip across the ocean herself. zelda and hilda, even ambrose (though he was a special case in which house arrest had never been more uncomfortable) would allow her to visit and she was ten the first time. she stared out the window on the ride back to their flat, asking when she could get to see the london eye, asking questions. she wanted to see everything london had to offer, and they instead took her to a park, explained why she was here. they didn’t explain the bit about how she was the daughter of satan but that wasn’t their place to tell her anyway. major regret would come later.

they took her to see everything, but a cruel drunkard approached the two and was questioning why a “man with an accent had a daughter with no accent”.

this implanted two thoughts into the demon’s head.

first, when crowley made the man go away, they explained a technique that would be theirs and only theirs. if sabrina needed something and couldn’t vocalize it, she would take their hand and squeeze. the first squeeze was a “please, can we go” – in situations where she wasn’t comfortable – and it worked. they couldn’t decide on what two squeezes were, not at that moment, and three squeezes meant that she was scared.  she agreed. later that night, when sabrina was tucked into bed, she took their hand and squeezed twice.

“what’s wrong?” asked crowley, perplexed.

“i have an idea for the two squeezes.” sabrina answered, cheerfully. “i love you!” she smiled, and crowley’s inner thoughts started to race.

“so… let me get this straight,” crowley adjusted their position, leaning on the bed, arms holding up their head. “one for ‘please can we go’, three for ‘i’m scared’ and…” they trailed off.

“two for ‘i love you.’”

“why?”

“because you’re the closest thing i have to a dad, and i love you.”

this brings up the second point.

secondly, they really liked being a parent to sabrina.

it took crowley a bit, but they eventually nodded.

“i love you, too.” it’s choked.

“you do?”

“Marriage is a walk down the primrose path toward a woman’s destruction. It’s nothing less than the complete obliteration of a woman’s personhood”