Crowley is a demon. The enemy. If another angel found out he was here, in the presence of one of Her holy angels, they would certainly declare blasphemy. He was heartless and cold. Uncaring for anything. How could he care? He was a demon.

Of course, as he sat on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, he didn’t seem that way. In fact, he had never looked so human -- hair tousled lightly, an almost kind grin on his face. The way he laughed was certainly human. He tried to play it up as some sort of evil laugh, but his tipsy giggles always exposed his humanity.