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Chapter Text

March 15th 1790

Dear Someone,

Through the years, I have been known by many names. Serpiente Diablo. Puto. Frisky Two-Times. The Ginger Hit Man. Maricón. All stupid and unnecessary. But hey. At least I'm famous. Right now, I'm being held captive by a very unhygienic man. His breath smells like piss and his fingers are grimy and fat. However, this incident has given me time to think. To reflect.

It's been eight years since I left. Eight years since I've seen my home. My brother. My mother and… him. But I will return to them. After I fixed the damage I caused and repaid my debt. Until then, the Serpent Demon will ride on.

Sincerely,

Crowley 

"I will never forget you, Ash."

The brunette stared deep into his golden orbs. She sighed, before gently caressing his face and bringing him to her lips.

It was soft and ending. Like all others.

"Yes you will. They don't call you 'Frisky Two-Times' for nothing," she snorted.

"I know the truth, Ginger. I'm just another notch in your bedpost. Just all the other women before." She tried to hide the true sadness in her voice. 

But Crowley knew. The poor woman was in love.

And unfortunately... his heart already belonged to someone else.

"That's not true. I consider you my friend."

"You're only saying that because I'm helping you get out of these handcuffs." Ash whispered, while shackling the chains to prove her point.

Ah yes. The man who was holding him hostage was Ash's husband. He attacked Crowley after finding out about their "nightly meetings". However, the man was more focused on the reward money for the bounty on Crowley. Big time outlaw he was. Big time.

"No. I mean it. You are my friend. And I will never forget you."

A tear threatened to escape her perfectly dark face. But she wouldn't let it.

"I wish I could believe that." Ash pulled out the key after finally getting to unlock. 

"Okay," she whispered, voice low with concern, "go quietly and quickly out the back door. There's a stable ahead with tame horses. Take one and go."

Crowley rubbed his inflamed wrists. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I can handle Thomas."

Her sharp features shown bright in the moonlight. It was haunting in a beautiful way. The way her black eyes grew, the way her brown hair curled and the way her pale ghost skin reflected blue.

"Gorgeous, you are Ashtoreth."

"Shut up. Just leave, Ginger. Now."

"Not before this," he grabbed the back of her neck and dipped her. Then he gave the most passionate kiss for her. One that she would remember. It was important she remebered. That way she could keep it with her in the darkest of moments.

It was wet and desperate. It was final but perfect.

"Hmm," she smiled. "That was a bloody good kiss."

"I never disappoint."

She rolled her eyes.

"Go. Now. Serpent Demon."

"Wait! I need my hat!"

"Ugh." Ash rolled her eyes before throwing his black hat at him.

"Here! Your hat! Now go!"

He gave her nod of confirmation. He then waved goodbye before running out the back door and into the sunset. Well, sunrise.

Ash watched him leave in fascination and sadness.

"Goodbye Crowley. I'll never forget you." Ash clutched her heart. Before wistfully closing the door.

A fugitive from the law. Always running. Forever searching for a way to clear his name.

Little did he know, he would get that chance. On one fateful night.

Chapter Text

The man was gripping the woman's long curly hair, pressing his tongue into her mouth. The two were in a quite intimate moment.

The woman traced her finger down the line of his jaw, piercing her perfectly white teeth into the man's bleeding lip. The woman kept nipping and biting, until the poor man's lip was a nice purple bruising colour. She pulled away harshly and continued straddling his lap.

"How are you feelin' darling? Doin' alright?"

The man looked up. Pleasure glowed from his satisfied smile.

"Oh yeah, baby," the man snatched her curvaceous hips, grinding her down on his hardness.

"I can feel that," she snickered. She was most excellent at the art of deception. She caressed his cheek before seductively whispering in his grimy ear.

"I can help with that you know," she began to nibble on his ear and travelled her fingers down his hairy chest.

"Ooh yeah. Please help, baby. Fuck you're gorgeous." 

She could the feel the man's disgusting hand travelling up her skirt, past the stockings and-

"I know. I have a very important question for you."

She took her clean teeth off his nauseating ear. She stared deep into his green eyes.

The man was confused. Why had she stopped? Had he done something wrong? Did his breath stink? Did he- Wait. Wait. Why...Why did he feel…strange? He was drunk out of his mind but this was something else. Another kind of feeling. He felt sick, his words slurred.

"Wha…what?"

Taking herself off his lap, she drew him in close with her piercing dark eyes. Fingers tightening round the collar. Very attractive she was, especially how the light hit her pale snow skin. She whispered closely, hiding her dark smirk.

"How's the cyanide taste?"

"That's a weird fucking ques…ton" The man gasped falling forward. Clutching his throat, crying out for air! All before vomiting all over the oak floor. He continued wheezing, his hand clutching his heart, to make sure it was still beating. 

The woman towered over him. Her expression dark. She was tsking.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. So sad. So pathetic. You've gotten yourself in an awful state." 

How unfair. Her voice was still beautifully rich. Each syllable was perfect.

How unfair.

"Whaa... What did…do me?" The man couldn't look up. He could only see her boots. Her nice and good brown boots. (She only wore them for special occasions.)

"I gave you what you deserved cochino," her voice was no longer alluring. It was dark and filled with hatred.

"You took money from the unfortunates. From the orphanage, the church and the house of women. You raped those women and the children. Mr Highlord, you are going to burn in hell for the rest of your life. But first..I'm going to gut like a fucking fish."

She tugged him upright by his hair, and took her knife to his throat.

"Pu... puta... I'll have your head for this." The man coughed. Breathing was a very hard thing to do.

"Oh really?" The woman laughed before continuing.

"I think I'll have your head. But before I dismember you, promise me something."

She grabbed him by head of his hair, placing the knife to his neck.

"Say hello to Lucifer for me." 

She slit his throat, the blood splattered the walls. But, she made sure her boots remained untouched by the man's horrible fate.

She stormed into the room, slamming the door behind her.

Her boss, Gabriel Jiménez, or otherwise known as Mr. Messenger, was currently working on contracts and missions, before looking up.

"Zira, baby! Where have you been? You're usually quicker on the job." He stood up and made his way to the woman, embracing her.

"Look, it wasn't my fault. The man kept groping me and-"

He silenced her with a boop on her button nose. She hated when he did that.

"You know what my favourite thing about you is, Zira?"

My lips. My ass. My-

"I don't know. Is it my charming personality?" Zira smiled through her teeth, her tone sarcastic and snarky. 

"No sweetness. It's your willingness to get things done. You never ask questions and you never miss." He gave her nose one last squeeze, before turning away to deal with his papers.

Zira rolled her eyes. 

"I see you brought me a gift," he acknowledged the bag that Zira was gripping tightly. He took out one of his cigars and sat down in his overrated throne.

"Do I get a kiss, with that gift?"

Zira smiled. She trudged herself over to him and leaned over his desk. Before giving him the sweetest of fake smiles. A simple rejection.

"Hmm. No. But- you can kiss this." She slammed the bag down on his desk. A head rolled out and into his lap.

"Marvellous. Excellent job, as always. Now, off to bed. We have a big day tomorrow. We're making our way to the capital of Spain."

"Yes, sir."

Zira combed her curly hair. Her blonde was still natural and luxurious. She loved it. It was one of the few things she had kept from her previous life. Despite the hardships from that life, she still had some fond memories. She remembered her mother, how she would comb and braid it.

Zira was currently looking at herself in her mirror. Thinking of who she wanted to be, of who she was, of who she is. Well, who he truly is.

He removed the makeup, the skirts and the dresses. He washed the cons of yesterday and today. He lied in his sheets and recounted everything he had done.

He thought of the world's darkness and cruelty. It's sadistic ways made him laugh. To question Her, was unacceptable. She knew what she was doing. She planned all of this. Therefore, there was no point in changing. Zira was doomed, even if he had devoted his life to Her.

But God is ever mysterious, She takes and She gives.

He shook the thought away. This was life now, he chose it. After the love of his life abandoned him, his family turned their backs, this taught him a very valuable lesson.

Trust no one.

That way you cannot suffer the heartbreak.

Chapter Text

"Another glass, please." Crowley threw a gold coin at the bartender.

The man caught it and clumsily threw it into the empty and lone jar.

"What's a big time outlaw like you doing here?"

"Looking for a score, Moustache."

The bartender had the most peculiar shape of his facial hair. It was quite unique. Large and curly. The curls reminded him of someone.

Ugh. How he missed that someone.

"Know of anything?"

Mr. Moustache cleared his throat, his voice still gruff. His back turned from Crowley to clean the glasses. Luckily he had a powerful voice and Crowley had excellent hearing.

"Well, the Church of St. Michaels just put up a golden statue of the Virgin of Guadalupe."

"No. I do not steal from churches."

"Uh…I guess the orphanage. They've just been donated silverware."

"I do not steal from orphans. And really? Silverware?" Crowley scoffed. That was child's play. Desperate he was, but not that desperate.

"Uh, what about Beelz and their crew?" An old man spoke up. He smelled like yesterday and his voice was nasally. He bore an eyepatch.

"Shh! Are you crazy?" A pretty man with spectacles spoke up. He was oddly familiar. 

"Who? Are they important?"

"Hell yeah. They're the most dangerous and murderous villain in Spain!"

"Sir-" Spectacles pleaded. "We can't! It's not safe-"

"Quiet boy! Hush up, now!"

The old man coughed his throat out before taking a quick swig of beer. He burped loudly, before speaking again.

"The murderous outlaw Beelz and their crew have gotten their hands on," he looked around before leaning in. His grey eye turned straight to Crowley's ambers. He whispered so low, Crowley could barely hear it.

"...the keys to the Golden Kingdom."

Crowley pulled away immediately. Slamming his hand down on the weak bar counter, chipping away some of the wood. 

"Do not joke with me about that key! I searched half my life for it. It does not exist."

"No, sir," the brunette whispered. "We have seen them."

"Them?" Crowley scoffed. 

"The boy speaks the truth!" the old man said. "I lost my finger just by staring at them!"

The old man took off his gloves, and sure enough, his index finger was missing. The wound rotten and grimy.

Crowley winced. The sight he could handle, he'd seen worse. But the smell.

"Yep. Pulled it clean off, they did. Beelz. But trust me, a heist like this, why it could set you up for life!"

Crowley lit up. This could be my chance. A way to clear my name and pay back my debt!

The ginger stood up from his chair, tipped the bartender and thanked the old man. 

"Alright! You've convinced me. Which is not an easy thing to do. Now," Crowley adjusted his hat, "Where can I find this…Beelz?"

Beelz and their crew were staying at a local Inn. There was trouble at the front desk but that was soon taken care of. After shooting three people, the management understood.

"Read me this letter." Beelz held out a small envelope to Hastur. He was the only one in their crew who could read.

He took it with a sneer and a groan.

"Didn't your husband tell you to learn how to read?"

"No. He suggested it. But c'mon. We both know who's in charge of the relationship. Now read."

Hastur slumped down in his chair, getting himself comfortable. It was a long letter. A long letter.

(Long letters meant lots of responses and questions from the boss. Questions he didn't know or care to answer.)

"Dear Bea, I've been thinking."

They snorted, "That never ends well."

"Once we're done with this heist and we get the gold, we should settle down or something."

Beelz slammed their knife in the wooden table. Its edges tore deep inside the cedar.

"He did not say that. Tell me he didn't," Beez growled.

"Don't worry, it gets worse from there, boss. He continues on and he says, oh, wow."

"What? Say it."

"He says he wants a baby." Hastur scratched behind his ears, he soon started twitching.

Beelz stopped moving. They blushed furiously.

"A-a- a baby what?"

They were praying for anything but a human baby. Hell! They hated kids! And praying!

Hastur responded. Yawning, "I think he means…a baby you."

Crowley lingered outside their window, his heart racing with curiosity. Sure enough, there was a box. It was tied around the hand of a...woman? Though they bore the semblance of a person, it was hard to discern the gender. The box glowed with an ethereal light, casting an enchanting aura.

"Holy- mierda. It does exist."

Crowley stood in shock. Relief washed over him. He had finally gotten his chance. He could go home. Back to his mother! Back to his home! Back to Ez-

A small thump came from the other side of the building. Small and quiet series of noises happened after that. Crowley went to investigate. 

He was pleasantly surprised. 

A very beautiful and very curvaceous woman was climbing up the wall. She had white milky skin and a gorgeous ass. She was also wearing pants.

Huh. A woman wearing pants. How strange. He'd never seen such a thing.

But damn.

Crowley was sweating, he ran his hand through his hair and fiddled with his hat. She was wearing a shawl around her head, using it as a mask. It covered all of her face, except her eyes. And even though Crowley couldn't see the rest of her features, he could already tell she was beautiful. 

Crowley was tempted to abandon his mission and just throw her on the balcony and have her there. Fuck. The sight of her was too much.

And for some strange reason it recalled the memory of him. His ángel, his love, his Ezra. It was just...

Crowley sighed.

No one. No one, had ever made him feel like Ezra made him feel. Ezra caused something possessive and animalistic in him. Ezra was a temptress of angelic beauty. Pure yet flirtatious. Kind yet a bastard. Trusting yet jealous. Good yet so deliciously bad. God! He missed him.

Crowley smiled. He couldn't wait to see him again.

And for some unknowable reason, this woman...Why it was almost like seeing Ezra again.

Every once in a while, Crowley would see a blonde in the crowd and every time he'd rush over to see who it was. And every time, his heart would break.

But no matter. He knew he'd find his love. And someday, he would see that lovely smile again. He shook the thought from his head. It was time to focus!

Crowley had a job to do, and he was intent on following through. He still had his debt to repay and there was no time for distractions! But- he could still introduce himself.

So Crowley made his way over, smiling, practicing on what he was going to say. That was until he saw what she was doing.

She was targeting the box as well! The key! Or keys? Whatever it was! She was after them too! No! Crowley couldn't let that happen.

"Psst! Hey! Wait!"

She didn't hear him.

Crowley tried again, repeating his words.

She didn't respond.

Crowley tried snapping and clapping to get her attention. But nothing seemed to work, verbally, at least. So he threw a small rock at her head. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt too much.

Besides, it was more of a pebble.

The rock hit right in the cheekbone She turned her head to hiss at Crowley.

Revealing baby blue eyes.

She continued to hiss at him, but then she stopped. She stood up slowly and backed away. She seemed frightened and confused. It was almost as if she recognised him. But that couldn't be...right?

Because Crowley certainly didn't recognise her.

She stood in fear and yet... her stance was strong and defiant.

Her eyes spoke with confusion and hatred. She stared at him for a few moments, before she finally said something.

"You."

Chapter Text

Zira made her across the roof. Each step taken without fear and with ease. She was quiet as a mouse, however, the idiot following her was not. 

“Um…Miss Zira? Do you mind if I wait down here,” Eric whispered, “It's just that I-uh, I'm afraid of heights.” 

Eric stood below her. He was following on the ground, loudly. The heaviness of the boots had the rocks beneath him crack and roll. Hell, he might as well ring a damn bell for all the noise he was causing.

Zira rolled her eyes. Amateur.

“Eric, get up here, now. I need a distraction for the target.”

Eric whimpered. He was terrified of heights. He couldn't believe it. He was a demon, of Hell, and yet he was afraid of heights. Was it because of The Great Fall?

“Ummm a-alright Miss Zira. But I'm gonna transform. Then I won't be as scared...heh.”

“Fine. Hurry up.”

She quietly pounced down to the next building. Not a single sound was made.

God I'm good. She smirked, after all, she was the best cat burglar in Spain. A phantom of the night. The Outlaw's Mistress (she loved that name). Her fame had won her many times. And she took pride in it. She worked hard for it too. Being the best thief and murderess took effort.

But she always made it look easy.

Suddenly she heard a loud crash behind her. Someone had managed to knock part of the roof off.

She hissed fiercely. “Ay! You could've alarmed them! Etúpido gato.”

Eric just meowed, bowing his head in submission. An apologetic offering, yet it was not accepted. Still, Zira scratched behind his crooked ear.

“Come on. We have to get that key.”

Zira made her way to the window. She heard a few rustles, but she didn't care to check. Through the window was a dark figure. It looked liked a woman. She had filthy dark hair, filled with soot and ash. Her eyes were most peculiar shade of crimson. In front of her was a thin man, with blonde hair. His teeth were grimy and yellow, his coat covered in dust and his clothes were all torn and muddy. 

Too easy. Now I just need to find the - There!

She adjusted her shawl before opening the window, she didn't want her identity to be revealed after all. Just as she started to move in, she felt something hit the side of her head. She turned around to hiss, expecting to see Eric. Instead she saw a handsome man, with flaming hair.

He was very lean yet muscular. His hands were thin yet strong. His cheekbones were sharp and his chest was clean. His pants were tight and his manhood was- His whole physique just screamed-

"Take me."

Zira blushed. That's a first.

The man didn't respond. Maybe he had not heard her. Still, the thought was embarrassing.

Even so, she continued to stare at him from a distance. 

With each passing moment, the ache in her chest deepened. It was strange— Sure, he bore a striking resemblance to someone from her past, but it couldn’t possibly be him. That man was long gone. He had abandoned her in a horrible town and was never seen or heard from again.

She quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had shed too many tears for a man who hadn't given her a second thought.

No, this man is not Anthony. Thank God. No this man is- pretty. Yes. Pretty. And his eyes...

She took a step back. No. It can't be. 

But it was.

The tears threatened to escape.

She never did forget those golden eyes.

Chapter Text

Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of pain, confusion and hatred painted her face.

Crowley didn't know what to do. 

“You.”

Her voice was quiet, like a simple mumble to the wind.

“Uh hi? Can you repeat that? You're kinda quiet. I think it's the shawl. Could you remove it?" 

Her heart pounded with a rage so fierce, it demanded vengeance. Her mind ran through a thousand of scenarios. Fashioning up a thousand wounds, each one a token of her suffering, inflicted upon him. She wanted him to bleed. She wanted him to grasp the depth of the pain he'd caused on her once pure soul.

And yet, her desire for revenge was laced with a twisted need to caress him. To stab his heart a million times and then patch it up. To kiss him, to taste the lips that once whispered sweet nothings to her. And then... then she wanted to bite him brutally, a symbolic act of her hatred. 

Oh how she loathed him! 

But seeing his face again, after all those years. Oh how she loved him. But that was a secret, even to herself. 

What a cruel cruel paradox.

Tears threatened to leave her face. Zira wouldn't let that happen.

With a resolve as cold as ice, Zira finally made her decision. She was not going to let the ghost of a love long past dictate her actions. Her heart, now hardened, had won the battle of her emotions.

Quietly, she spoke louder.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally came back.”

Came back?

“You're eight years late Anthony.”

Anthony?!

Crowley sputtered in utter bafflement. He hadn't used that name in years! How did she-

His hands instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword.

She noticed. 

“Pfft. As if you could take me.” 

She gave him a snare before opening the window latch and sneaking her way in.

Oh no you don't. 

Crowley quickly followed her in, careful not to make a sound. 

Inside the two thieves observed the other two figures in the room.

“Well it can't be all that bad boss. I mean, just keep it alive. Like a…a-a bunny.”

“A bunny?”

Their eyes reddened, their veins popped and their voice distorted. 

“YOU wouldn't have to take care of it. YOU wouldn't have to carry inside you like some some- VIRUS! Some INFECTION!”

They slammed the box down on the table. 

“Tell that pila de mierda, I'd rather convert back to GOD!"

With a groan, they pushed themselves up from the chair, joints protesting the sudden movement. 

“I'm going to bed,” they said, “and you better start writing to my dear husband, and tell him I refuse.”

“Yes boss.” Hastur made sure to hide the annoyance in his voice. He had to bite his tongue and swallow his crude responses.

Beez nodded. “Make sure to sound dramatic.”

They made their way over to the cabinet.

“Where's our strongest alcohol? I need to get drunk before I pass out and go to sleep. I don't want to remember this awful conversation.” 

Zira zoned in. Her eyes scanned across the room for the quickest exit. She wanted to get in and out and as far far away from him.

Crowley looked across to his opponent. He tried jogging his memory. Who could she be? Why did she hate him? Was it someone he had a one night stand with? 

But before he could confront her, Zira pounced Beelz, her movements reminiscent of a wild animal attacking its prey. A sight that Crowley found both impressive and strangely attractive.

He stood there like an idiot watching the fight play itself out. The dark room filled with screams and grunts of annoyance and pain. It wasn't until the glow of the golden key, Crowley remembered what his mission was. 

He pounced Beez too and reached for the box that was attached to their hand. Crowley took out his knife, preparing to cut it off. Just as he was about to strike, a grimy hand picked him up by his shirt collar.

“Get off the boss!”

Crowley was shoved against the wall and strangled by a dirty blonde. Crowley kicked and squirmed. The grimy man smirked at the sight. His yellow teeth sharp as a knife. His breath smelled of fish. Crowley hated fish.

Sneakily, Crowley reached for his pistol before shooting the man right in the left rib cage. The man stumbled back and fell to his knees. Bleeding out, he painted the wooden floor crimson red. Crowley stretched his jaw and breathed in deeply to get his lungs working again.

As for Zira:

Blood was trickling from Beez's mouth, staining their clothes and teeth. With a wicked smile they cackled in sadistic glee as Zira straddled them, attempting to remove the box.

"What's wrong? Can't get the box off? Hah!"

"It's fine. I can just chop it off!" She revealed a dagger but before she could do anything with it, Beez flipped them over. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Can't handle the reversal?" Laughing, they watched Zira struggle and writhe beneath her.

“Aww. Ya are zzo...cute.” Beez kissed the side of Zira's face, the shawl was slipping, revealing some of her features.

“Now let's see who the pretty face is behind this mask." They managed to remove some of it off before being strangled from behind.

Using his thick belt, Crowley keep on tightening his grip.

Beelz's eyes had rolled way back into their sockets. Then, with an unexpected burst of laughter, Beelz let out a wild roar.

“Nice...try...” They cackled before blacking out. Maybe the overstimulation got them or the lack of air.

Beelz fell forward, toppling Zira. 

Zira winced from the pain and rolled them off her. With great annoyance, she wrapped the shawl back on before Anthony could see.

A hand was offered to her. Along with a smile. A gorgeous smile. She ought to take it. No. She wanted to take it. She ought to-

She shoved his hand away. “Vete a la mierda!” Confidently, she brushed past Crowley.

“Uh you're welcome.” Diablesa. He followed her to the balcony before she turned around. 

“Why should I thank you? You abandoned me.”

Crowley knitted his brow in confusion. “Abandoned you? I don't even know you.” He reached out to grab her hand but was met with a knife to his chest.

“If you touch me again, I swear... I will cut your face in two.” She growled before jumping off, leading on all fours. A furry something brushed past Crowley's shoulder.

Crowley shook his head before putting his hat back on. What a strange woman. But she was so familiar as well, her hand...it was warm and- Crowley shook the thought off. He turned back to get the key but it was gone! No! The box was gone! So was half a hand.

Crowley ran out to the balcony. Sure enough she was sprinting on the roofs of the buildings. 

Damn. A chase was in.

Crowley leapt down from the balcony. With a swiftness in his feet, he gave chase after her. She was fast and agile, jumping from roof to roof with ease, alongside her furry companion. The small mangy thing reminded him of Ezra's cat, except that one had always been white. 

Ezra loved cats. It was evident by the gleam in his perfect baby blue eyes. How he would gently pet the small things with his perfectly manicured hands, smiling in a way that brought jealousy to the stars themselves.

Lost in thoughts of his lover, Crowley hadn't noticed his pace had slowed down. Thinking of Ezra always had that ditzy effect on him. until a flash of white passed him.

Diablesa!

Crowley's eyes widened. Right! She was getting away! Shaking himself alert he hurried after her. His feet by a miracle, managed to catch up to her. 

“Ha-ha! Got ya!” Crowley laughed in confidence before running straight into a stone wall.

Zira stood watching. She then heard a faint “ow.” She chuckled before taunting her lover. Uh-past lover of course.

“Better luck next time, Anthony.”

Crowley heard the silent stomp of her departing heels fade across the iron roofs. 

"I'll get you, woman in pants," he muttered under his breath.

Zira smiled gleefully, relieved to be rid of her tail and to finally be free of him. But the more she thought of it, the more Zira began to doubt her decision. With a jolt, she realised it was really him. Anthony, her Anthony. The only man she had ever loved.

The only man he'd ever loved. 

“Ugh!” Zira gripped her head in annoyance. She cursed her stupid heart for being so weak. All he had to do was show up?! To break her walls that she had carefully and forcibly created?!

Screaming into the night sky of Spain, she tipped her head back to yell out her annoyance to the universe!

“AHHHHH!”

No one could hear her, fireworks covered the sounds of her frustration. It was the Festival of Fire tonight. 

She whispered to herself, “Why? Why did you have to come back? I was fine without you.” 

No, I wasn't. 

“I hate you.” But deep down she knew that wasn't true. She loved him. She loved him just as much as the day he abandoned her. Abandoned him.

Abandoned them, their relationship. And for what?

A small blue pebble rolled past Zira's boots. She bent down to pick it up, but no sooner had she straightened up, was she pounced from behind.

Zira was forcefully turned onto her back and the box was torn from her hand.

"I'll take that!"

Yes! It's mine! Crowley's expression was torn between frustration and happiness.

But Zira didn't notice. All she saw was the red curls, hiding her from the world. She looked up to meet angry amber eyes staring her down. She then had an unpleasant dawning of realisation.

Anthony, was on top of her.  

A blush crept upon her cheeks, grateful she was wearing a shawl around her head. Because the redness of her cheeks intensified, as her mind flooded with several vivid echoes of intoxicating bliss.

She remembered how Anthony's caress was slow and gentle or hard and rough. She remembered every movement laden with whispered vows of endless hours entwined in passionate ecstasy. He would promise a life of them together. A lie of course. Although they didn't feel like lies at the time.

In those days, she was Ezra. Ezra was a softer, more naïve version of herself.

The boy who wore his heart on his sleeve.

But Zira was not Ezra. While they might have shared the same body, shared the same mind, they were polar opposites. 

Ezra was a beacon of hope and love, while Zira saw through the world's charade, seeing the cruel and ruthless reality she lived in.

Yet, there was one thread of commonality between the two personas - their love for Anthony. 

He was speaking, but Zira didn't hear. Her thoughts were hard to decipher. His words sounded frustrated and annoyed.

Don't worry the feeling is mutual, Anthony.

Zira didn't know how it happened, but it did and fast.

She tore her shawl down, quickly covered his eyes before capturing him in a fierce kiss. 

That was a bad idea right?

Chapter Text

Crowley was caught off guard by the abrupt kiss. Confusion swirled in his mind as he wrestled with the suddenness of it all. He found himself frozen in place, paralysed by uncertainty. Instead of responding to the woman beneath him, like he usually would've done, he laid there like a dead fish.

Once she drew back, Crowley was kicked in the stomach. He fell off the woman and he saw her adjust her shawl.

She then spoke, "Goodbye Anthony," before throwing her cat at him.

Surprised and guilty claws attacked his face. Crowley groaned in pain as the tiny thing dung into his cheeks. Blood spattered out of his mouth. 

By the time Crowley finally got it off, the woman was long gone. But that wasn't even the bad part. The bad part was the cat. 

It spoke. "Sorry about that, s-sir! Miss Zira just told me too!"

Then it ran away and left Crowley in shock.

"What in the fucking Hell?"

Zira had made a big mistake, a stupid one too. She rubbed her tears eyes as she ran away from the scene. She focused on the mission. Getting the key, which right now, was a successful one. Now she just needed the other one.

And she could do that. She could focus on the mission. And not her past lover. After all, she was the best outlaw in all of Spain. She had to focus on that. Focus on everything she had accomplished, for and by herself.

Even if her heart wished to think about something else.

Anger rooted in Crowley as he watched her leave. Every fibre in his being loathed her. And her devil cat.

A wave of self-disgust washed over Crowley. He had never been beaten before. Sure he had been roughed up a lot, but he always came back victorious. But this woman actually beat him! Even if she had cheated.

But, he couldn't afford to wallow in self-pity, he had a mission to accomplish. One that would get him back home. To his mother. To Ezra.

Crowley shook his head, before picking himself up and reaching for the key he had wrested from her.

The box was still there, but the key-

It was gone! But- How?! 

With a sigh of exasperation, Crowley set off in pursuit of her, again. He was growing weary of this cat-and-mouse chase. But it had him wondering…

Who was the mouse and who was that cat?

Chapter Text

With graceful agility, Zira leapt across the rooftops, feeling a sense of freedom. The “perilous running away” was more of a pastime for Zira. A fun one, a liberation for her. An escape.

A smirk curled on her lips as she thought of Anthony. How laughably pathetic the irony was, she, who had once foolishly yearned for his affection, was now the object of his pursuit.

With a final leap, Zira descended from the rooftop, her boots meeting the cobblestone streets with a silent thud. She slipped into the labyrinth of darkened alleys, her figure swallowed by the shadows. Without fear, she navigated her way towards an obscure entrance - otherwise known as “The Rabbit Hole”. It was the ultimate gathering place for Spain's most notorious outlaws. But for Zira, it was a welcome mat. With the grace of a cat burglar, she effortlessly manoeuvred through the concealed entrance and descended into the depths below. 

Once Crowley finally, once again, caught up with her, she went through a strange entrance. The man hesitated for a moment before following her down the entrance. However, what awaited him was far beyond his expectations - an actual tunnel. It had a seemingly infinite length and an unusual smell of fish.

Still, Crowley had to retrieve the key. It was the only way to clear his name and earn back his redemption. So, with a quick breath, he squirmed his way through the hole.

When Zira finally made her way down, the key nestled securely in her grip, a triumphant smile spread across her face. Now, there was just one final task to complete.

Gabriel's painfully slow death.

I'm going to kill that smug pendejo.

Zira only made it a few steps before she was toppled over by a familiar body. "Ay! Eric! We talked about this! We agreed you would stay a cat until you're down here. That way I don't get trampled when-" Zira stopped mid-sentence after catching sight of fiery red locks above her.

Immediately, she scrambled out from underneath him. "Anthony?! How did you… How- I threw my cat at you!" 

Crowley rose, his neck emitting a sharp crack as he did so. "Yes you did! And let me tell you, your little diablo gato packs quite the punch!”

He shook himself off with a huff.

"Now, Diablesa—"

"Diablesa? Is that supposed to offend me?" With a sarcastic scoff, she continued, “I've been called far worse.”

Just as she was about to walk away, she decided to say one last thing to him. "And his name is Eric!"

Eric? That's a weird name for a cat-

“Look Diablesa! I can't understand a word you say with that stupid shawl on! And another thing! I have no idea who you think you are, but let me make one thing clear. Nobody, kisses me like that and gets away with it!” ...without another one.

The arrogance was shocking.

Zira grumbled. Just as she was about to slip away into the back room, a hand clamped down on her. Anthony's hand.

“Now look. I need that key—” He started, but his words were abruptly silenced as Zira used her momentum to flip their positions. In an instant, the power dynamic had shifted. She straddled the man, a dagger in her hand. Its blade kissed Anthony's flesh, drawing a bead of blood.

“Don't you dare touch me! I've already had my life poisoned by you!” 

Just as Zira pressed her knife deeper into the tough skin, Crowley seized Zira's hips and reversed their positions. Like a hunter pinning his quarry.

“Listen, pants, I need that key! It's my only shot at settling my debts, at reclaiming the life that's been stolen from me!”

Zira scoffed dismissively. “Like I give a damn!"

Shifting her weight, she launched him off with a powerful kick from her formidable black boots.

In one fluid motion, she unsheathed her sword and stood ready, her silent stance a bold challenge to him.

Kicking over another sword, she mocked. “Pick it up,” she said. “Pick it up and fight like a man.”

Crowley's growl rumbled from deep within. He was weary of these theatrics; all he desired was the key.

“No, I have to defeat and humiliate you in front of everyone here, I'll do it with my own sword.” You infuriating woman!

Zira snorted at her past lover's words. “Tell you what, if by some miracle you ‘defeat me’, the key is yours. But when I emerge victorious, you will vanish from my life forever. Do you understand?”

“Look sweetheart, I don't even know you. So yeah, it's a deal.” 

“Deal,” Zira smirked, “Whoever draws first blood wins.”

In the dim glow of lantern light, the tavern's usual cacophony of laughter and drunken songs had been silenced.

Someone had challenged Zira. Outlaw's Mistress herself.

Zira, circled her opponent with a grace that belied her furious intent. Opposite her, Crowley's fiery red locks were a wild contrast to the cold determination in his golden eyes. 

Both were silent as a drunken guitar's flamenco began.

The woman was sneering, clearly trying to intimidate him, but Crowley was no stranger to the dance of death. 

“Hiyah!” Zira striked first and slit his cotton shirt open, the buttons rolling all over the floor.

Okay, I'll admit. That was impressive.

Crowley lunged to attack! But Zira, with her lightning-fast reflexes, expertly dodged Crowley's revenge attack, teasing him with a playful grin. 

“Strike One! Do you yield?”

"Oh please. We haven't even started yet, Diablesa."

He then parried and riposted with a skill honed by years of determination and anger. The magic key that hung from her belt was the key back to his old life. His home. His family. His love.

The woman jumped on the bar's counter to have the upper advantage. She then punted all the barrels. Causing the ale and beer to overflow the floor. The bums and drunks rushed over to the seeping barrels, just to get a taste!

And Zira disappeared into the crowd.

Shit!  C'mon. Where are you Diables-

Crowley suddenly felt the whoosh of a blade as it cut through the air mere inches above the red hairs. He quickly turned around to see a woman walking on the ceilings posts.

She then jumped down and asked, "Do you yield?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "No."

The woman shrugged before throwing darts at him. One dart actually managed to hit the black hat off his head.

Snapping in him snapped.

That was his hat. The emotional value on that hat. Crowley howled.

Refusing to be outdone, he unleashed a series of rapid strikes, attempting to disarm her. But Zira deftly parried each blow, taunting him with her graceful movements. Their swords danced in perfect harmony to the flamenco tune provided by Fernando.

"Yield Anthony!"

"No!"

"Yield!"

"Never!"

As the fight continued, Crowley's muscles began to scream in protest. He was getting tired of all the jumping around and chasing.

Zira knew this, and decided to close in. "You should have yielded, Anthony."

With a sudden surge of strength, she charged forward, her sword cutting through the air with renewed vigour. 

Crowley fell back, his foot catching on a broken stool. Zira seized the moment, her blade pressed against Crowley’s throat, the cool metal a whisper away from his skin. 

Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world stood still. The tavern, the spilled ale, the golden key—they all faded into insignificance.

"Yield," She hissed and commanded.

Crowley's chest heaved, he slowly let go of his sword, but not before grabbing Fernando's guitar and flinging it at the woman's forehead. The guitar snapped in two on impact, and the woman groaned as she grasped her head in pain. 

She then tore off her shawl, revealing a person that Crowley had never forgotten.

Chapter Text

Zira yanked off her shawl, with a flick of disbelief and fury. “You hit me in the head with the GUITAR?!”

No! No! It couldn't be-

Crowley stammered. “Ezra?!” His voice broke in shock and horror. 

Zira screamed back, “MIERDA! Nuestra Señora ruega por él!” 

Storming out she went through the shadowy depths of the back room.

Crowley's mind reeled. His heart surged with a mixture of elation and utter bafflement. It was Ezra. His love.

"Ángel, wait!" Crowley's voice cracked as he staggered after her. “Ángel, I-how in the-I can't believe- After all this time you're-” Crowley was in shock. This was Ezra. His Ezra!

By the time he caught up with her, she had disappeared.

“Ezra? Where are you?”

Hmm. Crowley suddenly realised how wrong this whole situation felt. The room was wrong—drained of life and then a scent.

Rosewater.

"No," he whispered, a single word heavy with hostility. 

He wouldn't dare.

Crowley spotted a moving shadow, confirming the worst thing possible.

“Hello Anthony, it's been a long time,” the voice coming from behind.

“Este pendejo”, Crowley grumbled before spinning round, pushing his blade into his heart. “Gabriel Jiménez! How dare you show your face to me!”

Gabriel's laugh cracked. “LoOk, Crowley. I knOw you're angry. You have every-”

“Angry? No Gabriel! I’m not angry! I am furious! I told you if I ever saw you again- You took everything from me! My home! My mother! My life! You betrayed me!” Crowley was seething, his teeth grinding.

“Betrayed you? That's rich, coming from the man who abandoned me,” Gabriel sneered, shoving the sword out of his way. 

“You left me on a bridge, surrounded by soldiers! Who then tortured me for six months and-”

“And how did we get on that bridge in the first place?! You- gilipollas! I-”

“I told you- I NEEDED-”

“Gabriel!”

The two men looked up to find the beautiful blonde leaning against a ceiling post, carving words of death into the fine pine.

“Zira, sweetheart, there you are! Come down here.” Gabriel beckoned with a smug smile. 

Putting her dagger away she leaped down with grace. A sharp contrast to the tension in the room.

"Wait, what?" Crowley's mind reeled. Why was Ezra being called Zira? Why was he listening to Gabriel?

Without a word, Zira slapped Gabriel hard across the face.

“Cabrón!" Zira put a knife to Gabriel's cheek, “How dare you make me work with him!” She pressed deeper, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

Gabriel seemed unmoved by her outburst. “Zira, we need him. He's the best of the best. His name is known throughout all of Spain.”

“So is mine!” She retorted.

“Sweetheart. You knew I'd be bringing in another man."

"Yes! But I didn't know you meant him!"

"Zira! We need this, we need him. With your skill, his sword and my brain, we can do this! And Zira...” Gabriel gripped her shoulders tightly and whispered something frightening. Something that clearly shook her up. Her pupils had dilated. Giving her a harsh kiss on the cheek, he returned his attention to Crowley.

“Thank you, baby.” 

Crowley seethed. "How dare you treat him, as if he was your possession? Ezra is his own person, not some trophy for you-”

“Anthony, listen. Zira is my employee, she chose to be. After I finish explaining this all, I will leave you two to catch up. But first things first. This mission. We can gain a lot of gold from this. A lot. But Bee and her crew know this too, and if they get there first-”

Crowley seethed, “I don't give a fuck! And I would never in 1000 years work with you again! Ever!” He stormed for the door, almost making it.

“Anthony wait! The money we could gain, you could pay back the debt.”

Crowley halted.

“You could get your name cleared,” Gabriel continued, “your home back. Your life back.”

Crowley immediately looked toward Ezra, hoping to see that smile. Instead all he got was a scowl and a look of hatred.

“Gabriel, I'm going out.” Zira cleared her throat.

She shoved passed Crowley, but he grabbed her arm. 

“Ezra wait- Can you explain what is-AGAH,” With a swift, brutal motion, Zira's dagger flashed, and Crowley's cheek blossomed with red. “Ángel?”

“I told you, I would cut your face in two, if you ever touched me again.” 

Crowley felt a tear drop. 

Her eyes were dark and unforgiving, “And don't ever call me áng- that, again.”

She slammed the door behind her as she stormed out.

Crowley couldn’t believe it. It was Ezra, but not the Ezra he remembered.

This was Zira, a bitter echo of the past.

Chapter Text

A winter in 1759

A baby, pale and weak, was left in a bundle of rags on the steps of a weary church, in a town no one cared for.

A woman, who called herself Madam Teresa, found the small thing and wrapped it up gently in her shawl. Comforting him from the cold wind against her bosom.

Of all the orphans she had cared for over the years, this one-this baby- was hers. Her beautiful boy. Her love was so fierce, it became clear who was her favorite. Although she would never admit it.

This baby was, of course, Anthony. He had no last name, no honour nor confidence. He did, however, have Gabriel.

Gabriel was always there, keeping Anthony safe from the other kids' jealousy and their rocks. The two grew close, like brothers, two peas in a pod, never one without the other. 

The two even got punished together. For every whispered joke during mass, the pastor made sure they paid the price. He forced them to kneel for hours, slapped their mouths if they smiled. But that was only the beginning. Every night he would take a child from their bed and give them lashes for so called sins. This included dishes not washed enough, whistling while cleaning, muddy feet from the rain, laughing too loudly, singing off key. Even if the children talked to someone of a higher station, there would be lashings.

He was a predator in a collar. People were blinded by his charm and handsome smile. They never saw the monster he was.

Madam Teresa knew nothing. She only saw the faithful shepherd, kind and devout.

The children never told her. The fear was too much. He swore if they ever breathed a word, Hell would swallow them whole and condemn them to eternal damnation. 

The town adored him. But they didn't know.

They didn't know.

But Gabriel and Anthony had a plan. One day they would run away and search for treasure! They had heard the legend of the golden key and the wealth, as well as the divine power it held. Soon it became their obsession. So the boys would often run around and steal any and every kind of key. 

As the years went by, so did their innocence. Their childish pranks had become more mischievous and dangerous. The two resorted to sabotaging food carts, sending them barreling downhill. They slipped potions into the pastor's supper, causing him severe illness. But the worst thing was the squealing pigs. The boys had released them from the slaughterhouse.

(They thought they had done good. Those animals deserved to live.)

After that, the townspeople grew furious. Complaining of the 'uno caído' or fallen one, to Madam Teresa. Anthony took it with pride, until he was caught by the Comandante, whose patience was thinner than his mustache.

“That's the third time this month, Teresa. Next time, is jail time.”

Teresa could only laugh and excuse. “Son niños, nada más.”

“They are thieves, Señora,” he hissed.

After he left, Teresa could only weep, her hands trembling over rosary beads. Her sorrows were lost on Gabriel, but not on Anthony. He loved his mother, she was his whole world, disappointing her was a failure.

“You are better than this, Antonio,” she whispered that night, her voice breaking. “Yo creo en la bondad de tu alma. Please, mi hijo… do not let me down. Do not let God down.”

Little did she know, the pastor gave him 10 lashes.

“I hate this place,” Gabriel muttered one day, flinging rocks into the dust, his voice full of resentment and hopelessness. “We need to get out of here.”

Not paying enough attention, Gabriel managed to hit the lock of a stubborn bull's cage. The beast broke free and with a furious roar, charged straight for an elderly woman and a young child.

“Mierda. Anthony, quick! Before the Comandante finds us!” 

Gabriel’s hand reached out, shaking, anxious for Anthony to take it. But he didn't. Instead, he ran towards the bull. His heart couldn't handle the guilt, should anyone get hurt. Nor the disappointed eyes of his mother.

By a miracle, he managed to grab onto the bull and overpower it, turning it to its side before impaling the two bystanders. 

Expecting to be punished severely and the shouts of angry citizens, he was surprised to hear cheering and clapping.

“He saved the Comandante's mother!”

“He saved his son!”

The Comandante came running. For the first time, his eyes didn’t hold disdain. He threw his arms around the boy.

“You saved my family. You are a hero.”

Anthony had never felt such joy, it must be a dream, he thought, it could not possibly get better than this.

But he was wrong. Because it did.

A small hand tapped his shoulder. Anthony turned and found himself staring into the most beautiful pair of eyes in the world. Eyes belonging to a boy of no older than ten.

“Thank you for saving me.” The boy hugged him tightly. He smelled heavenly, like lavender.

Anthony's heart gave a flutter and his face flushed.

“My name is Ezra. What is yours?”

“Anthony,” he said, barely audible.

He didn’t understand what he was feeling. This flutter in his chest. He had only ever felt this way about girls. This was wrong and unnatural, according to the bible, and yet…

Before they could continue talking, strong arms lifted him up.

“Today we see that courage and bravery come in all sizes! And that people can be misjudged. Today, chico Caído, I will take care for you, as you have done for me today.”

Teresa was crying. “Mi hijo, estoy muy orgulloso de ti.” She pulled out a box and gifted him something he would never be without.

His leather hat and boots, and his rosary. 

“Llévalos con orgullo, mi hijo,” she said. “As a symbol of honor and justice.”

“Yes Mamá.”

True to his word, the Comandante looked after Anthony. He gave him a room in his home, along with an education and an allowance. While Anthony could still visit his mother, the Comandante had become his primary caregiver. 

And while all these things were exciting, his favourite part was Ezra. His blossoming friendship with Ezra.

“Gracias, Comandante.” 

Anthony, now 17 and tall in his boots, was embarrassed by how many times he had bailed Gabriel out. 

“Gabriel, this is humiliating,” he scolded, dragging him home one evening. “You’re twenty years old, and you’re still stealing jewels?”

“I know! I know! Gabriel snapped. “But it’s for our dream, remember? To get out of here! I even found us a new job. It’s risky, but it'll take fifty seconds tops-”

“Basta! This is our home. These people have done nothing to us.”

“Our home?” Gabriel laughed bitterly. “Unbelievable. You get some fancy new house a-and money and now you're too good for me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“What's so great about this place? We weren’t born here. We’re orphans!”

“That does not matter!"

"Yes it does! They still call you 'caído', Anthony! They still think you are a lost cause! Why do you care? This place sucks!"

"BECAUSE IT IS MY HOME!" Anthony took a deep breath. "Because it is our home! I love you, but please, no more stealing. Remember, you are better than this.”

Leaning in for a hug, Anthony was shoved away. 

“No, you mean you are better than this. I thought you were my brother.”

So he stormed off, and the two had a very rocky relationship after that.

It was a foggy night in San Ricardo, but that was good. Because it hid two lovers away from the world and its hatred. 

Pressed against a crumbling brick wall in a deserted alleyway, Ezra clung to Anthony as if letting go meant death. Because, in a way, it did.

“Anthony—querido—I...” Ezra's voice broke under the weight of his need. Anthony devoured him with kisses that bordered on desperation, as if trying to memorize the taste of him, the feel, the heat. As if afraid this moment would be their last.

“Dearest, please.” Sadly, Ezra had to cut the session short. “I have to go. My father will be expecting me soon. It is past eleven.”

The ginger sighed dramatically. “You're practically nineteen, why the hell do you still have a curfew?”

A soft laugh escaped the blonde. “I still have another six months to go, until that statement is true. Besides, you'll see me tomorrow.”

Anthony's face darkened. “Tomorrow is never just tomorrow with you, ángel. In two weeks you'll be gone. And the next time I see you, your father will have your bride.”

Ezra’s smile vanished.

“That’s not true, we still have time,” he whispered, but doubt was already clouding his sapphire eyes.

“I heard them, ángel. Your parents. She’s French. Her name is Anathema, she's on a boat. And it docks in three weeks.”

Ezra took a step back, disbelief painted his face. “What? No! No! I-I will not marry her! I will not marry anyone! Not if I can't have you! I love you and only you-”

Anthony silenced him with a trembling, desperate kiss. It was not just passion. It was pleading.

“It's good to hear you say that. Because I have a question for you,” he said softly. Then he fumbled at his vest, pulling out a small, worn velvet box. His hands shook.

“Ángel, Ezra. I know it isn't much, and I know this,” he gestured between the two of them, “has been going pretty fast. But, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

He opened the box to reveal a pearl ring. It was black and small, but still so precious.

Ezra's pupils dilated, his expression inscrutable. 

Nervously, Anthony continued. “I bought us a house. In England. It is small, but it is ours. A-And it is away from all this. And-and I have two boat tickets. We can leave tonight. Together. Please.”

Anthony, scared, looked deep into Ezra's eyes, only to be met with tears.

“Angel? I'm sorry- I was being stupid- I'll take it back-”

“No!” He felt a perfectly manicured hand tug his jacket. 

“I'm just so happy!” He choked out. “All this time, I thought- I thought you were just humoring me. That this was a fantasy. I didn’t dare believe... Anthony, I thought you’d eventually get bored of me, move on to some other woman or man. I thought your love was fleeting, I-”

“Ángel, I am so sorry I ever made you feel that way,” Anthony breathed. “You’re the only one I want. I love you and only you.”

“Oh! You truly love me! I-”

Ezra surged upwards and took Anthony in his hands. The kiss- passionate and fierce!

“Yes! Yes! I will marry you!” Anxiously, he took the ring and shoved it on. It was a perfect fit. Anthony laughed, his heart leaping.

The two returned to their kissing and throes of passion, uncaring if the world saw them. After a few more moments, Anthony turned solemn. 

“But Ezra, we have to leave now. The boat leaves in three hours. We have just enough time to make it.”

“¡¿Tres horas?! My dear- That gives me barely any time to pack! Or-or say my goodbyes! I have to-my mother- my brother-”

There’s no time,” Anthony said. “Write a note. Tell them the truth. That you chose love. That you chose us.”

Ezra nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. You're right.”

“Good. I'll meet you at the bridge in a half hour. Go and hurry!”

The two parted with one final, desperate kiss.

But fate is cruel.

Just as Anthony reached the town's edge, a strong arm yanked Anthony by the waistcoat and revealed a panicked man.

“Gabriel? What the hell-”

“Anthony, I'm in trouble. I'm in big trouble! It's Luciano and his gang. I owe them money. They're coming for me and they are going to kill me! Please help me!”

Anthony should’ve said no.

But he didn’t.

He didn't realise how this one decision would change his life forever. There wasn't a day that went by, he wished he could have taken it back.

“Gabriel hurry! I have to go!”

Anthony had helped him over the wall to his brother's house. He had said he hid some money there, and whatever was left, Anthony could pay it off.

Strange, he thought, Anthony had never been to his brother's house. He didn't even know he had a house. It looked so much like the-

No.

Oh dear god. Anthony came close to the sign, it read, “ El Banco de San Ricardo”.

Anthony was in shock. “Gabriel…what have you done?”

Gabriel jumped down into the wagon, “Vámonos!”

“Bastardo!” Anthony screamed. “This is the people's money! This is all they have!”

Anthony yelped as he felt a blade to his back, he turned to see Ezra's father.

“Comandante, please- I didn't know!”

He sneered, “You have disgraced me. Arrest them!”

But Gabriel wouldn't have it. He took the reins of the wagon and slashed.

“Hiyah!” The horses whinnied and galloped as fast as their hooves could take them. The town began to wake, all Anthony could hear were shouts and cries of shame, of fear, of disappointment. 

And in the blur, Anthony saw her.

“Mama…”

She looked at him with such hurt in her eyes. “Antonio?”

Heart breaking, he turned on Gabriel, fists flying, gripping his lapels.

“PENDEJO! YOU TRICKED ME!”

“I had no choice!”

“NO CHOICE?! I was happy! I was going to start my life with Ezra! BUT NOW BECAUSE OF YOU, I WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The two men fought over the reins, the horses, not knowing who to follow, tripped and fell, allowing the cart to overturn. The gold and silver spilled into the river below. 

Gabriel was hurt in the process, his leg broken. The soldiers were coming and Anthony stood still.

“Brother! Help me!”

Anthony shook his head.

“Please! Save me!”

Anthony scrunched his face in anger. “Save yourself!”

He turned, ready to run- when he saw him. Standing on the bridge. Bag in hand. Eyes wide, confused and broken.

“Ezra…”

“Anthony…?” Ezra whispered.

Anthony choked. “I’m sorry.” I'll come back for you…

Ezra shook his head, mouthing "no". He screamed as Anthony jumped into the falls. 

There Ezra stood alone, the ring on his hand cutting like a brand.

And for years, all he could ask himself were three questions.

What did I do wrong?

Why did the man I love abandon me?

Was any of it ever real?

Chapter Text

“Look, I know you’re angry with me,” Gabriel said, letting out a deep sigh as he trudged forward. “I messed up. I got greedy and desperate, and I let you down. I let myself down.”

Anthony regarded him with cold, unfeeling eyes, refusing to be swayed by his brother’s desperate plea for sympathy.

“Listen, all I’m asking for is a second chance,” Gabriel continued, taking a cautious step closer. “If you give me that chance, I’ll help you pay back San Ricardo.”

He extended his hand,“Please, Anthony.”

Slowly, Crowley’s gaze shifted to his pocket, where something of great importance lay hidden. 

I’m going to regret this.

Reluctantly, he took Gabriel’s hand. “Fine.”

Gabriel’s face lit up with relief. “Really? Thank you I-”

“I’m doing this for my mother, my home, and Ez- Zira.” Crowley struggled to call his love anything but Ezra.

“Not for you,” Anthony emphasized, making it clear that forgiveness was not on the table.

“Understood. We’ll be partners, not friends,” Gabriel replied, avoiding Crowley’s gaze, as if ashamed of himself.

“And one more thing,” Crowley tipped his hat, his voice steady. “I go by Crowley now.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “Okay. Crowley. We good?”

Crowley nodded.

“Great. Now that’s settled, we need to find Zira. Hopefully, she’ll have calmed down by the time we find her.”

Zira stormed down the cracked concrete road of her den. Her boots sent pebbles flying in every direction. Her rage- it was like a stew boiling over!

Men.

"Miss Zira? Maybe we could-" Eric's voice faltered as he caught the sharp look in her eyes. He shrank back. "Never mind."

“My God, I could just- RAHHHHH!”

With a feral yell, she whipped out her sword and assassinated a poor bush. Leaves flew. Stems snapped. Roots tore from the ground.

“Now what did that bush do to you?”

Zira froze. She knew who it was, but she didn't have it in her to face him. Not directly at least.

“It did nothing. It was an innocent bystander. It only died because of what YOU DID TO ME!” 

With a flick of her wrist, a dagger screamed through the air toward the source of that voice.

Crowley sidestepped it easily.

“You missed, áng-"

Immediately her eyes shot deep into his soul.

"Ahem. I mean Zira."

With confidence in his step, he walked toward her and circled her. Memorising every detail, new and old. He noticed how in eight years, his ex-lover had matured. The thighs had become stronger, fatter. The chest had developed more and the hair- well it was just as radiant as it was back then.

And fluffy.

“I never miss, Crowley,” she spat out with animosity. “Or should I say, the Serpent Demon?” She revealed a dirt stained wanted poster and flung it in his face.

He caught it. 

“I have a higher bounty than you.”

He chuckled. “Actually this is an old one. My bounty has tripled since then.”

Zira's grin grew sour. “Oh great. Another thing you ruined for me.”

Crowley's lips made thin. “What exactly have I ruined?”

“Fuck you, Crowley.” She tried to shove past him, but he caught her, and pulled her close.

“I’m not letting you walk away. Not until you tell me what I did.”

She slapped his hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

Crowley bared his teeth. “Oh that's rich. You kissed me nearly an hour ago!”

“I did it to get the key!"

“There were plenty of other ways to get the key, ángel.”

“DON’T EVER call me that!” Her voice cracked with more than rage. Pain. Shame. Longing. “You ruined that part of my life! Just like you ruin everything!”

Crowley sarcastically questioned. “Oh really? What exactly did I ruin?”

Zira exploded. “Oh REAL- Let me list everything! My fifteenth birthday! My-my mother's soirée! My education! My-my father's reputation! My library! My HORSE- My- GAH!”

Her bosom heaved, rising and falling fast. The flushing of her face revealed her true feelings. 

Suddenly the atmosphere shifted, and she could feel the heat. 

Crowley took a slow step forward, voice low now. “That’s not all I ruined, was it?”

Zira didn’t move.

He reached for her wrist.

“I also ruined…” he leaned in, “your purity,” and kissed her pulse.

Crowley heard the sharp intake of her breath, he smirked.

Eric meowed.

Crowley’s hand reached for her hair, aching to feel its softness again-

WHAM!

Zira grabbed his hand, flipped him clean over her shoulder, but not before delivering a powerful punch to the crotch.

Crowley curled into the fetal position with a wheeze. “AGH! Jesus! Why?!”

“Touch me like that again and I’ll shoot you.”

She took out her silver pistol, showing it off.

“Now get up” she said. “We're losing moonlight. You can whimper about your balls on the way.

Chapter Text

“Davina! Top me off again!” The old man banged his glass against the counter, releasing a boisterous laugh. “And again!”

She rolls her eyes and prays for mercy. “And again,” she whispers under her breath. 

After kindly refilling it, his aggression gets the better of him. Without warning, he grabs her by the waist and pulls her in close. She groans in disgust, she could smell the six hours of alcohol.

“Let me go, Fernando.” She attempts to remove his grimy hand from her hip, but he only tightens.

“C'mon Dav…let me have ya.” He only gets one taste of her cheek before his face meets the floor and his cheek meets her boot.

“Ah! Perra!”

“Walk it off Fernando.” She stares coldly before continuing her rounds.

That's when her favorite part makes himself seen. He's the perfect brushstroke in an ugly portrait. 

He's sitting in the back, fidgeting with his hands. He always felt awkward here. It wasn't his scene, the steely glares and gross language made that definite. 

But he comes anyway. Just to see her. Beautiful and smart, her.

He shouldn't, but he does. It's a sin, but Davina's just so kind. (And she's so distant these days.)

“Hello, Mr. Pulsifer.” She greets with a smile. “How are you, tonight?”

Davina. Right. Speak.

“I'm doing just fine, Miss Davina. And you? I saw that man- I should've- I mean- I was about to- but the crowd-”

Blushing, she giggled. “I'm a big girl, Mr. Pulsifer. I can handle it.” 

Boldly, she placed her hand over his, “but thank you."

He returned the gesture, of the blushing, of course. Not the hand holding. He couldn't, not ever. He made marital vows. 

“W-well, of course. How could anyone else ever run this fine establishment?” He offered, hoping she would pull away, before he did something he'd regret.

Davina snorts. “Oh please. This hellhole would run fine without me.” 

The man sprung to his feet, knocking over several plates. “That's not true! Also I'm sorry- I made a mess. Here I'll-”

“No, it's fine. I got it- ahh!”

A large drunk barrels by, sending Davina down- and straight into Mr. Pulsifer’s arms. 

“Woah! Are you okay?”

Her response was caught in her throat. Her cheeks…so hot. And he was close. His grip was firm yet gentle. His eyes- his scent-

“Yes,” she manages, “Yes, I'm fine.”

“Ay! Miss Davina,” a man bellowed from across the room. “I need Mr. Pulsifer. It's business time. Save whatever this is,” he gestures vaguely at their awkward position, “for later.”

“Of-of course. Sorry Mr. Shadwell.” Helping Davina to her feet, he kissed her hand. “It's been lovely seeing you. Have a good evening.”

And then he's gone. Like every night.

But like every night, he always leaves her with a breathless smile.

Still dazed from that kiss, Davina barely notices the new letter on her table. She walks over with a knowing smirk.

"Already Zira?"

A young brunette was gripping the headboards, scrunched and white, his head thrown back in utter ecstasy as his moustached lover pounded into him.

“Oh God. Oh YES! FUCK!”

The young man came with a smile, spilling seed all over their stomachs. He groaned as he felt his older lover flooded him.

The two shared a filthy kiss, biting, gnawing, tearing, tasting one another on each other's tongue. Both hungry for dominance.

“Oh darling,” Miles gripped his husband’s hair, “that was wonderful.”

Ginger laughed dryly, “How is it that everytime I get mad, we end up like this?”

With a wicked smirk, Miles tugged his husband’s necklace. “Because you can't resist me.”

Rolling over, he shoves Miles deep into the mattress. “How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t touch my key.”

Miles feigned innocence and pouted. “I'm sorry darling,” he mocked. “I keep forgetting.”

Growling, Ginger took his lover's cock in his hand and squeezed. Resulting in a very pornographic moan. “Maybe you need a reminder,” his voice dangerously low.

The brunette shivered as felt a finger smear his precum. “Oh yes. Remind me.”