outside_omens | (no subject)

Date: October 11, 2000
Status: Private - Zatanna and Crowley
Setting: Zee's apartment in NYC
Summary: Early-morning conversation and unexpected revelations.

John was sleeping, finally. Zatanna had no idea how the man functioned on so little sleep, especially plagued by nightmares as he seemed to be. Not that that was anything new--it had been the same in the old days. Maybe worse; it was tough to say after all this time. It didn't seem to faze him, but it didn't make him a particularly restful bedmate, either.

It just figured, she thought with a sigh, that her own occasional insomnia would kick in about the time he finally settled down. Occupational hazard in the biz, she supposed. Dad had had the same problem.

Wrapped in a slinky nightgown resurrected from the back of her closet this past week or so and a much more pragmatic, fluffy blue robe and slippers, she made herself some hot cocoa and sat down at the dining room table, glancing at the clock across the room. Nearly 4 am. If he kept to the pattern he'd been following so far, Crowley would be back soon. She wondered what exactly John's slick, sharp-witted friend got up to on his nightly jaunts in the big city, and she knew much better than to ask. He behaved himself when he was around the apartment, and that was enough.

Although she thought she'd have forgiven him quite a bit more demonic behavior than what he'd exhibited, now that she'd had a chance to watch them together. John and Crowley. A weirder, more unlikely friendship she couldn't imagine. But then again, most everything about John was weird and unlikely, and God knew he was rough on his human acquaintances. It didn't have to make sense, as long as it worked. And it did, that much was obvious.

Trust was not a thing that came easily to John Constantine. Zatanna couldn't help but envy the demon the easy camaraderie he shared with the man. She wondered if he had any idea what it meant. She wasn't entirely certain she did, but it had given her an idea.

The boys would be leaving soon, so if she meant to go through with it, it was probably just as well she was awake right now. It'd be easier to catch Crowley alone at this hour.

Dad would have said she was insane. He might be right, too. But crazy was already sleeping in her bed, and coming in from a hard night's mischief any minute; no sense worrying about it now.

---

Correction: The unexplained events mentioned in this comment occurred in Newcastle, not Liverpool.

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"John," he murmured, tracing the resemblance again in wonder. Just because reproduction was often a nasty, brutal, and disgusting sort of thing didn't mean it wasn't also a miracle. And to imagine a child, a mix of John and Zatanna, good-looking, smart, charming, a magnet for the occult, possibly quite powerful... it made Crowley uncomfortable. Worried, he would have called it, if he experienced such things. Concerned about the welfare of someone he'd never even met. He wondered if parents felt this way when they saw their kids for the first time and decided not to ask.

The demon nodded, understanding immediately what she was asking and taking on that responsibility. He felt he owed at least that much to John. The darker, more cynical part of Crowley thought that if John had taken a shine to him, it was because he was quite possibly the man's last chance at any sort of salvation. Funny that. But the small part of him that had clearly spent too much time around angels thought about their unlikely friendship - and the bond that had formed after sharing the same feelings and memories - and wondered if John could have done anything else. If he hadn't, it'd be like rejecting a part of himself. Or a child...

He snorted. "Durable friends, huh. Well, that depends on Adam, I think, but I've been pretty resilient so far. If John needs to know and we can't get hold of you, I will tell him. But not unless or until it's necessary. That acceptable?"

"What, don't tell me you're out of warranty after only six millennia?" Zatanna laughed softly. "That's perfect. Thanks. It's a load off my mind. Refill?"

Crowley chuckled back. "What makes you think Hell gives a warranty? We're the original fine print." He didn't acknowledge her thanks, but he did push his mug nearer to her. "That'd be great. Don't suppose you could throw some brandy in there, too, huh? It's been a long night."

"Hair of the hellhound, huh?" Zee smirked as she poured, then got up to fetch the brandy, setting the bottle down next to Crowley's cup. "There you go, suit yourself. I hate to adulterate good cocoa."

It was the oddest thing, sharing hot chocolate and intimate secrets with a bona fide fallen angel. (Well, maybe not the oddest. But it ranked right up there in the top ten.) She was coming to see how John had let his guard down, though. She'd met other supernatural entities masquerading as humans, and some of them had absorbed enough humanity by association to pull it off fairly convincingly, but there was always something just a little bit off about them. The average person generally wouldn't catch it, but if you knew what to look for, it would give them away every time. With Crowley, though, it just didn't seem to be there. He was either the best actor she'd ever met in her life or he'd really, truly gone native.

"Whereas I'll adulterate just about anything," joked Crowley wryly.

It was a safe bet to say that he'd gone native. You can't pretend to be something that long without actually becoming it. He'd been there when civilization was just getting its feet, watched societies grow and impose rules and standards of behaviour on its people and if he wanted to blend in, he had to follow them, too. After a while it got too hard to maintain the voice on the inside that said 'I don't believe any of this nonsense. This is not who I am,' because he never much liked the demon Crawly and this really was who he was.

"Hmm. I'm not sure I want to know just what you mean by that..."

From down the hallway, the sound of the bedroom door opening could be heard, and Zee quickly shut the scrapbook and set it on the floor where the drape of her bathrobe hid it from view. John shuffled out into the living room a moment later, clad in pajama bottoms and frowning blearily, one hand pressed to his temple. "The fuck you two doing up at this hour?" he muttered, squinting at the clock.

"Just shooting the breeze," she said, hoping she didn't sound as guilty as she felt, or failing that, that John was too groggy to notice. "Got a headache, babe?"

"Ngk. Aspirin?"

"Bathroom cabinet, lefthand door, second shelf. G'wan back to bed, I'll be there in a few."

"Yeah, all right." He started to turn, then paused with a faint suggestion of a smirk. "Don't either of you believe more than half what the other says..." And he turned around and ambled back off down the hall.

Crowley hid his grin with his mug until John had padded away. He touched Zatanna's arm. "You and he will sleep soundly and wake up feeling refreshed." The demon stood. "As for me, I'm taking a very long shower. I'll see you later." With that, he headed for the guest bedroom.

"Thanks hon. G'night. Er, morning." Zee watched her strange houseguest vanish, then finished her cocoa, put the cups and the scrapbook away, and returned to her bedroom.

Crawling into bed, she was promptly engulfed in a warm, sleepy embrace. "Told you you'd like 'im," John murmured, yawning as he settled her snug against him.

"Mm-hmm. He's a doll," she said, smiling a little sadly to herself. This would be all too easy to get used to. And totally out of the question, long-term. Just as well the boys would be heading home, soon.

But she could enjoy it while it lasted, and breathe a little easier now that she no longer carried her secret alone.