(no subject)

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Date: March 27, 2001
Status: Private - Crowley and Gabriel
Setting: London
Summary: The first leg of the journey, continued from here

Following the angel to the airport was a relatively simple matter. Crowley was well aware of the difficulties inherent in flying in the city but moreso knew that there was only one possible destination no matter how his quarry traveled. Thus he didn't worry when he lost Gabriel's trace on occasion. He'd pick it up again at Heathrow. Using short cuts and certain driving techniques, the demon made it to the airport not five minutes before Gabriel's plane left.

Parking in the loading zone, confident that his car wouldn't be bothered, Crowley hurried inside. The angel's aura was stronger here and he wondered what miracle he'd needed to perform in order to make his flight. As it was strongest at the British Airlines desk, the demon followed. In moments, he'd learned that Mr. Gabriel Engel - how original - was bound for Copenhagen on a flight that had just left. With a vehement curse and a lot of yelling, the cowed lady behind the desk who could coolly deal with even the most drunken and belligerent fliers but not a angry demon, found a seat on a rival Air France flight that was due to leave in half an hour. Crowley produced his passport and strode toward the gate.

***

Over the next several hours, he trailed Gabriel through the streets of Copenhagen, then back to the airport. It had apparently been only a stop to throw off anyone who might be following him. Which wasn't a bad idea in theory, but Crowley wondered just how dumb the angel thought he was. They went next to Munich for a day, and then to Oslo, before ending in Amsterdam, where Crowley's normally thin patience wore out.

Comments

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

After three days, he was beginning to wonder if this was all rather a bad idea.

Despite their generally adversarial relationship, Gabriel did not underestimate Crowley's intelligence: much the opposite, in fact. He feared that the demon would soon understand that he was leading them nowhere, and then he would lose Crowley's attention and cooperation altogether. He wasn't sure what measures could be taken next. Having not started out in an amiable place, he was reasonably certain that Crowley wasn't going to react kindly to this deception, not in these circumstances.

And what would an angered agent of Hell mean for him, for Belial? Would Crowley take up the search in earnest, out of spite? Gabriel couldn't imagine it, but then he did not know the price for loyalty in Hell.

Whatever the consequence, at least he had now given Belial three days' head start with this game. He didn't know what else he could do, or how much longer he would be able to distract Crowley if he didn't confront the demon now: either they would be able to come to some sort of understanding about their situation or - more likely - he could delay Crowley for another hour or two. He didn't know what would happen after that, but he was fairly sure that the longer the demon stayed stationary in Lower Tadfield, the more likely Hell was to replace him on this assignment. And the replacement was what worried Gabriel most, more than the demon's current displeasure.

He was seated at a glass-topped table outside a traditional brown cafe, tucked away in the corners of a side street in Amsterdam. It was closed at this hour, and the angel saw no others on the street. All around him were large, oppressive buildings from more modern eras that seemed to smother the cafe in their shadows. Progress, the mortals would likely call the effect; though it felt different to one who had witnessed each of the stages of man firsthand.

The weight of those centuries draped heavily upon him now, as he sat in the hush of darkness - too late to be called morning, too early for night. It was a deeper weariness weighing him down than that which drove most humans to their beds at this hour: Earth seemed to seep one's energy away, even in the quiet moments. But he could not leave now. He did not dare, until he'd seen Crowley's reaction to this abrupt galvanization.

Besides, the presence of the demon was close behind him now, and he had grown used to the unease of waiting.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Gabriel had finally stopped. Crowley assumed he'd found Belial, but he couldn't rejoice in the idea; didn't want this confrontation. He would be severely injured again and for no reason but the preservation of all their existences. Well, he'd give as good as he'd get, anyway, and he couldn't claim that he wouldn't enjoy that part at least. It had been too long since he'd been able to let go entirely on opponents that he didn't need to be careful around and who probably wouldn't kill him outright. It'd be a nice change from all the fruitless verbal arguments at any rate.

The angel was nearby - just down the street now. Crowley didn't sense the other demon's presence, but then, he didn't expect to considering John's spell. He approached obliquely. He'd been led on a merry chase so far, sure at some points that Gabriel knew someone was following, and he didn't want them to simply flee again. The lesser demon was tired and wanted to get this over with.

As he came upon the table, however, Gabriel was sitting there alone in a frozen tableau as if the world had passed him by and left them both stranded in this odd, empty moment. Crowley's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms; he didn't like being played for a fool and was tired of the silence and the games.

"Gabriel. What the fuck are you playing at?"

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Stark anticipation heightened Gabriel's senses: unlike Crowley, the archangel had not fallen into the habit of sleep, and the confrontation in the air banished his contemplative weariness and stirred him to vigilance more than a night's rest could have. Gabriel had no real desire to fight Crowley, of course - realistically, he'd been the one patching the demon up afterward, lately. But he understood that that might be just what the demon was prepared for - might be what the angel had driven him to - and while he knew he should be able to overpower Crowley easily if it came down to it, it didn't hurt to be prepared.

"Crowley," he said in return. "Fancy meeting you here." The irony of the statement seemed to fall flat in the empty street; he expected the demon was likely in no mood for his humor. That didn't stop him, however, from summoning up a near-smile and gesturing to the chair opposite his. "Do have a seat, won't you?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Gabriel was toying with him and Crowley wasn't going to stand for it; he'd had enough of being treated like an idiotic third-class citizen for having had the audacity to attempt to help in the first place.

Furious, he stepped forward, grabbed the archangel's shirt collar, and hauled him to his feet. "I haven't followed you for three days jusst to engage in casual civilities," he hissed, no longer actively tired, but dusty and travel worn. "Is he here or not?"

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Well, he'd managed to keep Crowley unsure; which hopefully meant anyone who might be tracking Hell's agent or his progress would be thrown off their guard as well. Hopefully it had all been worth something...

He did not react to Crowley's violent movement; he hoped that Crowley had no real drive to hurt him and that by showing no resistance, they could bypass the physical side of this fight and get straight to their usual verbal argument, which he was at least more accustomed to. The Messenger was, by nature, not much of a warrior. And on top of everything else, Gabriel did not wish to carry with him the guilt of using his powers against the frustrated demon unless it became truly necessary.

"He's not here," he answered, careful to keep any emotion from his voice. "I don't know where he is."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

With a sound of utter disgust, Crowley threw Gabriel back into his chair. "Why are angels such fucking morons?" he screamed to the night and the empty street. "Did you think I was actually going to go looking for him?" The demon ran a hand through his mussed hair and half turned away. "Damn it! Now you've exposed us both and accomplished nothing. I hope you're well pleased with yourself, Messenger," he spat.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"I didn't know what you were going to do." Gabriel kept his gaze not above or below, but down the deserted street, as though he thought someone really might have followed the two of them here. Mostly, though, he saw nothing but shifting shadow; harmless, for the time being. "But somehow I don't think that you trailing me for three days is going to look any more suspicious than you not leaving the manor at all."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"And you didn't think to - oh, I don't know - ask?" Crowley snapped.

He swiveled on his heel and moved against Gabriel's ear to whisper harshly, "No? You don't think they'll think it's a little suspicious that the second I got the first hint of his location, I followed you instead? If they didn't know about the two of you before, they do now. That or they think I'm unfit for this task, neither of which does you any favours, trumpet boy. And now the plan I made while I was biding my time is shot to shit because you decided to be clever."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Gabriel sat a bit more stiffly in his seat as Crowley moved closer. He'd been expecting the demon to be angry, of course, but it wasn't always easy to stay passive in the matter. Crowley had, after all, spent six thousand years learning just what he could say that would burrow deepest under one's skin, that would sting the most.

The angel had, in fact, considered discussing the matter with Crowley, but only after his first plane had taken off: It didn't seem the most tactful thing to admit now that, as he'd watched Heathrow recede into a small blotch beneath him, confident that Crowley was somewhere nearby, he'd quickly decided that the demon would only have been argumentative and unpleasant about the issue. So far, he was seeing no evidence to the contrary.

"They don't know you're following me, serpent," he said; and though his own confidence in this statement wavered, there was a hardness to his previously not-quite-amiable tone that spoke otherwise. "They don't know where he's gone, and they don't know what my orders are, so there's nothing to suggest we're not simply each tracking him independently. I very much doubt that three days of you lagging along behind me has given away anything about 'the two of us,' and really, I don't see how this could make you look any more unfit than not leaving Lower Tadfield at all."

He settled more easily into his seat, as though speaking the words aloud had made them somewhat more tangible, boosting his shaky confidence. "But by all means, demon, tell me," he added, his tone more cordial if still somewhat dry, "what was your plan?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Unwilling to admit that Gabriel's barb about being unfit had hit home, Crowley sneered.

"They don't know I'm following you? It's more plausible to think that I just happen to keep ending up in all the same places as a sodding archangel with an unnatural interest in an ex-Crown of Hell? Most demons are dumb, but not all of them and not that much. Underestimate the wrong one at the wrong time and you're fucked." He smacked the table with the heel of his hand. "If I'd had any indication that I didn't have to come after you and save your sorry arse again, I'd be halfway across the planet right now and we could have done this right."

The demon sank into a chair, suddenly tired from his emotional outburst. "I've been keeping an eye on the news," he explained, his voice rough. "I spend half my day reading bloody papers from around the world, trying to find patterns of unexplained deaths or disappearances. Probably disappearances. Belial's too canny to leave bodies around. I thought that in that way, I'd either find him and be able to avoid his location, or find enough evidence to logically go somewhere else when something like this happened. But rather than use my months of apparently pointless research and look good for the cameras in doing so, I've been wandering aimlessly around Northern Europe and ended up in this dump. With you."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"So your plan," Gabriel began, his cautious tone not matching his inflammatory words, "was to sit about reading newspapers for another three months and... then wander aimlessly? And you're upset because, what, I didn't stop to peruse the headlines first? Should I have consulted Belial's horoscope in the back, too, just to be sure?"

He surveyed the demon across the table, noting that Crowley's face seemed tight, drawn with the same lines of fatigue that the angel suspected might have been etched in his own expression upon arriving in Amsterdam. Perhaps it was the discovery of this similarity that added more understanding to his tone as he continued. "Or is all this just to emphasize that I should have spoken to you first?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Oh, fuck you," said Crowley wearily. "This isn't easy, you know. I put everything on the line for you and your boyfriend and it's a fine fucking line to tread."

He sighed. "Look, we both care about him, though in vastly different ways and for vastly different reasons. The least we can bloody well do is talk. I refuse to have him caught and me dragged down with him because you and I couldn't manage a civil conversation. So can the tough act and let's figure out what happens now."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"Fair enough," the angel replied. He was uncomfortably aware of the risks they each had taken thus far, and he also knew that Crowley was right: there was no better way to help Belial than to attempt to do so together.

"So far as I am aware, the only demons who know of any special circumstances between Belial and myself are you and Lucifer. I think it would be plausible for you to say you were after the Crown, but were waylaid in Amsterdam by the archangel Gabriel? No one needs to know you have any idea why I would be seeking him as well." The angel's gaze was sober as he watched the demon across from him, but Gabriel kept any malice from his tone, even when he spoke the Morningstar's name, and tried to sound as though he were inviting the demon's - hopefully less vehement - opinion.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley would have given his opinion whether it was solicited or not.

"We don't know what the Morningstar knows," he said, beginning to fall into habits of explanation and rationalization that he'd made with Aziraphale a millennia prior with the adoption of the Arrangement. "I think if he suspected something between the two of you, he would have mentioned it when he... gave me my new assignment." There, that sounded professional and not at all gory. "Unless, of course, he's testing me." Crowley wasn't being paranoid. He was simply thinking in knots the way he had to in order to survive. "But waylaid is fine. No one would doubt that in a fight with an archangel, I'd get my arse handed to me. That doesn't explain why I followed you for three days first, though."

The demon was silent a moment as he parsed a thought. "What if you lured me out here with the promise of information on Belial, stopping in those other cities to make it look believable? Then, once I was outside of Adam's protection, you made your move. You get to look clever to whomever you report to for whatever reason you want and I look foolish rather than treasonous. I can't look too stupid or I'll lose this job, but being underestimated is always an advantage..." Which was possibly a technique he was using at that very moment. The life of a long-term double agent is a complex one, but in the end his loyalties lay with, well, Crowley.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Gabriel could hear Belial's words from what seemed ages ago (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/4551.html?thread=16583#t16583), accusing him of living in sheltered world. It had been true, to some extent: for at that time, Gabriel had had his concerns handed to him alongside his duties. They had been shared with most all of Heaven, and rarely had a shadow lurked nearby that he had had to face alone.

Now, it seemed, the fears he harbored were his own, and no one in Heaven would know, save One. He was seated across from an enemy whom he did not feel he could trust, not fully. Crowley was no longer one of his brethren, and what had he to offer the demon but some insubstantial idea of loyalty to a fugitive of Hell? In the end, it would be in Crowley's best interest to find the missing Crown, and the angel could not overlook this.

However, there was perhaps some tenuous balance to their current circumstance. After all, Crowley could have found some way to use Gabriel's situation to his advantage by now, but he had not; neither had Gabriel given away Crowley's tryst with another angel. Perhaps there was some bond forged by their time together under the same roof. Or perhaps it was simply that, in this moment, Gabriel had no one else.

"Will that cause too much trouble for you, saying you decided to come after me rather than following him when he made his presence known?" he asked, after the silence of his own musings. He recalled briefly the horrific images of finding Crowley unconscious on the hospital floor (http://community.livejournal.com/neutral_omens/122543.html); despite their differences, he had no wish to be the cause of further atrocity such as that. "Perhaps you could tell them that I was the one who forced Belial to betray his location, but by the time you arrived, you found only me?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Gabriel would likely never know Crowley's motivations for the things he did. They were complicated and largely self-serving, except when they were not. Without more of an idea as to the depth of his relationship with John, the understanding he had with Adam, his true position in the convoluted ranks of Hell, and to some extent, the price of his estrangement from Aziraphale, the Messenger could not know why the demon would likely never betray him.

Crowley remembered being utterly vulnerable in his hands; recalled Gabriel's faint stirrings of pity and sympathy for the Enemy, regardless of how poorly they were received, and two relatively companionable drunken evenings when perhaps the gap between the greatest of angels and least of demons was not so vast to be entirely unbridgeable. It wasn't enough to entirely overcome an eternity of enmity, nor the impotent frustration of the last three days, but it was a start.

"That... could work," he admitted grudgingly. "I thought I was following his trail, but I was, in fact, following yours after you'd encountered him first." It sounded like Crowley was rehearsing his story, getting the feel for it in his mouth. "But then, what did you do and where, and why were you after him?"

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Heaven got word that an upper level demon broke away and wanted... information. Knowledge about Lucifer, or any unrest in Hell. It makes sense that they'd send someone they know can stand up to a Crown, as they don't know how he'd react." The explanation spilled forth without him really thinking about it; it seemed plausible enough that the angel was a bit surprised that he hadn't in reality received such an assignment.

"As for what happened to draw your attention... well. Breaking away from Lucifer isn't necessarily the same thing as betraying him to the other side. Perhaps he reacted badly, or simply wasn't willing to negotiate with an angel." Memories of those occasions when he and Belial had been at odds seemed quite distant now to Gabriel, and yet somehow more real than those few months they'd spent together before all this had torn their delicate bond. In that moment, none of it was pleasant to recall.

"Does that work for you?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"No. Heaven shouldn't know about Belial's desertion," the demon argued. "Last thing he needs is the other side coming after him, too, even if he's invisible to them as well. That's the only thing protecting him now."

Crowley wracked his brains for a creative and plausible explanation. "What if you overheard the Antichrist telling someone else where to find him and get the valuable information he held about Hell's plans? Then, taking the initiative as you knew yourself to be at least his equal, you followed immediately, worried that you'd miss the event if you went through the usual channels. There you found him, but your cover was blown somehow and he fled. I felt the shock and followed the trail, finding only you at the end of it. We battled, I lost, his trail is cold, back to square one."

He raised an eyebrow, challenging Gabriel to find a hole in his construct.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"I think, whether you say I heard it from the Antichrist or anyone else, that the assumption will be the same. Once we leave here, Heaven will know what I know." Gabriel was sober about this point: he hadn't exactly been open about his relationship with Belial, but he had never directly lied about it, and he didn't care to start now if he could possibly avoid it. However, he needed some reasoning for his unexpected detour, as well.

"I could say I'd been keeping an eye on him while we were both at the manor." Quite the understatement, perhaps, but not entirely untrue. Like Crowley, he spoke almost as though he were rehearsing the words for future recitation. "He left suspiciously, without warning, so I followed as soon as there was sign of him. And then you, like you said, followed the trail only to find the wrong being. That puts both of us back at the beginning, I believe."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Taking his time to carefully think through all the possible angles, Crowley eventually nodded. "Yeah, that covers both our bases and keeps him protected as well. We'll go with your idea."

Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet again wearily, gazed at Gabriel a long moment, and tried to stay loose. "All right, let's just get this over with. Hit me with your best shot and get the fuck out of here."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Gabriel blinked, and looked up at Crowley with an appalled expression, as though the demon had just suggested that he go and do something deplorable with his trumpet. "Surely you don't actually want me to... fight you?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley looked at him like he was stupid. "Yeah, unless you were planning on telling Heaven that you found the Serpent and had a lovely conversation then sent him on his way with a pat on the head. Enemies, remember? I won't even fight back. C'mon, Messenger."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"Don't be ridiculous," Gabriel said with a frown. "I've spent far too much time patching you together to just attack you without reason."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"You have a reason, idiot," Crowley sneered, wondering how long it would take to goad the archangel into it. "If you ever want to fuck Belial's glittery arse again, we have to save it first."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"Do you really think you're going to fool me by being crass?" Gabriel asked. Though he wasn't ready to respond to the demon's taunts, his expression had grown cold. "Just leave, and I'll create a scene once you've gone." He didn't need the other around to use enough energy that any being nearby should notice, and it would still corroborate their story.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Actually, no. He didn't think he'd fool Gabriel by being crass. But the demon did think he could get him in a bad mood and that part seemed to work fine. What Gabriel didn't seem to understand was that if he walked away easily from an encounter with an archangel, not a single denizen of Hell would believe his story, no matter if the entire city were otherwise destroyed. They had to fight and he had to have real injuries, even if the Messenger didn't want to get his hands dirty. It was faintly pleasant that he actually gave a damn, but this wasn't the time.

Without thinking about who would be available to put him back together again this time, Crowley just lashed out unexpectedly, catching the angel across the face with his claws. There was one shining moment of frozen time and then four parallel gashes across Gabriel's cheek began to bleed.

He had to react to a direct attack, right?

Crowley followed the blow with a low kick, trying to get Gabriel's feet out from under him.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

The Serpent struck so quickly that Gabriel was not able to completely escape the brunt of the attack; although, as blood welled on his cheek, it was not the wounds but the surge of infernal power that stung him.

He had just enough warning to duck the kick, keeping his balance, and responded with enough of his own powers to knock Crowley backwards without any physical blow: the Messenger was by nature not a warrior, and what experience he had was now ages old, from a time when those who were his enemies had been more clearly distinguishable. He had not the inclination, though if Crowley were to force him...

He glared at Crowley, holding the other temporarily at bay by sheer force of will. "You don't want to do this, demon."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

From his suddenly prone position on the ground, Crowley glared murderously up at Gabriel, barely feeling the effects of the weak attack through the adrenalin rush. "Don't fucking patronize me, angel," he spat. "I am sick and tired of righteous arseholes telling me what I want to do or ought to do. I'm not a child to be ordered about for my own good. I'm a demon. I'm as old as you are, I have vastly more experience of the three planes than you do, and I know what the fuck I'm doing."

He scrambled to his feet. "I've made my choices, Messenger, and I know what side I'm on. If you don't trust me, fine, but if you get in my way I will run you down."

Fighting the impulse to extend his battered wings - they'd be of no help now - Crowley darted to one side and raked at Gabriel's side, aiming a knee into his solar plexus at the same time.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

Gabriel shoved Crowley away, scrambling back himself. Maybe the demon was right, and maybe he was just burning off excess frustrations brought to a boil over the past few days, but Crowley clearly wasn't going to settle for less than a fight.

"Run me down? I've survived much worse than you, Serpent," he spat, and it surprised him the force and vehemence with which the old patterns of speaking returned to him. But then, it had been a short time in which he had considered Crowley anything but the Enemy...

He snatched up the chair he'd so recently been sitting in and swung it at the demon before Crowley could formulate another attack; the action sent a shock of pain through the new wounds oozing at his side, but made a sickening thud upon contact, letting him know he'd hit his target. Let him have his bruises if he must.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Forcing himself to stay still and let the chair knock him down, Crowley directed a humourless smile into the ground for the success of his plan. Rolling to his feet, he tried to ignore the sharp ache coming from his ribs. He'd instigated this for the injuries, so he'd just better deal with them.

"Like what? The only thing you've done with demons recently is screw them," he sneered, shoving the angel hard against the rough stone wall of the cafe and pinning him there by the shoulders. He kept his body just an inch from Gabriel's, hoping to prevent the archangel from having the leverage to deliver a knee to the groin and maybe just to disconcert him a little.

It was a far cry from the shaky truce they'd managed in the previous half hour, but Crowley hoped that one day Gabriel would understand why this was all necessary. It was always so much easier when the damn angels just shut up and cooperated.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

With the sound of shredding fabric, Gabriel's wings sprung forth, forcing the pair of them away from the wall; Crowley stumbled back, giving Gabriel just enough of the upper hand be able to shove them both off-balance. He landed on top of the demon with uncomfortable force.

Pinned to the ground, his white and gold wings arched over them like a misplaced shield. It was a risk, perhaps, to expose the vulnerable limbs. But then, Gabriel knew very well that Crowley could not do the same, as he had patched up the demon's broken wings himself; and perhaps that is what drove him.

"I think you've dug yourself deep enough already, demon," he hissed near Crowley's ear. "Or do you insist on making every situation worse with your vile tongue?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Lying prone on the ground underneath an angel, shoulders burning, sternum crushed, glasses gone, Crowley was experiencing too many recollections and conflicting emotions to be able to handle any of them effectively. So, as he usually did in these situations, he pushed it all away - all the inconvenient feelings and memories - and let his instincts take over. The goal was to infuriate the archangel, right?

Feeling reckless and possibly suicidal, he smiled insouciantly, reptilian eyes locked to ethereal blue. "I do try. Sweet of you to notice, really." And that vile tongue darted out to lick the weeping gashes marring Gabriel's perfect face.

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

The angel shuddered, retracted, as though the action had had some real effect. His expression was grave, twisted slightly with revulsion, and his eyes were hard on Crowley's. His lips parted as though to speak, but instead he pulled away completely, getting to his feet. Giving up his advantage in this haphazard fight.

He stood, half in shadow with only the dingy light of street lamps pooled around them, and barely dared look at Crowley. In that dull, weary moment, it was hard to remember why they were here; why he'd just attacked one of the few demons he'd ever known any sort of sympathy for. But there was just enough of the oppressive weight still tight in his chest to remind him that it was easier not to think about it at all.

"You have your injuries to show," he said tersely. "I think that should be sufficient."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Had Gabriel yelled or fought or cried or done something, anything, Crowley could have kept going; supernatural energy reserves, a bottomless well of deep-seated anger, and all-too-human adrenalin would have made it possible even after their long travels. But the angel just stood there looking all defeated though he'd won, and it tore at something deeper than Crowley's physical aches; something painful that couldn't be miracled away.

Yes, Gabriel was the Enemy. They'd been on opposite sides from time immemorial without the flexibility that the Arrangement provided. He'd been a cold, officious prick for as long as Crowley could recall, smug and demanding and compassionate... Wait, what? Not to John, certainly, and that made the demon flush furious, but to Aziraphale in what seemed like a lifetime ago, and to himself more than once, though there'd been no reason why he should.

The Messenger stood there under the sickly yellow light, a paragon of angels looking like nothing so much as a lost little boy, and the Serpent of Eden felt something twisting in his gut. Some slight measure of guilt or empathy, if that was possible, lonely in unlikely territory. Gabriel had recently lost his lover and the rocks upon which he'd built his world kept being overturned one by one. It was familiar, perhaps. Yet he'd never so much as thought to question the ineffable. He kept to his path. It was a faith Crowley had never, obviously, been able to sustain and it wearied him beyond endurance. He closed his eyes.

"Go then, angel."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

This time, Gabriel did not argue; did not spare another glance for the injured demon before, wings unfurled, he disappeared into the darkness.