(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.