Neutral Omens

"Fine," he snapped. "I accept your counter. But my friends and property are only 'fair game' as long as they remain inside the hospital. When they are outside the hospital, you revert to leaving them alone unless they expressly state otherwise."

It would be fine if Loki upheld the bargain. Crowley would simply tell his friends the situation and then it would be up to them to decide what to do. As for the animals, that was easy, too. Chicago was the only one he could tolerate and vice versa.

The demon turned to John. "Happy, now?"

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John (who would indeed turn Loki over to Adam if it came to that, because he knew perfectly well the boy wouldn't do worse than give him a stern talking-to) had listened to all this, arms folded and eyes narrowed, and nodded slowly.

"It'll do," he grunted. "Just to clarify, though--I'm not anybody's pet human. The only person who dictates who I do or don't hang around with is me." He raised his eyebrows expressively. The same applied to everybody else on Crowley's list, of course (minus the human bit,) but they could defend their own honor. "Now, since that's out of the way--not that anyone asked, but I tripped over a sodding rat on my way in here and hit my head on the way down. Nobody's fault but mine and the rodent's." He carried on quickly, knowing full well that it was no mystery how a rat could have got in there and not wanting it to start another round of arguments, "So I'm gonna go find the little bastard and corral him before he gives Anathema the vapors, and then see if this place has got any Pepto-Bismol, awright? I'll be back, Loki. Try and get some rest, the cursebreaking's coming up soon.

"And Crowley--thanks." He smiled slightly, not wanting to leave the impression that the demon's speedy appearance had gone unmarked or unappreciated--or the concessions he'd made, either.

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leucemic-god.livejournal.com

Had Crowley really just agreed without any further stipulations? Well, thee had been the one about outside the hospital wing, but Loki wasn't expecting to ever get there again anyway, so that was fine.

"Agreed," he told Crowley gravely. Never let on when you're triumphant. Better leave the opposition with the impression that they forced you into all the concessions you were able to make. "If you can convince them tho stay out, I'll never even talk to them." Well, hopefully none of them would be at the reception when he left.

"Sorry about Ratty. We've been trying to re-capture him, but he's terribly shy." Should he be feeling guilty about it? It wasn't like he had any power to control the rat. "He didn't mean any harm, though. Don't hurt him."

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"I'll go with you," said Crowley to John. He glanced at Loki. "I think we're done here. I've made my promise not to hurt the rat, should it be found."

The demon turned and followed John out the door, but steered him into another of the hospital's rooms before the man could begin his search for the rat, the Pepto, or Anathema. "And you're not doing jack shit until I check you over for real, pet human or not. That was a nasty crack and I want to make sure I didn't miss anything."

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John rolled his eyes. "Oh c'mon, it looked worse than it was," he objected mildly, but let himself be shepherded along without any real fuss. Crowley had dealt with the Loki situation about as gracefully as he could have asked, so it was probably his turn to make a concession. And he had to admit it was probably a good idea to make sure there weren't any leftover blood clots lurking in his cerebellum or anything.

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"Sit," demanded Crowley. Once John was comfortable, the demon leaned over him, putting a hand on his cheek to check his eyes again and to look for any signs of fuzziness or disorientation. "What year is it?"

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Gabriel couldn't honestly say he enjoyed healing; it simply wasn't his natural place. However, there was something to be said for helping where he could.

On the other hand, it was always a bit of a let down to come into the hospital wing and find that the injured party was Constantine. Again. And Crowley, too, this time. What a day for Anathema to be gone during her shift...

"Honestly," he said, with the particular dry affect that he liked to think he saved just for choice members of the Constantine line. "Glad as I'm sure each of you is to have found that one special fiend he so deserves, have you no place better to carry on than on the spare hospital bed?"

Surreptitiously, he checked Constantine over only to find no injury on the human's part, though Crowley's signature was all over him. Much as Crowley himself seemed to be, at the moment.

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With a very coherent glower at Crowley that said plainly, Okay, this one is your fault, John replied crisply, "Not to worry, Gabby, we're one step ahead of you as usual. It's 14 April, 2001," he added to Crowley. "Saturday, if you want to know. Also, my name's John, Blair's Prime Minister, and two plus two equals four, last I checked. Can I go now?"

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"John's bed was getting boring," Crowley smirked. It was a good example of using the truth unexpectedly because Gabriel would never believe it but he could tease John at the same time.

But then his expression grew serious. "Yeah, you're fine now. A little dehydrated, though. Try not to hit any more doorknobs with your head."

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Gabriel cast his eyes up, as though inquiring of the ceiling why he'd even bothered. "Well, clearly he's fine. More well-mannered than usual, even." He'd never really made it past the door frame, so it took little effort to move out of the room, leaving the two of them behind. "I guess I won't have to stay up nights worrying about you, Constantine, what with your pet demon looking after you..."

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John's eyes narrowed, and he rose abruptly, forcing Crowley to backpedal out of his way as he strode after Gabriel. "Yeah, what a relief, eh? All that mercy and charity you're so famous for, I dunno how you do it."

He shoved brusquely past Gabriel, then paused in the hallway to take out a cigarette, eyeing the archangel with undisguised venom. "Then again, maybe I do. Adam ask you for a resume before he put you in charge here, Gabriel?" He smiled thinly, the old Constantine mask that came nowhere near his eyes. "He should've. Coming to you for help tends to get mixed results."

On that note, he turned on his heel and left, eschewing the Pepto in favor of something much stronger.

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Crowley watched John go, then turned to Gabriel looking thoughtful.

"So you really were his 'authority'. He told me once that he had it on good authority that Heaven wanted nothing to do with him. I couldn't quite figure that out because you people aren't supposed to give up on a mortal until the end, are you? And you personally don't make that call anyway, do you?"

The demon fought to keep his voice neutral, but his fists curled at his sides. "Do you have any idea what he did after that? Do you know what you drove a sorcerer to do in his desperation? You couldn't have thought he'd just accept it. You have no concept of the consequences of your action. Are you even remotely aware that it involves your dear Belial? In your spite for a mortal, you very nearly doomed your lover."

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"Of course I don't make that call," Gabriel replied, calm. He had no real wish to fight with Crowley again, and not over this. This argument grew brittle, more stale each time he was forced to revisit it. And yet, were he to find himself in those same circumstances over again, the angel was almost sure he would make the same choice. "And I never told him... I suppose he's never mentioned his poor timing in the matter? The end of the world was slated to kill Constantine long before the cancer ever would. I don't think I need to remind you how that didn't quite meet our expectations, but it was laughable at the time to be expected to worry about one man's..." And still, the words were sour, and he could not quite speak them without some effort.

He was rather surprised to see the demon just putting these pieces together now, however; he would have expected Constantine to have shared that story with the demon, possibly even with Aziraphale, long before now. Gabriel had pieced together much of it himself, mostly through bits and barbs traded with the mortal. It was possible he had enough evidence even now to deduce the rest on his own, but this particular subject was not one the angel cared to dwell on, and Crowley was right about one thing: he'd never given much thought to the consequences.

But something else the other said caught the angel's attention more violently than these recognizable ruts in the subject matter. "What do you mean? What does Belial have to do with any of this?"

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"I know when it happened," the demon said coldly, "and I understand why. I would probably have told him the same thing then, though I'd have given an explanation for it. But he didn't ask me. He asked you. Assuming something about ineffable mercy, I suppose. About the likelihood of Himself or His angels still caring for one man's soul even while facing the End. I could have set him straight on that, too. At any rate, because you couldn't be bothered to get off your high holy horse and tell him why you weren't going to help him, he turned to Hell. He'd just pulled some stunt on Lucifer to save the soul of one of his mates, so he couldn't just go make a simple deal. No, Mr. Clever Bastard was forced to pull a fast one. He sold his soul to Lucifer, Beelzebub, and your dear Belial, all of whom had equal claims on him. That way, they'd have to keep him alive, because if he were to die, Hell would be plunged into the bloodiest civil war you can possibly imagine. And what do you think would have happened to your boyfriend, then? Belial could either fight and most likely die, or hand over his claim and become even further subjugated to Lucifer."

Crowley paused a moment, letting that sink in. They both knew how Belial had been subjugated before. His hands were shaking in anger, but he fought to keep them at his sides and to keep his voice down.

"Now I'm sure you're thinking that doesn't matter because it didn't actually happen. Lucifer himself ripped open John's ribcage, burned away his lungs, and regrew them as painfully as possible. You've seen the scars. And the man lived. War was averted. Temporarily, anyway. He'll still die one day and then the inevitable would have happened. Do you have any idea what averted that? What saved Belial's arse? I did."

Chest heaving during the explanation, Crowley could feel his throat tighten, but he needed Gabriel to understand. The four of them, Gabriel, Belial, John, and Crowley, their lives, their futures were all inextricably bound together with knots from the past and he'd drag the angel every step of the way if he must to save them all.

"That spell I did on Belial was a gift from John to me. So why the hell did I give it to him? Did you think I did it out of the goodness of my heart? That I just felt like rescuing him from that unenviable situation? Shit, no. I got what I wanted in trade: Belial's claim to John's soul. And if I can get Beelzebub's, I can fix what you carelessly set in motion ten years ago, in which the best outcome for Belial is to be an unaffiliated outcast in hiding and a human soul - no matter what you think of him, he's still a human - is damned without hope of redemption. So think about that and cut us some fucking slack already. You can help me to help them by backing the fuck off."

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"So you want me to what, Crowley? Accept the blame for everything that's happened and then bow out quietly so you can go about your business?" Gabriel asked; his voice was quiet, though with an edge of steel that before had been lacking. "You think I did all of this? It's my fault he didn't go to you instead - that he chose, of all beings, to go to Lucifer? My fault that Adam Young didn't end the world when everyone thought he would, or that Lucifer and his Crowns made a trade for a soul that in all likelihood belonged to them anyway?"

That was it: the final part of the story that he'd been missing. Belial might have told the angel himself eventually, had he the chance, but Gabriel could imagine it nonetheless. The Crown was probably bemused by the sorcerer, or drawn in, perhaps, by mention of the Archangel Gabriel.

He couldn't imagine Belial tearing apart the kingdoms of Hell for the claim of Constantine's soul. Despite Crowley's vehement words, Gabriel thought he likely would have turned over his portion without much pause. As for the consequences of this... the angel bore enough guilt for the way Belial had fallen to his master's twisted will over the centuries. But he did not know how much of that story Crowley knew, and was not going to be the one to fill in the demon's knowledge of it.

"And despite your intent, am I to believe that somehow you have helped Belial more by removing his third of the soul from Hell altogether and putting you all in danger?" But the hardness in his voice melted away as he continued. He was weary, suddenly, of this fight, of all their fights; and wanted nothing more than to be able to see Belial, just for that moment. To hold him and kiss him and know that he was whole and that none of this could touch him wherever he was, not now. But he couldn't, and trying to incite more anger or guilt in Crowley would not change that.

He did understand, though. In fact, the angel may have really understood for the first time: having seen Crowley, not just smirking with Constantine over a drink, but hovering over him, tense and protective. The demon had deliberately put himself in danger to return to John a third of his soul - a mere glimmer of hope, if somehow he could manage to obtain another third and be redeemed - and then had similarly sacrificed his own safety for Belial. He had betrayed his side, was even now deliberately disobeying Lucifer himself by not attempting to find the missing Crown.

Gabriel could never turn away from his duties without being immutably altered; he wondered if the same could now be said of Crowley.

"We don't always know." The words were soft, somber in the terse silence between them. "Did you know what would happen when you convinced her to eat the fruit?" The angel was sure that, even after six thousand years, the memory was fresh enough that it would need no specifics, no preamble. "Or were you not as caught up in the confusion as the rest of us, as we watched the two of them fall from grace? Not even we can foresee every consequence to our actions, demon. That does not mean that we were meant to change them."

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