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[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Date: April 14th, 2001
Status: Private (John, Loki, and Crowley)
Setting: Hospital Wing
Summary: Certain matters finally come to a head. No pun intended.

John whistled quietly to himself as he entered the hospital wing, exchanged a good-morning with Ana as she went by (must be shift change or something) and turned the corner to Loki's room in reasonably good spirits. Things with Kit were going along pretty well--the unexpected three-way encounter a few days before hadn't blown up in anybody's face yet--and Crowley seemed in much better spirits since. And after a lengthy delay trying to get Loki's strength up enough to try breaking the curse, it looked like they were set to do that any day now.

It really wasn't his fault, what happened next. I mean, seriously, who expects to knock on a door to a hospital room, open it in response to a weak but cheerful "Come in!," and have a black rat come streaking out at lightning speed?

Not that John realized it was a rat, per se--he was a bit too busy trying not to step on the unexpected projectile, and tumbled over with a yelp, cracking his head solidly on the doorknob as he went down. After that the pretty dancing lights made for a highly effective distraction.

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[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

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?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"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."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

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..."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

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.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

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."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"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?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"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."

[dontcallmegabby.livejournal.com]

"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."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Damn it, Gabriel," said Crowley, frustrated and equally tired of their argument. "I'm not blaming you for other people's choices or for the circumstances of the time. All I want is for you to acknowledge that when John came to you begging for help, for mercy, you made a deliberate decision to not to treat his cancer simply because you didn't like him or anyone in the Constantine family. You preferred to see him dead than to dirty your hands or waste your precious 'forgiveness' on someone you saw as unworthy. I realize you couldn't have known that your choice would end up affecting all of us - would ultimately drive Belial into exile and me after him, would finally lose John the chance at salvation that you told him he didn't have - but it has, and now I want just a little understanding and your bloody cooperation."

He paused a moment. "We don't always know," the demon agreed quietly. "But if it turns out later that we did the wrong thing, it's our responsibility to help make it right again."