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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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[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."