(no subject)

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Date: August 26th, 1999 (Late Morning)
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Lobby
Status: Public - Constantine, Adam Young, Odin (Complete)
Summary: Continued from this post. John arrives at the Manor, and meets someone he wasn't expecting.



John knew the moment they pulled up to the old Manor House that Chas had been wrong. This place was a great deal more than just a convention center.

He wasn't, as such things are measured, particularly sensitive. Generally, he pieced things together by paying attention; by knowing what to look for, and how to interpret the same unsettled feelings that any mortal would experience in the presence of the supernatural. You didn't have to be psychic, you just had to understand what you were dealing with.

Tadfield Manor, however, spared him the effort. He'd have known there was something weird about the place if he'd been blind, deaf and as paranormally gifted as a lamppost. Even Chas (who, bless him, was about as thick when it came to matters of the occult as it was possible to be and still possess a brain) peered up at the building with an uneasy frown and remarked, "Creepy ol' place, innit?"

"That it is." John got out of the cab and walked slowly toward the great doors with the package under his arm, trying unsuccessfully to sort out the bewildering mix of signals he was getting from the place. It wasn't hallowed, it wasn't unholy; but somehow it was both of those things at the same time. In spades.

If the people he was looking for weren't to be found here, he'd eat his Grimorium Verum.

"Chas," he called over his shoulder, "why don't you just head on home? I'll find me own way back."

"You sure?" The cabbie raised his eyebrows, though clearly the idea struck him as a very appealing one. A bit slow on the uptake he might be at times, but not by any means stupid.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll call you later." He could always walk home, if need be; it wouldn't be the first time. Exposing poor old Chas to the Bentley was bad enough. John didn't want to tempt fate, at least not where this particular friend was concerned. As usual, he hadn't that many to spare.

Chas hesitated a moment later, then said uncertainly, "Well...all right then. You damn well better call, though. I don't like the look of this place at all, an' that's a fact."

John nodded, and watched the cab's retreat back down the drive until it was out of sight.

"Right then," he said softly, letting his hand linger on the door handle for a moment. Foolish, really, letting this place get under his skin; what could possibly be found here that was worse than the things he'd already faced?

Drawing a deep breath, John opened the door and walked inside.

Comments

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John paused a few steps in the door, a trifle surprised to have been challenged the moment he walked in. Though likely he shouldn't have been.

"John," he heard himself say to the kid, and nearly swallowed his own tongue as it tried, altogether too helpfully, to carry on with his surname, recent history, and exactly what he was doing there.

He stared at the kid. Oh, this one's trouble and no mistake. John was no judge of male beauty, but even he couldn't miss it in this young man. He was bloody gorgeous, in the way those old Greek statues were gorgeous--almost too pretty to be real.

More than that, though, he was compelling. John was fairly certain Adam wasn't doing anything. He was just standing there, looking moderately unfriendly; but the way he carried himself, and the tension that crackled in the air around him, said plainly that he was capable of...well, that was the question, now, wasn't it?

He was, to all appearances, very human. John would have laid money that that was not the case, or at least not the whole story.

He cleared his throat, and added cautiously, glancing around the ridiculously overdecorated lobby, "You the one in charge here?"

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Adam looked at the man curiously. He had gotten the impression that John had been about to tell him everything he wanted to know, like most people did, but had stopped himself in time. A man with an ability like that could turn out to be a terrible enemy or a powerful friend.

"Well, technic'ly I'm not." He pointed out the window, "Sister Mary there is the one who runs the Manor. If you're here for a job or a room you'll have to talk to her or the Metatron who's prob'ly around somewhere. But, I kinda am too. I'm the one in charge of makin' sure that no one here gets hurt..."

He cocked his head to one side and gave John a deeply appraising look.

"So, why are you here?"

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

Metatron? The Metatron?? The short hair at the back of John's neck stood on end at the casual way Adam tossed off the name. He hadn't met the gent personally, but he knew exactly what he was, and that this Adam was apparently on a first-name basis with him spoke volumes about the boy's status.

It also helped explain part of the general weirdness about this place. Only part of it, though.

He considered the question for a moment, as well as Adam's delf-described duties. "Makin' sure that no one gets hurt." If he were to take that literally, it could mean that this place was a sort of metaphysical no-man's-land, a neutral ground for the other-than-human. In which case Crowley and the angel were probably all right, and he needn't worry overmuch about his own neck while he was here.

On the other hand, it could mean something very different. And for all this Adam might be an extraordinary kid, he was still just one kid. John knew only too well how quickly things could get out of hand when you had multiple celestials rubbing elbows in close quarters. Throw a few clueless humans into the mix, and you'd have yourself the perfect recipe for disaster.

Deciding that honesty, or something very close to it, might be the best policy in this case (especially seeing as how he wasn't sure he could tell the boy an outright lie,) he hefted the bundle and said, "Got a delivery to make. Care package of sorts. I've had some trouble trackin' down the intended recipients, though; I heard they might've come around this way. Anthony Crowley, Esquire, or a Mr.," he glanced at the obvious pseudonym he'd jotted down on the package, "Fell. Don't suppose you've seen 'em?"

"Oh," he added, "and if you're in charge of security, you might want to have somebody pull that old Bentley up here and get it properly parked. Not a good idea at all, leavin' that sort of thing just sitting around in the open, where anybody could wander up and poke around it." He cocked one eyebrow meaningfully. "Trust me."

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Adam looked intensely at John again, frustrated that he couldn't read him apart from knowing that he had just told the relative truth. It was now clear that the guy knew about demons, but that didn't necessarily make him a friend. He could be a demon hunter. He looked like Adam had always imagined a demon hunter would look. But Adam knew not to go on appearances.

He'd also noticed that John flinched when he mentioned the Metatron. So he must know about angels, too. Maybe he was a hit man sent from Heaven to finish off Crowley. But then why would the package be for both of them? Would Heaven and Hell have joined forces to hire one mortal hit man to take out their two field agents? It seemed unlikely. Could there be a third party involved in the war? Adam clearly needed more information.

"Oh, have you met Crowley and Aziraphale before? They are here, but they're pretty sick and I don't want anything you're bringin' to make them sicker. So you can give me the package to give to them or I can take you to see them tomorrow."

Adam tried to read John's reaction to this idea, but the man was stone-faced. He continued.

"And I'm not in charge of security, by the way. Actually, there isn't any security staff here at all. I just look after stuff. But I wouldn't worry about Crowley's car. It will be fine until he gets it."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

"Aziraphale, eh? So that's his name." John nodded once to himself. It would have to be something like that. Though he wondered whether the old boy had any idea how ironic his choice of the name 'Fell' sounded. He rather thought not; even at a distance, he'd struck John as rather naive. "I don't know him personally, but I know of him. Bloody shame what happened down in Soho, it was a nice little place. And Crowley's a mate of mine from down the pub."

He was inclined to take affront at the implication that he'd come here to do the unlikely pair any harm--if only because he wasn't stupid enough to try something so clumsily obvious. He took a step closer to Adam, his manner now just shy of belligerent. "And you needn't worry about what's in the package," he added brusquely. "I'm not looking to make trouble for 'em. Just from what I saw in the shop and the car, I'd say someone's messed about with 'em more than enough already. Speakin' of which, it isn't the Bentley that concerns me, it's the passers-by. Didn't it occur to you a demonic vehicle left to its own devices might hurt somebody? Like a police officer leaving a damn ticket, for example?"

Realizing then that he was letting his temper get the better of him, which likely wasn't healthy, he let out his breath in a frustrated puff and retreated a step, automatically reaching for a cigarette. "Sorry, kid, I'm just a little hacked off right now. I don't like it when decent people get hurt for no good reason."

"I'll wait, if it's all the same to you; I'd rather give it to 'em personally." So I'll know it makes it there un-fucked-with, was the unspoken addendum.

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

It wasn't until John had gotten angry that Adam had been able to clearly read his intentions. He sighed with relief. It didn't bother him that the man had come into his personal space and been aggressive because he truly meant no harm to the angel or demon in Adam's care. He could ignore the rudeness to himself for the sake of meeting someone true. Adam smiled.

"It's okay. I'm glad that you're a friend of Crowley's, 'cause he needs all the friends he can get. I'll tell you the truth. He's in bad shape and Aziraphale is worse, but they will be okay 'cause they got each other."

It was a statement of fact rather than a statement of hope, accompanied by a slightly wistful expression. Then the corners of his mouth turned back down and he continued, darkly.

"People have been messin' with them plenty. But they're not the only ones. And I gotta look after ev'ryone. So I hope you unnerstan' why I had to ask. I'm not worried about your package anymore and you can take it to them personal, but I still can't let you see them 'til tomorrow, 'cause they're restin'."

Adam returned to the mysterious smile.

"Please don't worry about the car. No one will get hurt. I'll meet you here at ten tomorrow mornin' and I'll take you to see Crowley and Aziraphale. You might wanna go talk to Sister Mary 'bout spendin' the night. It's safe here."

[one-eyed-odin.livejournal.com]

Odin looked into the mirror and adjusted the knot of his tie. Everything was right as right could be, clothing-wise at least. Or wait - no. He made one minute adjustment to his pin then smiled at his reflection.

He left his suite and headed towards the lobby, whistling. The closer he drew to the lobby, the more he felt his otherworldly senses. Unless he missed his guess, the young Antichrist was in his /his/ lobby along with someone with power of his or her own. Interesting.

He entered the lobby and bowed with a flourish. "Hello, gentlemen."

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John blinked at Adam, not quite sure what to make of the young man's sudden capitulation; then he turned to the newcomer and raised his eyebrows, taking in the broad shoulders and graying beard.

The absurdity of the entire situation sank in all at once, and he replied with a wry smirk, "Hullo yourself, guvnor. Who're you then, Moses?--No no, hold on, I've got it. St. Peter."

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Adam turned to the older looking man in the dashing suit and put his hand out.

"Hello, Odin. Or should I call you Mr. Wednesday? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Adam and this is John. You got the top job at the restaurant, right? I'm sure you'll do a fine job if you remember the golden rule. Everyone is protected here. Even you."

[one-eyed-odin.livejournal.com]

Odin stared at Adam, completely flustered. "I - well. Wednesday is fine."

He shook Adam's hand, a bit nonplussed. It was unnerving how quickly the boy had seen into his true nature. Oh, he'd been warned but it wasn't quite the same as experiencing it first-hand.

He would have to be exceedingly careful.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John did a double-take as Adam greeted the older gentleman. Nah, it can't be. Not really...

Then he noted the man's lapel pin. His tree-shaped lapel pin.

And he had a glass eye.

It was too much of a coincidence.

Christ almighty. What the hell have I got myself into this time?

His only consolation was the fact that the man (god??) before him seemed just as thrown by Adam's uncannily serene performance as he was.

"Right," he said decisively after a long moment's uncomfortable silence. When life went funny on you, there was really only one good answer. "So. This place got a bar?"

[average-adam.livejournal.com]

Adam pointed to an entranceway on the other side of the lobby.

"Yeah, the bar is through there, you'll prob'ly want to be nice to the servers. Or I'm sure Mr. Wednesday would be glad to show you the restaurant. But I think you might wanna talk to Sister Mary first. It looks like she's headin' back in. Don't forget, tomorrow at ten."

With that, he turned and walked off towards the bar.

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John watched the young man's departure with a mildly bewildered air. "That kid," he muttered, lighting up the cigarette that he'd been holding in his hand, forgotten, for the past several minutes, "gives me the shivers."

He turned to Odin and eyed the big Asgardian gravely. "Well, Allfather, hate to greet and run, but I believe I need to see a nun about a room. Pleasure makin' your acquaintance."

The impression he gave was of someone trying very hard to assimilate everything he'd just learned, and equally hard to make it look as though he was doing nothing of the sort.

[one-eyed-odin.livejournal.com]

Odin inclined his head. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Constantine. If there's... anything you should require once you're all settled, please let me know." He smirked slightly and went to his desk.