Crowley was lying on his back across his bed in the early evening gloom. His arms were apart, legs together, and his head hung off the side so that he could look at the world upside-down. It made as much sense that way as any other. He wasn't looking farther than his own thoughts, anyway.
He'd been musing a lot lately. Not much else to do when you were trapped in a room trying to avoid a parcel of archangels while you healed and your only conversational partner spent most of his time asleep or reading. They hadn't talked much since the ill-fated breakfast. Things had been a bit strained with Constantine's spell constantly hanging in the air between them. Two little pieces of paper, but they raised a lot of questions about choices and loyalty.
What was the magic combination? What would allow them to live on the Earth, together, without repercussions from either side? Could they keep the status quo? Did he still want the status quo? He could think of one preferable alternative but about a hundred worse ones.
And what about the angel? The spell offered Crowley nothing but positives as far as he could see, but Aziraphale nothing but negatives. Cut off from the Presence? He didn't think Aziraphale could handle it. Hell, he barely had. But it was better than Falling wasn't it? If it came to that? What if they did find out that he was about to Fall and quickly performed the spell? Either way he'd lose the Presence, but it'd be better to stay an angel, right? Either way he'd change, whispered a voice in the back of his mind. Would he still want to know that Aziraphale? Bitter, twisted, possibly evil, what would it matter if his body was angel or demon if his spirit was broken?
He suddenly had a very clear image of Aziraphale looking at him accusingly, one wing white, the other black and a tear rolling down his face. From somewhere came a snippet of a song he'd heard thousands of times in the last quarter century, but not in the two months he'd been at the Manor. Didn't mean to make you cry...
And he really didn't. If there was anything he could do to prevent Aziraphale's Fall, give up his material possessions, his Bentley, his body, his wings, or his very existence, even grovel before God Himself, he would do it.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2005-11-15 12:45 am (UTC)He'd been musing a lot lately. Not much else to do when you were trapped in a room trying to avoid a parcel of archangels while you healed and your only conversational partner spent most of his time asleep or reading. They hadn't talked much since the ill-fated breakfast. Things had been a bit strained with Constantine's spell constantly hanging in the air between them. Two little pieces of paper, but they raised a lot of questions about choices and loyalty.
What was the magic combination? What would allow them to live on the Earth, together, without repercussions from either side? Could they keep the status quo? Did he still want the status quo? He could think of one preferable alternative but about a hundred worse ones.
And what about the angel? The spell offered Crowley nothing but positives as far as he could see, but Aziraphale nothing but negatives. Cut off from the Presence? He didn't think Aziraphale could handle it. Hell, he barely had. But it was better than Falling wasn't it? If it came to that? What if they did find out that he was about to Fall and quickly performed the spell? Either way he'd lose the Presence, but it'd be better to stay an angel, right? Either way he'd change, whispered a voice in the back of his mind. Would he still want to know that Aziraphale? Bitter, twisted, possibly evil, what would it matter if his body was angel or demon if his spirit was broken?
He suddenly had a very clear image of Aziraphale looking at him accusingly, one wing white, the other black and a tear rolling down his face. From somewhere came a snippet of a song he'd heard thousands of times in the last quarter century, but not in the two months he'd been at the Manor. Didn't mean to make you cry...
And he really didn't. If there was anything he could do to prevent Aziraphale's Fall, give up his material possessions, his Bentley, his body, his wings, or his very existence, even grovel before God Himself, he would do it.
Except leave him.