(no subject)

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Date: December 27, 1999
Setting: Tadfield Manor, Crowley's Room
Status: Private - John and Crowley
Summary: John gets what's coming to him.

Crowley led John back to his room in silence. Unlocking the door, he pushed the man towards the chair where Bel had refused to sit earlier. He bent to pick up the soul gem and scattered papers and placed them on the bed. Materializing a bottle of whiskey, he handed it to John and went into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Once there, he stripped off his tattered shirt and medical pants, banishing them to obscurity, and looked at himself in the mirror. Not ready to deal with what he saw there yet, he gave himself sunglasses to hide the haunted expression in his eyes. After a quick clean, he dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans and headed back into the bedroom.

He situated himself on the bed and picked up the gem. Holding it in his hands for just a moment, Crowley finally leaned forward and handed it to John.

"Here. This belongs to you."

Comments

[dangeroushabits.livejournal.com]

John took the bottle, not bothering to disguise his gratitude, and wasted no time in washing the unpleasant taste from his mouth. The burn of the whiskey knocked down his stomach upset somewhat, and by the time Crowley came out of the bathroom (safely hidden away behind his sunglasses again, and despite knowing it was a wholly ridiculous and impractical thought, John took a moment to wish he'd just ditch the damn things once and for all; it was so much easier to talk with Crowley when he could see his eyes) he felt reasonably capable of dealing with whatever the demon had brought him here to say. Or if not, before long he'd be feeling no pain anyway...

To be handed a piece of jewelry was not at all what he'd expected, though. He blinked at the glowing bauble, frowning. It was beautiful, and obviously bore some sort of enchantment; but though there was a vague familiarity about it, he couldn't recall that he'd ever owned such a thing, let alone left it where Crowley would find it. "What's this?" he asked, the questions sounding rather stupid in his own ears. Brilliant, now my memory's going on top of everything else.

He accepted the thing, carefully--it looked fragile--and knew instantly without quite knowing how that Crowley was correct; this did belong to him. In fact, he had to clamp down on a powerful, entirely irrational desire to hide it away and demand to know where Crowley had got it.

Instead, his badly unsettled mind still lagging behind other faculties that had already recognized the thing, he closed his hand around it gently but securely, and looked to the demon for an explanation.