(no subject)

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Date: March 10, 2000, Morning
Setting: Crowley's Room
Status: Private (Ellie and Crowley)
Summary: Ellie visits Crowley the day after Aziraphale's discorporation.



Though she was reluctant to intrude on Crowley's grief following Aziraphale's accident, Ellie was more than slightly worried about him. She remembered only too well the crippling grief that came with such a loss, and even if Aziraphale was only gone temporarily, that was going to be cold comfort for Crowley at the moment. John's abrupt and unexplained departure couldn't be helping much, either, and she wanted some answers about that as well.

So early the next morning found her standing at his door, braced for any number of unpleasant moods she might find him in, debating whether to knock and risk being turned away unheard or simply barge in and make him deal with her whether he wanted to or not. In the end practicality triumphed over discretion, and she jimmied the lock with a thought and slipped silently into the dramatically-decorated room, its vibrant reds now somewhat muted by curtains drawn shut against the dim morning light.

Crowley was sprawled on his belly across the big double bed, dead asleep, both hands clenched in the luxurious bedclothes and looking for all the world like an exhausted child who'd run out of steam in the middle of a tantrum. A naked exhausted child. If children having tantrums left empty wine bottles scattered all over the room. Well, something like that, anyway.

Ellie regarded him sadly for a moment, and then sighed and set to work. First she brought into being on the bedside table a tray loaded with every kind of comfort food she could think of, from triple chocolate ice cream to grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, adding a few favorite hangover remedies for good measure (because really, who wanted to try and concentrate on banishing a headache when they had a headache?) The only thing conspicuously missing was a teapot, replaced instead with a carafe of strong coffee. Then she went to the window and drew back one of the curtains, allowing light to spill into the room (but indirectly, not right across the bed.)

Then she went back to the bed and summoned up a light blanket, letting it settle gently over Crowley so he wouldn't be entirely deprived of his dignity, and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, resting one hand lightly on his bare shoulder. "Crowley? Crowley, sweetheart, it's time to wake up."

Comments

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

A flinch, a faint groan, and Crowley turned his head away from the person speaking. Unfortunately, that meant turning it towards the window. He winced as even the dim light behind closed eyelids felt like a spike to the brain, and turned his head back. A hangover, then, and someone was touching him.

Fairly sure it wasn't who he wanted it to be, though he couldn't quite remember why, he muzzily pondered the proper greeting for the intruder.

"Fuck off..."

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

"I would, if I thought it would help, babe," Ellie said with a slight, wry smile. She rubbed his back gently a few times. "C'mon, talk to me, huh? And you really should try to get something in your stomach besides wine. I've got coffee. And grilled cheese."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Lifting his head slightly and opening one bleary eye, black pupil contracted into the merest vertical line, Crowley groaned, "Ellie?"

Then he let his suddenly pounding head flop back onto the pillow. "Not jus' wine. Scotch, rum, gin, ... tequila, maybe?"

Stomach protesting against the thought of grilled cheese - when was the last time he'd eaten anything, anyway? - he grunted out, "Coffee. Black. And a convenient discorporation if you can manage that, too."

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Well, he was talking, and not ordering her out of his room. That was something. Ellie supposed she could deal with playing secretary or waitress for a little while, in the interest of finding out what the hell had happened and humoring the closest thing to a friend she currently had around this place.

Casually summoning the carafe and a large mug to her hands, she poured a cup and said, "Hate to break it to you, but you'll probably need to sit up to drink it." She discretely brought into being a bucket on the floor next to the bed, just out of Crowley's line of sight, in case it was needed.

"Here you go. I think there have been enough discorporations around here for a while, though, don't you?" she said as gently as possible. It wasn't a particularly tactful way to broach the subject, maybe, but she wasn't sure there was one, or that tact would really have made things any easier.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

With as much whining and complaining as one might imagine, Crowley did finally manage to roll over and sit up as the blanket fell into his lap. Snatching the coffee from Ellie's hands, he downed it in big gulps, heedless of the tongue scorching temperature, and handed the empty cup back to her.

He slouched back against the headboard. "I needed that." Then Crowley scowled. "Fucking angels. Only those half-wits could discorporate one of their own accidentally."

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome," Ellie said patiently, waving the mug into nothingness, "and I agree. Care to vent in more detail? All I got was the Cliffs notes secondhand by way of the Snob." She wrinkled her nose expressively.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"For being the Heavenly Messenger, he's crap all at telling a story," agreed Crowley. He laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling, not meeting Ellie's eyes.

"You want to know what happened? I was playing pool with Constantine, just shooting the shit. Heard the ceiling come down and ran upstairs. Found... found Aziraphale on the floor with Raphael kneeling over him. Tried to go for him, but John held me back while the bastard made his escape. I yelled at him. Called him old and meddling and told him the best fuck he'd had in years was himself. He yelled at me. Called me stupid, called Aziraphale stupid, told me I was a so-called tempter. I cleared up that little misconception and he just upped and ran away, saying something about how I had pulled one over on him. I mean, what the fuck was that about?"

His head flopped to the side after he'd repeated what he knew of the tale and Crowley looked at the tray Ellie had prepared. The sandwich looked a lot more appetizing than it had a few minutes prior.

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Ellie flinched at the terse recitation, and rubbed at her temples with one hand. "Ouch. Oh, that's Constantine all right. Sounds like you must have hit one of his sore spots, you know, the ones you'd never guess he has until he blows up in your face for no apparent reason. What exactly did you say to him?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Not for the first time, Crowley was glad for his incredible memory. Six thousand years was a long time, after all. He closed his eyes and recited his words from before, but without the passion that had animated them then.

"So-called tempter? Oh, hark unto the big mouthed mortal... What the hell do you know about it? I was the first fucking Tempter. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even be able to stand there spouting your bullshit. That's fucking gratitude. And don't go to any trouble on my account. I sure as hell don't need your fucking help, so quit dicking around in shit that's none of your damn business."

As much to have something to do with his hands as anything, Crowley reached out for a triangle of sandwich and bit into it fiercely.

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Ellie blinked once, slowly, absorbing the words and then cross-referencing them against what she knew about John and how he thought and behaved when he was angry.

"Well. I guess that would explain why he left," she said slowly, unwilling to make what could sound like an accusation, though it wasn't intended as such. "You told him to, or at least that's how it probably sounded to him. But, as far as pulling one over on him--" She stopped and looked at him apprehensively. "Crowley, you have told him at some point that you were at Eden, right?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"No," said Crowley shortly. "By the time I trusted him enough to tell him, I knew that he'd take it badly. You think he figured it out? That that is why he left?"

He stared at the blankets. "I know that I probably should have told him, but it just didn't seem very important. That was a really long time ago."

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Ellie's eyebrows shot upward. "Not important? He's spent his entire life railing against immortals who manipulate humans, work toward their ruin, keep them in the dark...and you dropped a bombshell like that on him in the middle of a shouting match, after everything else you just told me?" She leaned across the bed to snag the tub of ice cream and materialized a spoon, needing some kind of fortifaction herself. "Honey, I'd say you're lucky he didn't try to deport you. If there's one thing that pisses him off more than believing he's miscalculated, it's an attack from someone he's let get close to him, and once his temper takes over there's not much that can derail it short of a cast iron skillet upside the head."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"...the fuck!?!" Frustrated, Crowley hit his pillow with his fist. "It's not like I knew at the time. There only were two humans. And when bleeding Lucifer tells you to make some trouble and there's only one way to do it, you do it. It was all a fucking set-up and I was used. You think that'd make the bastard happy? To know that I was used just like everyone else? Asshole.

"It's not like I yelled it, either. He said I was crap at my job because I chose not to fuck everything with a pulse. I told him I was the best tempter this sodding planet has ever seen. How am I supposed to know that that's what's going to tip him off. Ten years he doesn't notice the eyes, the hissing, the scales, doesn't do the math until Aziraphale's lying on the floor with his head caved in, and then stalks off like a child because I told him I was a tempter. Big fucking shock."

Breathing heavily, Crowley tried to reign in his temper. It wasn't Ellie's fault. He had to keep telling himself that.

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Ellie let the rant run its course, not interrupting, and not taking it personally, though under any other circumstances she probably would have. But this situation struck just a little too close to home.

"I know," she said softly. "You'd almost think he didn't want to know, wouldn't you?" She leaned forward a bit and patted his hand. "Look, I could be wrong. I can only go by what I've seen of him, I never understood him all that well. So try not to judge until you've heard it from him. And you will. He hates unfinished business, and no matter what boneheaded things he may have been thinking when he left, you're important to him. Sooner or later he'll remember that."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"He's not coming back," whispered Crowley. "He left his lighter." He said it with as much fatalism as if it had been one of the signs of the Apocalypse.

"I told him. I told him everything that was important. Figures he wouldn't remember that part. "

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

"Shh. I think you're wrong, but we'll see." Ellie stood, touching his cheek lightly as she bent to kiss his forehead. Just a normal power-free kiss, this time. Some kinds of pain couldn't easily be drugged away, nor should they. "Finish your sandwich and try not to drink too much, okay? I don't want to have to explain to Aziraphale when he gets back how I let you discorporate out of neglect."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, yeah." Lost in his own thoughts, Crowley wasn't sure what he was agreeing to; may not have even been aware that he was speaking at all. The half-eaten sandwich sat heavily on his stomach as he put the rest back on the tray. Returning to his cocoon under the covers, Crowley hoped to fall back to sleep normally. If not, there was always the wine.

[chantinellie.livejournal.com]

Unsure whether she had helped, made things worse or made no difference at all, Ellie murmured "Sleep well." Then she quietly waved the bucket away, willed the contents of the tray to stay fresh until Crowley wanted them or disposed of them, and pulled the curtains shut before silently exiting the room, re-locking the door behind her.