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Apr. 11th, 2006 09:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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neutral_omensDate: April 5, 2000, Afternoon
Setting: Crowley's room, then somewhere in Ireland
Status: Private (Crowley)
Summary: Crowley learns that John is in trouble.
It had been a very strange month. The first two weeks, Crowley had spent entirely in his bed, thinking deeply about Aziraphale, their unusual relationship, and the likelihood of their ever seeing each other again, and drinking himself senseless, usually in that order. The few days after Aziraphale's mercifully quick return were lost in a lust fuelled haze.* And in the latter two weeks, when Aziraphale had returned to his job at the front desk and Crowley had very little to do, his thoughts turned to John.
The demon's mind constantly revolved around certain scenes and conversations. He dwelt on every detail of the fight, going over the words again and again in his head, unable to see where the man might have misinterpreted them. Vacillating between hurt, anger, sadness, and frustration, he meditated on Ellie's theories and Gabriel's reassurances. At times, Crowley felt betrayed and hoped he'd never see the infuriating mortal again. At other times, he worried about him, wanting to seek him out and make sure he was all right, regardless of how little it would be appreciated. For a demon who needed millennia to figure out that it might be possible to feel something like the l-word for Aziraphale (he still couldn't admit it to himself), coming to care so much for a human in such a relatively short period of time was frighteningly intense and he hoped desperately that it would fade in time and allow him to return to being his usual, uncomplicated, aloof self. He didn't know that it doesn't work that way.
Which explains why, when the area of his wrist under his watch started burning, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He didn't stop to remember that he was angry with the man. That he'd been abandoned. That Constantine might not want to see him or need his help. All Crowley knew was that right now, John was in mortal danger. That was enough. Moving as quickly as physics allowed, he leapt into the telephone line, certain that it would take him near to where he needed to be. Seconds later, he reappeared in Ireland.
*Really, the angel's stamina was amazing.
Setting: Crowley's room, then somewhere in Ireland
Status: Private (Crowley)
Summary: Crowley learns that John is in trouble.
It had been a very strange month. The first two weeks, Crowley had spent entirely in his bed, thinking deeply about Aziraphale, their unusual relationship, and the likelihood of their ever seeing each other again, and drinking himself senseless, usually in that order. The few days after Aziraphale's mercifully quick return were lost in a lust fuelled haze.* And in the latter two weeks, when Aziraphale had returned to his job at the front desk and Crowley had very little to do, his thoughts turned to John.
The demon's mind constantly revolved around certain scenes and conversations. He dwelt on every detail of the fight, going over the words again and again in his head, unable to see where the man might have misinterpreted them. Vacillating between hurt, anger, sadness, and frustration, he meditated on Ellie's theories and Gabriel's reassurances. At times, Crowley felt betrayed and hoped he'd never see the infuriating mortal again. At other times, he worried about him, wanting to seek him out and make sure he was all right, regardless of how little it would be appreciated. For a demon who needed millennia to figure out that it might be possible to feel something like the l-word for Aziraphale (he still couldn't admit it to himself), coming to care so much for a human in such a relatively short period of time was frighteningly intense and he hoped desperately that it would fade in time and allow him to return to being his usual, uncomplicated, aloof self. He didn't know that it doesn't work that way.
Which explains why, when the area of his wrist under his watch started burning, he didn't hesitate for a moment. He didn't stop to remember that he was angry with the man. That he'd been abandoned. That Constantine might not want to see him or need his help. All Crowley knew was that right now, John was in mortal danger. That was enough. Moving as quickly as physics allowed, he leapt into the telephone line, certain that it would take him near to where he needed to be. Seconds later, he reappeared in Ireland.
*Really, the angel's stamina was amazing.
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