The source of his panic abruptly snuffed out, John stopped struggling at once, obeying without question Crowley's unspoken directive to calm down.
"Tadfield?" he echoed hoarsely, meeting the other's gaze only for a second before his own eyes flitted away to scan the room, taking in the familiar four walls, the equipment, the paraphernilia attached to him, and the disheveled angel leaning in the doorway.
For the moment, he remained oblivious to the fact that his own hands had just knotted themselves in the front of Crowley's jacket, verifying the demon was real and not just another product of his own fevered imagination.
Aziraphale's back, he registered then as the circumstances of his leaving came back to him, with a flood of relief that turned immediately to fresh consternation--how long had he been gone? And--
"Where'd you find me?" he asked blankly, trying unsuccessfully to pin down where the hell he'd been and what he had been doing. He remembered the churchyard and its immediate surroundings, and there was a familiar feel about it all (someplace far away from Lower Tadfield, he was certain of that much,) but the larger context was missing, lost in a vortex of confusion that made his head hurt fiercely when he tried to focus in too closely on anything caught up in it. "And how?" Had Holland gone and delivered his message prematurely?
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2006-05-01 07:12 pm (UTC)"Tadfield?" he echoed hoarsely, meeting the other's gaze only for a second before his own eyes flitted away to scan the room, taking in the familiar four walls, the equipment, the paraphernilia attached to him, and the disheveled angel leaning in the doorway.
For the moment, he remained oblivious to the fact that his own hands had just knotted themselves in the front of Crowley's jacket, verifying the demon was real and not just another product of his own fevered imagination.
Aziraphale's back, he registered then as the circumstances of his leaving came back to him, with a flood of relief that turned immediately to fresh consternation--how long had he been gone? And--
"Where'd you find me?" he asked blankly, trying unsuccessfully to pin down where the hell he'd been and what he had been doing. He remembered the churchyard and its immediate surroundings, and there was a familiar feel about it all (someplace far away from Lower Tadfield, he was certain of that much,) but the larger context was missing, lost in a vortex of confusion that made his head hurt fiercely when he tried to focus in too closely on anything caught up in it. "And how?" Had Holland gone and delivered his message prematurely?