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May. 13th, 2006 11:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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neutral_omensDate: May 13, 2000
Setting: Manor Grounds
Status: Public (Writing Challenge Thread)
Summary: Remembrance of Things Past
Crowley had gotten into the habit of taking walks around the Manor when he was bored and Aziraphale was working. Some part of him resented the time the angel spent with paper and ink, telephones and accounts, but most of him realized that it was good for him. Aziraphale liked to be busy and useful; it made him happy which made Crowley happy, so he let it be and walked instead.
Since April showers were clinging stubbornly to May, he stayed inside, exploring the parts of the lower floors that he'd never seen, or at least he thought he'd never seen. Turning a dark corner, however, he promptly discovered he was wrong. This place looked familiar, smelled familiar. It was the part of the building that hadn't been destroyed in the fire two decades prior and it put Crowley in mind of a dark night and a baby in his arms. Stopping, he looked around. This was the corridor where he'd come all those years ago, bringing the infant antichrist to what he thought would be their doom.
He thought back to that night, remembering his panic and feelings of helplessness, the frantic plans and fleeting hopes spinning through his mind. He'd thought of Aziraphale then as he drove through the dark. The angel had been the first and only person he'd considered going to for help. He hadn't met John yet. The man would have only been in his mid-twenties. Odd to imagine that, really, him looking younger than Crowley. Crowley wondered vaguely if they'd have even had a friendship if he'd met the cocky young man back then, before deciding probably not.
Finding a door and pushing it open, the demon discovered that it did lead where he expected it to. On the other side was the small, neglected courtyard where he'd parked the Bentley and that man with taste in clothes like Aziraphale's had told him that he'd left his lights on and that they'd already started in room three. He smiled faintly, amused at how one small mistake can change the course of the world. The rain was beating on the garbage cans, a syncopated metallic rhythm and he went out into it, letting the cold water fall on him, spattering his sunglasses, soaking his suit and damping his hair. He wasn't in snake form and the air wasn't as fresh and clean and flower scented as it had been then, but it reminded him of the Garden, as so many things did. That was another instance where a chance occurrence changed the path of the world.
If they hadn't had that somewhat friendly conversation in the rain, where would they be now? Probably not friends and definitely not lovers. Crowley would have spent six millennia alone. It was a sobering thought. He tried to imagine not having all those times when he was lonely or bored or tired or distraught and ended up spending time with the angel. Between the challenge of tempting him to something, lots of alcohol, and intelligent, dryly humourous, and somewhat snarky conversation, he'd always felt better afterward. Except for the occasional hangover. What would his life be like without that? Probably a lot more demonic, he decided. And not nearly as interesting.
Not immune to the irony that his life had been just as unpredictable as any human's, Crowley stepped back inside, leaving the past behind. Dripping on the carpet and squelching as he walked, the demon moved back towards the populated end of the Manor, hoping to run into Aziraphale or John, Ellie, Gabriel, Adam, Belial, or anyone really. He was ready to make some new memories now.
Setting: Manor Grounds
Status: Public (Writing Challenge Thread)
Summary: Remembrance of Things Past
Crowley had gotten into the habit of taking walks around the Manor when he was bored and Aziraphale was working. Some part of him resented the time the angel spent with paper and ink, telephones and accounts, but most of him realized that it was good for him. Aziraphale liked to be busy and useful; it made him happy which made Crowley happy, so he let it be and walked instead.
Since April showers were clinging stubbornly to May, he stayed inside, exploring the parts of the lower floors that he'd never seen, or at least he thought he'd never seen. Turning a dark corner, however, he promptly discovered he was wrong. This place looked familiar, smelled familiar. It was the part of the building that hadn't been destroyed in the fire two decades prior and it put Crowley in mind of a dark night and a baby in his arms. Stopping, he looked around. This was the corridor where he'd come all those years ago, bringing the infant antichrist to what he thought would be their doom.
He thought back to that night, remembering his panic and feelings of helplessness, the frantic plans and fleeting hopes spinning through his mind. He'd thought of Aziraphale then as he drove through the dark. The angel had been the first and only person he'd considered going to for help. He hadn't met John yet. The man would have only been in his mid-twenties. Odd to imagine that, really, him looking younger than Crowley. Crowley wondered vaguely if they'd have even had a friendship if he'd met the cocky young man back then, before deciding probably not.
Finding a door and pushing it open, the demon discovered that it did lead where he expected it to. On the other side was the small, neglected courtyard where he'd parked the Bentley and that man with taste in clothes like Aziraphale's had told him that he'd left his lights on and that they'd already started in room three. He smiled faintly, amused at how one small mistake can change the course of the world. The rain was beating on the garbage cans, a syncopated metallic rhythm and he went out into it, letting the cold water fall on him, spattering his sunglasses, soaking his suit and damping his hair. He wasn't in snake form and the air wasn't as fresh and clean and flower scented as it had been then, but it reminded him of the Garden, as so many things did. That was another instance where a chance occurrence changed the path of the world.
If they hadn't had that somewhat friendly conversation in the rain, where would they be now? Probably not friends and definitely not lovers. Crowley would have spent six millennia alone. It was a sobering thought. He tried to imagine not having all those times when he was lonely or bored or tired or distraught and ended up spending time with the angel. Between the challenge of tempting him to something, lots of alcohol, and intelligent, dryly humourous, and somewhat snarky conversation, he'd always felt better afterward. Except for the occasional hangover. What would his life be like without that? Probably a lot more demonic, he decided. And not nearly as interesting.
Not immune to the irony that his life had been just as unpredictable as any human's, Crowley stepped back inside, leaving the past behind. Dripping on the carpet and squelching as he walked, the demon moved back towards the populated end of the Manor, hoping to run into Aziraphale or John, Ellie, Gabriel, Adam, Belial, or anyone really. He was ready to make some new memories now.
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Date: 2006-05-19 10:49 am (UTC)She had no idea when the mania had stepped into the picture. It didn't matter much, anyway. Manic episodes were a way for her to let out her feelings, which she usually was afraid to unleash. However, as far as she was concerned, they were merely a side-effect of her depression. It had been there first, ever since the first Fall, and even if she could, by some miracle, get rid of her manic phases some day, she had no doubt she would still be depressed from time to time. It had been pain and emptiness that had truly brought her into existence for the first time, and she had no doubt that they would also mark the end of her existence some day.
Not yet, thought. Not just yet.
She had a child to raise first.