[Open] I've been around for a long, long year -- stole many a man's soul and faith.
Crowley was not happy in the slightest.
First that bloody angel had to go back on their deal, and then he had to nick off with the blood - rendering the spell useless. Then the stupid feather ball had to go and open up Purgatory all by himself an consume every single last soul that was in there. Bloody angels. Well, he certainly wasn't going to ( Read more... )
He knows he can't get to Hell right now, perhaps some short-term glitch - he doesn't know. He needs to work out just what this place is first and find a way to get back. But of course, he can't let her know that.
"But where's all the fun in that?" he asks her, "Yes, I could easily drag you back to Hell where you belong. But see, you were always one that fascinated me - your deal that is. I've seen lots of them, mostly material wealth or people wanting talent, fame, glory. But you? Offing mummy and daddy."
He sighs and shakes his head, "You're a real piece of work," he snaps his fingers and the burn on her hand vanishes. "The fun's in the chase, darling. And if I want that chase to go on, I will,"
"But don't think I'm going soft," he adds quickly with a dark look, "You might be free to roam among the birds and grass and fresh air. But you belong to me,"
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Her voice is low and angry, and she's suddenly cursing the Rift far more than she usually does. "This is a brave new world, Crowley. Let's see how well you do when you see what the Rift has to offer."
She hopes it eats him. Or sends him into the mouth of a volcano. Or something equally poetic.
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"Oh, I assure you. I'll be doing just fine," he tells her. "Which can't be said for you, I'm afraid,"
The only eating that'll be happening will be when the Hellhounds get here and find her.
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The link between them makes it easier than it would be otherwise. The moment he felt the pain in his hand, he knew the pain itself was not his. It was hers, and the guardian instincts kicked in, and they kicked in hard. He would be unable to do anything but look for her, find her, and make sure nothing is happening to her.
It's not promising, what he stumbles onto, and his expression and his gaze hardens immediately. He has no idea who Crowley is, and he doesn't quite give a rat's ass about it, either.
He moves to stand beside his ward. "Is there a problem here?"
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"No. Not a problem. I was just leaving."
Not that she's solved the problem of how she got here the moment Crowley arrived yet, but that doesn't matter, she's leaving. She doesn't want to be here anymore -- if she has to spend any more time with Crowley, she might be sick.
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That and the fact he's a bit of a nosy bastard.
"Nothing that you need to worry about, pretty boy," He raises an eyebrow at Bela and before smirking slightly, "And you are, anyway? Bela's not the most well-mannered of folk, y'see,"
Sorry, but you're not really going anywhere Bela. Crowley isn't sure how it works out either, but you're staying whether you like it or not.
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In fact, he barely gives him a passing glance, and the pretty boy comment receives barely, if any reaction. Inwardly, the concern is rampant, mostly because he can feel that Bela might get sick at any moment the longer she stays here, and he doesn't know why.
"I'm John, and not really one for the shaking hands and pleasantry bullshit. You'll find her manners and my manners get along splendidly. She clearly doesn't want you around, so why don't you leave her alone?"
Not that Bela can't fight her own battles, and he knows this, but... guardian.
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"He's no one. We just want to leave."
She knows that she's showing a weakness and she doesn't want to, but she doesn't think of any other way that they can get out of here. She doesn't want John to get hurt. She stopped caring about herself a long time ago.
But if she knew Crowley, he isn't about to leave her alone about it.
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"Shame. But I do know of a place where I could change that," he says with a dark smile, raising an eyebrow in Bela's direction. She'll know exactly he means. He assures he'd have John all 'Thank you, sir. Another hot poker up the jacksie, Sir?' - just like the rest of them.
Crowley blink and looks at Bela with mock-shock. "No one?" Nope. Not impressed in the slightest with this. "Hardly the way to talk to your boss,"
He looks at John with narrowed eyes, "I think you'll find you have no business here, John," he tells him, "This is between me and the ever-lovely Ms. Talbot,"
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"I said my name but I didn't catch yours," John replies.
So much for your talk about manners, Crowley.
"He's your boss?" John asks, folding his arms across his chest and looking over at Bela.
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She takes a breath, not wanting to explain this here. She wants to get through this with as minimal damage done as possible. "Crowley has yet to understand that this is a different place from the world he's used to."
And Bela isn't entirely sure how to drive that point home.
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If he had a hat, he would doff it. Would that make you happy, John? Geez.
Crowley rolls his eyes, how many times will he have to explain this to her? Bloody humans and their stubbornness. Surely the burn should have been enough to get it through that skull of hers?
"I hold the contracts now. Which means I hold yours," he tells her flatly, "Even if we may be from different points in time, or in fact, a whole new world - I still hold it,"
Sorry, Bela. Crowley doesn't really care about what you want.
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It's a little bit better, Crowley.
"Okay, wait a minute. Wait a minute." John holds up his hands. "What she's saying is true, whether you're a fan or not. You might have your King of Hell mojo, but you're in a completely different universe. Hell doesn't exist here, not as you know it, and angels and demons and all that jazz? Also a completely different ball game. Contract's gotta be null and void."
John doesn't even have to know what the contract is about.
He's going to argue her case.
Sorry, Crowley. John does care about what she wants.
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Not that Bela has been discussing this with Castiel at length -- in fact, she tries to avoid him whenever possible -- but she's fairly sure that that point should drive things home.
Demons aren't supposed to be fond of angels, after all.
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He sighs and rubs at his temple in annoyance. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear, which is odd because I consider myself very articulate with these sorts of things," he says.
"This isn't some pissing game," he says, anger flaring in his voice, "Regardless of the fact we're in a different universe - you sold your soul. This is not something you can worm your way out of. You're bound to it, no matter what the playing field. I might not be able to find a way into Hell, but rest assured, I will,"
He glares at Bela, "No if's, no but's. No 'get out jail free' card. The contract still stands."
... Hold on. "Hang on..." his eyes narrow. Oh, bollocks. This is not good for him. He is so screwed. Of course, he's not going to let Bela and John see that. "Castiel's here too?" he asks. "How many of us are there here?"
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John has absolutely no desire to repeat himself, though he knows it to be true. It might work in his favor if Crowley keeps believing this contract and whatever else happened in his world could actually hold any weight here.
Sooner or later, he'll learn what life in the Rift really means.
Everyone does sooner or later.
And he's vaguely heard of Castiel through Lena, but he didn't know.
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