(Untitled)

[dontcallmegabby]

Date: February 1st, 2001, evening
Setting: Tadfield Manor, hospital wing
Status: Private - Crowley and Gabriel (Complete)
Summary: Crowley admits defeat.

Comments

[anthony_crowley]

Practically vibrating with suppressed anger and frustration after his conversation with Aziraphale, Crowley dragged himself back to the hospital, faintly relieved to find the Snob there this time.

"Gabriel," he bit out in response. Very little of his anger was directed at the archangel, but he assumed a great deal more went the other direction. Still, it didn't matter. Even if he hadn't been the bearer of bad news and the pursuer of Gabriel's lover, the angel was too conscious of sides for them to ever be able to get along. At the moment, Crowley thought he probably had the right idea. If he never saw another damn angel again, it'd be too soon. But it was the wrong time to think about what just happened. He needed to focus.

The demon blinked, trying to figure out how to ask for help without actually asking for help. "I can't... I mean I don't... Look, you're obligated to work in here, right? For whomever might be injured? Regardless of personal matters?"

[dontcallmegabby]

"No," Gabriel answered curtly, and as far as he was concerned, it was true; what he did was voluntary, and he did not report to Adam in the end. The Antichrist had indicated as much in the past.

However, though Crowley may not have been the first being Gabriel had been hoping to see, he had proved himself a friend to Belial, and the angel wasn't going to turn him away without reason.

"What do you want, Crowley?"

[anthony_crowley]

Crowley stared at Gabriel for an awkward eternity, deciding. But he really didn't have much choice, did he? Checking that they were alone, the demon extended his battered wings with a grimace. A few scant tufts of broken black feathers lay in ragged patches against the thin skin of his wings. Scabs dotted the surface where the others had been violently torn out. And the right wing hung crookedly - the delicate, hollow bones broken or fractured in several places.

Unable to come up with any words to explain or ask or hide his humiliation, Crowley simply looked at the Messenger; his expression as blank as he could make it.

[dontcallmegabby]

The sight was enough to shatter the ice of Gabriel's expression: wings were a matter of great importance among angels, and he could only imagine the blow to the demon's pride just to admit to an enemy such injuries. It must have happened when the demon had been in Hell, he realized, and wondered how Crowley had lived all this time with the pain such extensive damage would have caused all - and how Gabriel himself had not noticed to begin with.

"Crowley..." the angel began in barely more than a whisper, a troubled look to his blue eyes, but it was pointless; there was little he could say that would make a difference. Instead he moved to the nearest exam room, holding the door for the demon and his delicately extended wings. "Come in, sit down. Please. I'll see what I can do."

[anthony_crowley]

Surprised but faintly encouraged, Crowley carefully flexed his wings back and passed through the door Gabriel held open. It meant that he'd have to turn his back on the angel, but if Gabriel wanted to do him harm, he'd have plenty of opportunity. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was just going to have to trust him.

He sat where he was told to; the slight tremor in the base of his wings was visually amplified by the size of the limbs as he let them relax to their normal resting position, nearly brushing the sides of the small room.

Still he said nothing. He had nothing to say. But he did watch the angel's movements intently, acting more like a scared, wounded cat than he would have liked to admit.

[dontcallmegabby]

It was fairly obvious from the awkward angle at which it hung that Crowley's right wing had been broken in several places. Gabriel thought he should start there; even with the damage to the feathers so frighteningly extensive, the fractures were surely more painful. But before setting about locating the various breaks, Gabriel glanced critically at the demon's strained expression. Its stern lines spoke mostly of frustration, but there was perhaps some fear, some pain, masked beneath.

"Do you think you'll be all right if I use my powers for this, Crowley?" he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle to show he intended no offense. "I had to do quite a bit last time, and I know that must have been a strain... If you think it'd be best not to, there are other options."

[anthony_crowley]

"It can't hurt worse than..." he began, but Crowley stopped himself, gritting his teeth.

Somehow the angel's gentleness was worse than if he'd coldly turned him away. Crowley didn't want to owe anyone anything. But especially not an angel - not Gabriel. He didn't want to have to feel thankful or have to be polite. The demon was not currently in any mood for polite. Though if he wanted to be able to use his wings again, he was going to have to be.

"It's fine. Just do it."

[dontcallmegabby]

Crowley's abruptness brought Gabriel back to their situation: angel and demon, despite Crowley's tattered wings, despite living together under cover of the Antichrist's rules. He would still help Crowley to the best of his abilities, but he wasn't going to expend any energy on sympathy when Crowley set such a precedent; he and the demon were not on the best of terms even when Crowley's manner wasn't sharpened by pain. He turned his attention to the crooked right wing

[anthony_crowley]

He didn't want angelic sympathy. He wanted to rage and scream and set things on fire. But what did it matter that he lost the job he loved to take on a task he loathed? What did it matter that his ex-lover had returned without gaining an ounce of understanding in the intervening time? What did it matter that he was Hell's punching bag? In the larger view, absolutely nothing. In the personal view, everything

[dontcallmegabby]

Gabriel nodded, making no comment. Crowley seemed no less tense after the healing, though perhaps that was in part because, despite his efforts, the demon's wings had not been completely restored.

"I'm not sure about the feathers," he admitted after a moment; and indeed, while he had seen angels lose patches of feathers in fights and other such circumstances, he had never been witness to such extensive damage. There were very few of the sleek black feathers left, and most of Crowley's wings were covered in nothing more than wan skin, so thin in places that one could see every detail of the maze of capillaries beneath. "I don't think either of us could replace all of them. Not in one sitting, anyway."

It was a delicate issue, and he waited for Crowley's input on how to continue - no matter how insulting the delivery might prove to.

[anthony_crowley]

Crowley's tenseness had little to do with Gabriel other than him being a reminder of his species. The demon was, in fact, quite grateful for the Messenger's assistance, though he wasn't sure how he'd manage to say so. He was mostly furious at Aziraphale. And for the loss of his beautifully kept feathers.

"Don't waste your energy. They don't grow in properly if they're forced," he grumbled. "I'll just have to wait." With a mournful look at the bedraggled things, Crowley prepared to put them away, ignoring the faint stabs of broken quills into his exposed skin.

[dontcallmegabby]

"I'll still fix the scratches, unless you object," the angel said. Head bowed slightly, Gabriel glanced critically up at the few clumps of straggling black feathers. "And I could at least take out the rest," he suggested carefully, "so that they won't be in the way, and your feathers can grow in evenly."

[anthony_crowley]

Torn between not wanting to be touched or even in the angel's presence and getting his wings entirely healed with no effort on his own part - or as much as they could be - Crowley hesitated a moment.

"Why would you do that?" he finally asked. It wasn't a no.

[dontcallmegabby]

Gabriel's expression did not change, which was perhaps more of a betrayal than he realized; for anger, annoyance he would not have hidden from the demon, but such uncertainty as this situation held he dared not show

[anthony_crowley]

Not being at the top of his game at the time, Gabriel's expression, or lack thereof, passed Crowley by, not leading to any great revelations about the angel's moods or motivations. On this occasion, he took the Messenger's word at face-value. He'd helped Belial, so Belial's grateful lover would like to help him. A stupid notion, and classically 'angelic', but it made enough sense for the demon not to suspect anything further. Actually, he began considering how to manipulate that impulse to force people to help him by helping their friends. Anything to avoid thinking of how he'd helped Belial in the first place. He knew, probably better than the angel what it truly meant.

"All right," he muttered, not meeting Gabriel's eyes. "But make it fast."

[dontcallmegabby]

Gabriel nodded, though he had no intention of rushing as he continued