(Untitled)

[anthony_crowley]

Date: January 24, 2001
Status: Private (Crowley, Gabriel, Belial, Adam)
Setting: Hospital
Summary: Crowley returns

Comments

[dontcallmegabby]

He'd heard nothing from his post in the back room, but the disturbance in his mind was sharp, urgent as it closed upon him in iron bands, and Gabriel was drawn to the hospital's reception area in an instant

[anthony_crowley]

And, as strange as it was, Crowley did feel safe now that he had some sense of being in the Messenger's care. Not that he was rational enough to think such coherent thoughts, but the angel's quiet voice did help to calm his broken spirit. Despite having come from 'home' into the care of his mortal enemy where there was no love lost, the demon trusted Gabriel - and Adam - enough to know that at the very least he would come to no additional harm. Unaware that he was doing so, Crowley shifted ever so slightly towards Gabriel, half desperate for a comforting touch and half terrified of it. He made a choking sound, almost like a stifled sob, and was still.

[dontcallmegabby]

Gabriel spoke a few more words of the lyrical language as he moved the bed back into the hospital room, calm, shushing; not comforting, perhaps, because being gentle with the Damned was not strong in his repertoire outside of his bond with Belial. But he was intent now on helping the demon to the best of his abilities, perhaps for Belial's sake, or Aziraphale's: but more likely, perhaps, just to show that he was not afraid to counter what vile acts Hell could perpetrate, even on their own

[anthony_crowley]

Though the stitches had been quite painful and even more humiliating, they had been serving one useful purpose. Namely, holding his broken mouth shut. With their removal, his jaw hung open too far in a grotesque parody of his reptilian nature. A thin trickle of blood soaked into the pillow as glazed yellow eyes stared blindly forward.

Then Crowley winced, his body spasming as the muscles and skin of his back began to knit back together. It wasn't the white hot agony of before, but the duller, prickling pain of violated nerves struggling to rebuild and continue to relay information. He keened softly, wordlessly, the tones reminiscent of prayer-like despair as if he were begging for salvation that he knew would never come.