(no subject)
Date: March 27, 2001
Status: Private - Gabriel (complete)
Setting: London
Summary: The first leg of the journey, continued from here
For as long as it had stood by mortal standards, London felt young to Gabriel, alive with the energy and buzz of conversations only partially comprehensible to the ear. Of course, it was not words the archangel overheard, but prayer: some deliberate, yes, but many more subconscious, intoned in tears, in laughter, in the music of millions of beating hearts. The city thrummed with them - with hope, with despair, with penitence and bitterness and everything in between. It was not his duty to receive prayers directly, but the vibration of such a concentration of mortals still affected Gabriel after the relative quiet of the manor.
He'd made it to the suburbs of London before exhaustion had caught up to him. Once he'd landed, there'd been such a weariness in his being that he'd wondered how his wings had even been able to carry him the last lengths of his flight. More than that, he'd lost his focus somewhere on the path from Oxfordshire and was having trouble maintaining his powers long enough to ensure he'd be invisible to mortal sight.
So, he'd landed in the outskirts of the city and, willing himself into a dark grey business suit, had procured a cab.
The back of the black cab smelled like cigarette smoke, its stale scent embedded in the very seats as the angel settled himself. The driver was none too happy about his request to be taken into Central London, and eyed Gabriel in the rear view mirror several times as they began their trip. Traffic, however, was surprisingly light for the duration of their travel. (1)
He'd lost track of the demon at some point, except for the vague pinprick of urgency at the back of his consciousness that told him the demon was still in pursuit. Good. He leaned back against the worn seat, still ruminating over a plan only half-formed.
His only option now, as far as he could see, was to keep moving until Crowley discovered him. He couldn't go to see Belial, he knew that: though there had been the faintest twinge, a visceral pull at that moment when he'd latched on to Belial's location through his use of power, he knew it would be foolish, and likely a danger to them both. It was difficult enough to hide one of their supernatural signatures, not to mention the both of them. And besides, the archangel wasn't about to turn away from Heaven. Staying at the manor for a short period was one thing, but running about the globe in dereliction of his duties was hardly an option.
Which brought him back to his current situation. If he wasn't going to see Belial, just where was he headed? Crowley was following him now, presumably because he suspected the archangel of seeking out Belial after the hint to his whereabouts, and was either planning on stopping the angel, or hoping Gabriel would lead him straight to Lucifer's fugitive. Either way, Gabriel should be able to keep up this game for a few days before Crowley suspected anything, making it look to Heaven and Hell alike as though the agent was in hot pursuit of the Crown. Either way, Crowley was likely to be furious when he found out what the archangel was doing.
But Gabriel was not ready to risk Hell tiring of the fruitless search and sending someone else - someone who wanted Belial found, or perhaps who wanted him eliminated altogether. Or perhaps Lucifer himself would come in search of his lost Crown? How badly did he want Belial back? Gabriel shuddered slightly. No, better a demon who, while no friend to Gabriel, harbored some fondness for Belial. And if Gabriel had to galvanize him to the hunt...
The cab stopped on the street near a small underground station on the fringe of Central London. Gabriel left a generous tip for the drive, and made his way below ground.
He found the lines blissfully short, and was soon standing on the platform awaiting the next coach to Paddington Station. He took the opportunity of the short wait to search more thoroughly for Crowley's presence: the demon had not yet reached the heart of the city, but his lead was small enough that Gabriel was sure he would have no trouble following the metaphysical trail the angel left in his wake.
He took his seat on the tube across from a rather frantic mother with three children. While she was busy berating two, the youngest - a girl of barely three - was holding tightly to her mother's hand, glancing about shyly. Her pigtails bounced as the train lurched into motion, and she caught Gabriel's eyes. The angel smiled. The little girl's eyes widened before she turned quickly away, burying her face in her mother's jacket.
When he emerged from the station, it was with a mass of commuters up the steps to the above-ground portion of Paddington Station. The great cylindrical roof, stretching over parallel lengths of train tracks, was lit dimly from windows high at the top of wrought iron arches, which supported the station's structure like the ribs of some industrial beast. Much of the pedestrian traffic at this time of the evening was made up of business people, making their way home after the work day. Gabriel did not stand out in this crowd.
He purchased a ticket for the Heathrow Express, though he hadn't quite known that that was what he'd been looking for until he'd been standing at the counter. It had simply come to mind when his turn had come, in the same way that he wouldn't have known London Paddington from Grand Central in New York until he'd climbed out of the black cab across town. He simply knew such things when he needed to, and not when he didn't. Perks of the job, in a way: when Heaven needed him somewhere, it did no good to have him wasting time inquiring of the locals the direction to St. Martin's in a loud voice.
The man behind the counter handed him his ticket and pointed him toward platform seven, assuring him that the train would be along momentarily. he made his way over to the platform, where several others, most of them with at least one piece of luggage, awaited the airport shuttle. It occurred to Gabriel that he would look somewhat more natural had he been holding at least a briefcase; but none of the mortals in the train station noticed, and none of them at Heathrow would, either.
It was no more than a fifteen-minute train ride to Heathrow, and Gabriel was immediately overwhelmed in an international crowd at the multiple-level complex. He made some effort to strengthen his celestial aura, hoping it would be enough for Crowley to sense among such noise. Signs pointed to buses, currency exchange, food, restrooms, check-in counters for multiple airlines, and four separate terminals, each with their own bustle. The angel spotted a flight schedule and noted any possibilities leaving within the hour. Los Angeles was too soon, Zurich too long a wait... ah.
He made his way over to the British Airlines desk to enquire about the next flight to Copenhagen.
"You're lucky, sir," the woman behind the counter informed him. "There's one seat left, and you've just enough time to get through security before your flight leaves. May I see some ID?"
He handed her his passport - one Mr. Gabriel Engel, a testament to the lack of imagination of the authority who had issued it to him in Heaven - and used a credit card with the same name to purchase the ticket. (2)
The woman turned out to be right, and general boarding was just beginning when he arrived at the gate. Once he'd settled into his seat, the familiar tirade about safety, the weather, and the in-flight movie began. Gabriel was somewhat more preoccupied with what he would do next. He had no particular reason to go to Copenhagen, aside from the convenient timing, and besides, he didn't think he could afford to dally long. Once Crowley arrived in the city, he'd no doubt be right on the angel's heels again. He'd just have to focus on making sure it looked as though he were urgently trying to get somewhere.
But for now, there was little else he could do. Gabriel picked up a rather tattered magazine that someone had left in the seat pocket, flipped idly through the pages to the crossword puzzle in the back, and leaned back as the plane began its acceleration down the runway.
***
(1) Gabriel realized that this could probably be considered cheating. He also realized that, wherever he was, Crowley would likely be doing the same without compunction.
(2) Bet you're wondering what credit cards they use in Heaven now, aren't you? And - more importantly - how are the interest rates?
Status: Private - Gabriel (complete)
Setting: London
Summary: The first leg of the journey, continued from here
For as long as it had stood by mortal standards, London felt young to Gabriel, alive with the energy and buzz of conversations only partially comprehensible to the ear. Of course, it was not words the archangel overheard, but prayer: some deliberate, yes, but many more subconscious, intoned in tears, in laughter, in the music of millions of beating hearts. The city thrummed with them - with hope, with despair, with penitence and bitterness and everything in between. It was not his duty to receive prayers directly, but the vibration of such a concentration of mortals still affected Gabriel after the relative quiet of the manor.
He'd made it to the suburbs of London before exhaustion had caught up to him. Once he'd landed, there'd been such a weariness in his being that he'd wondered how his wings had even been able to carry him the last lengths of his flight. More than that, he'd lost his focus somewhere on the path from Oxfordshire and was having trouble maintaining his powers long enough to ensure he'd be invisible to mortal sight.
So, he'd landed in the outskirts of the city and, willing himself into a dark grey business suit, had procured a cab.
The back of the black cab smelled like cigarette smoke, its stale scent embedded in the very seats as the angel settled himself. The driver was none too happy about his request to be taken into Central London, and eyed Gabriel in the rear view mirror several times as they began their trip. Traffic, however, was surprisingly light for the duration of their travel. (1)
He'd lost track of the demon at some point, except for the vague pinprick of urgency at the back of his consciousness that told him the demon was still in pursuit. Good. He leaned back against the worn seat, still ruminating over a plan only half-formed.
His only option now, as far as he could see, was to keep moving until Crowley discovered him. He couldn't go to see Belial, he knew that: though there had been the faintest twinge, a visceral pull at that moment when he'd latched on to Belial's location through his use of power, he knew it would be foolish, and likely a danger to them both. It was difficult enough to hide one of their supernatural signatures, not to mention the both of them. And besides, the archangel wasn't about to turn away from Heaven. Staying at the manor for a short period was one thing, but running about the globe in dereliction of his duties was hardly an option.
Which brought him back to his current situation. If he wasn't going to see Belial, just where was he headed? Crowley was following him now, presumably because he suspected the archangel of seeking out Belial after the hint to his whereabouts, and was either planning on stopping the angel, or hoping Gabriel would lead him straight to Lucifer's fugitive. Either way, Gabriel should be able to keep up this game for a few days before Crowley suspected anything, making it look to Heaven and Hell alike as though the agent was in hot pursuit of the Crown. Either way, Crowley was likely to be furious when he found out what the archangel was doing.
But Gabriel was not ready to risk Hell tiring of the fruitless search and sending someone else - someone who wanted Belial found, or perhaps who wanted him eliminated altogether. Or perhaps Lucifer himself would come in search of his lost Crown? How badly did he want Belial back? Gabriel shuddered slightly. No, better a demon who, while no friend to Gabriel, harbored some fondness for Belial. And if Gabriel had to galvanize him to the hunt...
The cab stopped on the street near a small underground station on the fringe of Central London. Gabriel left a generous tip for the drive, and made his way below ground.
He found the lines blissfully short, and was soon standing on the platform awaiting the next coach to Paddington Station. He took the opportunity of the short wait to search more thoroughly for Crowley's presence: the demon had not yet reached the heart of the city, but his lead was small enough that Gabriel was sure he would have no trouble following the metaphysical trail the angel left in his wake.
He took his seat on the tube across from a rather frantic mother with three children. While she was busy berating two, the youngest - a girl of barely three - was holding tightly to her mother's hand, glancing about shyly. Her pigtails bounced as the train lurched into motion, and she caught Gabriel's eyes. The angel smiled. The little girl's eyes widened before she turned quickly away, burying her face in her mother's jacket.
When he emerged from the station, it was with a mass of commuters up the steps to the above-ground portion of Paddington Station. The great cylindrical roof, stretching over parallel lengths of train tracks, was lit dimly from windows high at the top of wrought iron arches, which supported the station's structure like the ribs of some industrial beast. Much of the pedestrian traffic at this time of the evening was made up of business people, making their way home after the work day. Gabriel did not stand out in this crowd.
He purchased a ticket for the Heathrow Express, though he hadn't quite known that that was what he'd been looking for until he'd been standing at the counter. It had simply come to mind when his turn had come, in the same way that he wouldn't have known London Paddington from Grand Central in New York until he'd climbed out of the black cab across town. He simply knew such things when he needed to, and not when he didn't. Perks of the job, in a way: when Heaven needed him somewhere, it did no good to have him wasting time inquiring of the locals the direction to St. Martin's in a loud voice.
The man behind the counter handed him his ticket and pointed him toward platform seven, assuring him that the train would be along momentarily. he made his way over to the platform, where several others, most of them with at least one piece of luggage, awaited the airport shuttle. It occurred to Gabriel that he would look somewhat more natural had he been holding at least a briefcase; but none of the mortals in the train station noticed, and none of them at Heathrow would, either.
It was no more than a fifteen-minute train ride to Heathrow, and Gabriel was immediately overwhelmed in an international crowd at the multiple-level complex. He made some effort to strengthen his celestial aura, hoping it would be enough for Crowley to sense among such noise. Signs pointed to buses, currency exchange, food, restrooms, check-in counters for multiple airlines, and four separate terminals, each with their own bustle. The angel spotted a flight schedule and noted any possibilities leaving within the hour. Los Angeles was too soon, Zurich too long a wait... ah.
He made his way over to the British Airlines desk to enquire about the next flight to Copenhagen.
"You're lucky, sir," the woman behind the counter informed him. "There's one seat left, and you've just enough time to get through security before your flight leaves. May I see some ID?"
He handed her his passport - one Mr. Gabriel Engel, a testament to the lack of imagination of the authority who had issued it to him in Heaven - and used a credit card with the same name to purchase the ticket. (2)
The woman turned out to be right, and general boarding was just beginning when he arrived at the gate. Once he'd settled into his seat, the familiar tirade about safety, the weather, and the in-flight movie began. Gabriel was somewhat more preoccupied with what he would do next. He had no particular reason to go to Copenhagen, aside from the convenient timing, and besides, he didn't think he could afford to dally long. Once Crowley arrived in the city, he'd no doubt be right on the angel's heels again. He'd just have to focus on making sure it looked as though he were urgently trying to get somewhere.
But for now, there was little else he could do. Gabriel picked up a rather tattered magazine that someone had left in the seat pocket, flipped idly through the pages to the crossword puzzle in the back, and leaned back as the plane began its acceleration down the runway.
***
(1) Gabriel realized that this could probably be considered cheating. He also realized that, wherever he was, Crowley would likely be doing the same without compunction.
(2) Bet you're wondering what credit cards they use in Heaven now, aren't you? And - more importantly - how are the interest rates?