InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I'm crazy, not stupid."

anthony j. crowley (flashbastard) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2010-12-23 15:32:00

Entry tags:

anthony j. crowley, john druitt

WHO: Anthony J. Crowley and John Druitt
WHAT: Druitt asked Crowley for help. Crowley obliges.
WHEN: An hour or so after this. [Backdated]
WHERE: Druitt's flat.
RATING: TBD
STATUS: In Progress

Anyone who might have noticed Crowley's arrival at Apartment Building A might have thought there was some sort of emergency taking place. Really, between the squealing of the tires on his Bentley, and the far too fast speed he used to drive there, it was no wonder someone might come to that conclusion. However there wasn't an emergency. Crowley simply enjoyed driving fast, and recklessly, and if ever there was an excuse to do so that even Aziraphale would find hard pressed to argue with him over, it was when answering the call of someone asking for assistance.

Of course, driving quickly somewhere and actually being in a rush were two completely different things. Personally, Crowley wasn't the sort of demon to get very rushed. There were only a handful of times when he'd done so throughout all of existence and most of those times tended to be due to Aziraphale or the very literal end of the world. As the angel was currently not in immediate danger and the world was very much staying put for the time being, Crowley clearly was not in any great hurry once he'd exited his car. He didn't run inside the building but rather strolled, finishing off his cigarette before stepping inside and making his way to Druitt's room.

Even without his hurrying, he still made it there less than an hour after being contacted. All-in-all, he thought that was rather thoughtful of him. He could have made the man wait another hundred years or so, after all. Not that he would, as he actually liked Druitt, but the point was that he could. Yet instead of doing that, Crowley finished up the watering of his plants and headed over. Now, with his sunglasses firmly in place and with a casual stance, he knocked on the man's door and waited for an answer.

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exquisiterush
2010-12-24 06:26 am UTC (link)

John hadn't quite believed that it was so easy. Not, of course, that he though Crowley was lying or leading him on. No, the man-shaped being might have been a demon, but John was almost certain he would not have misrepresented himself in that way. It was as he said. Enough things happened in this place without the parasite's urge for destruction overwhelming him. So he fully believed that Crowley would help him.

His difficulty came in believing that, after so long, this curse would be gone from him. He had begun to give up hope back home, after Nikola's efforts had been in vain, and had given in to the drugs that left him feeling numb and empty. It was, after all, better than the alternative. Still, it was a wretched existence, and he would be glad to be free of it. With the parasite gone, he might actually be able to reconnect with Helen and Ashley, the family he had lost through his actions under the parasite's sway.

He was also surprised when he heard a knock on his door shortly after he contacted Crowley. It wasn't any of the others. He just knew it. That Crowley had come so quickly was an unexpected but welcome development. Opening the door, he gave the demon a small but genuine smile and stood aside to let him in. "Thank you for coming," he said politely, "and for agreeing to help me with this."

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flashbastard
2010-12-24 10:31 pm UTC (link)

Stepping inside the apartment, Crowley glanced around - more due to a knee-jerk reaction to entering a room than out of any great need to do so - before settling his gaze on Druitt. John. Truth be told, Crowley hadn't decided what to call the man as of yet. Not even in his own mind. However he was hardly going to let that keep him from speaking to him, particularly when it came to addressing something which was quickly becoming a small hindrance to the demon.

"Right," he said simply, "first off, stop thanking me. It makes me twitchy, see. Second..." He trailed off, having wandered as he spoke and found his way to one of the windows showing the city beyond. Being on the first floor offered a rather spectacular view of the streets at a close up and yet still removed angle. It was amazing the sort of things you tended to see, even from a distance, as people meandered by on the sidewalks and streets.

For instance, the sight of a man, being chased by another man, who was waving about a piece of mistletoe as though it were a knife - or possibly the Holy Grail, Crowley couldn't say for sure - wasn't something one tended to see every day. It certainly made him take pause for the briefest of seconds before, rather bizarrely he was certain those on the streets would attest if asked, the man doing the chasing slipped on something no one else could see, did a rather spectacular flip in the air, then landed squarely on a nearby bench. Which then promptly broke in two and sent him crashing to the concrete beneath.

As the man being chased made his getaway, Crowley turned back to John and peered at him over the top of his sunglasses. There was amusing shining in his eyes as his forked tongue slid out and whetted his lips. "I suppose the first part covers it well enough. No need to start things out with nothing but complaints. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

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exquisiterush
2010-12-26 07:12 am UTC (link)

"Very well," John said with a nod of his head, not arguing the point. He was hardly going to insist on thanking someone who had no desire to hear the words. It didn't in any way diminish his gratitude, but he wasn't about to annoy the demon. Crowley was helping him, more than anyone had, save Helen. There was no way that he could repay what the demon was going to do, but it more than earned his loyalty and his friendship. If Crowley ever needed anything, John would do his best to provide it.

"Second?" he prompted, when Crowley abruptly trailed off, before turning his attention to what had distracted the demon. His lips twitched in an approximation of a smile at the sight of the man chasing someone with mistletoe. The smile widened and he laughed low in his throat as the man abruptly slipped and crashed into a bench. Had he not been right there with Crowley, he might have suspected it was mere chance, an amusing accident, but he knew otherwise.

"Does mistletoe grievously offend you then?" he asked curiously, his smile still amused. Then his expression became more serious as they got down to business. "Yes," he said, "let's. What do you need me to do?" He hardly thought it would be quite so simple as Crowley waving his hand and willing the parasite out of existence. It was simply a matter of what the demon needed from him.

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flashbastard
2010-12-26 04:49 pm UTC (link)

"Have a seat."

Although Crowley wasn't ordering the man to sit down, he also wasn't necessarily asking. He simply considered it a very strong, yet friendly due to the reasons for it, suggestion. Due to the parasite being alive, even if it wasn't alive in the way most would consider living to be, Crowley couldn't simply will it away. After all, if every demon who came along could just start slaughtering living beings because he felt like it, the majority of humanity would have disappeared long before now. They hadn't, though, because there were rules in place and even Crowley - who had stood alongside Aziraphale and Adam through it all and effectively given Hell the finger while doing so - wasn't so bold as to break them.

He could, however, snatch the parasite from John's chest and place it elsewhere. Unfortunately, that meant that removing the parasite wasn't going to be very enjoyable for the man currently serving as its host. Crowley was sure the thing wasn't going to part with John easily. Particularly once it had sorted out that Crowley's intentions were not to provide it with a comfy new place to set up shop but rather to stuff it inside something from which it couldn't hope to escape.

An eternity of torment for a creature that had done much the same to John Druitt and those he cared about. Personally, Crowley thought it was quite fitting.

"This won't be pleasant," he warned as he removed his sunglasses and slid them into the pocket on his shirt. Slowly, methodically, he began rolling up first one sleeve and then the other. He glanced back to John. "You'll have to stay perfectly still." Stepping a bit closer, he added intently, "And whatever you do, no matter what, you cannot teleport until this is done."

He really couldn't be clear enough on this matter and really hoped that John understood that fact.

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exquisiterush
2010-12-31 08:32 pm UTC (link)

John saw no reason to argue with the suggestion, if it was that, so he sat down on one of the chairs when Crowley not-necessarily-asked him to. He had no doubt there was a very good reason for the fallen angel to think he should sit down for whatever was going to happen. He still had no idea how this would work, but he didn't much care so long as the parasite was gone from him and not harming anyone else.

He listened to Crowley's instructions and nodded. "I had hardly imagined it would be pleasant," he said with a small smile. "I shall do my best to keep still and not teleport, of course, but I don't know how it will react to what it might perceive as a threat. But I've been getting better at combating what it wants, at least for short spans of time." Mostly because he stayed in something of a drugged haze that kept the creature from doing much. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to fight it off completely without the chemical assistance, which was why he wanted it gone.

He took a moment to center himself, then looked up at Crowley. "You can start whenever you're ready."

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flashbastard
2011-01-07 05:20 pm UTC (link)

As John explained he would do his best to stay put, Crowley finished rolling up his shirt sleeves then glanced briefly toward the table beside them. A small box appeared with various symbols carved into the wood. Some of them were from Above, some were from Below, and some had been created by Adam. In short, whatever wound up stuck inside the box wasn't getting out so long as Heaven, Hell, or the Antichrist was still standing. And if all of those managed to fall, well, Crowley figured at that point the least of anyone's concern was going to be one measly parasite.

Standing directly in front of John, Crowley studied him for a brief moment. To most, it might seem as though the demon was trying to prepare himself for what was to come. In truth, however, he was actually giving the man a chance to change his mind. The fact was, Crowley didn't like hurting people and he wasn't overly thrilled that the first one he was going to hurt in quite some time was someone he actually respected. However the man clearly did need the help and he wasn't going to back out unless John had a change of heart. When it became obvious after a few seconds that that wasn't likely to happen, he decided to just get on with it.

"I do apologise for this," the demon said somberly. All of his earlier arrogance, sarcasm, and even the general air of mischief that seemed to surround him, was gone. He was focused, determined, and not looking forward to doing any of what he was about to do. Yet he didn't hesitate, didn't even really give John a chance to suddenly back out once his apology had been uttered. He simply took another step forward, whetted his lips with his forked tongue, and placed his palm on John's chest.

Then he shoved his hand through the man's flesh, until he was wrist-deep, and began the rather tricky task of trying to grab ahold of a non-corporeal entity that was bound and determined to not be caught.

He was certain, to the man having to undergo what amounted to little more than torture (in Crowley's mind, at least), it likely seemed to last hours if not even longer. In actuality, however, not even a full forty-five seconds had passed when Crowley slowly began to pull his hand back out. Just before his fingertips emerged he once more jerked his gaze toward the box. As if on cue, the lid flipped open. At the same instant that Crowley yanked his hand free, the lid slammed closed. The box shook violently for several long seconds before going still.

And just like that, the deed was done.

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exquisiterush
2011-01-08 10:19 pm UTC (link)

It was agony. That was the only word for it. It was a pain unlike anything he had ever experienced, and John was glad for it. Had it not been for the pain, he might not have believed this was actually working. It would have been too simple, too easy to be real. But the pain, which ripped screams from his throat, was too overwhelming to be anything but a product of that creature fighting inside him. It felt as though it might last forever, though the logical portion of his mind knew it had not even been a minute, and when it was done it was all he could do to breathe. Then, a few moments later, the pain was gone and the box Crowley had created was closed, and John felt something he hadn't, save for a few brief hours, in over a century.

Peace. He felt at peace with himself. He still felt guilt, of course, for the things he had done and the people he had hurt, but he no longer felt the consuming rage and bloodlust and wrongness that had been a part of him for so many years. The relief was overwhelming, making him feel slightly dizzy as he moved to stand. He wanted to thank Crowley, for doing this and giving him his life back, but he knew the sentiment would not be appreciated, so instead he just gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

"Do not apologise," he said kindly. "It is worth more pain than that, to be rid of that curse. If ever there is anything you need, simply ask it and, if it is in my power, I will aid you however I can." Walking across the room, though he still felt a bit shaky, he grabbed the brandy and poured to glasses, holding one out to the demon. "I rather think we could both use a drink after that, don't you?"

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flashbastard
2011-01-10 11:50 pm UTC (link)

It wasn't often that Crowley felt guilt and on those rare occasions when he did feel it, it was scarcely the same sort of guilt that humans tended to feel. In fact, it was typically no more than a slightly sickly feeling somewhere in the vicinity of his midsection and extremely easily ignored. This time, however, it wasn't like that.

Crowley knew that there had been no way to avoid the pain. He also knew that calling it 'pain', or even 'agony', really wasn't doing it justice. There simply wasn't a word created by any language known to man to properly describe what John Druitt had just suffered through and, although it was over quickly enough and he was certainly better off now that it was done, the fact that it had been necessary in the first place did not sit well with Crowley in the slightest.

Or maybe the feeling he was having at the moment was because he'd done something good for someone without asking for a thing in return. He supposed, idly, that was also possible. He was a demon, after all, even if he was a rather terrible at it these days. Still, he supposed it didn't matter. John was grateful, offering his help should Crowley ever need, and next asking if he wanted a drink. Crowley smiled and tipped his head in agreement at the offer, moving to where the other man stood.

"I rather think you're quite right in that regard," he said simply. His arm still tingled a bit from where the entity had tried to wrap around him in the vain hope of escaping its fate. Taking the glass offered to him, he turned his slitted pupils toward the box. He thought he knew evil. Hell, he was supposed to be evil. But something about that creature had set him far more on edge than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He wasn't certain what it was, whether it was the clear lack of anything even resembling mercy or something else entirely, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

Under no circumstances did that box ever need to be opened.

"Do you want me to be rid of it now?" he finally questioned, looking back to John with a curious arching of his brow. For all he knew, the man might want to keep the thing just to make sure no one else came along to tamper with it. Not that they could, at least not easily, but humans were odd creatures sometimes and Crowley, despite all the time he'd spent around them, didn't even pretend to understand them as much as he might like.

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