paradisalost | out there beyond the wall

Entry tags:

out there beyond the wall

Who: Crowley and Faye
What: Seeing what breaks first
When: Sunday evening
Where: Room 1007
Rating: PG13?

This hanging in limbo thing was killing her. Which, was generally very true, but she clung to this fact with an especially determined strength now, as she made her way down the hall. Tugged along behind her was a little red wagon full of plants, packed neatly together so that no leaves wouldn't get pinched as they bounced along.

She couldn't keep up this uncertain tug of war anymore, so... she needed to go face the end of this particular rope. Fast-forward to reaching the end of it. That's what she told herself as she reached the door and hesitated outside of it, as if she imagined that it was going to magically open on its own.

She just focused on this one thought, this one goal, and refused to give any validity to those other, far more sneaky, ones-- the ones that she had to trick herself out of paying attention to. She wasn't here hoping for anything else but giving her plants back. She wasn't.

When she finally felt secure in this fact, she picked up her arm and knocked on the door.

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As expected, it did make her retreat, but she didn't leave. It only seemed to make her take another look at her surroundings, now that she was coming down off of that anger and other things keeping her afloat, and realize that she was still standing in his doorway with a wagon of plants.

This whole thing was ridiculous.

"...Can I get a drink or something?"

Well, that had to be worth something. That wasn't an outright 'no', after all. He walked further into the room, waving for her to follow, wishing up a bottle of something hard and strong. He felt it was needed at the time.

Two glasses appeared on the coffee table as he wordlessly sat on the couch, waiting for her to join him.

Following him in and nudging the door shut behind her, she parked the plants somewhere near the others, as if they would appreciate each others' company, and joined him on the couch.

She managed to make herself comfortable easily enough... but she still left just a bit more space between them than their usual.

Well, at least the space made it a little more comfortable. Or less comfortable. The demon hadn't decided yet. He filled both glasses and nudges one across the table towards her, before gesturing for her to continue.

She didn't hurry.

She sipped her drink and settled back, waiting for some sort of magic to happen to make that edginess back off of her. ...Unsurprisingly, it didn't happen. So, she sipped more of her drink, and let a few more moments pass for no real reason at all, aside from stalling.

"His name is Vicious."

...And that was as far as she got. She had more to say, but Vicious' name hanging in the air was enough to dispel it. It was like trying to explain a dream that could only make sense to the one who dreamt it.

Well. That got a raised eyebrow.

"...Appropriate name," he replied, sitting back.

Now was the time to plan how to stop this...Vicious from being a threat. Whatever he could do, Crowley was certain that unless he had some sort of holy powers, he wouldn't be an issue for him to deal with,

"What is he? Is he human?"

And that question was right along the lines of what she'd been expecting. It was why she'd been saying he wouldn't understand. How could he? Vicious was just a man, right? He shouldn't be a problem.

"Technically."

"Right. And the reason you haven't told me this before so I could make him not be a threat any more is?"

It was what he couldn't understand. He may not be the most violent of demons, but harming those he cared about, well, that was the sort of thing he wouldn't stand for. He wnated the threat dealt with.

"That's not--" She stopped just short of her usual response.

She was getting jittery again, so she washed it down with another drink.

"It's complicated."

Crowley snorted, wishing up a cigarette and lighting it, taking a deep drag and blowing out a puff of smoke. He watched it rise to the ceiling, before turning to look at her.

"Complicated. Right."

"He wasn't even after me." There was a definite bitter edge to her voice that almost made it seem as though she was disappointed in this fact. That wasn't the case, of course... there was just something very demeaning about being knocked around for someone else's problems.

"...I was just collateral damage."

He knew Spike had something to do with it. He just KNEW it. That fucker.

"I'm going to shave off his stupid afro."

Oh. Had he said that out loud? Oh well.

"Well, fine, I'll find the bastard and show him some collateral damage," a pause. "Then I'll find Spike and do the afro-shaving thing."

She couldn't keep herself from smirking at that mental image, but even that was stilted with that almost nervous edge. Fingers wrapping and working around her glass.

"Yeah. That'll certainly make everything better."

"It'd make ME feel better."

Crowley finally decided to turn his gaze to her. After some deliberation, he slipped off the shades, pocketing them, golden eyes still on her.

"You still didn't say why you wouldn't tell me."

She stilled when she caught that motion out of the corner of her eye, and glanced over more to double-check than anything. ...He really did just do that. On his own.

And then she immediately regretted meeting his eyes. That gaze was much harder to dodge around.

Her attention fell back to her drink, but there was more tension in her fingers as she fidgeted with the glass, unable to properly retreat anymore. So, she had little choice but to finally answer with something, and it comes out tentative, remember how he reacted last time she'd said it.

"...I told you. I'm not allowed to keep anything."

His mouth became a thin line, silent for a while. Eventually, his gaze still on her, he broke the silence.

"The only one getting rid of me right now is you. I didn't know you enjoyed self-fulfilling prophecies."

Her voice rose sharply, then. Not so much in anger, not at him at least, but in being pushed toward the end of some invisible rope.

"It's just the way things are, okay? And Vicious showing up here reminded me of that.

I've never gotten to keep a single thing in my whole damn life, no matter how much I try. And this place almost made me forget that. It made me sit still for almost two years, it brought Spike back, and--"

Gave her Crowley. And Barney. And her ship. And a place to be.

"--and now this."

Crowley shrugged, leaning back on the couch, attempting an air of nonchalance where there really wasn't one. He had a horrible feeling they were hurtling towards...something. What that thing was yet, he couldn't quite figure out.

"I'm still not going anywhere, you may have noticed, despite you being...you. I'm still here."

She didn't have anything to say to that, really, because... honestly, she couldn't account for it.

But there was still so much flapping around in her head, all of it a mess, more of it had to spill out, disjointed as it was.

"Edward's gone."

Oh. Well. That explained a little of it. He let out a breath, his cigarette forgotten, burned down to the filter.

"Well. Least she's safe from being collateral damage too, right?"

"I guess so."

She tossed back the rest of her drink, barely a sip, and leaned forward to set her glass on the table. And there she stayed, elbows on her knees, slouched over and thoughtful.

"That's how it started last time, too. Vicious showed up, Edward left."

They happened around the same time, anyway. It wasn't very linear in her head. A bunch of things happening at once, before she had to start over again.

"So, what? You think history is repeating? How many times do I have to bloody well drum it into you that I'm not going anywhere."

He flicked the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray, trying to fight back the anger that was welling up again.

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

She couldn't explain, even to herself, why she kept pushing it. most of these thoughts didn't even have words to go with them until she found them falling out of her mouth.

Crowley stared at her for a full minute, before folding his arms.

"When you still stick around after you've been sacrificed to a horde of demonic gods, it's pretty safe to say you're sticking around for good."

...Ouch.

That breath stuck in her throat, stuck somewhere deep, and sounded unsteady when she finally let it go again.

She stared at her hands and fidgeted with chipping paint on her thumbnail, her nerves unrelentingly eating at her now. He was right. Or, at least he could be right, and even accepting that as true seemed impossible. All of this seemed impossible-- from Vicious' ghost then, to everything coming out of Crowley's mouth now.

The only words she could manage were very quiet ones. "...I don't know how to do this."

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