sirenspull | 29 [Video] | Forward dated to the 7th.

[Crowley is alive.

This is a shocking fact, seeing as he fully expected to die. He even set up his so-called last will and testament, to set aside his funds and business transactions and all other sorts of things, in preparation for his death. However meaningless this universe is, Crowley is nothing but pragmatic. And as he sits in his chair, in his office, nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for a few things.

Once, he is holding a glass of liquor, which is hardly unusual. What is unusual is that his fingers grip it unusually tightly, almost as if he is convinced he is going to drop it. His eyes are lacking some of the spark that they usually hold, resigned and weary and ready to quit, though Crowley does not quit. He holds himself as someone who has lost a great deal but is far too stubborn to actually roll over and take it -- and as Crowley takes a sip of scotch, he clears his throat and speaks, his words slurring only slightly. He has great practice in speaking while intoxicated.]

I saw God yesterday, while I was stabbing my friend to death.

[Crowley considers that for a moment before he decides 'screw it' and finishes off his glass.]

I suppose I should get an attorney for that incriminating statement, but I'm having difficulty caring, as God is the one who put him out of his misery. The same one who allowed our world to dissolve into chaos and misery and let's not forget what He allowed His own poor stupid useless children to do to it, they killed one another because Daddy never hugged them. And you know what the best part was?

[Crowley huffs a soft laugh as he puts the glass back down. His fingers twitch to themselves and, perhaps in a delayed reaction, the demon swipes his hand across the table to let the glass hit the ground and shatter. It was only crystal. He can just buy another.]

He was right in front of our faces the entire time, God, the witless wonder that thought it would be funny to create an entire dimension dedicated to souls shredding each other for punishment and thought it would be hilarious to let Lucifer break out of his Cage and thought it would be hysterical for Castiel to --

[But Crowley stops himself, because that is getting into something of a deep and personal moment for him, and one can't have that. Instead, his tone lowers to something soft as he pushes himself up, hands keeping himself steady at his desk.]

If you want to speak with the useless twat, our Savior, His name is Chuck Shurley. Pray to Him if you want to know why Castiel lost his mind and the Leviathan ate your friends. I'm certain He has all the answers in the world for why they existed in the first place.

[And Crowley shuts off his feed by knocking his NV off of his desk.]

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To shelter them from you. [Remarkably cool-headed, because someone has to be and if she learned anything in a year, it was that you either kept up with Crowley or you didn't speak to him. There was no in-between unless you wanted to be miserable.]

You have less of a filter than usual. You're probably going to make someone cry and you won't even be yourself enough to enjoy it.

The only people that would cry at the news I've delivered would be the ones that deserve to.

[It's said irritably, almost stubbornly, but he allows Christina to take away his NV. It's not like he could stop her from doing so anyway. The Anti-Christ has far more power than he does, at the moment.]

[She pockets it for the moment. Growley'll probably sniff it out no matter where she hides it, but she's counting on Crowley to be too this to care much more about it.]

So God's some guy playing tourist. [Maybe that's true of every universe. Maybe that's why Jesse and the God Guys failed to kill her.] He doesn't actually care. [She growls in frustration.] The only good thing about this is at least he screwed over everyone equally. Usually, it's the demons and Satanspawn who get the worst half in these stories.

The only benefit of this story is that when I return to my universe, I will remember none of this, and I can continue my reign in peace and solitude.

[No God, no Castiel, no attachment, there is just Crowley and his goals and nothing else and that is all that matters. And as Crowley turns to sit down again, he stops abruptly at a warm weight against his legs -- and a hand hesitantly drops down to rest on fur and it takes him half a second to place which one it is before he grits his teeth.

Abaddon has been attached to his side since Castiel died.]

[She starts to say something, then shuts her mouth. This wasn't permanent. She tried to hold onto it, built her little family anew, and this time it worked. She had Crowley who didn't coddle or manipulate her, Elaine who understood, Ahiru who let her be herself, and Tim who gave her some sort of bizarre hope for the future. Throw Iroh in as the wise mentor she had in Father Tomas and her life made sense again.

But it's not real. Instead of even thinking on it further, she looks down at her feet.] It sucks, because when I go home, I'll be back to carving my name into the Eastern Seaboard, and I won't even know how satisfying it really ought to be.

[It takes her a half second to realize she doesn't want to think of that either, because she worked too hard to be better to be back at Square One.]

But I guess nothing's really changed, except now we know no one's going to help us and you knew that already.

No one helps you but yourself.

[Crowley says it absently before he finally gives in, sinking into his chair. There is a large invisible weight in his lap as Abaddon shuffles forward, resting his head in the demon's lap. Crowley carefully slides his fingers forward to scratch his ears, cautious of poking out eyes.]

Something is going to have to be done about Chuck Shurley.

[Christina flops on the nearest chair and stares at the ceiling for a moment. There are moments when she's a normal teenage girl, pretending she's not the Antichrist and then there are moments and what's in her blood boils to the surface. She might not like it, but when she cares, she cares. And sometimes being sweet and wonderful isn't enough.]

I could try to kill him. I'm pretty sure I killed the Second Coming of Christ.

If anyone is going to kill him, it's going to be me.

[Crowley leans against the back of the chair Christina is sitting in, brooding as he stares at the floor.]

But the thought is comforting.

Do you think God's susceptible to household tools? Blowtorches are pretty effective.

[Now she's just trying to make him feel better.]

[His lips twitch upward, amused.]

I would at least want that on video.

Suddenly, million hits on YouTube. "God vs the blowtorch: a drama in five acts."

[Her wistfulness fades as she rolls her eyes.] It wouldn't work, but it makes me feel better. He's not even my God and I'm pissed off at him.

Even when Castiel Fell, he was loyal to the idea that God would come back eventually.

[It was said quietly, examining his glass thoughtfully.]

Like a dog waiting for their master to come home and they never will.

And then you realize that He's been there the entire time and just watched you make an ass out of yourself.

[She straightens a bit to look over at him.] And it was for what? Kicks? And then suddenly he cares enough to stop things when he has no other choice? He could have just let this place burn.

I could have let this place burn, too, but I didn't, for my own reasons.

[It's quiet, disgusted by the idea that he and God have something in common, but it's a fact.]

Who knows His reasoning. I'm not going to ask.

You actually had something worth protecting. [It's simple fact, nothing more. She doesn't believe for a second that God was actually protecting anything.]

If this places goes under, He's just as trapped as we are. He can't just stand by and watch it burn for the hell of it. It wasn't mercy. It was necessity.

Everything anyone does is out of necessity.

[Christina can take that however way she likes.]

29 [Video] | Forward dated to the 7th.

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