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vocab_drabblesTitle: The Center Holds
Fandom: Good Omens
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Characters: Crowley, God
Words: 550
Summary: After Aziraphale leaves for heaven, Crowley and God have a philosophical discussion
Notes: This ficlet incorporates the oldest prompt that I hadn't filled yet and the newest one; I thought that was kind of neat. Symbiotic was a pain to come up with something for, too, but this perfect idea came along.
The Mayfair flat was dark, lit with only the glow of streetlamps that managed to filter between the closed curtains. It was Crowley's again, supposedly, although Shax's presence still permeated everything. Had it ever been his, to begin with?
Crowley sat on the floor with his back against the wall, several Talisker bottles strewn around him. And just like that day four years ago when everything was going to shite, asked questions he knew he wouldn't get answers to.
"Why did you have to take away the only thing in this world I ever wanted? Was I bad enough to deserve all this? Wasn't falling and losing…losing everything else enough? You had to take him?!"
"No."
"Wh—what?" Crowley whipped his head around in shock. He couldn't see anything, but the voice was definitely real, unless he was losing his mind. Not feeling the almighty presence was understandable, but he would have expected to see a divine light, at the least.
"No, I didn't take him away from you."
"Right. Just inevitable, m' a demon after all."
"I've never known you to indulge in contrition."
"Like you know me," he scoffed.
"I know everything. Me, God, keep up. The host is meant to be symbiotic, heaven and hell, both necessary for the other to exist and provide a stable platform for Earth."
"The whole lot needs to be disabled if you ask me," Crowley mumbled. "Wait, so if one is destroyed, the other won't exist?" Intrigued, he filed the idea away for later consideration. "No, that's not right; in the beginning, there was only heaven."
"Even heaven didn't exist until it existed."
"Figures you'd never give straight answers to anything," Crowley growled, annoyed at himself. Now that he had the opportunity to ask questions, he couldn't remember the ones he'd saved up.
"I thought you were clever," She chided. "You and Aziraphale are the pivot point. The center from which everything evolves."
"Of course. Just cogs in the wheel of the game you're playing with the universe." Now that Crowley had lost the only thing that truly mattered to him, he found no will to hold his tongue.
"Don't talk to me about predetermination. Don't you think you two would have been destroyed long ago if you didn't have free will?"
That was… a revelation to file away for later examination.
"Sober up, we have work to do."
"We??"
"That idiot Metatron is destabilizing the fabric of reality. And I assume you want to get your angel back."
"My…"
"I swear, I would have thought you'd figure it out long ago, a few centuries back at least. Your strength lies together, not apart. I didn't expect to have to come and prod you myself, but I suppose that messy human type love can be discombobulating."
Human type love? Crowley mouthed silently. He rose on unsteady feet as he purged the alcohol from his system. The decision was an easy one. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to get his angel back and save the Earth from destruction. Yes, in that order, and he had no compunctions about admitting it.
"Lead on, MacDuff," Crowley told her, pleased with himself for misquoting Shakespeare and imagining Aziraphale's annoyed frown.
He wondered if the snort of Divine amusement he heard was his imagination.
Fandom: Good Omens
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Characters: Crowley, God
Words: 550
Summary: After Aziraphale leaves for heaven, Crowley and God have a philosophical discussion
Notes: This ficlet incorporates the oldest prompt that I hadn't filled yet and the newest one; I thought that was kind of neat. Symbiotic was a pain to come up with something for, too, but this perfect idea came along.
The Mayfair flat was dark, lit with only the glow of streetlamps that managed to filter between the closed curtains. It was Crowley's again, supposedly, although Shax's presence still permeated everything. Had it ever been his, to begin with?
Crowley sat on the floor with his back against the wall, several Talisker bottles strewn around him. And just like that day four years ago when everything was going to shite, asked questions he knew he wouldn't get answers to.
"Why did you have to take away the only thing in this world I ever wanted? Was I bad enough to deserve all this? Wasn't falling and losing…losing everything else enough? You had to take him?!"
"No."
"Wh—what?" Crowley whipped his head around in shock. He couldn't see anything, but the voice was definitely real, unless he was losing his mind. Not feeling the almighty presence was understandable, but he would have expected to see a divine light, at the least.
"No, I didn't take him away from you."
"Right. Just inevitable, m' a demon after all."
"I've never known you to indulge in contrition."
"Like you know me," he scoffed.
"I know everything. Me, God, keep up. The host is meant to be symbiotic, heaven and hell, both necessary for the other to exist and provide a stable platform for Earth."
"The whole lot needs to be disabled if you ask me," Crowley mumbled. "Wait, so if one is destroyed, the other won't exist?" Intrigued, he filed the idea away for later consideration. "No, that's not right; in the beginning, there was only heaven."
"Even heaven didn't exist until it existed."
"Figures you'd never give straight answers to anything," Crowley growled, annoyed at himself. Now that he had the opportunity to ask questions, he couldn't remember the ones he'd saved up.
"I thought you were clever," She chided. "You and Aziraphale are the pivot point. The center from which everything evolves."
"Of course. Just cogs in the wheel of the game you're playing with the universe." Now that Crowley had lost the only thing that truly mattered to him, he found no will to hold his tongue.
"Don't talk to me about predetermination. Don't you think you two would have been destroyed long ago if you didn't have free will?"
That was… a revelation to file away for later examination.
"Sober up, we have work to do."
"We??"
"That idiot Metatron is destabilizing the fabric of reality. And I assume you want to get your angel back."
"My…"
"I swear, I would have thought you'd figure it out long ago, a few centuries back at least. Your strength lies together, not apart. I didn't expect to have to come and prod you myself, but I suppose that messy human type love can be discombobulating."
Human type love? Crowley mouthed silently. He rose on unsteady feet as he purged the alcohol from his system. The decision was an easy one. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to get his angel back and save the Earth from destruction. Yes, in that order, and he had no compunctions about admitting it.
"Lead on, MacDuff," Crowley told her, pleased with himself for misquoting Shakespeare and imagining Aziraphale's annoyed frown.
He wondered if the snort of Divine amusement he heard was his imagination.
