Christmas Comeback

[flash-serpent.livejournal.com]

The irony wasn't lost on Crowley. As the sun rose higher, he stretched and yawned, and promply rolled off the roof of the stable outside of the church. Quite certain he'd made a loveley addition with his charred scales and gleaming wings as the Herald Angel, he picked his naked self up off the ground and, after looking at his surroundings, he wondered why no one had given him a shiny trumpet and a sash to complete the mockery.

Being back on Earth, around them, he manifested a pair of jeans and snakeskin boots and proceeded to saunter to the Rare Books Shop for a proper cup of tea on this lovely Christmas morning.

In his fist, he carries a gift for Aziraphale...not from him, but rather from The Adversary. The angel's tear holds the millenia of Aziraphale's influence over Crowley...who has been instructed to give. it. back.

The Park - Christmas Night

[dr-jwilsonmd.livejournal.com]

Wilson sat quietly on the bench down by the pond a small loaf of bread in his hand. If there were any ducks who were not part of the small feathered army or particular to liver, he was feeding them the bread.

The young doctor's expression was guarded, resigned really to a course of action that though he and House were aware was right, it still weighed on Wilson like a lead weight. It had not been the holiday he had hoped for. He missed the hospital. He missed all the little gifts the kids used to give him, even though he'd always liked to mutter and complain about yet another apple, pen or tie. Still, he missed it. He hadn't expected much from Fandom. People didn't know him as well here as they did back in New Jersey and besides, the whole being Jewish they probably thought he didn't celebrate the Christian holiday.

At least House had done well. Any other year the diagnostician would have been crowing gleefully over his haul and lording it over the oncologist but not this year. Things were too broken this year. Wilson knew he was going to have to go back home soon, make it official so to speak, pack up his little suitcase and head somewhere. The Arms probably, at least through the New Year then he'd figure out what to do next.

Merry Effing Christmas.