5130/The Librarian: They Burned Alexandria

The Librarian: They Burned Alexandria
Date of Scene:	08 August 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Castiel and John meet over a beer and exchange favours. A soul for a book of souls?
Cast of Characters:	Castiel, Constantine
Tinyplot:	The Librarian

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Castiel has posed:
It was Tuesday night. Cheap might at the bar. Which meant Castiel was warming a seat. Not Josie's, though. The place was crowded and there was a vibe about the place tonight that Castiel didn't like. Besides, you get too comfortable at a place and you miss out on the bits and pieces of information you might be able to pick up somewhere else.

Besides, he might owe Josie some money. There was that, too.

So it was that Castiel was warming a seat at McNally's, a boilermaker in front of him, as well as a half-empty bowl of pretzels.

Constantine has posed:
McNally's had quickly become John's favourite haunt since coming across the pond. It had a certain old world charm he quite enjoyed, besides, most of the crowd was the magical sort.

Well, except for one of them. Even if he hadn't seen him before John could pick him out as different, it was his 'gift' seeing things, the true faces of creatures wearing human form. So, yeah, he couldn't have missed Castiel if he wanted to.

Given his past association with the agents of heaven, he as pretty sure he wanted to.

Still, John beats his hand on the bar, orders up a nice dark ale, room tempurature as god intended and makes his way over.

"Don't tell me they've sent you to keep an eye on me, I though I was done with that bollux back in England."

John takes a seat.

"Do like your fashion sense though," he says tugging on the lapel of his own trench coat.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel gives a distracted sort of grunt.

Usually at places like this he's left alone. Sure, he's given a bit of the stink eye - he's not a magical sort per se, though he probably knows more about the arcane arts than most of those gathered here combined. Castiel just isn't a sorceror. Or a wizard. Or a warlock. Which John most certainly is. And the fact that John is speaking to him drags Castiel's attention to the here and now.

"Wasn't really my choice. The vessel seemed fond."

Not that Cas had asked the vessel about the trenchcoat.

"Wouldn't worry yourself about my keeping an eye on you. Not exactly persona grata myself these days. Though you do have a knack for getting yourself into scrapes, don't you?"

John's... disgrace... was written all over him for any with the ability to see and recognize.

"Take a seat," Cas grumbles in his gravelly voice. "Don't mind if you do. Get comfortable. Make yourself at home."

It seems since the boys first encountered Cas, and the present, he's developed a sense of sarcasm. Even if when delivered in his usual tones it's hard to discern from his regular sense of being.

Constantine has posed:
John does indeed make himself comfortable and smiles at the sarcasm. "Cheers mate," he says cheekily, and takes a long pull from his glass.

"That's the stuff," he says like a man dying of thirst. He takes a second glup for good measure and sets down the glass.

"Glad you're not here to watch me, spending time with angels cramps my style," he remarks with wry humour. "Though, person non grata, eh? Got to be a tale there worth hearing, even buy your next round..." he looks at the shot glass and beer. "Boiler maker?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel grumbles over his beer and gives a non-committal shrug of shoulders that lifts his trenchcoat into a tight line across his shoulders before it falls back into its usual rumple. "Could say there's a tale."

He doesn't elucidate. At least not yet.

"You're still a person of interest," Cas informs John. "I wouldn't say I'm entirely safe. Might swap stories for a boilermaker or two."

Constantine has posed:
John eyes the angel, watching him, trying to judge just might be going on.

Though at the mention of trading stories for drinks, John, nods, knocks back his ale in one long swallow, then gets up.

"Consider it done," he says and makes his way to the bar. He's not gone long before he's wandering back with their drinks, a pair of boiler makers.

"So," he says putting down the drinks. "A person of interest eh?" he asks. "They know I'm helping the Slayer now? Got to count for something I figure."

He slides a beer and a shot over to Cas.

"As you being safe? Trust me mate, been around worse. So, what's the story? Big guy find you in bed with the Blessed Virigin or something?"

Castiel has posed:
"Maybe," Castiel rumbles. "More like paying attention to you for the Fate written all over your soul. You know about that, don't you? Gleaming portent for any of our side or theirs to see. Kinda like a flashing stoplight at the crossroad."

Castiel, likewise, downs his beer, chasing it with the whiskey, and nods something akin to thanks for the drinks John has provided to replace them. Though he has to blink at John's suggestion of why he might have Fallen from Grace.

"You didn't just suggest what I think you did?"

It's the sort of thing that would fly from Dean's mouth. Hey Cas, they pissed at you for doing Mary? Totally Dean. And also not a thing that had even remotely crossed Castiel's mind as something that might explain his Fall to others.

"That's the sort of thing you humans do. No. Worse."

Constantine has posed:
Nodding easily, John sighs, "Yeah, I know, your sort keep bringing it up, but it's that obvious eh? Big flashing neon saying doomed to Hell?" he says contriving to sound amused.

"I did," John replies with a grin.

"Worse?" he says mouth opening to suggest something worse but he stops himself. He knew angels, he knew their power and figured it wasn't wortht the risk. "So, what'd you do?"

Castiel has posed:
"Boy, your soul is worse than a blinking neon sign if you know what you're looking for. Not entirely sure what you did, but it must have been bad."

Castiel looks over and gives a shrug when it comes to his own status. "Believe it or not," he grumbles. "Saved someone destined to your fate."

Constantine has posed:
John frowns at the news. "Guess it would explain a lot," he remarks putting a brave face on it. "An' figured it'd be old news with you lot, but, I damned a girl to hell," he says of what he did. He says it glibly enough it might be convincing, but if Castiel is listening close, there is a world of regret in those words.

Castiel's news earns a sudden look, "What you /saved/ them?" he asks. "Can you still do that sort of thing?" he asks suddenly alert, desperate. "Can you save the girl, save Astra?" he asks.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel pauses over his beer. "Not exactly sure. Depends on a bunch of factors. Like if she's already there or not. Living. Dead. Just how corrupt her soul already is."

John is given a serious look. "Wouldn't count on it. Not sure I have enough Grace left." He doesn't say it, but there's also the consideration of what such a move would cost him. Grace notwithstanding, there's a reason he's here on earth and not amongst the Choir. It's a slap in the face he'd not take lightly to offer again.

Of course, he'd done it once.. Castiel still wasn't sure what had prompted him to throw his lot in with the Winchester boys. And, with them, humanity in general. Or why his Grace hadn't been fully removed.

"You'll lose sleep at night thinking about it. Best to worry about things you can change."

But Castiel had a name now. And names, he knew, were important. As important as souls in some situations.

Constantine has posed:
John is a dog with a bone. He won't let go. Putting a hand on Castiel's arm he says, "If you can try mate, I'll owe you. Whatever you want. She's an innocent, shouldn't be there, if you can get her free. Whatever you want mate, I'll make that deal in a second."

He doesn't move back he just waits for an answer eyes fixed on Castiel.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel gives a non-committal grunt. He'd be a liar if he said he hadn't thought about it even as he'd told John there wasn't hope.

"Wouldn't hold my breath, but if it comes up.." There's a nod from the angel. "Of course, a favour begs a favour. Been mulling a situation of my own about all evening. Might be you may have some answers, being the sort who sticks his nose in books."

Constantine has posed:
John, keeps staring hand gripping Cas' arm tight. "If it comes up. You let me know, right?" he says before the other matter is brought up and John retreats back to his chair, taking a pull of his beer and downing his shot in swallow. "Having some book trouble?" he asks. "Well then, you might have come to the right bloke.. What are you looking for?"

Castiel has posed:
"Comes up, I'll do my best," Castiel reluctantly agrees, knowing full well he's likely to look into the matter, regardless of what he's just told John.

"Looking for a book. Thought it was burnt in Alexandria. I'm told that might not be the case. In the wrong hands, could be trouble."

Constantine has posed:
Having gained more of a grip on himself, John raises his beer in salute. "You've got my thanks mate," he says before sitting back and listening about the book.

"Not the bloody Necronomicron is it?" he says. "I hate that thing. But assuming it isn't, then this book went missing centuries ago. Got any more recent leads? And if it's not the Necronomicron, does it have a name?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel grumbles at John, "Don't thank me until I've done it. You might not like what you get."

He takes his own beer in turn, nursing it more now than anything else. "No. That book is safe as we can make it. This one escaped our notice because we thought it burned. That and you can't read it without the right light. Rumours are it's resurfaced though. Something about some collector, calls himself the Librarian. Wouldn't have taken any notice, but other eyes are paying attention."

John might get the sense that Castiel isn't speaking about Angels of the Lord here.

Constantine has posed:
John nods, not liking what he got was par for the course most times in this business. "Still got my thanks if you pull it off."

"Demons eh?" John says of those other eyes. "So, got a lead on this Librarian's whereabouts, and what sort of light does it need to read the book? Not that I am planning on it, but, knowing as they say is half the battle, and if I can keep it out of that light for you, I will."

Castiel has posed:
"No leads on where," Castiel mutters, peering into his beer. "Just word that the book is in transit and he wants it." Along with a few assorted demons. "A History of Angels, if you can believe it. Sat in Alexandria for a few hundred years without a crack in its spine. If you can call it a spine. More like a cobbled together stack of parchment."

Constantine has posed:
Knocking back his beer, John nods, "A History of Angels?" he repeats. "Someone was taking the piss when they named that thing." Though he files the name away for later along with the Librarian and that the book was being moved.

"Alright, consider me and mine on the case. Let me get us another round and you can tell me the rest of what you know."

Provided John doesn't drink enough to forget it all by morning.