Crowley searches for his home. He doesn't know where it is. He knows, however, where it isn't. His home is not in Antioch, Galilee, or Arimathea. It is not atop Mount Carmel, nor is it in Nazareth. He cannot find it midst the ruins of Babylon, nor see it on the Plains of Megiddo. His eyes are blurring with exhaustion. He keeps looking.

*somewhere high above Asia Minor, Crowley nearly falls out of the sky. He catches himself in time and looks around, utterly confused, but with a hopeful look on his face. His face falls, confusion deepening, when he ascertains that the sky around him is empty. He'd felt... something. Almost, but not quite like the tingle he feels on the back of his neck whenever an angel is near. Almost as if... his eyes widen in realisation*

He... has something? Of mine?

*he closes tired eyes and concentrates. Sure enough, there it is - a little spark, a piece of himself, glimmering far and away across the oceans. When Crowley opens his eyes again, there is a new light in them. If he can find the location of that spark, whatever piece of himself the angel has will leave a trail. Something he can follow. A chance*