Scene from An Alt!Dimension
Summary: The rift closed, and if it hadn't already, all Hell would've break loose. Missing scene from the first episode of Season 13.
The rift closed, and if it hadn't already, all Hell would've broken loose.
There was no mistaking the desperation in Lucifer's roar of denial, this dimension's dust-choked air on the verge of bursting into flames with the intensity of his fury. From the sound of it, the itinerate archangel's smugness and self-satisfaction had been thoroughly trounced, as had the threat he posed to that other reality, and to two flannelled hunters, surely now safely on the other side of the rift.
It was almost worth the searing, indescribable pain Crowley was in, the absolute indignity of laying there, half-comatose, with his face in the dirt.
Even if he could have fought against the weight of death cementing his entire being to the earth, the bright scorch of spectral rendering inside him, something withering into thin wisps of smoke before fading into the ether, there would have been nothing to see upon forcing open his eyes. His crumpled meatsuit faced away from the non-existent portal home and the raging archangel whose distress brought Crowley so much strained pleasure.
It was enough to know that as intense as his own suffering was, angel blade thrust through his corporal form into writhing demonic essence, this was the end. For Lucifer, trapped in this washed out dystopia, it was surely only the beginning.
Even when I lose, he thought bitterly, I win. Huzzah for me.
At least the boys were safe. They may not have parted on the best of terms. But at least he'd done right by them, and himself, in the end. Crowley took comfort in that, and was grateful this was the grand finale.
It could only have gotten worse. Never better.
Then something solid connected with his fallen form, and Mary Winchester landed on her rump in front of him. He knew it was her by the soft huff Mary made as she tripped over him and slammed into the dirt. Ever the hunter, some still conscious part of his mind thought. Woman topples over a body while backing away from danger, and barely makes a sound. Those loud, lumbering sons of hers still had a lot to learn.
What the bloody hell was she doing here?
With more effort than it had required to take the throne after the aborted apocalypse, Crowley forced the tectonic plates that were his meatsuit's eyelids open. He was acutely aware now of the rampage happening somewhere behind him, the earth breaking apart and, yes, the very air in flames as Lucifer vented his futile wrath in an effort to reopen the rift. More bursts of red lightening singed the low hanging clouds above, and his body's skin felt braised and raw at the same time. Crowley smelled fresh blood, and for some inexplicable reason, that terrified him.
Beside him, Mary began to shuffle backwards, crab-like, no doubt eager to put as much distance between herself and Lucifer before attempting to make a run for it. She kicked him the process, and Crowley moaned into the dirt.
The hunter froze.
"Crowley?"
He groaned in response, attempting to voice both confusion and inquiry. What was she doing here, and equally as important, how was he still alive? He had felt the rush and explosion of light within himself that he had seen in the face of countless other demons – his essence, burning out. And yet, moment by moment, he was increasingly awareness of surroundings and self.
Hands griped the shoulders of his jacket and pulled, lifting Crowley into an upright position.
"Get up. We've got to move."
Mary's nearly inaudible urging fumbled at the cloudiness enshrouding Crowley's thoughts. He found himself forcing his feet underneath him, half-lurching, half-dragged away from the celestial storm of rage.
They stumbled, a precariously balanced pair struggling through a landscape of interminable agony and disorientation, terror flogging their spines. Any moment, and Lucifer would surely be upon them. Crowley tried to carry his own weight, tried to compartmentalize his physical pain. But every step was torment, and the smell of blood was growing stronger.
When Mary at last slung him down behind a boulder, Crowley was uncertain if they had staggered and half-crawled their way out of the canyon in which the rift had opened, or merely limped a few meters beyond where he'd fallen.
Crouched in front of him, face running with sweat and clothes smeared with what Crowley could only hope was his blood alone, Mary didn't look like she could go much further. She intensely surveyed beyond him, back the way they had come, before turning her sharp eyes on him.
"What the hell do we do now?" she murmured, assumedly to herself.
Crowley licked his dirt-encrusted lips, coughed a little, which only made the searing pain in his gut burst into new realms of agony. He breathed from between his teeth before forcing out, "You tell me. I should be partaking in whatever passes for the demonic version of a choir of angels in some hellish after-afterlife." Crowley sucked in another breath as the white-hot flash in his gut subsided. "It's just you? The boys made it through?"
"They did. And the rift closed."
Unexpected relief pulled him further into the earth, the solid support of their stone shelter a tangible comfort.
A hand tentatively pulled at the matted silk of his jacket, and Crowley opened eyes he was unaware of having closed to see Mary examining the angel blade protruding from his stomach.
He'd known it was there, of course. Seeing it was an entirely different matter.
Bile surged into the back of his mouth, and it was a concerted effort to swallow down the mad desire to thrash away. Self-preservation threatened to kick into overdrive, but Crowley forced himself to be still as Mary completed a cursory exam of the wound.
"Lucifer?"
"Self-inflicted, I'm afraid. Spell to close the rift required a life. Couldn't be one of the boys. That has a tendency to result in yet another world-ending scenario. So, I volunteered."
Letting his jacket fall, Mary leaned back and eyed the demon.
"Guess I was wrong about you."
Not exactly what he had been expecting. "Sometimes I surprise even myself."
His smile must have lacked its usual swagger. Mary's expression changed, from fearless warrior into something Crowley was unfamiliar with. He had seen her direct that same look at Sam and Dean, and occasionally Castiel. It verged on concern, and it made Crowley feel both infinitely better and decidedly panicked.
"If I yank it out, can you heal yourself?"
He had no idea, and Mary didn't wait to find out. She grasped the hilt of the blade and tore the angelic weapon from his side.
Crowley screamed.
For an eternity, indescribable pain defined his existence. There was no knowledge that he had endured and even enjoyed far greater suffering before this. There was no him, no definable boundaries between self and torment, just waves that crashed and recoiled to crash again. When it at last receded, Crowley slumped, spent, against the rock.
Before him, Mary stood with her back turned, clasping the bloodied angel blade.
Lucifer towered over them.
Some instinctual part of Crowley gathered around himself powers that were no longer there, preparing to lash out at the leather-clad, bullet-riddled form that roiled with malevolence. Exhaustion and pain only heightened the urge to strike, and his intent was accompanied by the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. Sheer bloody terror screamed in every nerve of his body.
Ever the Winchester, Mary stood her ground.
"Stay away from us," she snarled, swinging the blade in a sharp, deft arch between them and the archangel.
Lucifer batted it away with barely any effort.
"Oh," he purred, reaching out and grabbing Mary by the wrist, dragging her towards him. "I think you and I are going to be staying very, very close." Lucifer spared a glance at Crowley, his eyes gleaming golden circles of flame.
The hunter fought, broke free. Lucifer snagged a handful of Mary's hair and twisted, yanking her back against him. He clasped a hand around her throat, and she went still.
"Now, now. That's enough of that. It's entirely understandably you're upset. Shhh, now, calm down." Mary closed her eyes tight as the archangel leaned into her hair, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "That's a good girl."
Lucifer sighed, as though disappointed in himself.
"Apologies for my little temper tantrum back there. Safe to say, I was a little upset," he snarled, twisting Mary's hair tighter and extracting a stiff inhalation, "when a certain portal closed, trapping us in here. And you'll notice," he drawled, "I say us, because from here on out, we're a pair. You and me, Mary, we're in this together. We're going to get out of here, together. Or," Lucifer paused, pretending to think on it, "I'm gonna get out of here, and you're gonna be dead. Haven't decided yet; likely the latter."
"If you think I'm going to help you – "
"Oh, I do. See, I know Winchesters. I've been deep, deep inside your boy, Sammy. And I know, there is no way in Hell, or any other interdimensional reality, that those two cry-baby mama's boys aren't going to find a way to reopen that rift and come barreling in here to rescue you."
"Sam and Dean aren't stupid," Mary gulped. She was rigid in Lucifer's embrace, but Crowley realized she was looking at him. Glancing down; meeting his eyes again. "They know the moment that portal closed, I was gone."
The angel blade. She was looking at the angel blade. It lay where Mary had dropped it, no more than a meter from Crowley.
"Well," Lucifer replied, "guess we'll just have to find out which of us is right."
Their eyes met again, and Mary moved. The tautness of her body snapped, propelling her not away from Lucifer, but towards him. She slammed the entirely of her weight into the archangel, sending them both reeling away into the dirt.
Crowley scrambled after the angel blade, shutting out the blinding agony and the terror. On his knees, a hand pressed to his side in a vain attempt to staunch the sticky, scarlet puddle soaking into the colorless dirt beneath him, Crowley grasped the hilt of the blade. Triumph and desperation steeled Crowley against the pain as he prepared to rise to his feet.
Then the back of his head slammed against the boulder, and a universe exploded before his eyes.
"Okay, now I'm really starting to get annoyed."
Blinking to clear away the stars, Crowley tried again to rise. He reached out, searching half-blind for the angel blade, for Mary, for some way out of this nightmare.
He couldn't let Lucifer take her. Maybe Crowley was beyond saving, maybe there was no going home for him, nothing to go home to, no forgiveness or redemption or peaceful eternity of nothingness. But that wasn't the case for the Winchesters.
His vision cleared, to see the hunter bloodied and battered into the earth. She was conscious, her dark-rimmed eyes staring hazily at the demon. Her mouth moved, but Crowley couldn't make out the words.
"Mary," he managed, surprised by the anguish in his voice.
With one hand, Lucifer grabbed her by the arm, and hauled her to her feet.
"Oh, Crowley," he sighed dramatically. "You still don't disappoint. No matter how insignificant you become, you don't ever give up the delusion that you can make a difference. It would be endearing," Lucifer shrugged, "you know, if it wasn't futile and a pain in my ass."
"Go…go to Hell," Crowley bit out.
"Oh, I will. When I get out of here. And Heaven too. But you, you're not going anywhere." The archangel cocked his head, clearly enjoying the sight before him. "You know, this seems like a really fitting end for you, Crowley. You wanted to play the hero, and now you get to die like one. Bleeding out. No one to save you. Just like those Winchester brothers you love so much. A pathetic little human."
With Mary half-slumped against him, Lucifer turned and walked off. The dismal gray of the dystopian landscape swallowed their retreating forms as a pit opened up inside Crowley.
Human.
He was fucking human.
The angel blade. It had killed him alright, or at least, the part of him that had still been a demon. Leaving him with the weak, sentimental, mortal humanity that had been restored by the cure all those years ago.
Crowley wanted to bellow with frustration, or maybe weep with relief. There wasn't time for either, however. The blood loss was beginning to nibble away at the edges of his consciousness. His thoughts wandered, from rescuing Mary, to stringing Lucifer up on the rack, to sitting around the table in the bunker. His mother sat, far away at one end, but he couldn't quite bring himself to begrudge her presence. Sam was shuffling through papers, research of some kind, no doubt. Cas was around somewhere, his solid, stodgy presence somehow comforting. And Dean. Dean was sitting down beside him, offering a beer, smiling.
Crowley lay in the dirt, watching the images form and fade before his eyes, thinking it all over. This was how he was going to die. Not conveniently saving the world and spitting in Lucifer's eye at the same time. Not doing the right thing. Not even at the end of the demon blade, the boys wavering between righteous indignation and uncertainty.
Crowley had known for some time now that Sam and Dean Winchester would eventually be the death of him. He hadn't imagined it would be like this.
The soft crunch of approaching footsteps broke into the molten luminosity of his receding thoughts. Weakly, without much concern for what the next few moments in this reality might hold for him, Crowley clutched the angel blade. He could no longer lift his eyes, much less defend himself.
A pair of scuffed boots and the lowered muzzle of a rifle came into his narrow view. From across a vast distance, he could hear the gruff sympathy of a familiar voice.
"Well, looks like a fine mess you've gotten yer'self into. I'm guess'n you're one of those idjits come through that glowing tear in space and time? Some people, can't leave well enough alone, can they?"
As Crowley confirmed to himself that, yes, this was exactly how he was going to die, the blackness overtook him, and everything – the pain and anguish, the longing and regret – faded with him out of existence.
Thank you for reading! There will be two more chapters in Scene from an Alt!Dimension. The second chapter will be posted soon. There will be a third and final chapter after the conclusion of Season 13, when we know how the canon pans out. Reviews and messages are much appreciated, and encourage more work.