Time Frame: Early Season 9
Pairings: None
Rating: PG
Warnings: SPOILERS Season 9, Mild Language
A/N: This is an Tumblr request from like a month ago. They wanted a fic with human!Cas and Crowley discussing why Cas wouldn't go back to the Winchesters. I kinda went sideways with the request. Also, the time frame is a bit wibbly wobbly timey whimey. (Technically, Crowley was still locked up when Cas was human. I won't tell, if you don't.)
"This is, well, it's pathetic, that's what it is." Crowley shook his head in disgust.
Castiel - or 'Steve' as his co-workers knew him - jumped at the unexpected voice. He stumbled to his feet, leaving his crumpled sleeping bag on the storeroom floor. "Crowley! What are you doing here?"
"Honestly, I thought that old trench coat was bad. You have, somehow, found something even worse." The demon, using his thumb and forefinger, lifted up a blue garment. "A vest? You've certainly gone far in this world, haven't you? Straight down."
"Get out of here!" The former angel snatched his vest back. He glanced toward the front of the store. "You can't be here."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, love, but neither can you. Humans - and, oh yeah, you're one of those now, aren't you? - are meant to leave work when they're done for the day. It's why it's called 'going home'. It implies leaving." Crowley toed the sleeping bag. "This looks a lot like staying."
"I don't have to explain or justify myself to you. Now go."
"Or what?" Crowley chuckled. "You'll call the cops? Please do. I'd love to see them try to arrest me."
Castiel grimaced. The police were not an option. "I can call Dean."
"Spare me. Despite their many achievements, those two monkeys are still only human. And, if I chose, I could be long gone before they even got close." The demon held up a finger. "You're also assuming that you can actually call Dean, that I won't melt your fingers together first."
Castiel glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. Tightening his jaw, he said, "Why are you here?"
"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing, darling."
Castiel shook his head in confusion. "I am human now. For reasons I will not discuss, I can not stay at the bunker, so I must live and work as a regular human. That includes this." He gestured at the storeroom and his meager living space.
The demon tilted his head. "Not exactly what I meant. Tell me, do you enjoy this?"
"It simply is."
"And you're happy like that? Simply 'being'?"
"Why?" Castiel asked.
"Pet," Crowley spoke as if to a child, "humans forever torture themselves asking all the stupid 'life after death' and 'meaning of the universe' questions. You, more than any of your fellows, know those answers. You're mortal now. You have a nice, shiney soul. That's your ticket back upstairs. Why haven't you punched it, yet?"
"Punched it?"
"Turned in your mortality - died, do you need it spelled out - and gone back up to Heaven?"
Castiel narrowed his eyes. "You want me to-?"
"I didn't say that." The demon held up a hand, quieting Castiel. He shrugged. "You have your uses. But I am curious why you would choose this life," he looked around in disgust, "over going back to your cloudy home."
Castiel folded his vest and placed it on a cardboard box. "There is honor in a quiet, humble existence. It teaches us to appreciate what we have and those around us."
"Bollocks."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, bollocks. As in, I don't believe that rubbish. As in, you are full of shit. Have I made myself clear, yet?" Crowley raised his eyebrows. When the former angel didn't reply, he continued. "Do you know how we - not I, but we - found you?"
"I figured one of your demons recognized me."
"In a manner of speaking." Crowley ran a finger down a box. He grimaced at the smudge it left. "A crossroads demon happened by, felt a soul in all sorts of misery. Our favorite type, you know. Easy pickings, just ripe for a deal. She looked in on this poor, hurt soul, and who did she see?" The demon glanced back at Castiel. "You, all humaned up. She recognized that pretty mug of yours - face, that is, before you ask, idiot - and she passed that information on. So tell me, bird, does being quiet and humble translate into being so miserable that you're flagging down nearby crossroads demons?"
Castiel tightened his lips.
"So, what say you tell daddy the truth now? Why are you still down here, and not upstairs?" Crowley pointed upwards to the unseen sky above.
The former angel's gaze followed his gesture, then drifted across the store room. He didn't reply.
"Unless," Crowley tapped his finger against his mouth, "you don't think you're bound for Heaven when you die. Maybe you think you, and your swanky new soul, are heading my way in the end?"
Castiel glared at the demon but still did not reply.
"That's it, isn't it? After everything's that happened, your brothers won't let you back in."
"My brothers have been cast out of Heaven. It's just Metatron now," the former angel said.
"He won't open the gates for you?"
"I… don't know."
"You're afraid." The demon tilted his head. "Of death. Of not knowing what'll happen."
"I have made many mistakes. I know that better than most." Castiel crossed his arms, looking down. "I can only attempt to make amends."
Crowley pointed to the cramped storeroom. "Is that what this is? Making amends?"
"It's a start."
"Not that I'm an expert by any means, but it seems to me that you were doing more good when you were frolicking with Moose and Squirrel."
"I can't go back. Not now, at least." Castiel sighed.
"So, what, you're useless now? All that knowledge up there in your noggin, it's all rubbish? You can't help out any other way, or anyone else?"
Castiel looked at Crowley, expression thoughtful.
The demon pointed at Castiel's stuff. "Unless, of course, you like your blue vest."