Opening comment:

Since this is a fanfiction of Supernatural and Homestuck, you'll get pretty lost if you're not familiar with either. Homestuck is also very complicated-if you are not already a fan of it, then this story will probably just frustrate you. It might be fairly long too even though I tried to make it run fairly fast without sacrificing too much character development. As for what to expect, this takes place after Season 6, borrows elements from Season 7, and otherwise rewrites S7E1 and goes from there. As for the homestuck details? I'll say that we will not be seeing major characters crossing over, or at least, not those from an alpha-timeline, or those who do not otherwise have multiple copies of themselves (such as Jack Noir and Lord English). I am not confirming Lord English either, btw. I hope this helps you decide if this story is right for you, and I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer? Don't own anything. Just arranged a bunch of words and concepts that don't belong to me. BAM.

THE ROAD SO FAR

It was once said by a demon who had adopted the nickname "Meg" that demons had begun to dream again, for the first time since who knows when, at the time that Lucifer was raised and walked the Earth once more. And it had been this moment in time when Crowley started to dream. And the strangest dreams he had. He always dreamt he was in a dark place. He always felt like he was half conscious, and that his eyes were closed. Then, he would hear whispers. They were spoken in a language that he had never encountered, but for some reason he understood them. The voices gave him warnings. The voices told him things that might come to pass. Other times, he had dreams of actual events. One of them was the Devil standing triumphantly atop a mountain of human corpses, with all his loyal demon servants bowing to him. Then, with the snap of his fingers, the light went out for every demon soul there, and their host bodies fell to the ground. Crowley had been amongst them. And in his dreams, the voices whispered about the Winchesters.

Crowley hadn't needed these dreams to make him suspect the fate of demon-kind. They were tortured human souls, after all. It only made sense that Lucifer would want to destroy them someday. And he figured that, the boys who had managed to start the apocalypse in the first place would be the ones capable of stopping it. They had a way of surviving the impossible. Crowley decided to aid them, and waited for them to find him.

The dreams continued. Crowley's ambitions grew as he began to have faith that the Winchesters could defeat Lucifer, that their mad plan with the horsemen's rings could seal his future. Crowley planned ahead, and with the whispers in his dreams aiding his plans for the future, he began to scheme his takeover of Hell... But he knew that even staying as the King of the Crossroads would make the Winchesters want to hunt him. Once the days became normal for all, so too would their drive to try and systematically wipe out demons and their leaders.

Crowley had kept Bobby Singer's soul as reassurance, as protection. Crowley began to suspect that he would need to keep a hold of that valuable soul a little while longer. Even if they beat Lucifer, Crowley decided it was best to keep a hold of Bobby's soul. The voices in his dreams told Crowley that, indeed, if he gave back Bobby's soul, it wouldn't change the fact the Winchesters would one day want to hunt him for just wanting to carry on the demon business of buying souls from the weak and foolish.

What the voices hadn't cautioned Crowley on was the possibility that the clever son of a bitch would find a way to get to his bones. Crowley himself would never have guessed that could happen. Crowley was good at seeing ahead the most fortuitous path, but not always best at seeing the bad... assuming the bad did not get him killed. So he began to work with his associate, the Winchester's pet angel, on a contingency plan to fool the Winchester's into believing that he was dead, should he ever need to use such a measure.

Meanwhile Crowley was well on the path to finding Purgatory. Keeping control of Hell required power, and Crowley knew that no matter what happened, the Winchester's would always feel compelled to hunt him. And angel-kind? Without Michael and a purpose they were all loose-cannons, every last bloody one of them. It only made sense to become a demi-god and become untouchable. Accomplishing this was the most fortuitous path. He was sure of it. He just needed to bide his time, manipulate the Winchesters when possible while evading them, keep control of Castiel, and eventually find Purgatory. Then everything would fall into place and every day thence would be rainbows and two-headed puppies.

But the voices had nothing to say on these matters. Crowley had to rely on his intuition and intelligence, but the dream voices had stopped talking to him. He was completely unprepared for the moment when Castiel turned against him. Once again, Crowley had been shocked to find himself up against a wall. He was so used to being able to use his silver tongue and sharp anger and harsh but reasonable wit to take control of anyone. He had to improvise, and in doing so he had made a critical mistake. He had let Castiel trick him.

Castiel was now God. Raphael was dead. The Winchesters? Who knows? He had no real affinity for them and they were an annoying thorn in his side. He did not care what became of them. All Crowley cared about was himself, his own hide. He made it a point to not underestimate the Winchesters as they could seemingly do anything, especially when underestimated. But he had underestimated Castiel. And that had been his downfall.

Then Crowley started to dream again.

Presently Crowley was sitting up in bed, rubbing his head. It was an unnecessary thing, sleeping. It allowed enemies openings. However, Crowley found dreaming to be rather addicting after he'd sampled it, and it was a great way to pass the time. He was not content with this last one. The voices had spoken to him again, but not before he had a vision of something terrifying. Earth, Heaven, and Hell, all up in smoke, craters littering every available landscape. The destruction was absolute, and still meteors rained from the sky. Then the dream transitioned back into that blackness, non-absolute with a twinge of red that reminded him of the back of his eyelids. The voices spoke, and they said, "The time is coming for you to serve your true purpose."

Crowley had felt a flicker of anger. Purpose? Crowley made his own purpose.

"We want you to join with the other heroes of your world and realize your full potential. Come to our aid and stop our mutual enemies, for we are dying, and you shall too."

Crowley didn't like this dream. He turned on the television and poured himself a glass of craig. He looked like trash sitting in the trailer. He felt like trash. The king of Hell living in a mobile home!

The voices have never spoken so directly about anything before. He wanted to think he was crazy and just dismiss them all as just faucets of his imagination and intuition, but as the thought about the 'heroes of this world' he was left to think of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer. Were the voices suggesting he join them in finding a way to stop Castiel? Surely not, that was madness. There was no way that could be the fortuitous path. Crowley was still mulling all this over when his television suddenly turned off.

"Hello Crowley," Castiel said. Crowley slowly looked over at him. "You look stressed."

The two of them had a short conversation, ending with Crowley accepting an offer to give Castiel souls from crossroads deals in exchange for Crowley's survival. The angel was becoming greedy. He was like a completely different person. These were definitely not good times to be a demon. Or to be anything. Apocalypse averted and it seemed like everyone involved in that was now in a world of drama. And it keeps happening.

It seemed like fate was conspiring against Crowley, forcing him to constantly be in a risky state, and always with the Winchesters. Next, they summoned him, and asked him to help them find a spell to bind Death so that they could use him against Castiel. It was stupid, but with the voices saying Crowley needed to join with the "heroes of his world" to serve some purpose, and this sudden surprising development, it seemed like he had no choice.

He had complied and delivered their spell, then went back to sleep. In his dreams, the voices once again whispered to Crowley. They told him to watch the skies, to watch the news, to watch the internet. To download a stupid video game when its beta was released.

And to save Castiel.

Awaking, the corners of Crowley's mouth drooped. "This all better be worth it, you stupid whispering know-it-alls." Crowley performed a little ritual to discover where Castiel was. Even though Castiel was now God, he still had enough angel in him to be detectable by certain means. It seemed that the Winchesters, of course, had failed to get Death to kill Castiel. No surprises there. Crowley was on his way and teleported to Castiel's location.

He found the angel in a sorry heap, lying huddled in a pool of blood. He was surrounded by corpses. They appeared to be in some senator's office. Crowley looked around and gave Castiel an icy glare. God appeared to be awake but stunned.

"Got a little carried away with the smiting did we?" he asked.

"I... I don't know what happened," said Castiel. He paused. Crowley remained stoic, but inside he felt a spark of amusement.

"It appears you've redecorated... boss." Crowley made a small bow of respect. Castiel didn't seem to take offense to the jab either way.

"I did this..." said Castiel. "I..." His face screwed up in pain and his gaze became glassy. His mouth twitched. Crowley frowned.

"Something wrong mate?" he asked. Suddenly something clicked. Castiel's vessel seemed to be eroding away. It looked like he was burning away, but since Crowley had seen a little bit of just about everything there was to see in Creation, he'd say that it looked a little bit more like Castiel was being digested. "No... You didn't."

Castiel looked up at Crowley.

"Did you bloody gobble up the leviathans?"

Castiel stared. He lurched forward a little bit.

Crowley felt a wave of anger and frustration wash over him. He shook his head and seethed. "Now see? This is why you should have left me in charge. With respect, God, but you're just a little bit new to this whole business of obtaining and using souls... And you went and BLOODY ATE THE OLDEST BEINGS OUTSIDE OF DEATH HIMSELF?!"

Crowley paused, looking at Castiel. He had spoken out of turn, but Castiel looked like he was in so much pain that there was no room for his stubborn pride. Crowley took a deep breath. "Cass... You do realize you're going to burst at this rate?"

"I'll be fine..." he said.

"No you as bloody hell won't," said Crowley. "It would be hard enough for an amateur like yourself to hold onto all the souls in Purgatory... but the leviathans as well? You wouldn't even be able to contain just them for long. You really bit off more than any damn idiot could possibly chew this time."

Castiel hung his head. Crowley smiled. "Seems like you got your just desserts mate, see what you get for trying to screw your business partner?"

"Hold your tongue," spat Castiel, rising to his feet. His stance faltered and he swayed. Crowley moved the table over to give Castiel something to brace himself on with the flick of his fingers.

"Cass... Be realistic. You need help. I can offer you that."

"I don't need your help," said Castiel.

"Oh? You don't need the help of the king of the crossroads and the king of Hell? The number one expert in soul exchanges?"

Castiel stared defiantly at Crowley, but the demon could sense that Castiel's resolve was weakening. Crowley smiled and took himself a seat, pushing the slain man who occupied it out of the way. Crowley crossed his legs. "Allow me to suggest a course of action. You're in no shape anymore to hold onto so many souls. Now if we'd caught this sooner you could have just given up the leviathans—you didn't need them to be God anyway. But you're going to have to give up all the souls Castiel. All of them. So here is what we'll do. We'll make... another deal, a proper one this time. You give me all the souls except for the leviathans; those souls will be put on loan and we'll share them fifty-fifty when you are back up to shape. In the meantime, we merely make a tank to contain the leviathans, reinforced with the power I'll get from all those souls, and with this tank we'll keep the leviathans held at bay until we can figure out a way to put them back into Purgatory where they belong."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Castiel said. "Do you really expect me to trust you with all those souls?"

Crowley smiled. "Well you know that a deal with a demon cannot be broken. Those are the rules."

"Like how you promised to give back Bobby Singer's soul and then didn't."

"Oh that? C'mon, the contract said I only had to make best efforts to return his soul... which for the record, meant that I could give it back just before he died and fulfill both ends of the bargain. That was my intention all along mate, I just kept that one detail away from Singer and the Winchester boys because I didn't want them getting in my way, but of course they figured out a way to coerce me into letting up my strangle-hold."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Crowley blinked and then cupped his hands together. "No I suppose not. But that does not matter. You either let me help you, or you go up in smoke and the planet you worked so hard to rescue becomes leviathan chow."

Castiel looked conflicted and shuffled uncomfortably. "No. I need to learn my lesson. None of this would be happening if I hadn't taken your deal in the first place. The Winchesters... they'll help me. They'll think of something."

"Psssh, Cass, do you really think there is anything they can do about this?" Castiel stared at Crowley. Crowley stared back and raised his eye-brows in an 'Am a right?' fashion. Castiel's eyes darkened.

"No... No. I can handle this."

Crowley's anger flared. Was this angel really this dumb? "Excuse me?"

"You're right about one thing Crowley. I need to get rid of the leviathans. And maybe I need to give up some of these souls. But I am not accepting your deal."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" asked Crowley. "How are you even going to do all that without my help?"

"You'll find the souls in Hell," said Castiel. "Goodbye."

Castiel vanished. Crowley stared, dumbstruck. He blinked and lowered his head. "Bullocks."

Suddenly he heard the swoop of wings and looked up to see Castiel again. "It is done."

"What is done?" asked Crowley.

"I've deposited one fifth of the souls I captured into Hell. Like you said, the leviathans were the true threat, and I've put them somewhere safe."

"Safe? Don't be ridiculous, you might be an angel and you might be God but you don't have the know-how to keep buggers like that trapped. Where'd you even put the bastards?"

"The Sudbury Neutrino Observatory in Massachusetts," said Castiel. "It is a giant orb of isolated heavy-water. I released the leviathans into there and they have no way out."

"You've got to be joking."

"I am not. If you are so worried about them, why don't you go make sure they don't escape, demon." Castiel lowered his head and took a deep breath. "I will thank you for your advice. Your God appreciates it. I must rest now. Then, I will begin my work anew."

Castiel vanished. Crowley's face contorted with rage. The stupid prat was putting him on damage control for his mistakes. Crowley did not like it, but never-the-less went out and did as Castiel commanded. He went to Hell and isolated the monster souls Castiel had given him. He didn't need to quite "swallow" them, just place a spell on them that kept them that tethered them to Crowley, gradually siphoning power. He gathered a few supplies and went to this neutrino detector, bringing some demons along to possess the researchers there. He tried a few sigils painted onto the device itself to try and dampen the leviathan's power. Struggling against Castiel's vessel might have tired them out temporarily, but they would have easily busted out of this stupid giant ball of water before long anyway. Crowley was not convinced this would hold. Perhaps if he had the entire laboratory filled with cement?

"Keep an eye on this," said Crowley to his demon minions. "If it so much as leaks a drop, come get me."

Crowley left and conducted another ritual to find Castiel. This time his results were inconclusive. Castiel was probably using some sort of sigil work to hide himself. That or he was in Heaven. Crowley had no real access there himself, not unless someone made a deal with him to pull someone out of there, that is.

So then the question was, now what? What was there for Crowley to do? Keep an eye on the leviathans of course, but also to try and carry on business as usual. And figure out why on earth those voices wanted him to save Castiel. So Crowley went back to life as usual, two boring weeks passing while he kept an eye on the skies, the leviathans trapped in Sudbury, and waiting for Castiel to make an appearance. Once the Winchesters summoned him and asked him what was up. They apparently had some sort of plan to get Castiel to put all the souls and the leviathans back into Purgatory and had missed a deadline with Death to make it happen.

Crowley felt like an idiot. That would have solved everyone's problems, wouldn't it have? But for some reason he had been compelled to intervene and inadvertently messed everything all up. How could he have missed the most fortuitous path this time? And so badly?

"I don't know where Cass is gentlemen," explained Crowley. "But I've got the leviathan problem under control, and as far as I can tell, Castiel hasn't exploded yet, although if you want my opinion I think the dumb bastard should be dead. I offered him a solution for all our problems and he shot me down."

"What you tell him?" asked Bobby.

"Oh nothing. Just that he give me half the souls as he was supposed to do in the first place. But your idea would have been good too, send the leviathans back to Purgatory. Wonderful idea, wish I had been in on that."

It suddenly occurred to him that their plan, which would have taken some time, might have been too long for Castiel. Castiel's immediate action after Crowley's intervention had lessened the pressure on his vessel, but he really was at the breaking point.

"You're joking," said Dean, glowering.

Crowley shrugged. The group was silent, when all of their attentions suddenly turned to something that peaked all of their interest, a news flash that had come on from a television that had been left on while they talked. Crowley's demonic nature had a way of disrupting electronics but since he had good control of himself, it hadn't shut off. The news was about a sudden catastrophe.

"-completely up in flames. The full damage has yet to be measured, but it is estimated that a fifth of New York City has been leveled in the meteor shower. Meteors have also struck cities and towns across America, and foreign news reports are saying that meteors have hit cities across the globe, including Paris, Moscow, Madrid—"

"Cass what the hell are you doing?!" Dean suddenly shouted.

"Bullocks." Crowley said, and then disappeared. As it had been assumed that he'd be helping the Winchesters again, he hadn't been bound by a Devil's Trap. He returned to one of his many lovely homes in New England and took to his computer. The voices had said to keep an eye on the internet. He'd forgotten to do that. He opened up his browser of choice, Cetus, and got to work. He first started infiltrating the servers of observatories to look for anything having to deal with the meteors. He thought that maybe Castiel had hearded a bunch of them together near Earth's orbit and was tossing them at the planet. But the telescopes were showing no sudden movement of space debris toward Earth, the meteors appeared to be appearing out of thin air on the upper edges of Earth's magnetosphere, before descending. Some high resolution scopes showed that they appeared with a flash of green light.

While this certainly looked like an act of God, something wasn't right about all this. It didn't quite seem like Cass's style. Castiel liked to flaunt off he was God before smiting someone or something. This was a little bit more mysterious.

Well, the voices also suggested Crowley keep an eye out for some stupid video game. So then he did a simple search for games released in the past month. Just this morning, an open beta was released for a game called Sburb, made by a small developer named Skaianet. The game was available for digital download for anyone who registered with their website. Crowley had six hundred and sixty six email accounts, and chose craigAristocrat . He registered and then set the game to download while he busied himself with researching the game to find out why the voices might have thought this game was so important.

He about spit up his drink when he read through a post about the game on gameFAQs. The first and only FAQ written thus far was claiming that a person playing the game had found he could alter his friend's house.

"Now I'm interested," said Crowley. He spent the next several hours going through message boards, image boards, IRC channels and livestreams reading what everyone else was saying about this game.