This work is based off both Supernatural and Good Omens, neither of which belong to me.
….
Cast:
Angels and Demons:
Crowley: Serpent of Eden, King of Hell, Flash Bastard, Five Time Winner of the Not-as-Much-a-Jerk as he could have been award.
Castiel: An angel of the lord addicted to hamburgers. Currently nuttier than a squirrel's stash before winter
Aziraphale: Principality of the Eastern Gate. Status: Pissed Off
Naomi: Just...Run.
Raphael: Archangel of Healing, He With The Stick Up His Butt
Zachariah: Didn't this guy die already?
Gabriel: Still Pretending to be Dead
Humans:
Dean Winchester: Hunter, Righteous Man, Somewhat of a Jerk
Sam Winchester: Hunter, Currently Possessing a Soul, Vessel of Lucifer
Bobby Singer: If you don't know who he is, you're an idjit.
God: Still won't say if I'm playing Poker or Go Fish
…..
"Well," the Serpent said. "That went over like a lead balloon."
Instead of the gentle disapproval of the angel, he met the decidedly not-gentle glares of the Winchester brothers. "Oh come on," he said. "You know you're both thinking it. Your little pet angel decided to get juiced up, and let me tell you, there's a reason I was gonna split the souls."
"Shut up," Dean barked. "What just happened?"
"And you're supposed to save the world," Crowley scoffed. "I swear to Manchester, whoever designed your destiny to do more than opening a bottle of beer really screwed up. What just happened, moron, is that The Little Angel That Could just consumed the soul of every being in Purgatory. You heard him. He wants to be God."
"This is your fault," Dean snapped. "You manipulated him into this."
"Don't be stupid, Squirrel," Crowley said. "This screw up is all on the winged idiot's shoulders. There's a reason no one has tried to open purgatory before. You heard the saying power corrupts? Well, your angel's gonna be in hell in a couple of weeks with the way he's going. An angel isn't built to hold that much longer. Archangel, maybe, but a little lower case arch angel like Castiel? Not so much. So instead of blaming semi-innocent parties, I suggest you get working on a way to get the angel back."
Sam studied the King of Hell coldly. Crowley could see him plotting a painful demise for himself. Worse, the younger Winchester would probably feel sorry about killing him. Sam reminded him of his angel sometimes, all sweet and polite until you pissed him off. He shuddered, cursing Castiel silently for trapping him in this devil's trap.
Dean was much more forceful, brandishing the demon killing knife angrily. "How, exactly, do we do that? Huh?"
"Now, now, you should know I don't give out freebies," Crowley chided. "But I might be persuaded to give you a starting place for, oh, putting the knife away and letting me out."
Dean looked Crowley over. He was as well-groomed as ever, giving the appearance of lounging about with nothing to do, even while locked in the devil's trap. "You've already proven you'll break a deal," he spat. "You haven't given Bobby's soul back, have you?"
"He hasn't," Sam said. "I'm not surprised Castiel double-crossed you, really. How could anyone ever trust a demon, let alone the King of Hell."
"I really don't need or want your trust," Crowley deadpanned. "Demon, remember? In fact, I don't need you at all. You're the ones who need me. So, how about being a little politer, hmm? Before you, hmm, piss off the guy who can help you save your little friend."
"How would you even know how to get the souls out of Cas," Dean demanded. "Did you plan this?"
"Yes, I planned getting double crossed by the goody-two-shoes," Crowley sneers. "It doesn't pay to be a demon without a backup plan. I'm going to have to be selfish, though, and insist you let me out. I would like to make a new deal."
"Can I talk to you outside," Sam hisses at Dean.
"You can't seriously be considering this," Dean retorts. "We should just gank him and call it good."
"I'm hurt, Dean. And after all we've been through," Crowley joked, though he did send a nervous look at the devil's traps.
The Winchesters ignored him. "We don't have any other choice," Sam hissed. "Bobby couldn't find anything about how to close Purgatory."
"Exactly," Dean exclaims. "If Bobby can't find anything, what makes you think Crowley can?"
"Because I am a very old demon, and Singer is a human?" Crowley smirks. "True, he has a very nice library, but…" he leers "Mine's bigger."
Dean scoffs. "You collect books."
"Well, I'm onto someone's collection for them. I much prefer those fancy gadgets humanity keeps coming up with, but what can you do?"
"Books, Dean," Sam says eagerly.
"Seriously, Sammy? Do I really need to remind you of the last time you trusted a demon?"
"Seems an angel or two got you into this mess," Crowley interrupts.
"Shut up," Dean snaps. "Look, I want to help Cas as much as you do. But this guy kind of is the reason Cas is in trouble right now. He'll stab us in the back just as fast as you can say 'I told you so'. Which I will be saying!"
"I repeat, what choice do we have? I don't have the faintest idea how to stick those monsters back in Purgatory, Castiel's gone nuts, Bobby doesn't have his soul, and Heaven's in the middle of a civil war! If you know a better way to get out of this mess, I'd love to hear it."
Dean scowls. "Fine. But when this is all over, I'm ganking him." He drags the knife through the devil's trap. Crowley steps out, grinning. His grin fades when the sound of wings fill the air.
"We might want to get out of here," he says, glancing around nervously.
"Why," Sam asks, shotgun held at the ready. "Who is that?"
That turned out to be a very gay, slightly chubby British angel. Carrying a flaming sword.
"Let'ss jussst say he doesssn't like me very much right now," Crowley hissed. Literally. The angel began to walk toward them serenely. Both hunters shot at him. "Not going to do anything, idiots." Crowley flung out his hand, and the building began to shake. Chunks of the ceiling dropped down. The angel kept walking, the debris suddenly finding it wise to avoid him or be set aflame. "Neither will that, but it'll slow him down." He grabbed both hunters by the shoulders, and the next second they were standing outside Bobby's house.
...
A/N: So...apparently a royal flush does not win in Candyland. I would like to inform God that if he wants me to play Candyland, I need the little plastic pieces. Or buttons, I'm not picky. Speaking of buttons, there is a very convenient one at the bottom of this page. Reviews would be lovely if you have the time.
