The King's Men
Rated M. So many reasons.
Summary: TAG to Do You Believe in Miracles. For Stories4Charity request. "I NEED demon!Dean re-addicting Sam to demon blood and the two of them going on a wincest-fueled rampage to kill all the demon and angel parasites currently infesting earth. For the greater good of course."
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters.
Once Sam finished the summoning spell and the King of Hell appeared before him, he stood from his crouch. "Crowley!" he hated that his voice had cracked when he'd said it. He'd meant to sound pissed.
"Calm yourself, Moose," he replied with a raised brow. "I know what you called me here to do."
"Then do it!" he once again tried to sound angry, but his voice was only showing the sorrow he felt.
"It's already done," the demon told him. "So don't go trying to make a deal. I've settled this one. I know I got him into this mess. Least I could do," he said with a shrug.
Sam's expression faltered for a moment, his face going slack as he wasn't quite sure how to react to the information; whether he should believe it. "What?"
"Dean is alive," Crowley told him. "Go and see for yourself, if you don't believe me." Sam moved to turn around. "But I should probably tell you," he started, and Sam turned back to him, "He's a bit different."
"What's that supposed to mean?" and there was the angry voice he'd tried to find earlier.
"Not my doing," he replied. "I only returned the blade to its owner. It took care of the rest."
"Took care of what?" Sam asked gruffly, taking a step forward with his words.
"Why don't you just go on up and see your brother, Sam? He's alive. That's what you wanted, right? That's all that matters." The demon narrowed his eyes as he observed Sam's reaction. "He's stuck right now," he told him. "Probably needs your help." At that, Sam's eyes twitched for a moment before he turned and headed out of the room. "I'll wait here," the demon called after him...
"Dean?" Sam called out as he made his way quickly through the bunker halls. "Dean?" He tried not to think about the fact that Crowley could just be lying to him; that Dean was still lying dead in his bed. He'd been willing to do anything to get his brother back. Anything at all, and he knew how messed up it was, especially after all the shit he gave Dean about doing that for Sam.
His head was still buzzing from the liquor he'd finished off earlier. But now his heart was pounding and pushing it through his system at full speed. He was excited and terrified and confused and fuck if he knew what else to do but keep looking.
"Dean!" he stopped in his tracks, shocked when he saw his brother standing in the hallway ahead of him. Dean looked up for just a moment before turning away. "Dean!" Sam said again, voice cracking as he moved forward to get to him. When he did, he grabbed onto his brother's arms as if to make sure he was really there.
"Don't look at me, Sam," Dean said in a low, quiet voice.
"Dean, you're alive... How are you alive? God, Dean," tears of joy ran down his cheeks, a relief flowing through him quicker than the alcohol.
"You don't understand," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'm...I'm not..."
"You're not what?"
Dean looked at him then, blinking to reveal his new, true eyes, just for a moment before blinking them back again. "I'm not human anymore," he told him, his face washing with sorrow then.
Sam shook his head, tears still coming full blast. It was a shock to see this; to know what Dean was right now. But it didn't matter. "It doesn't matter," he said out loud, wrapping his arms around Dean and pressing tightly to him. "It doesn't matter, 'cause you're alive. Nothing else matters," he cried.
"I'm sorry," Dean's voice was strained, and the sound of something hitting the floor rang in their ears before Dean's arms were around Sam, holding him just as tightly. "I'm so fucking sorry, Sammy..."
.~*~.
Later, after Sam let Dean out of the devil's trap he'd gotten stuck under in the hallway and picked up the blade he'd dropped to the floor in order to hug his brother, and after he'd given Dean a change of clothes and disposed of the ones he'd died in, Sam passed out from exhaustion...well, and a bit of drunkenness, perhaps.
Dean sat at Sam's bedside and watched him for an undetermined amount of time before he heard Crowley calling out for him. He glanced at the blade for a moment. Sam had wrapped it up and put it on the dresser earlier. But he avoided picking it up when he stood and walked out of the room.
"Oh good," Crowley said as Dean entered his line of vision. "Thought I'd be stuck down here for days." Dean said nothing as he approached. His features were blank, but his eyes never left Crowley's. "That brother of yours pulled me out of the room before we could talk properly."
"What else would you have to say to me?" Dean asked, stopping to stand before him, arms crossed over his chest.
"Well for one, I'm sorry about your death and all," he said casually. He waited a moment to continue, as Dean said nothing. "You did...hear what I said to you up there, right? Just want to make sure you..."
"Yeah, I heard you."
"Good."
"If you think I'm gonna come work for you now, you're wrong," Dean told him.
"That's not what I was going to say," Crowley insisted.
"I'm not like you. I'm not like any of you. This is just a fucked up loophole I got the shit-end deal of. I'm still me."
"Yes, Dean. You're still you," Crowley agreed. "Except that you're not human anymore. You need guidance."
"Guidance?" Dean said with an amused grin. "You think I need guidance from you?"
"You're a demon now, Squirrel. You need someone to help get you through your transition; get you on your big-boy legs."
"You just want me to be your puppet," Dean countered. "Your new toy; a weapon of mass destruction right at your fingertips."
"That sounds like fun. Really it does," Crowley agreed. "But that's not the case. I meant it when I said I hadn't planned this."
"You hadn't planned on me dying, you mean."
"Of course I hadn't planned on that!" Crowley replied. "You're Dean-bloody-fucking-Winchester! I tried killing you for years before I realized it was a lost cause! You and that enormous brother of yours have died more times than I care to discuss, and you just keep coming back again, annoying as ever. So no, I didn't plan on you dying."
"Of course not," Dean replied calmly. "You wanted me to need to kill; put a leash on me and make me your little, unstoppable Hellhound."
"Not exactly..."
"Well that's not how things are gonna go, Crowley. Or whatever else way you might be thinkin'. Now, Sam might be thrilled if I ran the blade through your heart." Crowley's eye twitched and narrowed. "But I'm not gonna do that," Dean told him. "As much of a pain in my ass as you've been all these years, you've also been kinda useful. Not that it makes up for everything, mind you." He began pacing in a slow circle around the demon as he talked. "But also because I know that all the grunt demons roaming this planet would have a field day without a king; they'd cause chaos, and everything would go to hell in a hand basket."
"Probably so," Crowley said quietly.
"So instead, here's what's gonna happen," Dean continued. "You're gonna tell them that it's time to go home."
"Excuse me?" Crowley asked, a brow raised as he turned his ear toward Dean.
"You and your puppets are going back to Hell or Purgatory or wherever the hell else you can think of that ain't here, because once I've got everything straight with Sam, we're gonna destroy every last one of you that're still topside."
"Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?"
"It's a guarantee, Crowley," Dean replied, stopping in front of the demon again. "No more games. All the crap the whole lot of you pulled, I'm done. You've overstayed your welcome. You can leave peacefully, or you can do it the hard way. We may not be human anymore, but we still got free will, right? Take your chances if you want."
"And you can't use the demon tablet because it would lock you away, too," Crowley surmised. "Tell me, Dean. If you intend to wipe the planet free of demons, what happens to you when you're finished taking care of the rest of us?"
Dean smiled at him after a moment. For some reason, it was creepier than an angry expression.
"What?" Crowley asked. "What's that supposed to mean, eh?"
"Doesn't matter," Dean replied. "It's not your problem."
"Isn't it?" the demon countered. "If you plan on joining us when this is all said and done, I've gotta put up with you in Hell for eternity, don't I? You'd run around killing everything in sight. What am I supposed to do then?"
"I'm making you a deal, Crowley," Dean replied, grin fading from his face. "You get your minions to go home peacefully, and every one that goes quietly and stays put, I promise not to kill. No one else gets that deal. No one. And no more making more demons, either. The rack goes away. You don't get to turn anymore souls, got it?"
"That's what Hell is supposed to be about," Crowley argued.
"No. Hell is imprisonment and seclusion; loneliness and heartache and grieving. It's knowing you're never gonna see the ones you love, ever again. Torture? That's just sick shit for your own pleasure. It's like your way of breeding. And I'm telling you-"
"You don't tell me anything!" Crowley growled. "I'm the King of Hell, not you! You should be taking orders from me!"
Dean laughed. Actually laughed loudly, leaning back with the intensity of it. It made the other demon uncomfortable, to say the least. "Oh man," he said when it died down enough for him to speak. "That really was a nice try. I'll give you that. But you know as well as I do, I could be the king in as little time as it'd take me to get upstairs and back. You think anyone would dare step up to me?"
Crowley said nothing for a moment. "Bloody dirty son of a bitch. I see you're already fitting in quite nicely in your new skin."
"Guess I'm just a fit-in kinda guy," Dean snarked.
"So you're okay with being hated by your own kind, then?"
"Wouldn't be any different from any other day," Dean retorted.
"So let me get this straight," Crowley said. "You want me to agree to go back to Hell...in exchange for my life?"
"That's the deal."
"You realize that's a shit deal."
"Take it or leave it."
"Can I make a better suggestion?"
"You can try."
"I'll do everything you just said," he began. "And give you my blessing to kill off any halfwits who don't listen to me. In fact, I'll even help you track them down, if you like."
"In exchange for what?" Dean asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"You and me," he pointed back and forth between them, "We're best friends forever."
"No dice," Dean turned to leave.
"All right, fine!" Crowley shouted. "Just friends then."
"We're not friends, Crowley!" Dean said, turning back to him.
"'Course we are," he countered. "Sure it might've started out a forced arrangement, but we've been helping each other far longer than what we ever had to. You can't deny that."
"Maybe you don't understand what the word means," Dean said, shaking his head.
"Or maybe it's that you don't," Crowley countered. "In my book, the best of friends are those who help each other, no matter whether they like it or not. And they do it because they understand that it's what the other wants; that it might make them happy."
"The hell are you talking about?" Dean scoffed. "You never helped me for my happiness."
"Nothing makes you happy," Crowley said. "Except maybe for pie...sex... If that's really what you want, I'm sure I can arrange it. Oh but wait!" he said, holding up a finger in the air. "Sammy."
"Don't you call him that," Dean growled.
"Your gigantic baby brother. The only thing that has a snowball's chance at ever making you happy, really. Did you forget I saved him for you?"
"In exchange for your freedom," Dean replied.
"I could've still said no," Crowley told him. "But I knew that the only thing truly keeping you alive in this world is the existence of that giraffe. That's always been true, and it always will be."
"What's your point, Crowley?" Dean asked.
"My point is, you and I are friends," he held up a hand when Dean started to protest again. "Which means I get to come up and visit now and then, because that's what friends do."
"Visit?" Dean raised a brow.
"Hell can get a bit...stuffy at times," Crowley said with a shrug. "I won't do anything bad," he assured. "No funny business; I swear on my idiot son."
"How assuring."
"And as a bonus, I'll spend all my spare time figuring out how to help you out of your...predicament."
"What?" Dean lifted his head a bit at that, eyes narrowing again.
"Honestly, I think you underestimate how many strings I have the ability to pull," Crowley said with a shake of his head. "It's not going to be easy, I'll say that much. But it can't be impossible. So, while you and Sam are busy housecleaning, I can be looking for that possibility."
"And if you do?" Dean asked. "If there's a way to fix me, what's to stop you from letting everything go back to how it is?"
"My word," he replied. "You know I can't break a deal."
Dean looked away for a moment in thought. "If Sam and I find a way before you can, you've gotta sweeten the pot," Dean bargained.
"Oh, a demon after my own heart," Crowley said with a grin.
"Every monster remaining after Sam and I are done, you have to get rid of."
"By myself?" Crowley scoffed.
"You sayin' you can't handle it?"
"I'm not exactly standing in line for Hunter Scouts!"
"Well then I guess you better find that possibility before we do," Dean said with a grin.
Crowley growled as he turned away from Dean. "How long do I have? To send out the return-to-Hell air sirens?"
"Three days," Dean replied, then knelt down in front of the lot of items spread out for the summoning spell. "No games, Crowley," he said as he looked up at him again. "If Sam and I come out of this in the end, we're off limits. You don't get to toy with us. Got it?"
"Absolutely."
Dean pushed over the bowl of water, causing it to spill over the chalk line of the symbol, and Crowley was gone.
.~*~.
When Sam began to drift back into consciousness, that place between sleep and awake, the memory of Metatron driving the angel sword through Dean's chest flashed into his mind. The moment the life faded out of Dean's eyes...
Dean was sitting beside the bed again when his brother began sobbing in his sleep. Dean's brows furrowed as he pushed out of the chair and went to sit down on the mattress. "Sam?" he said softly, his hand going to his brother's arm. "Sammy, wake up."
Sam's eyes shot open, his breath becoming wild as he tried to focus on the sight before him. "Dean?" He blinked rapidly, his memory returning quickly now. "You... You're alive," he said, then pushed up enough to pull his brother into a hug, as if seeing him alive for the first time all over again. Dean held onto him and waited for him to remember all of it. "Dean..." He expected him to push him away, be disgusted and angry. "What do we do now?" Sam asked. "What does this mean for us?"
Dean was the one who pulled away, holding him at arms length to look at him. "We're gonna burn every stray demon and angel to dust," he told him. "You and me."
"You're...not gonna leave me?" Sam asked, eyes wide and darting back and forth between Dean's.
Dean nearly laughed at the question. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"
"I'm never leaving you again," Sam told him, hand clutching at his brother's shirt with the words, eyes wet.
Dean was washed with relief, and his love for Sam was brighter than any other feeling he had in that moment. He pulled Sam back into an embrace, holding him close as he silently rejoiced in the fact that his words to Crowley were absolutely true. Dean was still Dean...
.~*~.
"I have a plan," Dean told his brother as he forced some breakfast in front of him at the table. "And I already kinda started it going."
"You what?" Sam asked curiously.
"Gave Crowley three days to evacuate his clan back to Hell. We'll have free reign over the leftovers. Should make it a lot easier. Angels might be a little more tricky though."
"Dean, I... I hate to bring this up, but... You're way powerful now. You've got an indestructible weapon that can kill anything, and you're strong as...well...Hell. But I'm... I dunno. I feel like I'm just gonna end up slowing you down," he said as he looked down at his plate of eggs, pushing them around with a fork.
"Sam," Dean said as he pulled a chair in front of his brother and sat down to face him. "You forget you're pretty much a super secret weapon? All you need is some fuel, and you've got yourself an endless supply right here."
When Sam realized what Dean meant, his eyes widened. "Dean, no!" he pushed away from the table a bit in a panic. "You know what it could do-"
"Hey, just hang on," Dean tried to calm him, grabbing onto his arms. "It didn't change who you were, Sam. You were still you. You just had your brain all scrambled by that conniving douche-bag Ruby." Sam's eyes darted in the air between them as he thought that over. "This time, you'd have me. We're both after the same thing here; get rid of all the demons and wayward angels. When we're through, we wean you off the blood. Then you get yourself righteous and cure my ass."
"Or we just cure you now, and get rid of them the old fashioned way," Sam suggested.
"As much fun as that sounds," Dean replied, "As long as I'm black-eyed, the mark doesn't give me the uncontrollable urge to kill. So...until we can figure out a way to get rid of it, I gotta stay this way."
Sam was quiet for a long time, mulling over everything he'd been told. Dean tried to be patient in waiting for his response.
"Crowley's agreed to pull some strings and see if he can find a way," Dean told him. "So...he'll be working on that."
Sam looked at him then. "You're still working with Crowley, then?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Crowley's working for me."
Sam's knee was bouncing in front of him. The silence that followed was nearly deafening. But then Sam finally spoke.
"Get me the blood."
Tbc...