***Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters. I just like to play with them on occasion.
This isn't the end.
Those words haunted Crowley. The words he had spoken, like a prayer, standing over the scorched outline of where Gabriel had died. He had promised then that he would do anything to bring him back. And he had meant it. No more hiding how he truly felt about the angel; how could he after all the things he had done to try to fulfill that promise? At first the angel had fallen to the back of his mind in the face of trying to help the Winchesters stop the Apocalypse. (Gabriel would understand. The fall back plan of the rings had been a joint effort.) If they weren't successful, it wouldn't matter anyway. But against all odds the world continued to turn even if Crowley was standing still.
The thing that kept him going was the thought of getting Gabriel back. In the aftermath of the adverted Armageddon, when all of Hell was in turmoil, it was what gave him the determination to claw his way to the throne. Not that he hadn't always been ambitious but it was an excellent motivator and the next step in the plan that had been forming since that night in Elysian Fields. Crowley knew more about angels than any other demon. It was one of the bonuses of shagging an archangel and Gabriel had been more than willing to discuss 'family' issues. Purgatory was Crowley's goal because if Gabriel was anywhere he assumed he was there. The war in Heaven was the perfect opportunity for him to gain some outside help. There were other reasons, of course. Crowley was a firm believer that the devil you knew was better than the one, who in this case, would like to re-start the apocalypse. That was why he went to Castiel with his proposition.
Crowley probably would have done it anyway. He was a survivor and decidedly not an idiot. He knew which horse to back, as the saying went. At the same time he loathed to have any more contact with someone who was close to the Winchesters than he had to. It was the thought of Gabriel that made it easier to swallow. The demon vowed never to tell him that.
Nothing ever went as planned when the Winchesters and company were involved and Crowley's plans had been going downhill since that old codger, Bobby Singer, had dug up his bones. Castiel didn't have the balls to do what was needed regarding his pet hunter and the moose. If it had been Crowley, he would've just killed them and saved a lot of headaches. The most obvious solution was generally the best. However, he had promised not to touch them and he was a demon of his word. His very specific word; none of them seemed to understand that and left him enough wiggle room to do what he felt necessary. It hadn't worked despite his best efforts. Crowley had always expected Castiel to go back on the deal one way or another. The angel had been around the Winchesters long enough to believe it didn't matter if the person you were double-crossing had a little smoke under their skin. He had just hoped that it would be after they opened Purgatory.
He really should have known better.
Crowley was running out of options. He was also running out of places to hide. It wasn't that he really needed to hide. Castiel hadn't made a move to come after him but Crowley hadn't stayed alive this long without keeping one step ahead. Besides, there was no telling what he would decide to do now that he was claiming to be the new god. That had been Crowley's words to him but the demon didn't think he would take it so literally. It was a bloody mess and precisely why he was pacing idly in the small apartment that was this week's hiding spot. The place wasn't up to his usual standards but he could live with that. What he couldn't live with was this feeling of failure that was gnawing at him. He felt like he had let Gabriel down and it irritated him. It irritated him that he had actually failed and it irritated him that he felt this sense of…obligation.
The street lights poured in through the seams of the ratty curtains and he could hear sirens in the distance. It was not the type of ambiance he was used to. There wasn't anything about it he was used to but he supposed it could be worse. (He thought briefly of the shack he had taken refuge in after his –their- house had been burned down.) So many thoughts were swirling around in his mind that it took him a fraction of a second longer to realize he wasn't alone anymore. He froze, eyes narrowed, and head tilted slightly to the side. He could hear the sound of the fridge being opened. It was such an odd thing, such a normal thing, that instead of disappearing on the spot he made his way into the kitchen. There was someone digging around in the fridge. Crowley felt such a rush of emotions that he couldn't even put a finger on one of them. The door to the fridge swung shut.
"Hiya, buttercup," Gabriel said.
Crowley had two options in this situation. One, he could react like any typical person in a romance movie would on being reunited with their lover whom they thought dead, all crushing embraces and murmured affections. Two, he could demand, loudly, to know what the bloody hell Gabriel thought he was doing just showing up in the kitchen and helping himself.
"What in the bloody hell are you doing?" Crowley shouted. "I thought you were dead and your first thought is to get a snack?"
He never did like those romantic movies.
"Geez. I was hungry," he said, a guilty look on his face.
"It's been over a year. Where. Have. You. Been," Crowley said between gritted teeth. Gabriel ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"I was dead." He took a few steps forward and leaned against the counter top. Crowley folded his arms, eying the angel skeptically.
"And now you're not. How exactly did that happen?" The tone in Crowley's voice was a mix between anger and hopefulness. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"I guess Daddy decided to get involved for once. I'm not sure. I came back and Castiel has gone all power-hungry. So, I just kept my head down and started looking for you." He arched an eyebrow. "You're not easy to find."
"That was rather the point," Crowley said with a huff. Gabriel moved to him, trying to take his hands but Crowley stiffened. He should've been happy that Gabriel was back. It was what he had been trying for but he couldn't help but wonder how hard Gabriel had tried to find him. Out of everyone, Gabriel knew Crowley the best. If there ever was a person who could've tracked him down quickly, it was the angel. Old insecurities rose in his chest. "Though I'm surprised you came back. With Michael and Lucifer gone, you could have stayed in Heaven."
Gabriel put his arms around Crowley, who still didn't relax, and pressed their foreheads together. It had always been an unspoken thing between them. Why would an angel want to be with something tainted and unholy? Why would a demon want to be with something as righteous and unfeeling as an angel? Sure, they weren't the models for either of their race but that doubt had always been there. After a moment, Crowley finally relaxed, letting his arms fall to his sides and returning Gabriel's look.
"Crowles. Sometimes you're the dumbest smart person I know. I don't want to be in Heaven. It's boring and you're not there."
"Hn." Crowley shifted slightly, hands brushing against Gabriel's legs.
"I love you."
He had said it before, usually in a teasing manner or when he thought Crowley wasn't really paying attention. It wasn't that Gabriel thought he didn't want to hear it; it was that part of him had been afraid when things started to get serious Crowley would run. Emotions and feelings weren't exactly either one of their fortes. Crowley put his hands on the angel's hips and pulled him closer until their bodies were flush.
"I…I love you, too." Gabriel ran his fingers through Crowley's hair and then kissed him. He had forgotten what it was like. Kissing the demon was rather like kissing a bed of embers. For his part, Crowley could only think of the first time they had kissed. Gabriel hadn't flinched or pulled away from him like all the others. It was at that moment Gabriel became more than just a vague annoyance to be tolerated.
"I know."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Ass."
"I do have a rather nice one," Gabriel said, biting softly at his earlobe.
"You do." Crowley's hands were in fact reacquainting themselves with it at the moment.
"I think we should properly say hello."
"Bedroom?"
"Oh, hells yeah."
The bed's mattress was lumpy and the sheets had the musty, unused smell to them but they didn't notice. There was too much missed time to try to make up for and it was as if they both were trying to put a year's worth of kisses and touches into a few hours. After, when the sheets had been kicked to the floor and the bed frame almost broken (Gabriel's fault, entirely), they lay in each other's arms. Gabriel had his head on Crowley's chest and Crowley absent mindedly stroked his hair.
"What did you do? While I was, you know." Crowley blinked his eyes a few times.
"I looked for you."
"Mm. Where?" he asked, kissing Crowley under the chin.
"Purgatory."
"Ah. I thought so."
Crowley's hand fell still and he frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Come on. Like Castiel would have ever come up with the idea of opening Purgatory himself." Crowley didn't answer, his hand tightening a little. "You know, if it had gone wrong, the world might have burned."
"I knew," he said, beginning to stroke Gabriel's hair once more.
"So. You were willing to possibly destroy the world to maybe get me back?" He propped his chin up on Crowley's chest and looked up at him. Crowley stared back at him for a moment then dragged his face towards him and kissed Gabriel.
"Of course."
