Chapter 4: Complicated Consequences

Crowley came awake slowly. His head ached, but compared to the pain that had knocked him out, it was barely worth thinking over. And besides the headache and a general fatigue he felt surprisingly well.

He could feel that his wounds had been mostly healed. Bones had fused, though they still felt fragile. The torn and strained tendons and ligaments were better aligned, less swollen and stiff. The lacerations and burns that had plagued him felt at least half healed, like they'd been inflicted several days ago.

More importantly, the clawing thirst was gone. The painful aching need of his addiction was gone. He still felt human, but the human in him felt calm, sated in a way that even the highs of human blood had never managed. He still felt it, felt the knife bright sting of emotions, but the gut-wrenching despair and loathing and desperation had been soothed, replaced by a sort of calm.

His demon essence was the source of the ache that lingered in his head, and in his core. That part of him felt like he'd been grabbed, shaken, and put through a wringer. Honestly, probing his demon half reminded him inexplicably of his human days, working through a load of wash. As if something had scrubbed a few layers of Hell filth and damnation out of him then left him out to dry. He wasn't sure exactly how it felt to him, really. Cleaner, in some way. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

A retching, hacking cough distracted him. He turned his head in time to see Castiel sit up, roll over and heave his guts out onto the concrete. Not that there was much for him to cough up, but the gagging and choking noises were unpleasant to listen to.

Finally, the angel ceased gagging. He swiped a hand over his mouth. "That was unpleasant."

Crowley smirked. "Told you so. Angels and demons aren't meant to mix. Would have thought you knew that."

Castiel glared at him. "At least it worked."

"That it did." He hoisted himself to his feet. He ached, but no worse than that. Certainly not the stabbing pains that had sent him to his knees before. Without thinking, he gestured to clothe himself.

Power flowed. It felt...off, not like normal demon power, but he barely had time to notice before he was dressed, clad in the suit Castiel had provided. Which wasn't half bad, for a cheap suit.

He and the angel froze. Castiel stared at the shackle that bound his wrist. "How did you do that?"

"Same way I do anything." Crowley flexed his hands, feeling for the power flows in his body. His demonic essence was still sealed away. So how had he done that?

No sense wasting the advantage though. He looked at the angel, then moved forward, hoping to catch Castiel off guard.

Castiel ducked in a well trained move, then flickered out of sight, then stumbled back into visible range on the other side of the car. Crowley winced as he felt something in his core twang faintly, like he'd used his powers.

But he hadn't.

He dismissed the thought to stare at the angel. "Thought you said all angels were grounded, darling."

"They are. That wasn't flying." Castiel looked vaguely nauseous. "That was...very uncomfortable. I've never used transportation like that."

Crowley frowned at the angel. "Like what?"

"Like...falling. Falling into blankness."

That sounded very familiar. A horrible suspicion bloomed in Crowley's gut. "Do it again." Castiel glared at him, and he returned the glare. "Come on now, I'm not just being rude, darling. I have a reason for asking. Just a short hop."

Castiel scowled at him for a moment longer, then flickered out of sight to reappear right next to him. He'd have felt threatened if he hadn't been paying more attention to his internal systems. To the slight tug he felt, as if he'd used his powers.

As if he'd transported himself somewhere.

He called power to his hand, to transform cheap polyester into his preferred threads, and to reinforce the healing to his broken bones. The power came, bringing with it that odd, tingling, washed-over feeling. Beside him, Castiel made a small noise.

Suspicion curdled into certainty. "You felt that, didn't you Feathers."

Castiel's scowl would have blistered paint. "Yes." His hand flicked, bringing his blade to bear. "What did you do to me?"

"I didn't. It's what you did to me." He matched the angel glare for glare. "I told you not to try to heal me. Not to touch me with that blasted Grace of yours. And now, somehow, I don't bloody well know how, our powers have been mixed." He cocked an eyebrow when Castiel opened his mouth to protest. "I can heal and repair things, even with my powers bound. And you? That fancy little teleport? I know that move. That's demon transport you're using. Demon spell."

Castiel's mouth snapped shut as he considered. "I don't like this."

"No more do I." Actually, he could think of several advantages. But none of them were enough to counter the discomfort of that washed out feeling, the way his demonic essence cringed inside him. "I think we'd better get to your favorite little pets now."

"They are not pets." Castiel frowned again but nodded and walked around to the driver's seat. Crowley settled back into the passenger seat and buckled the seat-belt.

The rest of the drive was quiet, and tense. Neither of them were in the mood for speaking. They stopped once for more gas, then kept going.

Crowley was more than happy with the silence. He had plenty to think about.

He should have been incinerated the minute the Grace touched him. He was a demon, that was what happened. He'd never heard of a demon being healed by an angel before. It should be impossible. But he remembered the way the humanity in him had surged up, welcoming the touch of divine energy. And the craving he'd felt before was gone, leaving him with an odd but not unpleasant energized feeling.

Wonder of wonders, it appeared Castiel had been right. They were both human enough for the healing to have taken. But he wasn't optimistic enough to believe there had been no adverse consequences at all.

If nothing else, he could look forward to the Winchester's reaction when they discovered his demon energy had tainted their precious little choir-boy. Moose was likely to try to either cure him or exorcise him on the spot.

They drove up to the Bunker just as dusk was setting in. Castiel parked the car, dragged him out of it, then led him to the door. A rather uninspiring door for a secret bunker. Then again, he supposed there wasn't much point in a noticeable secret door.

At least this time he got to see where he was going. Last time they'd blindfolded him.

Granted, when they found out what had happened on the road in, he'd be lucky if they didn't exorcise him. Or stab him.

Castiel made a phone call, then stood waiting patiently. Crowley shifted uncomfortably next to him, cursing the fact that he couldn't be the one with the teleportation powers. Not that he minded being able to heal himself and clothe himself again, but the transportation powers would have been a definite advantage.

Though it did raise the question of whether or not he could smite someone. That might be an interesting advantage to have. Abbadon certainly wouldn't expect that. He was still mulling over the implications and possibilities when the door opened.

Dean emerged with a scowl. "Hey Cas. Thanks for coming all this way." He turned to Crowley. "You got the Blade?"

"Do I have it? No. Do I have a good idea where it might be? Yes. As a matter of fact, I do."

Dean's scowl deepened. "Yeah? Well if you know where it is, why didn't you get it? And why are we talking if you don't have it?"

"I don't have it because there were...complications. And I came here because I find myself in need of some...assistance, shall we say, in acquiring the Blade without Abbadon's interference." Castiel made a sound, and he glared at the angel. "Well, her further interference, I should say."

"Yeah? She the reason you don't have the First Blade?"

"One of the reasons. The others...I suggest we talk inside that fancy little hidey-hole of yours. I'm fairly certain it's safer." He scowled at the hunter.

Dean matched him glare for glare, then pulled a set of cuffs off the back of his belt. "Fine."

Crowley backed up at once. "I'm not putting those on again." He raised on hand to show the shackle Castiel had put on him. "Besides, Feathers here has already given me all the accessories I need."

Dean growled, then stowed the chains in his belt. "Fine. But if Sam goes for you, it's not my lookout." He turned and stalked back inside the bunker.

"Go." Castiel indicated for him to follow with a jerk of his head. "And don't try anything."

"Not inclined to at the moment, darling." Tempting as escape would be, he wasn't sure he did really want to run for it. After all, if there was any way to undo what Castiel had done to them, the answer was probably in the Winchester's hands.

There was also the matter of getting Dean's assistance with ending Abbadon.

Not to mention, Castiel was the one with the power to teleport at the moment.

He followed Dean inside and down the narrow twisting stairs, supremely glad to be able to see them this time. Last time he'd had a hood over his head, in addition to all the anti-demon hardware Sam had put on him, and the stairs had been honestly nerve-wracking. To say nothing of being treated like a prisoner, shoved along with no regard to safety and health.

Moose was in the library at the foot of the stairs, surrounded by his computer and several books, which was about what he'd expected. He looked up at their entrance, then scowled. "Why isn't he chained up? Dean?" There was more than a hint of accusation in his voice.

"Cause Cas already put the magic manacles on him, so it's good. At least this way, he's mobile if we need to haul him somewhere."

"Yeah. It's if he decides to stab us in the back that I'm worried about."

"Yeah well, if he does that, he won't get rid of his little Abbadon problem. Not to mention..." Dean paused and took a gulp of beer from a bottle. "He tries anythin, and I'll kill him, First Blade or not."

"I'm touched. Truly." He answered Sam's scowl and Dean's dark smile with a smirk of his own. "So much trust among allies. Easy to see why you two have absolutely hordes of friends."

He might have said something else, if Castiel hadn't chosen that moment to interject. "It doesn't matter Sam. Binding Crowley's demonic abilities further will do no good."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Dean looked up.

Castiel scowled. "Because he can use mine."

Sam sat back with a blink of shock. Dean choked on his beer.

The elder Winchester coughed twice, then shook his head. "Excuse me? Repeat that, cause I could have sworn that you just said that Crowley could use your powers. Like, angel powers."

Castiel's scowl deepened, mixing with shamefaced resignation. "That is what I said."

Dean blinked. "But Crowley's a demon."

"I'm aware of that." Castiel glanced sidelong at Crowley. "It appears I can use his powers too."

"You're joking." Sam sat forward abruptly.

"No." Castiel grimaced.

Sam stood up, his gaze flicking between demon and angel. "Then I think you need to explain what's going on. Like, right now."

Author's Note: Well, this is interesting for the Winchesters...