AN: Have you ever heard that there's one Cards Against Humanity card that supposedly works to fill in any blanks in the game? (No, I'm not repeating it.) Well, there is. And the first time my family ever played The Game of Things, my amazingly clever and funny daughter came up with an answer that we believe can answer any question in that game. ("Drunk archery battle," in case you're wondering.) And now, sfaulkenberry has come up with a few sentences that can, I believe, address every single episode of Supernatural that features Crowley. "Oh, Crowley, you lovable bastard. What did you do?" Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead.
That said, this is kind of a boring chapter…sorry. C'est comme ça.
Leann: Thank you as always for your nice comments! Glad you're enjoying it so far.
ScealaiTheRakker: Hello! I adore Crowley. I always thought the boys should put demon's traps inside the doors of the Impala so any demons that got in would be stuck. I love the idea of having angel banishing symbols in there too. On the same note, why don't hunters wear bracelets that keep iron against their skin so they can't be possessed by ghosts? Just sayin'… And don't we all live vicariously through our boys? Personally, I think I want to be Donna. I love her, plus she gets lots of hugs from the boys.
sfaulkenberry: So I quoted you above. I will henceforth and forever think of Crowley as my lovable bastard. (If you ever watched the show Merlin, I considered Gwaine my beautiful idiot…same idea!) LOL on Sam is so smart sometimes. Isn't that true about all of us? I have a son who is a literal genius according to the medical definition, and I've seen him walk the wrong direction from the kitchen to his bedroom. (Sorry to throw you under the bus, Big J.) As for the idea of Ben going dark side…holy plot bunnies, Batman!
Lena: No worries! You don't have long to wait! Kind of a boring chapter here, but we do get more Crowley, and therefore, more snark. I'm with you – I would be pissed if someone pushed my kid. I am an extremely non-confrontational person, polite to a fault in public. I hardly ever raise my voice, even at home. Unless someone says something about one of my kiddos. I once yelled at someone in the middle of the grocery store for making an inappropriate comment about my daughter. LOL So I do feel for Lisa.
"He's fine," a voice Sam recognized but couldn't immediately identify was saying. It pronounced the second word like foine, which should have triggered recognition, but Sam wasn't really awake yet. "They both are. I helped them, okay? Just put that down. It wouldn't really hurt me anyway."
"What was that black smoke? Who are you?" spoke a young voice, sounding like its owner was close to tears.
Who was that? Why did his leg feel like it was on fire?
"Look, Ben, I'm here with Sam and Dean. I helped them find you. I cauterized their wounds so they didn't bleed out!"
Ben? Oh, yeah. Kidnapped by demons. That meant the speaker was…
"Moose? Squirrel? Anyone want to wake up and back me up on this?"
That's right. Crowley. If Sam's eyes had been open, he would have rolled them. With that thought, he tried to open them, feeling like he was fighting through layers of glue.
"Go ahead and shoot me then," Crowley was saying. Sam finally got his eyes to open, and fuzzily made out the shapes of what had to be Ben and Crowley. Sam blinked and realized that Ben had tears running down his face, but was holding a gun on the demon. For his part, Crowley looked inconvenienced and disappointed, like he couldn't imagine why anyone would ever point a weapon at him. "But if you do take a shot, I'll consider my deal with the Winchesters off and leave you to figure out how to get them medical help on your own."
"Wait." Sam's voice broke and he cleared it. "Wait. Ben, Crowley's…well, he's with us. I'm fine." Sam lifted his head enough to see Dean lying on his face a short ways away. "Dean?" Sam rolled to his stomach and tried to get to his knees, which proved to be a horrible and painful idea.
"I'm good," mumbled Dean, sounding more asleep than awake. "Ben okay?"
"Yeah. Right, Ben?" Sam asked. Sweat was dripping down Sam's face, but with the help of the chair Ben had been tied to, he made it to his feet. Well, foot. "Ben, why don't you give me the gun?" Sam wavered and nearly went back down.
"Gun?!" That got Dean's attention, and he tried to get to his feet, but barely made it to his knees.
Crowley was done with them all. "Oh, for the love," he muttered. He flicked a finger, and the gun went flying. Then he snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were in what was obviously the parking lot of a hospital. The chair did not come with them, and without its support, Sam went back down hard. Just before he blacked out again, he heard Crowley call, "I have two federal agents and a kidnapping victim that need medical assistance!"
WINCHESTER * WINCHESTER
The first thing that Sam did when he woke up was to ask how Dean and Ben were. Dean apparently had an impressive number of stitches from a wound on his shoulder and "numerous cuts and contusions." Ben was bruised, dehydrated, and in shock, but otherwise uninjured. They'd given him something to sleep. By the time the doctor was explaining that Sam's gunshot wound had been flushed and stitched, but he needed to stay for more blood, fluids, pain medications, and antibiotics, Sam was already arguing that he could leave.
"The boy's mother is here and your partner isn't even awake yet," the doctor, who looked about 16, argued. "Agent de Sade took care of everything."
"That's right," said Crowley from the doorway, and having Crowley see him lying in a hospital bed hurt worse than being shot. "You should take it easy, agent. You could have died if that wound hadn't been cauterized."
The doctor took up the argument again, and over his shoulder, Crowley mouthed, you owe me.
"Can you excuse us a minute, Doc?" interrupted Sam tightly. If he spent too much time around the self-proclaimed king, he was going to have dental issues from grinding his teeth.
"de Sade?" Sam couldn't help but ask when the doctor had gone.
"What? I'm a fan."
Sam sighed. Of course he was. "Ben is really okay? You've seen him?" Sam turned off and pulled out his IVs, ignoring Crowley's tsking.
"He really is. I even called Lisa." He spread his arms. "Part of the deal was that I make sure the ankle biter was fine. You should know by now that I adhere to my deals."
"And Praedo? Is he one of the demons in that little contraption you have?"
Crowley looked proud. "You like that? It's the only known lucerne daemonium in existence. You know those things were the origins of genies living in lamps? They were actually trapped demons. It's a shame the art of making them was lost."
Sam gave Crowley his best I don't care look. He disconnected the last of the medical implements he was attached to and switched off the related monitors.
"Sam, you get the nicest visitors," said a voice from the doorway. Crowley turned and Sam could see Dean standing there, leaning heavily on the doorway. He was wearing a clean t-shirt that Sam didn't recognize and his own bloody jeans. He had bandages visible on one bicep and wrist, stitches above the opposite eyebrow, and his right shoulder was bulky from more bandages. He also leaned pretty heavily on the door jamb.
"Sit down before you fall down," snapped Sam, irritated that his brother had gotten out before he had. "Or make yourself useful and find my clothes."
"Crabby."
"That's because he's too embarrassed to accept my offer of a sponge bath now that you're here," simpered Crowley with a shit-eating grin.
"Shut up, Crowley," said the boys in unison.
"So you have Prissy the demon in your magic box? Don't say it!" Dean asked, adding the last in a hurry when he saw the look on Crowley's face.
"Yes," the demon answered sourly. "And the lovely Tatiana too. So everyone has what we want. I took out nine demons outside, I'll have you know. You owe me."
"We owe you nothing," Sam insisted, even while he watched how carefully and wearily Dean lowered himself to a chair. "You got what you wanted too. And you're the one who let Praedo get away in the first place."
"Wait." Dean held up a finger. His face showed amusement. "Praedo was the pig faced guy, right? That means that the 300 lb. trucker guy with killer B.O. is your girlfriend!" Such a huge smile wreathed his face that Sam couldn't help smiling too.
"That's not – she had a very different meat suit when we – " Crowley sputtered. His face was just a thunderous as it had been smug before. "Do you want Praedo dead or tortured?"
Dean considered that. Sam knew he'd prefer to take out the demon himself, but he also wanted to know that this demon would never target Ben or Lisa again. "Dead," Dean said after a pause. "If I find out he's not – "
"Oh, he will be. That last thing I need is any more Lucifer loyalists floating around. You should know, he's the last demon besides yours truly who even knew about your little pseudo family." Crowley pursed his lips. "I'll be sure to give him your love before I tear him apart. Well, arrivederci. Kisses."
"Hey, Crowley," Dean called before the demon could disappear. "Don't let Tatiana's sexy new body tempt you to have make up sex instead of ganking or torture or whatever it is you do for fun."
"Next time, I'm leaving you bleeding on the floor." Then Crowley was gone.
"Ben's really okay?" Sam asked Dean for confirmation.
"Yeah. I peeked in there first. Hey, what are you doing?"
"Finding my clothes." Sam moved to stand, grateful that they'd given him two gowns, one on backwards, so nothing was hanging out except his shins.
"Yeah, I don't think so. You were shot."
Sam was not intimidated by Dean's flat look. "You were stabbed. More than once. If you can show me legit papers showing you're not signed out AMA, I'll stay put."
Dean stared. I'm the older brother and you have to listen to me. Sam stared back. I'm an adult. Dean scowled. You're hurt. Sam raised an eyebrow. So are you. Dean grit his teeth. Do not get up. Sam ignored it. Try and stop me.
"Bet you can't even stand without help," Dean challenged. He obviously still felt it was outside the natural order for Sam to withstand his glare.
Sam stood without help and did his best not to gloat while Dean reluctantly got his clothes. It turned out to be a good thing he didn't, because it's hard to gloat when you can't get your pants on without your brother's help.
AN twee: Crowley chose his agent name from the Marquis de Sade, who was so terrible that the word sadist came from his name. Das goed? Das goed.