Crowley sat in one of the rocking chairs set up in front of the roadhouse. The place was a dump by his standards but the stale liquor had just loosened him up enough to know when to pick his battles.

Of course, no liquor in the world could make Crowley forget where he was, and the itch of saintly goodness that heaven provided was starting to grate on him. Fergus even as a motherless child knew he would most likely never get to heaven and by the time he remade himself as the mighty Crowley he was too power-hungry to care. Hell was his playground and it gave him a taste of everything he had been denied in life.

Now sitting on the porch of heaven's shittest watering hole though, Crowley had to fight with regret. Perhaps it was the human feelings from his blood addiction that never quite left or the fuzzy lovey-doveyness of heaven but Crowley allowed himself to ponder what his life would have been like had things been different. If he had a mother who cared, direction when he was alive, or even chose not to sell his soul.

Crowley might have been tipsy but he wasn't pissed enough to be stupid regarding his own life. He knew it was pointless wallowing. It made you weak and held back progress. Much like all the other human traits Crowley loathed. Besides he took ownership of his actions. The demon was proud to have clawed his way to the top and felt little to no remorse for those that had been slain along the way. Yet Heaven was just a reminder of another thing he could touch but never have. It had occurred to him sometime after Dean became human again that he never truly considered the consequences of winning and all that was lost in the process. It was a bit ironic really, losing something because you have won, but time and again Crowley found himself yearning for the way things were before. And now seemed to be no exception. The demon ached for the time when things were simply black and white, when the Winchesters were as predictable as the sun rising in the east and he was the antihero thwarting their plans at every turn. But those years were long gone and here Crowley was, sitting in heaven having himself a pity party.

He should have known it was wrong for him and mother to come up here and despite the air of civility they both played he had no problem calling his mother a damn fool.

Samuel, oh Samuel he mocked his mother's high-pitched voice in his head.

Those Winchester's are a nuance to me even after I'm dead. Crowley thought bitterly, gulping the Conyack he settled for.

Though Crowley knew he had no right to judge his mother's favoritism toward the mooseyer of the two Winchesters, he had never cared much in the way of hypocrisy and allowed the resentful feelings to linger in him like the taste of the roadhouse liquor on the tongue.

Crowley would never admit it, even to himself, buried somewhere behind his brooding cynicism was the real reason he was bothered. And it wasn't because of heaven or his witch of a mother.

The scene he had just witnessed of Dean and Cass's declaration of love played over in his mind and was hard-pressed to admit that the two blithering idiots had taken a long time to accept what was glaringly obvious. Crowley didn't believe in all the mushy bullshit of love. Feelings as he often cursed was a fire only pillock's played with. His own experience of getting burned all too fresh in Crowley's mind. But with god involved he wouldn't put it past that Dean and Cass were somehow cosmically meant to be and the thought of that perhaps irritated him most of all.

Downing the last of the cheap amber in his glass, Crowley was just about to get up to yank Rowena away from Moose in the means of leaving, when he felt a presence behind him.

--

Dean leaned against the front door frame of the roadhouse taking a deep breath of the warm thick air of heaven. He felt truly at peace. A feeling he never thought he'd be able to feel. Not only was he reunited with Sammy, who got to live a long and happy life but he could live out the rest of his, well death, with the ones he loved. He had never dreamed in life that he and Cass could be anything more than friends and even when Cass finally admitted his feelings it was too late. But here in heaven time meant nothing, the constraint of human life meant nothing and Dean could finally be the person he always wanted to. Dean went to his grave sure he hated chick flick moments but now he wondered if that was just because he could never love the person he wanted to. If telling Cass how he felt lifted such a weight off his chest, the thought of them finally being able to be together made it swell with happiness. Something he likened to that stupid Christmas movie he used to put on for Sammy when he was little.

"Calling the winged annoyance your boyfriend doesn't ring the same now that it's true." Crowley drawled, filling the peacefulness with the annoying comment.

But for once Dean was too happy to care. Crowley could blabber trying to sound like a quick-witted douche all he wanted. Nothing was going to take his happiness away and this thought made him smile.

"Wouldn't want to ruin your fun. I'm sure you're clever enough to come up with something new."

Crowley turned, looking at Dean for the first time since he had walked up to the door. "Why bother, you're smiling like a stripper with daddy's credit card. Nothing I'd say will change that."

Dean let out a laugh. He had thought many things of Crowley over the years, truly funny had never been one of them. But now amusement bubbled out of him. "Maybe you're right" he smiled into the mouth of a beer bottle.

"I'm Crowley, I'm always right." the demon quipped, watching Dean lazily stroll over to the rocking chair next to him. As Dean sat, Crowley looked away pretending to be interested in the impala that was parked just feet away. There had been a time. A short time-Crowley was no fool about that-when Dean Winchester was always by his side. They had spent hours at crappy roadside dive bars, just like this one, drinking, talking, and making general fools of themselves. But it had been a long time since Crowley felt the familiarity of the bumbling pile of flannel next to him. And without a bar in front of them, it was an intimate feeling Crowley disliked immensely.

"So what are you, an angel now?" Dean mused out loud. His words followed by a swig of cheap beer.

"Not bloody likely." Crowley laughed. As If the vision of himself with a pair of fluffy wings was particularly amusing. "Darling, I don't have the bone structure for all that angelic grace." The sentence ended with the usual smirk that made Dean want to smack him with an angel blade.

But Crowley's gaze lingered. There was something behind the demon's eyes that Dean couldn't quite read and if he had cared at all he would have asked about it. but he didn't so he just took another swig and laughed, looking back out at heaven.

The silence stretched once again, leaving their words to hang in the haze of the summer air. Dean would have preferred this as he usually found conversations with Crowley to be a pain in the ass. This was heaven and if Dean was allowed any consolation it would have been to just sit and enjoy Crowley's company without him being annoying enough to make Dean want to strangle him.

Crowley on the other hand felt the silence as stifling as the holiness. Well, his general rule-along with always say yes to being tied up and spanked- was to never let others know your thoughts, looking at Dean now Crowley felt he had so much to say. The last he saw of the boy band reject was when he sacrificed himself so they could stop Lucifer. The circumstances alone left little room for witty conversation much less the spill your guts goodbye kind that Crowley so despised. In addition to yelling at them for somehow being moronic enough to fuck up, he found himself wishing he could say all the things he hadn't when he died. Yet he discovered even coming to a coherent thought on the matter to be much like slicing one's abdomen open to have a look around.

"Made up with mommy and daddy dearest yet?" Crowley finally looked back at Dean who was now leaned back and had his ankle resting on his knee.

"Have you?" Dean asked, turning to look at the only demon he gave a slight crap about. He knew he was deflecting, but this wasn't a conversation he was ready to have, especially with Crowley. He had just gotten together with Cass, had finally admitted his feelings, and finally opened himself up to love. But He wasn't ready to open up about his parents though and he especially didn't want to have to deal with the storm of hate and disappointment that was John and Mary Winchester.

"She hasn't tried to sell me for any more pigs if that's what you're asking." Crowley scoffed "But if I'm not mistaken, you avoided the question. Trouble in paradise?"

"Did it occur to you that I avoided the question for a reason?" Though Dean's voice was sharp his face stayed impressively passive. "You of all people know what crappy parents are like." Another gulp of beer.

"I'll deal with it later."

"Ah yes avoidance, you thought 'works so well in life, why not try it in heaven as well. Ha. Take it from me, squirrel, this is the big leagues. It didn't work then and it won't work now."

Crowley reached out and patted Dean roughly on the shoulders, making a move to get up. He could have cared less about Dean's daddy issues, he didn't even really know why he asked Dean about it in the first place. Maybe it was because he was a nosy sud or maybe it was to have something in common to talk about. Either way, if Dean was unwilling Crowley could listen to silence on a beach somewhere, where they had a good glass of liquor and the place didn't stink of holiness.

It was hard for Dean to miss the little frown on Crowley's face as he spoke. Dean particularly hated that frown as it usually meant pouting and surliness was sure to come.

"Fine then. What would you do? What did you do?"

In life, Dean would have never stopped Crowley from leaving. let alone ask for advice from the man. He would have hoped the door hit him in his pompous ass on the way out. But this was heaven and Dean was now free to admit to himself that well he never believed a word Crowley said, he admired the way the demon finessed to get anything he wanted without a care for the strings attached.

Crowley arched his eyebrow.

"Who do you think you're talking to? Hello, I was king of the crossroads, unlike you, I didn't get to the top with just my good looks. Brains and beauty dean."

Yep, Dean was right. Surliness.

But instead of getting up and storming off, Crowley snapped his fingers, a drink with a little umbrella appearing in his hands. He took a gulp and leaned back in the chair.

"I made a deal with dear old mother." Crowley clarified, his accent thick.

"Let me guess, it was to love her unconditionally so she could tuck you in at night."

"She gets to remain the queen of hell, and in turn, I get to do what I want when I want. Being the prince of hell does have its perks. I was in Barbados till, that puppy of yours, jack, bloody well zapped me here. Impeccable timing, pornstar orgies don't happen very often ya know."

Dean made a face. Disgusted, but slightly impressed.

"Crowley, I don't care." He finally muttered.

The comment was followed by an eye-roll. It was just like Crowley to overshare and then blame others for his decisions. Dean couldn't count the number of times he had done this. Even going back to when he had met the fiend, Dean remembered the tantrum Crowley pulled after giving them the colt. Something about his tailor, blah blah blah, lots of yelling, dramatic street light exploding. It had all become very Crowley. Expected. This is what made working with the demon so frustrating. And by the end, though Crowley had proved his worth to him and Sammy, Dean couldn't bring himself to see Crowley as anything more collateral damage despite their complicated relationship.

"You didn't have to be here. Hell, no one forced you."

"What and miss you pop life's cherry?" Crowley practically purred.

But Dean shook his head.

"It seems like death has made you a little too sentimental about whatever-" Dean gestured in between himself and the demon. "-this is, Crowley."

Crowley narrowed his eyes wondering if anyone would notice Dean spontaneously bursting into flame. It would have been so easy. One snap of the finger. But something nagged at Crowley. It was the thing that had kept him in his seat when he had so wanted to leave and it was the thing now that stopped Crowley from turning Dean into a man candle. Taking a more bobby-sized swig of his drink than a gentlemanly one, Crowley let the alcohol numb him. If he believed in taking criticism the former king of hell would have examined not only his feelings at the moment but also the truth behind Dean's comment, but Crowley didn't come to his rise and fall without his knack for arrogance and instead did what he did best.

"Such a tease, that hardened soul of yours is a turn-on for me. And now that your full-on gay parade, well better for me, isn't it."

As if Crowley had finally eroded down to Dean's nerves, the once content look on his face twisted in frustration and he let out an annoyed huff. Clearly not letting the red-eyed pain in the ass leave finally came back to bite him.

"First off, not gay. I'm Bi and-"

"Right, but do all a favor and save us the Winchester man pain. You liked the waters at motel 6, and at that Deplorable dive- what was it called, el rodeo-in fact you practically begged-"

"Crowley." Dean snarled his voice full of warning. "I was a demon ok, off my mind from the mark-thanks to you. And we agreed remember-"

"Relax squirrel." Crowley cut over Dean again. "I don't intend on releasing our greatest hits. To your boy toy angel or anyone else. I might bend them.. for enjoyment.. but I keep my promises."

His voice was deep and full of something that almost sounded like pain. Taking another large gulp of his drink so that it was almost emptied, Crowley bitterly hoped that it would go away. But even as he assured Dean, he could feel the familiar sensation of those months spent with him creeping in. Back then Crowley in no way owned Dean. He was too, some would say wild, Crowley preferred reckless. and the demon wasn't emotionally compromised enough to think that cherub in a trenchcoat had a full grasp on dean no matter how many dangly bits he gripped tight and raised from perdition. But Crowley could not help feeling that Dean shut him out especially.

For Dean's part, a wave of anger flashed in him that often accompanied his memories as a demon. He was ashamed of himself for giving in to the mark so easily and even more so for the things he had done during that time. He hurt people and spiraled more and more out of control. All the while Crowley watched. And it was this out-of-control feeling he often associated with the demon. That feeling also dovetailed with the one of freedom he felt in being able to be the person shoved down by years of repressed homophobia. Only once he was cured of being a demon did that taste of freedom turn bitter, becoming a reminder of something that was always just out of reach for Dean.

"Sonofabitch!" Suddenly there was a loud smash as Dean's beer bottle hit the dusty ground, exploding into a million amber pieces. Started by the sudden action Crowley observed Dean though shocked but narrowed eyes.

"I don't believe littering in heaven is very righteous of you." Crowley mused.

But instead of looking angry as Crowley would have thought, Dean was taking deep breaths. Pushing away his anger, Dean suddenly came to a realization. He didn't have to hide who he was here. He didn't have to feel guilty or angry or gross, he felt enough of that upon the earth.

"You know what Crowley, I don't care, I'm so sick of caring. Tell or don't But I'm done running from who I am, of being angry. At myself, at you, I'm just done."

For the first time since The Winchester sat down, Crowley allowed himself to look directly into Dean's green eyes. The eyes being the window to the soul of course was a load of sentimental waffle but Crowley could tell a lot by the sheer calm that resided in Dean's. Somehow the quick lit anger that the ex-king had come to know always burned in Dean was no longer there. Shock ran through Crowley, so much so that it displayed itself upon his normally smug face. One thing Dean and the demon had in common was their ever-long love of grudges and no matter how hard Crowley tried towards the end he knew he never got off of Dean's list. There was too much..history, between them that Crowley was sure neither would be able to look at the other without emotions being dragged up. But this wasn't earth, hell this wasn't even hell, it was heaven and Crowley should have foreseen that Dean would find peace.

"Bollocks," Crowley mumbled looking away from Dean in a frustrated manner.

Though Dean was basking in his newfound acceptance of himself it was hard to miss Crowley's latest sullen temper tantrum as he hastily gulped down the last of his drink. This combined with Crowley's tendency to enjoy screwing with him and his brother was what made Dean brace for Crowley to go marching into the roadhouse announcing 'I know what you did last summer' secrets.

"Why bother."

Crowley knew he should have it off with Dean, hell he wanted to walk right up to 'asstel' and with a smirk and a good glass a Craig, tell him just how sinful his favorite human was. But because of Ellen's terrible taste in liquor, he couldn't get the Craig and it was seeming less and less likely that the angel would care how naughty his boyfriend was.

It was practically God's written word that the angel bent the rules for Dean and Crowley knew that Feathers was not alone in doing so. Off the top of his head, Crowley could think of at least 50 instances where Dean Winchester impacted the demon's world order, including this very moment. This thought made Crowley's stomach turn. His mother was right. In all matters of Dean, the king had gone soft.

Dean on his end was at a loss for words. The Crowley he knew was like a dog to a bone and if anything Dean just tossed him a steak. But the demon in front of him now didn't smirk with glee while making a sarcastic comment, instead he hung his head looking tired. Crowley was well, beat and broken. Once a regal king able to out smart the brothers at every turn, the demon got kidnapped and addicted to human blood, (that might have been Dean's fault, oops) overthrown twice, (once by Abaddon then by Lucifer who made Crowley his pet) dealt with his mother (begrudgingly Dean had to sympathize as he was pretty much the expert on deadbeat parents) and then sacrificed himself to save the world (though Dean still believe that no one asked Crowley to, given it didn't end up helping anyways.)

Yet it hit Dean in that moment that he felt sorry for the former king of hell. In life Dean would have rather died then feel pity for Crowley. But seeing as he had already done the latter, an emotion towards Crowley that was anything but anger wasn't the strangest thing happening to Dean today. Perhaps then it was heaven that made him say it or his newly discovered freedom but whatever it was Dean found himself unable to keep his mouth shut.

"I suppose-" Dean paused to take a breath in, looking now at the former king "-I suppose we do owe you a thank you. You did sacrifice yourself to help us. Don't think that makes up for all the shit you pulled through! You might be a teddy bear now but you're still a bag of dicks...but thank you."

Crowley huffed "You gonna start a line to tell that to the rest of your fan club in there. Appreciation is so sincere when mixed with bitterness.-" The fiend paused contemplating on the turn of events before facing dean, smirking and with a mimicking voice quipped "-...but thank you."

Crowley would have thought that at long last hearing gratitude from Dean would have made him feel better. But it didn't. Instead he found that he felt no more or less the same, frustrated. Once loving the burning anger that sparked everytime Dean as so much looked at the king, Crowley somewhere after the blood began to resent the Winchester's feelings towards him. Thus the demon embarked on what many called becoming the Winchester's bitch, all in a desperate effort to win admiration from the boys.

But the hype of this admiration and thanks from Dean Winchester was just that it seemed, hype. At this realization Crowely unexpectedly felt a weight lift off of him. All this chasing of Dean, trying to be good and for what? Just to be rejected, lose his kingdom and die for a world that is damned anyway. Crowley knew he was better than that and it was this that made him smile. He suddenly could have given a shit about squirrel or his angel, history be damned.

The two men sat in silence gazing out at heaven, each thinking of all that had been said and all that still wasn't. Though both had to admit it was funny how heaven had a way of working things out for the pair. Dean once again was leaning back with the crook of his ankle resting in his knee looking more relaxed then he had in years. And the only demon with the exception into heaven had finally settled back as well examining the sun drenched place with a bemused expression. An air of acceptance emanated from the former king.

Dean had finally got what he had wanted since he first sat down with the demon. A silent Crowley that he could actually enjoy. The demon and the hunter sat still, the sounds of summer enveloped the empty space absent of conversion and was only interrupted by the creek of the roadhouse door opening, spilling out the ambience of dive bar chatter that Dean knew well. Both men turned, finding Rowena smirking at them dramatically, with her hip against the frame.

"My my you two look cozy." Rowena's Scottish accent rolled thick off her tongue.

Dean rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling, once again feeling a strange sense of light giddiness. Now that he was actually here Dean realized it was no wonder why people loved heaven so much. Nothing bothered you here, and what did well it seemed to find a way to work itself out.

"Can it Rowena." He laughed lightly, the rocking chair creaking as Dean leaned forwards. "In Fact I hear it's you two that are the cozy ones"

"Ay, one big happy family now aren't we Fergus?" The queen cooed and leaning over, cupped Crowley's face in her hand much like a loving mother would do to a child. Though seeing as Rowena was just the opposite of loving and Crowley was a grown ass man the sight was certainly strange.

"Get off me of woman!" Crowley whined like a little boy as he squirmed away from his mother's touch.

"It's Crow-"

"I do believe that's my cue to leave." Dean cut over Crowley's latest tantrum. He had seen it all before and no way was Dean going to waste his time in heaven watching the king and queen of rotten go at it.

"Better check on Sammy and make sure the witch bitch here hasn't lured him to go dark side." Smirking at the affront look on Rowena's face Dean patted his demon counterpart on the shoulder and made to get up.

"I would do no such thing! Any flirting with the dark side Samuel chooses to do would be of his own accord...besides my powers don't even work here in heaven!" The witch pouted eyeing Dean as he walked over to the door.

But Dean paused at the frame. It seemed to be the in-between of the peaceful outside of heaven and the rowdy inside of the roadhouse. And though he had enjoyed the peacefulness, hearing his friends and newly minted boyfriend inside made Dean long to join them.

"Good! Heaven just got a lot safer." Apparently even in heaven something's never change and Dean had to make a sarcastic comment when the opportunity arose.

At that Crowley barked out a laugh causing the men to exchange knowing glances.

"I can keep her here then, and you can invite me to mother and dear sammy's wedding." Crowley chuckled causing a horrified look to cross Dean's face and Rowena's to look rather smitten.

"You take her with you-you hear or I will make Cass come for your ass! Damnit Crowley don't look at me like that, you know what I mean!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look smitten but before he could respond with something witty about how exactly the angel was going to come for his ass, Squirrel spoke.

"I'm sure you'll be back for drinks and to generally be a pain in my ass and there's probably no way to stop you so-so I'm not going to try. See you around Crowley." Dean gave a half hearted wave to Crowley and a somewhat playful glare at Rowena before turning on his heel and walking through the threshold of the roadhouse. Immersing Dean in a place that felt like home, the door swung shut behind the hunter closing out the peaceful summer evening and leaving the pair of evil incarnate alone. Taking a deep breath of stale beer Dean smiled as he spotted his angel. With the whole Crowley thing over with all Dean wanted to do was go to him but as he did so the Winchester had to admit, it was Crowley out of all people that showed him what acceptance really was.

——————————————————————————————————————

Crowley stared at the door where Dean had just been, watching it swing in his absence. The demon hadn't a chance to respond to Dean's last statement and he was sure that Dean had wanted it that way. It didn't matter much though because if Crowley knew Dean, and he did, that was the closest the lumberjack look alike was going to get to a heartfelt goodbye. This made Crowley smirk to himself, realizing he was okay with that. Dean had all but given Crowley a spot at the bar, his figurative family table, and the fiend knew better than to look past that as acceptance. As Crowley stood up from the rocker to look around heaven one last time, the words of Dean rang in his head.

'Family don't end in blood'

Crowley had never had much in the way of a family and as much as the demon was reluctant to admit it, the Winchesters and their lot had become his family.

Turning to Rowena who was still standing at the door studying him, his majesty gave a devilish smirk.

"Come mother, we have a little hell to raise."