Well, this would be interesting. The pizza would be simple enough. The leviathan… could be done. Maybe. Probably, near impossible. Castiel...might be doable. His wings were broken, but there were some feathers left. Each would be cherished. This would be a big ask.
We stand on the blacktop of an empty damp parking lot. Cold grey is all around. Empty buildings. Clouds. The one broken down car. All grey. The only color is Castiel's clothing and Crowley's red eyes.
"I'm willing to give you 1000 souls Castiel, In exchange for a feather."
"Why?"
"It's a present."
"You don't give presents Crowley, you're getting something from it. What?"
"I'll be using it to tickle someone's private bits next Tuesday. What do you care?"
"Because it's my feather. What are you getting for it?"
"1000 souls Castiel. C'mon. Don't you trust your old-"
"No, and you offered me over ten times that once."
"Can you really afford to say no? When you know every soul you don't have is one that Might go into my lunchbox?"
"No Crowley." Offer him something else. ...like getting rid of the last leviathan. Crowley pauses. There was a lot of subtext in that. Like using him in the quest. And if he died...
"Good idear Chew Toy. 5,000 souls, and I will help you capture the last leviathan."
"They are all dead."
"I have it on good authority there is one left. So, kiss, or shake on it? I know which I'd prefer." Castiel pauses, face blank.
"I want an hour with your pet. Unsupervised" At this Crowley and I are both confused.
"Growley? Why-"
"Your Chew Toy." Fuck. No. I don't want to be tortured again. Or questioned. About the contract or my motives or my fucking sanity. I lost that ages ago. I had to have. Just offer more souls Crowley. Fucking Hell.
Crowley looks at Castiel, his jaw tight and eyes hard.
"No. 10,590 souls."
"An hour. Unsupervised."
"Two hours. Supervised."
"An hour, unsupervised."
"20,000-" Crowley the more you offer at this point just shows how much he should want to talk to me. I am literally your strength and your weakness. Besides. If I break the NDA, and the hour ends…
Crowley looks at Castiel and pauses.
"One moment." We are gone. Hell, so no prying angelic eyes. The halls are as red as always as we stand in his room, looking at his portrait.
"The contract will be broken and I'll know…" Fucking besides the point. You'll have me, without my side of the contract to protect me. What fun.
"I don't want you on the rack, or in the line. Everything else I already have. What I want, is an angel feather." Why not just take it? "I don't really want to attack god's, the Winchester's, and half of heaven's favorite winged doll, just in case." Fine. A point. Fine. ...new deal between you and me. Give me over. Half an hour unsupervised. I won't or can't tell him anything about the contract or Purgatory or Dragoness, and you don't torture, fuck, kill/almost kill, in anything but self defense, without my permission, while wearing my soul. "No. I like wearing you too much. I can wait." Fuck. He was right. Unless he wanted the leviathans. I had a feeling he'd need the dragon for that. All three of us are in a stalemate.
"How about I let you out to do art for one week a year." Oh. Oh fuck. Yeah. Yeah I wanted that. But...every year?
"No." Ehhh, that's more for you then. To let me out and then take it away? No. How about when I'm with the dragon? "That is her prerogative. If she asks me to provide paint, I'll provide paint." Ok. Fine. Uhm. Fine, simplified version of my offer. No wearing me for torture. Use someone else.
There is silence and a cruel feeling fills me and the 10 other souls. I know they are there, even though I can only feel one. I don't know how the souls in the fishtank stand it. More than two or three just start to hurt. Perhaps because they can move and choose and put space between them. Or they were just in pain all the time. I mull this over while I wait for a response... Though I have a feeling I know what it is. After all, he can torture me in other ways. Putting a limit on how he could means he'll just have to get more creative…and limits are what allow creativity to blossom.
"Deal." And we are back in front of Castiel. He has been waiting, he hasn't moved a centimeter. "Chew Toy has agreed to meet with you for half an hour, unsupervised, as long as there is no torture on your part." Thanks. "Chew Toy, I don't share my toys." I mean, who would want a Chew Toy covered in your drool anyway? "A bit more than drool at this point darling. Now. 5,000 souls, a half hour with Chew Toy unsupervised, help capturing the last leviathan, in exchange for a single feather off your wing. Deal?" Castiel looks at Crowley. He pauses, mulling it over.
"I accept these terms."
"Great. I'll just leave you alone with your rented toy. Take care of it." Crowley pushes me into his body, rips off another piece of me, just for fun, and then rushes out. A full five seconds pass before he's out and flying away...somewhere. I watch him go, trying to figure out what he took.
It had taken a while for me to realize that's what happened when he ripped me apart. I hadn't really thought about it when I was alive. I always blamed it on getting older, or stress. How I wouldn't like the taste of broccoli one week, or couldn't really remember any of my character's names for two years, or for how 16 years my OCD didn't bother me. It was only after he pulled memories from Rowena that I realized. He had known for a while. Realized that he could take certain bits.
Taking specific memories or parts of a person's soul took practice, and time. As in days getting to know a soul. And he experimented with that for months. He finally came to the most interesting question. We weren't sure what taking the contract from a soul would do. It seemed that was the one part that didn't like leaving randomly when he picked a soul apart. It was also always the last part to go when he...completely obliterated a soul.
He had tried to take it from someone, the part of the soul that held the contract, to see what would happen. The remainder of the soul started to float away...free, and the part containing the contract started to turn red immediately. He put that bit back right quick.
Otherwise...He didn't really care, he couldn't pick apart pure human souls unless he had a contract with them. He couldn't really use it to torture, you couldn't miss what you didn't remember you had. For instance, I knew I had parents at one point, a husband, I just couldn't remember. That's what he had taken right now. It didn't bother me, it just made me sad that I never knew them. Didn't know them. Forgot them. That he had taken them for a bit. It was hard to organize that in your head when a piece of you and your past was missing.
So I stand, in a body I don't own, and speak, in a voice not my own, to an angel who probably hates me.
"Hey Castiel."
"What is your name?"
"Chew Toy."
"No. What was it that you were called before that." I pause. I actually have to think for a moment before I remember.
"Uhm….Becca. Rebecca."
"A biblical name."
"Ironically, yes."
The wind hits us in a gust and both our coats are pushed with its weight. Crowley's coat. I sigh. I hate this. I hadn't moved a body in decades. It felt natural and unnatural at the same time, especially when I was the only one in it. It felt empty, large. Cas is looking at me curiously, without hate, but pity.
"Don't give me your pity Cas. I've dug my own grave here. I have an ok existence considering what I've done. I've gotten to see some pretty awesome stuff too."
"No soul deserves such a fate."
"Cas, no one deserves anything. We make our own choices, and other people make theirs. The interactions between those choices are what we call chaos. Life."
"And what did you do, that you deserve to be tortured for eternity?" I smile sadly, because after all this time with Crowley, I can finally accept that I feel pride amidst all the chaos of my feelings about what I've done.
"I came up with the first part of the contract that caused this. And no. I won't tell you what that is or how it works. It won't matter soon, it might not matter now, but Crowley doesn't take chances, not anymore."
"He does not take chances with what?"
"Anything he doesn't have to or that isn't amusing."
"Amusing?"
"How are you not bored Cas? After eons?"
"It does get boring."
"But you don't care."
"No."
"Then it isn't boring. Boring is when you can't take the monotony because it leaves you empty, unfulfilled, and alone with thoughts you'd rather not think."
The rain has gotten a bit harder and the wind blows it into the eyes I'm currently using. I cringe. I don't like being in this body. Not one I knew from when I was alive. Not one...that Crowley controlled. Not one where I knew each spot that had been covered in blood. Which was every spot. Not one I had seen and felt do...things with knives I hadn't really thought possible. And a spoon once. The spoon was the worst.
I look around and spot a bench.
"Can we sit Cas? This feels like a standoff. It isn't. Let me tell you about his plans." Cas nods and we walk to the bench, wind and rain at our backs, pushing us as if it wants us to talk.
We sit, Cas stiffly, and I far more relaxed than Crowley ever is, though not by much.
"Cas. Do you know what Crowley wants?"
"To destroy souls."
"What? No. That's a byproduct. And don't pity them when we don't know if they even exist or feel... Be sad that they can't tell their stories anymore…" Crowley maybe could. If he had a want to he could be the greatest storyteller ever, he will probably get that itch again someday… I pause with a thought. I wonder if he told and consumed stories because it was the closest he could get to feeling without injecting himself with blood… I mean, that's why humans tell stories too, to feel and experience things they don't normally get to, and then to share those experiences. I sigh. "Don't pity them. Don't pity me. And don't fear for the world from Crowley. He doesn't want it."
"What does he want?" I chuckle. The fact that I knew this, that I knew the King of Hell wanted the same thing as everyone else, was still insane to me.
"What everyone fucking wants. To do his job, be recognized for his efforts, and have fun. And he wants to do that safely until he gets bored." Some of that fun happened to be getting high from the emotions and energy of the souls he carried...still. Fun. Yay. "What do you want Cas? Do you even know anymore?" Castiel is silent. "You want the same thing, you just don't quite know what your job is. It used to be stopping Crowley and other evils, but Crowley isn't an apocalypse."
"But the souls he tempts-"
"Get tempted. I admit he is a good salesman, the best, but the souls that get tempted go to Hell, do you want every soul in heaven?"
"Yes."
"I feel like that's a bad idea somehow. There are some really bad people Cas...Do they deserve heaven?"
"..."
"I don't know either. Eternity seems pretty long, for heaven or Hell. But on Earth...So some souls that should go to heaven go to Hell because they get tempted, some go to heaven when they shouldn't too. I'm only human and we are bringing up questions of morality that I can only see as shades of grey. These questions are ones philosophers have pondered on for centuries; I may be old, but I still have no answers. These questions hurt because whatever I say will be wrong to someone. I only know I don't belong up there. Not anymore."
"Do you regret what you've done?"
"I have no fucking idea. God this sounds weird in his voice."
"What do you mean by you have no idea?"
"Cas. You were human for a bit. The emotions were confusing right? Yeah. Well, I've been sitting next to other souls and a demon for decades. I'm not exactly 'all right.' Do I still feel sick at some of the things he does? Yeah. Do I feel bad that I have a part in making this happen? Fuck yes. Do I know that if I hadn't I wouldn't have gotten to see heaven And Hell and monsters and angels and more? Yes. Do I feel pride in knowing something I designed works well? Yes. Do I feel sorrow that it's caused trouble? Yes. Do half those things contradict and shouldn't be able to be felt together? Also yes. It's not simple Cas. It never has been. It never will be. There may be absolutes, but everything in between, where life happens, is messy."
"You talk a lot for a person who did not want to talk to me a few years ago."
"Cas, that was decades ago. I don't even resent you for that anymore. I barely did then. Shit changes. Now. I'm not gonna tell you how stuff works, but I can tell you that Crowley isn't gonna stop what he is doing. What he is doing though, isn't a danger to the greater balance of the universe. All you'll have at the end is a demon who can, and will, shove anything that has the potential to mess up the world so far up its own ass it'll taste what it ate three days ago."
"That is a particularly disturbing image. And why would he want to protect the world?"
"Because that's where he does his sales work and that's where he has fun. Running it or destroying it would kinda make it hard to do either."
Cas sits in silence.
"So he wants to get rid of all threats to his power."
"Doesn't everyone in a seat of power want that?"
"No."
"Yes. Unless they no longer want to be in power."
"How long until his plans come to fruition? A year? Two?" I smile. Not even close.
"Not gonna say anything about that except it doesn't matter."
"Why?"
"I told you. He doesn't want earth and he doesn't want Heaven. He doesn't want to take every soul on earth into Hell, he doesn't want it to be easy. He just wants to do his job. He wants to be the devil people think the devil should be. And he wants to do it well. Cas, I'm. I'm tired. I don't want to talk about the theological ramifications of my actions. It makes me hurt and depressed and I don't want Crowley to come back and get to enjoy and use those emotions. And don't ask me to betray my contract. I can't. I've been with him so long that it hurts to think about. In many ways that I don't want to examine. Please don't make me. Please don't ask me to look at my morality after I've been sitting next to the King of Hell for decades upon decades. I don't like being alone in a body like this. Alone with my thoughts. I'm used to being next to at least one other and it feels cold here. I-"
"You are rambling."
"Yeah. It's what I do when I have answers to questions that I don't want to think about."
"... I believe that would just be a question."
"Sure Cas. Kill the poetry. Thanks. Now. What do you want to know?" He doesn't respond, so we sit in silence. We are two minds in statues that we didn't build listening to the rain hit the overhang, the blacktop, the concrete. The wind comes in gusts sending waves of water winding through the now torrential drops. I watch them as they move like snakes in the air and on the blacktop, invisible outlines forcing drops of water to hit the ground in a pattern just different enough from their brothers to stand out from the crowd.
There are few cars here. In all the while we have been talking one, maybe two have gone by. Their sound is muted and watery, but the bits of broken street are amplified by their wetness. The way gravel always seems louder when wet.
There are no people. It's Wednesday I believe. Everyone is at work. We are in a poor neighborhood, no one could afford not to be at work. It saddens me, that after all the horrors and wonders I have seen something as simple as a representation of time and labor still determined a human's value in society. Not what they could do, but how they were compensated for it.
There are birds. There are almost always birds. They are silent however, perhaps commiserating in the misery of the one nearby who can no longer fly. I wonder if his wings will heal…
"What do you want?" I'm woken up from my self imposed dream by Cas. I look at him, not having really grasped the question.
"Hmm?"
"What do you want? Do you wish to be in heaven? Away from Crowley?"
"Oh fuck no I don't want to be alone for the rest of eternity. I can manage never seeing another person, not interacting with them, but not being able to see someone else enjoy what I create? That's Hell for me." There is a moment of silence and I sigh. "I don't know the answer to that second question, and I don't want to think about the fact that I don't know the answer because that scares me... and even if I did it doesn't matter because I can't. It's an impossibility."
We sit quietly again, the rain slowly breaking in the distance like a curtain. There is no rainbow. Just light; shining distant light, untouchable in its perfection. It is getting closer as it reaches through the clouds. Tickling its edges with the fading front of heat or cold that is moving the storm. However despite its changing distance it seems too big to feel close.
I love clouds. I've always loved clouds. I've always thought that if I could only choose three things to look at for the rest of eternity it would be clouds, trees, and the third wouldn't matter. It's an odd thing to think about, but it's a thought I've had. I have a love hate relationship with both those things. I love to look at them, but dear god are they a bitch to draw. For completely opposite reasons too. Whenever I draw a cloud it doesn't look like a cloud because clouds often don't look like clouds. Trees almost always look like trees, but clouds…. trees have a pattern, they may break it to start a new pattern, but it's a pattern. They have rules. They are just so big and tiny at the same time that they often seem to have no symmetry. Symmetry the human brain craves and until you can manage to break the symmetry of the branches,seen by one angle and then keep the symmetry and rules in the leaves...trees man. Trees and clouds. I love trees and clouds.
Crowley took me to see the oldest tree once. It was beautiful. I don't know how he knew which one it was, but hey, who cares. He could have lied. It didn't matter, they were all beautiful. Sure I had met things older, but they were alien, not on earth. That something tangible had survived being beaten and torn into by existence for that long...He let my awe wash over him like a wave, an emotion he didn't feel often. Awe. He was rarely in awe of anything. Dragoness may have changed that.
"Cas. Besides god what inspires you with awe?"
"Humans."
"Besides them. Yes we adapt and survive and create. The hugeness of that is something beyond my comprehension, I feel the edges of it sometimes and I get chills. Besides humans and god,...and bugs, what fills you with awe?"
"Grass."
"Ooh. Why?"
"The number of ways the blades intersect to make patterns is fascinating."
"Feels nice on bare feet too."
"I have not tried that."
"You should. I-" I see a flash of red in the distance and sigh. This had been nice while it lasted, but this isn't a body I want to be in. It felt alien, not because of sex or age, but because I knew the being who called it home too closely to use it comfortably. Like a car you had borrowed with a very tentative permission from your friend. 'Just to the store and back. I can't come with, so be careful.' This isn't mine, and it feels empty.
"Bye Cas. Stay wary, but don't worry about an apocalypse on earth or a hostile takeover of Heaven from Crowley. Just focus on yourself, and step in some grass for me."
The red smoke slams down his throat to home, pushing me down and out of control, back into my prison. I miss the immediate smell and sensation of rain already. I could feel it, but everything is dulled through Crowley. I'm not sure if it is just the fact that I am feeling second hand...or that he is a demon. I have a suspicion it is both. How could a human soul survive the torture to become a demon and not go numb in some way? So of course he is addicted to experiencing things through other souls, through blood, through me. Everything but the strongest emotions he felt himself were numbed. He settles in and looks at Cas.
"Hello Castiel. Have a good time with a second hand Chew Toy? Did she squeak as loudly for you as she does for me?" Oh brother. Tone it down with the word play. He either doesn't get it, or won't respond. Unless it's for your own amusement Crowley, in which case, you can do better.
I finish the thought and Crowley is pulling me apart quickly going over everything said, making sure I hadn't revealed anything I shouldn't have. I hadn't. To my knowledge.
The process hurts a bit, but it is quick now after decades of practice. At the end he nods, satisfied, and the light pain stops.
"We talked about grass, and your disinterest in world domination."
"Interesting. Shall we? While you were chatting I went and checked the location of the leviathan. He is in a morgue near the Palestinian border."
"Why?"
"War, lots of injured who won't be missed. How the mighty have fallen."
"I thought the leviathan was in Palestine, not Hell?" Oh. Oh Cas no. Crowley ignores him.
"So, beheading? Borax? Ghost?"
"You said you would assist me. I assumed you had a plan prepared."
"I do. I go up and scare them, shoot them with borax; you behead them from behind. Then I gift wrap the head with a big red bow and you call me Santa. Care to sit on my lap?"
"You're going to scare them?"
"I have a plan. Trust me."
"No."
"Fine. Ready? Got your blade? Good. I'll drive." Crowley snaps and we are standing outside a building in a rocky area. The building is next to a small rock face, nestled against it as if the rock would provide extra protection. Perhaps it would, perhaps it wouldn't. We can see the slight twinkle of barbed wire on the edges of our periphery, another attempt at protection that wouldn't really do anything against any prepared army.
Right in front of us are soldiers with guns. They tense as two people walk out from behind a building.
"Gents? Give me a moment in the morgue." They relax when they see Crowley. They saw him not a month ago after all.
"Crowley…"
"It's a war. What did you expect? That I not have deals here?" I mean, duh. He was working both sides of course. He had met with both generals on the same day once. He walks into the morgue with Cas on his heels, his new complexion and outfit drawing some looks. As we walk Crowley once again starts the 'shower curtain' strategy.
The door opens with a wave and Crowley steps inside.
"I'll pop in around the back, you come in this side. I'll keep his attention." And Crowley vanishes.
We stand in the morgue and wait for the attendant to look up. He does not. He is busy with a meal. The white tile walls are shining and pristine, giving more contrast to the red splattered on the ground around the dead body. Crunching sounds echo.
"Lester." The face looks up, bloody, eyeless, noseless. All mouth, except the head inside that is quickly disappearing down a throat.
The face returns to normal and swallows. Crowley snaps and the blood is gone and I get a look at who this leviathan has chosen to be. His face is old, gray hair and deep wrinkles. He is short, unassuming, completely harmless looking.
Except his smile, which does not belong on that face.
"Crowley. To what do I owe this displeasure? Is our agreement not to your favor anymore? I don't eat people you have contracts with, or you, and you keep supplying me with wars?"
"Darling, I don't supply wars, I just bring you there."
"Whatever. What's the problem? If there isn't one, get out of my face you insignif-"
"Got a better offer." Lester straightens and turns to Crowley.
"Really?" Crowley snaps and a gun appears in his hand. Lester laughs, the sound covering the slight hint of an opening door. Crowley smiles.
"Really." And he shoots the very expensive replica...water pistol.
Lester screams and thrashes as the borax water solution hits his skin. He turns to hide his face from the offending liquid and sees Cas stepping toward him. He ducks just as the blade swings for his head. Cas goes to swing again and Lester dives toward him, barreling the angel over. This is not going well.
Crowley shoots Lester but the fall to the ground has pushed a metal exam table between them and the solution hits that. Lester grabs Cas by both shoulders, pinning him, and with a grin of sick satisfaction opens his mouth. The angel blade clatters to the floor like a gift as Cas is occupied with holding the toothy maw at bay. With a thought the blade is Crowley's hands. He stands and watches as various equipment moves back and forth as it is kicked by tumultuous feet.
Lester fights like a dog against a fence to get his teeth at Cas who is just managing to hold him at arms length... the mouth snaps and snarls closer and closer. Lester moves wildly, twisting and turning, not providing a clear shot. Crowley still just stands and watches, trying to decide what to do. Whether he cares if the angel dies. He does. He has to. C'mon. At the very least Lester will be easier to take down now while he is distracted!
So...Name drop! Distract him! Crowley agrees and steps closer.
"Lester. Regards from the red Dragoness."
Lester freezes for a half second and that's when Crowley swings. The blade sings with finality as it hits flesh...
And a head falls to the floor.
(Hey guys, I have work that will be pretty nonstop until after November. I'll try to post a bunch now, but I won't be on for a while. Sorry.)
