(As always, warnings of horror. There is a fight, and it would be rated R if this was a movie.)
The news is sudden but not unsurprising. It comes on a warm August evening in 2621. Crowley is going over the reports from Clarissa's sacrifices, the new church sect in Australia, when Ranni bursts in. This is strange in itself, no one ran into his office without invitation, especially Ranni. It must be a real emergency. She stands wide eyed and breathing heavily.
"Sir, Uh. We, we." Crowley stares, gaze impatient and threatening. Ranni takes a breath and tries again. "Sir. We have intel that the...the Winchester's have escaped heaven."
Oh shit. Nice. Oh. Oh no. My excitement turns to despair in seconds. Crowley had been preparing for this for decades. I knew about a third of every plan he had and he had a lot of plans. All of them ended poorly for somebody. Crowley stands and puts the papers away, cleans his desk slowly while he talks.
"How long have they been out?"
"Uh...at least 2 days, at most a week."
"And their pet angel?"
"That's where we got the information sir."
"And you came by him how?"
"He...he was attempting to reach you. He wants to talk. I believe he wants to make a deal." Oh. Oh I know what the deal is. Fuck. Crowley sighs.
"Send him down here." Ranni nods and sends a message while Crowley continues to give directions. "Find me the hardy boy's current location and where they are planning to put their trap. I want surveillance. Activate my In Absence plan and after I leave start Contingency D if a week passes and you don't hear from me. Keep feather boy down here for the bargaining chip. If a month passes give Hunter Headquarters Alpha the box on my desk. If two months pass, move to In Absence Plan 2 and tell Rowena to use my office to scry for me and contact the five Cults for assistance with search efforts. If that does not work tell her she may gather the Coven of Three with Dragoness. She will understand."
Like I said. Many many plans. Ranni nods and leaves quickly as he finishes cleaning his desk. He does not expect to have an easy victory here. He expects to lose, but he is going to lose in very specific ways. And if he really did fail, well, he has plans for that too. The cults he had 'cultivated' with the witch Barbara. The Coven of Three: Rowena, Croney, and Ed. One demon witch, one dead witch, and one living warlock. With Dragoness guiding them, the probability they couldn't get Crowley back...very low. The hunters in the base Sam and Dean used to call home. Hundreds of years making allies, of making as many people on every side of the game board like, or need him, as possible.
He puts the locked box on his desk, the one containing an envelope, and pushes it to the side. He sits back and listens to my ruminations while he checks his phone for updates on the Winchesters. The heroes. The men who had fought and allied with him on numerous occasions.
Sure Crowley wasn't the good guy, he wasn't a hero, but he was an anti hero to a lot of people. More importantly, he was reliable. He didn't break promises or deals, it was well known that it was your own damn fault if you didn't read the fine print. If you tried to cross him. If you were trying to make a deal with him after insulting him, trying to beat him. Basically, you could count on Crowley to work in Crowley's best interest, and it was in Crowley's best interest to keep the world spinning. Work against that, or him, and you were an enemy of a whole lot of people who also wanted to keep the world spinning.
Sure a lot of people didn't like him, but he got results. The cliche nephilim, the psychic vampire, the witch Julia who had apparently stolen the power of more than a few other witches. All problems he fixed, all stories he let people spread.
So, he is going to face the Winchester's confident that if he didn't come out on top of this fight, he wouldn't have lost the war.
It's during this thought that the door opens and Castiel is pushed in. His trench and lovely tan face are covered in blood. Crowley motions to the seat that has appeared in front of the desk and crowns his fingers.
"Cas, to what do I owe the visit of an angel to Hell?" Cas walks up, one eye swollen and face dour as ever.
"Crowley. Sam and Dean, they-"
"Escaped?" Cas sighs and sits.
"Yes. It was supposed to be a trip to visit Jack -"
"Cas. I'm not an idiot." Cas pauses, and Crowley stands and starts his usual pacing. "They could not have gotten out without your help. You would not have let them out to visit someone who could easily have come upstairs. So, either you let yourself get captured or you're actually that incompetent. So, which is it?"
"Crowley, I-" Crowley raises a hand ready to snap and leans forward expectantly. Cas takes a breath and continues. "Crowley. Some of the angels...they went behind my back and recovered their bodies. Some cherubs who were friends with Kerubial-"
"Really? They still haven't gotten over that?" Cas exhales in anger and continues as if Crowley hadn't said anything.
"They have a plan. I don't know what it is. I tried to discourage them-"
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? Because they don't belong in this world now. It's changed, they don't fit and...I would appreciate it if you didn't kill them."
"Cas, you really think I'd kill my old friends?"
"Yes."
"You're right. I might. So you came here to make a deal, presumably you for them?" Castiel nods. I was right on the money with that. Stupid stupid angel. "See the problem with that is the deal is with you and not them. Do you really think they will back down, ever?" Cas is silent, it's true, they wouldn't back down for anything less than each other, maybe not even that. "Besides, I already have a hostage; one I said I'd kill if they interfered, and they interfered."
"Is Bobby alive?" Cas's voice is more dour and monotone than ever as he asks a question he is not sure he wants the answer to.
"For now. So, I'll keep you as a second hostage and we will see if that works."
"And if it doesn't?" Crowley snaps and clamps spring from the chair to cover Cas's arms and ankles. Crowley walks up to Cas as he sits still, glaring at the King of Hell. I sigh at the idiocy of an angel coming down here when the Winchester's were out and about.
"You said it yourself, they don't belong on earth. Their time is done. It's the end of an era, so I'll end the era. Permanently."
…...
Two days later he gets the call. It flashes on the projected screen of his phone. A name that shouldn't be there. Not Moose. He smiles and picks up.
"Hello Squirrel."
"Crowley."
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your dulcet tones?"
"You know what Crowley."
"You mean that I've got Cas and Bobby? Or that I'm turning souls into edible confetti?"
"You've got Cas?"
"Your fair half-feathered friend came to bargain for your lives."
"What did you do to Cas?"
Suddenly we are standing in the middle of a ruined building. Walls crumbled on one side and open to the elements, the building seems a relic out of time. The far wall is obscured by darkness, dust, desks, and bits of fallen concrete. A large circle carved into the cracked floor, not painted. It's filled with intricate symbols that fill every inch of the two hundred foot area the circle encompasses. A few on the outside shine red. We stand on the far side and Dean stands on the other. The scene looks like something from a video game. Well, this is a boss fight. I hope the boys saved and brought some healing potions.
"I've done nothing, yet. That depends on you." Crowley smiles, looking at Dean and Sam as they turn and look at him. Sam is holding a book and looking from it to Crowley, mouthing words, preparing for something. Checking over ingredients. "Hello boys. Do we really have to do this?" Crowley presses a button on the phone as he walks to the side of the circle. "It's less than a hundred human souls a year." He takes off his coat, setting it and the phone on a pile of concrete outside of the circle.
"That's a hundred too many Crowley. And what happens when that's not enough, huh?" Dean squares the grenade launcher at the King of Hell while Sam starts to incant. The ground starts shaking and the red circle brightens on the concrete. The intricate symbols in it start to hiss and boil. The smell of sulfur permeates the air. Everyone seems extraordinarily unconcerned about it.
"That's eons from now Squirrel. Besides, what are you here to do? Kill me? Go ahead, you know it doesn't stick. You'll just ruin my suit. Again."
"Nah. See, you Really shouldn't have let Bobby visit. Told us all kinds of interesting things."
"Oh? Did you hear that Chew Toy, they think they found something." Crowley, stop talking to me like I'm part of this fight. I'm a fucking observer, I got free front row tickets to a show I didn't ask to attend.
Dean sneers and begins circling, while Crowley stays still. He does stop pacing occasionally. Sam is still incanting in the background, the smell of sulfur becoming near unbearable.
"You see, he mentioned demons are a bit more vulnerable on their home turf. So, we're bringing a bit here."
Oh Hell no.
"Really? That's your ploy? Did he also mention that we're at our most potent and have a bit more trouble-"
"I don't care Crowley." With a final few words the ground cracks and splits, flaking away to reveal red underneath. The familiar stone work that spits fire and sparks at random manifests beneath our feet. Crowley looks down and moves a foot away from a spark just before his shoe gets singed.
"Well more importantly, what is going to make me vacate my comfy home here?"
"Because we'll destroy it if you don't. Can't heal it if it's dust."
"Perhaps. I think you just want to see me naked." Crowley. Stop playing with your food, the longer they are here the more chance they have of winning and the more you just torture… you know what. Never mind.
"Chew Toy has a point. I really should just kill both of you. No matter how much I admit to enjoying your company." Dean grins.
"Well ya see, Bobby mentioned something about that too, how you can only work your grossness on souls that have been damaged. So, Sam here is safe to pick up the gun if you smoke me." Oh Dean, you self sacrificing idiot.
"He really is, Chew Toy. You morons both realize Sam's soul has been twisted and broken from the moment Azazel dribbled blood on him? Not to mention his torture sessions in Hell with Lucifer, or the demon blood he drank. Both of you have put your souls through the wringer more times than I can count. Mark of Cain, demonizing, turning human again, psychic walls, dying and coming back. Boys, you'd practically melt in my mouth like two toffees. So, do we really have to do this? Over a hundred measly souls a year? I've left all your monster friends alive in purgatory just for you. I haven't killed Cas or Bobby. I have a soft spot where you are concerned, right where-"
"Shut it Crowley. We trusted you. We actually thought you might have been an ally."
"I thought the same of you, on numerous occasions, before you repeatedly Betrayed Me! Fighting Cain. When I first gave you The Colt. The numerous attempts on my life! You're the ones who broke their wedding vows, not me! Besides, what exactly are you planning on 'offing' me with?"
"Offing you? No. We're trapping your 'pert little ass.'" Shit. Shit. Shit. We watch as Sam holds up a small cube. They got a puzzle box. I do not want to be trapped with Crowley in one of those for eons! I watch as Sam begins pushing the buttons and the thing pulses with energy. Crowley, you do not seem to be concerned about this! Why?
I am ignored.
"Really? You think that will be big enough to hold me? Also, I believe I need to be smoke for that to work, not solid."
"No, you need to be a weak bloody pulp is what you need to be. As long as you're not in someone else's body and you're broken on the ground, the box will still work. And I can do that without a fancy weapon, without The Colt, without magic. I can do that with a good old fashioned grenade launcher." Crowley snaps and the sound of screeching metal echoes for a moment before the room is filled with the clang of metal hitting stone as Dean drops the remains of his beloved grenade launcher.
"Sorry Dean. Big Bertha wasn't invited to this party. Sam however... do join us. Or go get some popcorn and watch while I destroy your brother. Also…" with a thought the puzzle box is in his hand. "Did you really think I'd let you keep it?" He waves and it's gone.
"You really think we ain't got five of these?" Says Dean training his newly drawn gun on Crowley.
Well look at Squirrel and Moose, finally not relying on one thing that's easily destroyed or stolen. Let's get out of here. Being with you for centuries with nothing to do, no thanks.
I am once again, ignored.
"I really don't think you have more. Now-"
The bullets hurt, not with devil's traps or holy water, but the sheer amount. A machine gun amount. An amount meant to tear up Crowley's meat suit and destroy it if he didn't get out now. Crowley is still partial to the body after all. Near five hundred years still partial. He could heal it, perhaps even remake it, but does he want the boys to know that he really is that powerful?
No. No. He is here to have some fun.
He snaps, and after a burst of burning pain on the chest the body around us just...vanishes. Although the shirts stay and falls to the ground. Crowley and co stay here as well, his smoke racing around the ring toward Dean. Thirteen souls fluttering through the red as he barrels towards his new home. Warding means nothing now after all. Not to a protogod. Not to something with nearly 30 million in the bank. Not to Crowley.
He slams into Dean and Sam's screams echo as he makes himself at home. Crowley stretches his new hands and holds the corner of the flannel collar up to his nose, and wrinkles it in disgust.
"Honestly Squirrel, they invented washing machines hundreds of years ago. And a machine gun Samuel? Did you not stop at a munitions store on the way? Oh...that's right. You don't have your DNA in the database, you're men out of your time. You're just lucky Cas buried your cliche car with your burnt bones."
"You sonofabitch-" witch. "I'll...who the fuck is there?"
"Dean, meet Chew Toy, the soul you didn't think existed." Crowley looks at the gun in his hand and waves it away with a thought as Dean senses me.
"The cunt who caused all this? You bitch I'll-" I recoil at the anger for a moment and then relax. It isn't as strong as mine was. I had dabbled in the art of self loathing while I was alive, probably perfected after I died. So what Dean is throwing at me, I am used to it. I hadn't felt it constantly for about fifty or so years now, but still.
Dean is probably the opposite, he had perfected it during his life, and had started to forgive himself after death.
Crowley is about to ruin that progress.
"Really Dean? Blaming her? I wouldn't be here if you hadn't woken me up. Hadn't been so terrified of just talking, of going to Hell and turning into a demon, of trusting that things would get better with time. Sam would have been fine."
"We know that now!"
"You knew that then, you were just too afraid to risk it."
Crowley watches Sam circle outside the ring, listening to a conversation he can half hear.
"Crowley, get out of my brother."
"No. I don't think I will. It's cozy in here, with all the hate and doubt, just like Hell."
"Crowley, you-"
"Really Sam. You're going to threaten me when I can do this?" Crowley snaps and a soul next to Dean evaporates.
"What the fuck?!" Crowley takes a deep breath and rides the waves of anger and fear coming from Dean, then snaps again. Sam swallows, and trains his gun on Crowley, in Dean's body remade.
"What are you doing Crowley?"
"Oh, that's right, you can't see the long line of souls I'm destroying. The one that ends with your brother's. So Moose, keep threatening me."
"Get out of my brother!" Crowley turns to the right to see another Winchester walk up. The honorary one. Jack.
"Hello Jack. You know Sam. This is why I didn't want to fight. I was hoping not to involve the kid."
"You ate my baby sister!" Crowley scoffs at Jack.
"That thing wasn't even a nephilim. It was a cliche. Besides, I didn't eat her. I ate the mother, they just happened to be conjoined at the time."
Jack's face is filled with hatred as he walks up. He looks far older. His hair in a long braid and shorn short everywhere else. It has a streak of white through the dusty brown. His face is squarer, and covered in stubble. His red leather jacket covers the newest Tri-City style of shirt made with a myriad of buckles. Jeans never went out of style.
"I left you alone Crowley; you were organizing Hell, less demon related slaughters than ever. But now-"
"They attacked me. I was content to live and let-"
"Get out of my brother!" The ground shakes with Jack's anger and Crowley raises his hands.
"Jack, don't let him leave with my-" Dean's warnings can't be heard… and it's too late. Crowley's voice exits from Dean's mouth one last time.
"Never say I'm not a gentleman."
Crowley flies out and Sam runs up with indeed another puzzle box. This one is clear, and crystalline. He starts to open it as Crowley's last bit leaves Dean, a white orb flickering at the end. He has twelve now.
"Should I just let them put me in the box Chew Toy? Let them slowly discover their brother's soul is trapped with me?" What? No! "You're right, they've done that story arc."
"What, you're taking advice from a soul now? What the Hell is going on Crowley?" Dean's voice echoes in the smoke but all he receives is a mental chuckle from the King of Hell.
The box starts to pull Crowley toward it, quickly spiraling his smoke into a funnel. He flies up, away from the box; stretching like a genie refusing to go in its lamp. The sky is fiery red turning into a cool dark, the end of the day approaching. It gets farther and farther away, and I'm sure I'll be trapped for eternity with Crowley, Dean, and the eleven other souls that aren't in a prison right now.
Of course, that would be until Sam figures out Dean's soul is missing.
"We made a deal... nameless... voice…. bitch! We stop Crowley, even if one of us doesn't come back." Oh yeah like that'll last more than three days. "Hey!" What? I've seen, read, and heard about you. You could have nearly ended suffering a few times but didn't because it meant you'd lose each other.
"She's right Dean. It's what I love about you two. It makes you so easy to manipulate once you figure out the rules."
There's a shift in weight, a feeling of solidity, and a loud thud as Crowley's feet, his real feet, hit the ground. The ground shakes with his first step as he divides the impact of his fall between bisected legs and a hand with claws so long and sharp they cut the rock beneath them.
"Holy fuck."
"Hello Samuel." The voice coming out of the mouth in his chest sounds like razors. He stands, the six needle points that serve as feet scratching the rock like nails on a chalkboard. His form stretches up to the sky and Sam and Jack look up in horrified awe. Standing up at 25 some feet, crown above a faceless head, strange chitinous protrusions on his back, large stomach on an otherwise lithe form...he is a horror to see. The mouth on his chest smiles as he straightens and he holds up a clawed hand, one of four, and tosses a shining orb up and down. The blank face turns to look at it and as it does features appear.
"Dean, how are we feeling today?" Dean's face looks out from the head atop the monstrosity that is Crowley's true form. Crowley regards the soul before him for a brief second before turning a cruel grinning face to the body that has started to make its way toward Sam.
"Dean. Dean?" Sam's face looks quickly from Crowley to Dean and back again, concerned with the strange intent of his brother's gate.
"Dean's got something he'd like to share with you Sam, can't you tell?" He snaps with one of his other hands and a dagger appears in Dean's. It is immediately raised up with the intent to use. "I believe it's fratricide." The voice still sounds of razors but it's mixing with the accent I've become accustomed to that comes from the regular mouth. The strange mix of the two voices makes me hurt even though I lack ears. Crowley looks at the orb in his hand. "So while you deal with your family issues… I'm going to make sure I don't get put in your toy box." Dean's face melts away on Crowley as Dean's makeshift body walks with purpose towards Sam. Sam looks from Crowley to his brother and back, trying to decide where to focus his attack. Jack holds out his hand and Dean floats into the air, leaving Sam free to reload the machine gun. However that means neither is attacking Crowley, whose face now resembles the one I've become accustomed to.
Crowley could have manifested with the soul already in a prison, but he is a showman. He needs them to see this, if only for them to believe it. So while Jack is busy holding the murderous body in place, Crowley holds the glowing orb over his second mouth. "Well, I've never had Squirrel before but, first time for everything."
"No!" Crowley smiles as Dean's soul drops, disappearing between teeth. He smiles at Sam's expression. He smiles at the sound Dean's body makes as it hits the ground. He smiles at the yellow glow in Jack's angry eyes. Jack raises a hand and Crowley backs up, all four of his hands in the air.
"Ah Ah, Jackie darling. Attack, and Dean's gone. Forever. You may be able to do many things, but you can't rebuild a soul. So, he'll stay right here." Crowley points down to his stomach, overlarge for his otherwise spindly form, but five stomachs will do that. "Safe and sound touching all the right places." Jack yells and waves of energy blast out, bowling Crowley over. Two of the arms catch him as he falls, the force now sending him skidding across the red stone with sparks flying from his feet.
"Jack! He'll kill Dean!" Yells Sam, furious and scared.
"No, he won't. Bobby said it takes ten years for a soul to die. I can put him back together! I just need to get him!" Crowley applauds with two hands while he uses another to push himself to his spindly feet. The last arm, well Dean's body had gotten blasted away too, and was within reach.
"Very good Jack. That means you have five years before half of him is gone, before what you recover is barely Dean. So, since you seem so keen to start a timer, let's." I feel the movement, the shifting of organs as his body tightens then relaxes, as a soul, actually four, are moved from next to me into a far more lethal place. Crowley didn't need more than Dean, but he has taken them. Dean, who had landed briefly next to me and was trying to get his bearings; trying to ignore the waves of hunger, pleasure, and need that were so intense in Crowley's physical form. Crowley is leaning into them happily here, dangerously enthusiastically. He has at least two plans that I know of, and Dean had just begun to get an inkling of them from me before he had been whisked away... for dinner.
Crowley snaps and I feel the telltale release of energy from a disintegrating soul, whether that was in fact Dean's, or one of the others, I have no idea. I can feel every muscle tense then relax with the wave of energy. Crowley's second tongue licks razor sharp teeth hungrily and seductively in a way that is sure to disgust and, more importantly, distract. Sam swallows as he trains the gun on the monstrosity before him.
"What did you do Crowley?"
"Well, assuming Robert told you about my rather unique anatomy, about the problems of being in this form, the five stomachs, the prisons... I moved some souls around, did some housekeeping; and while I was I noticed something. Most are rather empty at the moment boys." As he talks the unconscious soulless husk is brought up from behind him, the limp body dangling from very long pointy fingers. They end in two points, the nail curving down from the finger as well as back up creating two blades, one at each end. The hands hold the body, dropping it from one to the other, so both are grabbing it, pulling it up towards the second mouth in Crowley's chest as they turn the unconscious form into a better position. "Dean's volunteered to fill two. That leaves another two for you." And the body quickly follows the soul through the gaping maw, pushed in as if it were nothing more than a hotdog.
Jack yells out and Crowley waves a hand to send him flying out of the circle before he can start to use his powers. "I hate it when the waiter checks in when your mouth is clearly full. I've got two, but still."
I cringe. The body has woken up at the first hint of pain. It is thrashing, but that only makes things worse; more teeth, more chewing, more crunching of bones. Crowley of course loves it, a being of pure sin, he waits and watches Sam's horror with glee. He chews, the odd musculature of his chest moving, tongue feeling the cracking of bones for a moment more before a particularly loud snap renders the body motionless and mercifully dead. He swallows, and I can sense it. I don't know how to react, because all I can feel right now is his want to do it again. It consumes me, makes me want it, bursts into my darkest corners and pulls them out. I can feel myself breaking, my white edges slowly fraying with some unnamable thing.
"I've always wanted to try that. I was once a mere 7 feet in this form, but thanks to my new diet, well I've gained more than three inches this time. Enough to fulfill that fantasy quite nicely. Want to help me fulfill some more Moose? How long do you think I could keep you alive, sitting next to your brother's corpse? I believe I can sacrifice a few years in Hell to stay in this form and find out."
During this conversation bullets have been ripping into his flesh as Sam stares, face twitching at Crowley's comments as he shoots. Bullets are often just annoyances but in this form, it feels nothing short of exquisite. Any other demon would be on the ground, but the king, with the crown, with all those souls...healing himself? These are nothing but minor stings of pain that feel like caresses. They stop as Crowley finishes his taunt, and the sound of reloading fills the air as the huge demon slowly walks toward Sam.
"Sammy Samual Samantha. I really did want to leave you two alone. Even little Jackie too. But now, here, with you basking in my glory? Well, it makes me hungry." Jack returns to see a shoe fall out as Crowley's second mouth shrieks. Wet with blood it lands with a splat and rolls towards him, coming to a stop at his own feet. Jack's eyes flare up and Crowley grins. "Oh yes, hit me Jackie one more time."
"I will tear his soul out of you!" Jack grips the air and pulls. Crowley is easily put into a constrictive invisible force and lifted into the air. He laughs, the sick sound of razor blades from his second mouth mixing with the laughter from his regular face, which had finally lost that sound of grating steel. Then with a ripping motion from his hands, Jack opens Crowley's gut. Crowley screams like a good little actor who didn't enjoy the pain at all and doubles over. The sound rends the air with the intensity of millions of souls and Jack drops Crowley who hits the ground with a thud, blood pooling from his side. The skin and muscle is torn open to reveal bone, lines and lines of thin malleable iron rod like cartilage. The bars of jail cells filled with glowing light, all different shapes and sizes. As Crowley rights himself flesh falls and swings like a book cover revealing four of the five cages. He looks down and I get a glimpse of what I had only ever seen from the inside. One is sloshing with red near solid smoke that whirls around souls and tears at them with an eagerness far too intelligent for digestive fluids. Another is filled with a few souls, an echo or two and paper contracts, the words of which seem to float and dance ethereally around the cage and constrict the few souls that live there, like me. One, though they would likely only see a small corner, is too full of white light to look at directly. The direct link to all of Hell's souls the king claimed as his. The prison at the top drips bile and acid, and as Crowley grins and shifts another shoe drops out of it, and a half crushed skull surrounded by ripped up flannel rolls to the front.
"You can see there is plenty of space to rent out, but I'm afraid I have to close viewing for today unless you intend to take a closer look." One hand reaches down to the layer of skin and muscle and fat that Jack has ripped open and pulls what it can back up to cover the wound. Crowley moves another hand across it and some of the cuts vanish, being sewn up by pure will and energy.
"You will release him!" Another blast of orange gold energy impedes his efforts, wracks every soul there with pain. The wounds reopen and every soul screams as the bone jails are crushed. Through the pain Crowley grins, and throws out his own power to fling Jack away again.
"Jackie, I'm the King of Hell. I control where those souls are, not you. You may warp reality but I believe it requires a bit of will and concentration to get desired results from something that fights back. Can you really do that when you know that you're putting the souls in pain, not me? Every soul in Hell is mine. As king I have a direct link, right here." Crowley runs a hand up the opening in his side, pulling back more skin to reveal the glowing mass of souls that moves constantly as they step forward in the line. They are in turmoil now, circling and flying around like confused mice after the jolt of pain. They vanish from view as Crowley's hand heals the wound. "And every time you try to break my control, well it hurts them. All of them. You hurt every single one of the billions down there, not me." Jack backs away, horrified at the results of his attack on Crowley. His eyes widen as he falls back on old fears and inadequacies, failure and his seeming inability to control his collateral damage. Not knowing whether to believe him or not.
I know for a fact that what Crowley said is true. Horrifyingly true. The King of Hell stands again, hunched over to look the nephilim in the face, preying on his fears.
"Really, you're going to hurt them after all they've been through in Hell? Just to hurt me? Just to free one soul? That's selfish even for a Winchester, Jackie." I thought Jack was more powerful than this...of course, I still didn't know how accurate the show was in relation to God, Jack… that stuff. The ever increasing odds required to keep viewers, how much had been changed from Sam's journal? How much could have happened and been canceled out by God or Jack? Not noticed by humanity? Either way, Jack didn't want to harm billions of souls just to hurt Crowley.
"Don't listen to him Jack, he's a demon! He lies!" Crowley's second mouth hisses its displeasure as Crowley turns his head to Sam.
"I really don't. Not outright, not often Sammy. You know that. Besides, even if you ignore their agony, it is very hard for a demon to feel pain in this form." His second mouth speaks, the razors making the words all the more unbearable, the words directed at the nephilim seem to rend the air with their horrid implications. "Really, you're making me rather excited. While I'm not usually a bottom, I might make an exception today. I long to have you inside me, both of you. I'm a big boy, I can handle it." Crowley's face changes again suddenly, a rather familiar maw screeching and hissing as he charges. A leviathan mouth rushes at Sam who dodges out of the way and leaves the circle. Crowley grasps for him but as his arm leaves the bit of Hell on earth it becomes smoke, ethereal claws raking Sam's face drawing just the slightest bit of blood. Sam backs away on all fours, gasping and spluttering at the monstrosity whose food is just out of reach. Crowley's face changes again as he stands, his second tongue lazily licking his bloody claws as he rights himself.
Bernard looks out, his teeth sharp and eyes feral with a look that had probably never been there while Sam and Dean had known him. His beautiful dark skin mixing at the edges with a horrid shade of red that had made those of a lighter complexion just look rosy, but made him look hungry. A sound sends Crowley racing to the other side of the circle. Jack freezes at the outskirts as the King of Hell skids to a stop at the red line. I cringe, Crowley is enjoying this, this false feral act, this ploy. This vulgarity and bluntness he usually didn't employ. He hisses and then begins to pace the perimeter as he speaks in Bernard's voice.
"C'mon in boys. You know Ah don't drink blood no more. I kicked that habit long ago." The sound of bullets precedes the waves of ecstasy by seconds. They do damage, a bit more than before Sam reloaded. With some concentration I can tell they ache, unlike the first rounds. Perhaps these had been blessed. Crowley could use this change if it came to that. So many plans, so many ideas. I can feel the brief thought as he allows the wounds to stay, pouring a dark crimson onto the red stone that quickly absorbs it, as Hell is wont to do.
As he passes by Sam again, the hunter notices the wounds.
"Jack! The holy bullets! Get the blessed bullets!" Crowley turns and hisses, the face vanishing to be replaced by one with blonde hair and a warm smile.
"Sam. Would you really shoot your mother? In the face? How cold." Sam swallows and his jaw clenches.
"You really think that's gonna work Crowley?" I sigh. No. No. He's playing a part you idiots. He's distracting you! Crowley laughs, his face shifting back to his own.
"No boys, but that's why it's so much fun. The face Sam made then will be one I cherish forever. I can't wait to see the ones you'll make while I rip you apart." Crowley's arms reach out at Sam, almost grabbing him before they revert to smoke. Sam steps back again, breathing hard. Screeches of frustration fill the air from his second mouth. The sound of razors and nails on chalkboards cause Sam to drop the gun and Jack to drop the bag he was grabbing from behind some rubble. The scream continues to painfully rend the air as he talks with his stolen mouth.
"C'mon Samuel, you were always so eager to attack me when I was shorter than you, you're being rude now that the situation is reversed." Sam scrambles for the gun as Crowley reaches out again, his arm turning into smoke as he crosses the line. The smoke barrels towards Sam, intent on doing the same thing it did with Dean.
"I'm going to enjoy possessing you, for the brief moment it takes to walk you back in this circle so I can put you next to your brother. I'll even open a window for some air like Jackie did. Let you watch as I break him. Let him watch, powerless, as I crush you into atoms." Sam backs away as the smoke reaches towards him, Crowley's form evaporating. I have sat in silence, watching the horror like I would have the show, there being nothing I can do except give him ideas that will only make things worse. "Samuel, Luci was an uncreative amateur. In many ways. Let me show you."
Crowley's voices fade as his face and chest dissolve into smoke. He rushes out, his last bit now ethereal when there is a scream.
"No!" We are blasted apart and away from Sam, a cloud tumbling through the air in a golden miasma of power.
"Jack! Into the box!"
"But Dean!"
"We'll figure it out! Hurry!" Crowley struggles as the golden energy pushes him towards the box, thrashing in an effort to escape. "He's fighting it! Hold on! He's scared!"
Oh. Oh no. Crowley's thoughts don't match that at all. From the brief glimpse I get, this is going to work fine with one of his many plans. As he's twisted into the box I can feel him effortlessly moving around souls, pulling every single one out so that they can keep him company, just in case he is in there for a long time. Wouldn't want to come out of the box in the middle of withdrawal after all.
The box takes over from Jack and the smoke is pulled into the small space. Everything is squeezed impossibly small; the magic hurts for a moment then with a click the box closes. With how clear it is we can see everything. We can see Sam pick up the puzzle box and stare at it, anger painted on his face with blood and dust. Jack comes up with a similarly painted face, neither bare any grievous wounds, the blood is Crowley's or Dean's.
"Is Dean still alive? Should I get him out of there?"
"We can't risk breaking the box Jack, not yet. We need a better plan. We'll have to stash it while we do some research."
Oh. Oh no. Oh, you poor fools.
"What? What's going on? What the Hell Crowley?!" Dean asks in confusion. Crowley laughs.
"Where did you think they'd take it, Chew Toy? I made 'friends' for a reason."
