It's surreal; being driven along with Crowley and Co. in a glass box held in Sam's hands. Jack is driving. Cars have changed too much since Sam and Dean have been gone. They have a long way to drive and no place to teach Sam the neural controls or get his DNA into the system and registered without alerting anyone.
They had chosen one of the older towns for staging the fight, one that hadn't been rebuilt, gentrified, or updated. As a result it was kind of remote. They were almost empty after all. These old towns that were out of date and out of code; some districts just didn't have the ability to demolish and rebuild yet. The economy had changed greatly after all; half of currency was goods and services, the other was credit based in shares of companies and stocks. Hundreds of years ago plastic had been banned, then rubber, then oil. It had taken a war, and a few deals with demons, but it had been done. Metal, wood, stone, and carbon based materials; these were the building blocks being used today. Finally, with the money and gathering of appropriate minds, a committee had figured out small scale deconstruction of carbon dioxide on a molecular level. There may have been a deal or five involved in that considering the output was diamond and graphite, two highly sought after materials.
Those souls were in R&D downstairs now, researching how deals might work if humans did in fact more heavily populate Mars instead of just using it for research facilities for terraforming. From all guesses, and research involving a space station and an aptly placed malfunctioning satellite, as long as a human was willing to make a deal and had the ability to call out for help, a demon could get there. After all, the crew miraculously found extra repair materials that were not accounted for on the roster.
Either way, the future looked strange. Stone and metal roads with magnetic rims, buildings with rounded edges due to higher winds; after all, the oxygen separated from the carbon had to go somewhere. Humans were always stupid, they managed to get the carbon out and then flooded the atmosphere with too much oxygen. They had caught on after a particularly bad season of wildfires devastated multiple nations.
Lot's of deals went down that year.
The damage from climate change had been done though, storms were heavier, changed even a bit more due to the shift to an oxygen rich atmosphere. There were some plants burning coal in the south to mitigate that a bit, after all now humans Needed that diamond like they Needed that gas or Needed those cute plastic phone cases. So they needed to figure out what to do with the oxygen, they were bottling some of it, using it to fuel ships and such.
"I notice you are still thinking 'Them', not 'we' Chew Toy."
I sigh as Crowley invades my being, only now noticing that I have a more attentive audience than I thought. Dean was listening.
"So, what? Is this better? Are there less monsters?"
No. No there aren't, but they are different. There are fewer and fewer feral things, more and more hiding in plain sight. With DNA registration they either had to get smart, or get exterminated and experimented on. New smarter monsters, new smarter hunters. So, you either got smart, adapted and evolved, got a symbiote, or you died.
"Symbiote?"
A human willing to feed you or sell lab grown human meat. There are monsters working in bio regen and growth so they don't have to hunt, it's just too risky in parts of the world. If you wanted the high comforts of life, and to eat, you got a symbiote and worked toward peace. You didn't, then you fled to the war ravaged parts, the downtrodden, the ruins.
"Wait, monsters are working towards...peace?" Some, sure. The ones that want to blend into society. Others are trying to figure out how to better trick DNA registration systems, make kills look more like accidents, or how to make evidence vanish. Find a ghoul, a vampire, something else, work together, leave no evidence. Times changed. Hunt smart, or die. Eat smart, or die. Get smart, or die. Newest consensus is, if it's working toward peace and lab grown meat, leave it alone.
Dean sits in silence, trying to take in the new world. The problems I am talking about are mainly in the updated cities, a few towns. The rest of the world is playing catch up to the hubs of civilization since the commonality of diamonds upset the jewelry industry, the art industry, the drilling industry, the computer industry, the robotics industry, and more. Diamond isn't just a shiny rock, it is used to cut things, build microchips, super dense heat sinks, even housing reinforcement for the obscenely wealthy. That upset the economy for a few years, and just when it was recovering from figuring out what to do without the oil moguls, the coal plants, the plastics industry.
A lot of deals went down that year too. Crowley however ignored all the ones asking for the oil industry to be saved. That needed to be gone, he had been working toward that for hundreds of years. He needed the earth here if he wanted to actually do his job. Sickly irradiated humans dying from war, nuclear winter, or wiped out by climate change, not a great situation for making enough humans to keep Hell running.
"Wait, Crowley helped end-"
"No. I did not. I gave a few humans the opportunity to, and they fixed it. I have done a lot of other things though."
"Don't wanna know about your alone time Crowley. You weren't exactly wearin' pants back there in that fight." It's true. He liked suits but they did not make them in that size.
"Well, I'd say the extra three inches transferred over, but-"
"Oh my god shut up!"
Both Crowley and I chuckle at Dean's distress.
"Really, you're comfortable with that?" I'd seen so much worse, been through so much worse, and had been to art school. I drew dicks on a regular basis for a year. "Oh gross." Really? And you wouldn't have jumped at the chance to model nude, and get paid, in front of art students, many female? Right Dean, sure. "Wait, that's a thing?" Yes, yes it is. You have to hold a pose for various lengths of time though. Could you stand still with your left arm raised, leaning down, with your other arm and foot extended so I could get good definition on your shoulder muscles and the way the glutes stretch? Could you do that for 30 minutes? "Uhhhh." If you can do that, you get paid.
"Jack, uh. Where...Where are you living now? These buildings all look expensive." We are jolted out of our silent conversation by Sam who is looking at the rounded buildings with stone and metal plating.
"This is standard living for this neighborhood now. If it isn't made of metal and carbon based alloys, it's wood and stone with some metal. The cheapest houses are made of thinner metal that is tempered after being bent into place."
"Wait, they temper it after it's built?"
"It is cheaper with the oxygen levels higher. The insides are finished after the shell."
"How, how do you know this Jack?"
"I helped build houses for one lifetime. It was very fulfilling. Using the magnetic crane was fun. Very similar to using my own powers to hold or levitate objects in the air." Sam blinks.
"You… built houses?"
"Yes. For thirty six years." I'm chuckling again. Crowley had kept a low key eye on Jack. Mainly to make sure he wasn't nearby unless they had planned to meet. We had seen his development from a frantic youth to a slightly more level adult. He still looked not a day over thirty, but that was today. He had looked 58 two years ago. He had learned quickly that people notice when you don't age, so he would occasionally move and start again. He had to change down to the DNA every 90 years, and hack the registration system so he was in there. It had been rough learning how to be stealthy and blend in. He didn't want to stand out, but when half of you is numb and angelic and fighting with your human side, it can be hard to not.
"Jack had it hard?" He adapted, he had a few pitfalls, but he's here.
"We had a lovely discussion some 300 years ago and made a deal a-"
"Jack Made A Deal With You!?" Ow. That was loud. I don't have ears and that was loud. Don't think-yell so loudly. Jack's fine.
"She's right. Not that type of deal Squirrel. Just that I keep my demons' involvement up on earth to three things: research, deals, and the occasional vacation. And he'd leave them alone. We did sign, and I did take his soul for a hot second, but that was the entirety of the deal."
"Liar."
"Well, a little bit. Just that he Couldn't harm my demons if they were only doing those three things. The minute they stepped out of line, well, let's say I gave him some addresses on occasion. Boy came in handy."
"But you broke the deal! You're up here, takin souls, tempting people, and who know what else!"
"Did I? No, I don't think I did." I sigh and spell it out for Dean. The deal was for his demons, not him. As far as Crowley's concerned them fighting each other has always been an option.
"You sneaky-"
"Demon. I really don't understand why people keep having trouble with the concept that the King of Hell is a Demon!" I sigh. This was going to be a long ride.
…
We arrive at the Bunker three days later. On foot because you don't drive in this part of the desert unless you wanted to get noticed.
It's night time and Sam would be freezing if it weren't for Jack and Crowley putting off immense heat. I had no idea if Crowley is doing it on purpose, or is just doing it. Anyway, Sam didn't get frostbite.
They stand in front of the invisible door in the ground trying to decide how to go about this. Sam hasn't had a key for a very long time. Jack didn't need one, but he hadn't been here for a long time either. He left only 100 years after Sam and Dean, to make his own way. Experience things other than hunting. He was immortal after all, he could help in other ways. Faith healer. Search and Rescue. Cleaning and purifying water in smaller countries. Helping with diseases. He traveled for a long time. So, he hadn't been to the bunker for a long time either. Entering unannounced wouldn't garner any favors.
Sam walks up and knocks on the ground. There is no response. No one can hear the outer door, they knew he was here though. That rock to the right was new, and I'd bet it had a camera. This was the first test after all, can you get the invisible door open? For a demon, it was easy, for a human... Sam sighs and hands the box to Jack, who takes it reluctantly. Kneeling on the ground Sam draws the symbol of the Men of Letters on the hidden door and then continues an intricate series of glyphs around it. I wonder if he had to do this every time there wasn't someone in the bunker to let him in to the door where the key worked.
"Every damn time. It was fuckin' annoying."
"I can imagine."
"Shut up Crowley."
"Dean, do you understand the situation you're in right now? That I could destroy you? Torture you? I could have you calling out my name and title for a myriad of reasons within a week."
"I've been tortured in Hell before Crowley."
"Yes, and you broke. I'm far more efficient than Alastair."
"He was the appointed torturer in Hell, and you think you know more than him? Give it a rest Crowley."
"I spent many a lazy year watching him. So I know all his tricks. That isn't what's important though. What's important is that I know You." It's true. You could have no experience, but if you knew a person well enough, that didn't matter. Crowley knew me, he knew every aspect of me, and he knew what to do. However, he has been very careful. He wants a permanent toy. If there was a better metaphor I'd use it because we are certainly not lovers, but he knew me like one. I knew him a bit too...if there was another metaphor I'd use it, but… Friends isn't quite right. I was certainly not his equal. Slave was not apt either, unless you accounted for Stockholm syndrome. I wasn't broken, because he didn't want that. He didn't want a blubbering quivering mess that couldn't do anything besides the basest of fearful reactions. So I wasn't broken in that sense. So many other ways, but not that way. So... broken in was still the only thing that came close to the metaphor of lovers. Which we were still certainly not.
"Gross." Thanks Dean. I'd never thought of that. You spend a couple hundred years with him and see how you do. We might. Well… That depends on how long Crowley can last. "Last? What, you mean exist? Wait...You don't mean like in bed?! Ok. I do not need that image!"
"Dean, even if you want to fantasize about me in bed, that is not what this is about. Like many druggies I didn't kick my addiction, I just moved to a different drug."
"What? You moved to…. Oh. C'mon Crowley, really?"
"Demon."
"That's sick Crowley!"
"Still a demon."
"Seriously low for even you."
"Oh, look...De-mon."
"Oh hey."
"Well now."
During our little conversation Sam had gotten the door open. It raises up with a hiss of warm air and the stairs below are revealed. We descend into the darkness. The door closes behind us and soon the lights flick on. Sam and Jack walk slowly and tentatively, not knowing what was in store from their old home.
Jack looks at the box, red smoke churning it is visibly swirling with little white orbs moving around. Taunting. To make a point Crowley destroys one of the souls in an explosion of white as Jack watches, the glitter quickly being swept away in another cloud of red. Jack's eyes flash yellow in rage at the obvious taunt. The entire prison is wracked with pain and Crowley laughs. If he had a face he'd be grinning. The pain stops suddenly as Jack remembers that pain he causes Crowley goes through every soul he owns… He's not sure if that extends to every soul in Hell, but it definitely extends to Dean.
"Dean..."
"It's ok kid, do it again. I can withstand it just to see the bastard twitch."
"Oh, you thought that hurt in a bad way? Poor Dean-" Oh my god both of you, please admit your love and just fuck. "Only if I get to top this time." Sure-... Wait. This time?
"Shut up Crowley." He has no face, but I can feel the sly smile from the demon.
Jack watches the cube as they descend, every few moments a white soul bursts into sparks. Shortening the amount of time Crowley has before withdrawal, getting closer to a high now, unless he put those souls back together after Jack left. He might have to if he wanted Dean and myself to come out of this alive.
"Sam, how do we know that Dean isn't…"
"Because Crowley is a sadist and would save him for last, he's also his bargaining chip."
"So when there is only one left…"
"Two. He has a...pet."
"Listen to that Chew Toy. Moose remembers you." Shove it Crowley, or eat me. "I might." Then go ahead, I- "You're supposed to paint with Dragoness next week." Oh. Oh right. Can you kill me after that please?
"Wait, you're asking Crowley… for. Wait. Paint?!"
"Darling Squirrel. It's best to give Dragoness what she wants."
"Wait...the dragon? The Dragon dragon?"
"Yes...she-"
By now we are at the door. The sigil sparkles as if recently polished, as normal. There are four souls left, including Dean and myself. Jack is livid and Sam's face is stoney. He had noticed the little bursts of light too. They stand at the door and Sam pauses, then raises his hand to knock.
The door opens… and Sam and Jack are face to face with a shotgun, a pressurized water pistol, a high voltage taser, and a hex bag thrown at their feet.
"You got three seconds to explain who the Hell you are before we blow you to bits." Sam swallows. The woman behind the three in the front stands with her arms crossed. Sara. She's more than a few years older. Her hair is still spiked and blackened at the ends, but her figure has filled out not by weight, but by bulk, muscle, and age. Her clothes are all black, but the added addition of a wonderful red trench coat completes the ensemble now. Ed stands next to her, spellbook in hand, ready with another hex bag. He is also older, but he looks much the same, as if age had not touched him as harshly. His experiments had however, and one of his eyes is now only a glowing hole, normally hidden by an eye patch that is now flipped up. He had studied under Rowena and Croney after all, age and lost bits meant nothing.
The three in the front are hard eyed and ready. Two are younger, one holding the shotgun and the other the taser. They both have long red hair, braided in a single braid to the side. One is a girl and one is a boy, they both have freckles and are grinning. The older man has a beard, but can't be older than 25 despite having the eyes and scars of someone far older. He holds the water gun, the tank on the back filled with what is probably blessed acid instead of holy water. Sam swallows again.
"I'm Sam Winchester."
"He's dead." Says Sara.
"I'm Jack."
"Jack...who?"
"Jack Kline." There are hard stares. "The nephilim." The guns don't lower, instead another hex bag is thrown, larger and black. "You do know what a nephilim is?"
"Oh yeah. We know, we know who you are. IF you're here that even might be Sam Winchester. Or you could be shifters, or witches."
"Not demons?"
"Mean demons don't come here." The younger girl says. Looking at them more closely they are probably about twelve, and both sport a widening grin, one is missing a tooth.
"Yeah, only-"
"Ted, Tana. Shh."
"Yes Momma." The twins answer in tandem and Sam swallows. He looks at the box, then immediately back at Sara, hoping she hadn't noticed. He is quickly realizing it might have been a bad idea to come here. Sara and Ed both see the quick look however. Sara inclines her head.
"Watcha got there?"
"Nothi-"
"Momma, it's red smoke." Sara narrows her eyes.
"Both of you, in. Now."
"I don't-" Sam is cut off by the barrel of the shotgun being shoved in his gut.
"Momma said in."
"Ok, sure I-"
"Tana. You know what I said about shoving with the shotgun." The young girl's face sports a pout.
"Don't do it."
"Unless…" At this the grin returns to the young girl's face.
"Unless you're ready to shoot if they grab the barrel." Oh boy. This is gonna be fun. Crowley swirls around, satisfaction permeating every bit of him.
"You. Jack. Pick up the black hex bag or you're staying outside."
"You know it won't-"
"Pick up the bag Jack." Says Sam quietly. Jack sighs and the bag levitates into his pocket. The two young hunters look on with wide eyes. Jack smiles at them and their faces immediately go hard as they walk backward down the stairs.
"Ok what the Hell is going on here? I didn't expect a welcome wagon, but a bit of recognition at least. C'mon!"
"You're supposed to be dead Squirrel, of course they're suspicious." He has a point Dean.
"Shut up… what even is your name?"
"Chew Toy."
"Wasn't asking you dickwad." Well, Bobby calls me Bec. "Great. What the Hell is going on Bec?"
"Oh, circumventing me again. It's almost like old times."
"Shut UP Crowley." Pain shoots through me as Crowley rips into Dean.
"I AM in Control here! I will be respected! I tolerated you for a bit because I'm nostalgic, but I'm done. I will have respect or-"
"Or what? Bite me." Oh...Oh Dean. Phrasing. "What?"
"Gladly." Dean's soul screams as a bit is ripped off. It vanishes into the red instantly, washed away by the currents.
"Ow! You Motherfucker what did you do?"
"Well, by the taste, I believe I just took your love of bacon."
"Bacon? I fucking hate bacon. It's so greasy...no wait. I…" Oh poor Dean. That sucks. "But… I. I… Bacon cheeseburgers...ugh. No. But..." It takes some getting used to Dean. "Getting used to! I don't want to get used to it!"
"Would you rather I take Sam? Or your outdated car?"
"Don't you dare touch either of them!"
We've reached the center table at this point, the one with the map. It has holographic displays of various cities and a few floating X's in seemingly random places. Sara looks at the two children and nods.
"Go get Uncle Stan, tell him to bring the...newest arrival." The taser is handed over and the two run away into the back and Sara cocks the taser gun at Sam. "Sit. Put the box down."
"I-"
"I believe you. You're Sam winchester. That's Jack, the nephilim. Why do you have the King of Hell in a puzzle box? What's he done?"
"He's been destroying souls!" Sara blinks.
"Yes. He has. For over 400 years. Why take an interest now?" Sam looks at her with disbelief.
"Wait. You Know? And you work with him?"
"They work with him?"
"Yes Jack." Says Sam in a hard tone.
"That obvious huh?" Says Sara, leaning back in the chair a bit, completely relaxed in a situation most people would have fainted in. Jack could kill them all in an instant..
"Well, you-"
"Just confirmed it. Yeah, not that concerned." Jack snarls and his eyes start to glow.
"You're working with Crowley, you should be-"
"Ed." Ed's eye flashes and goes dark before flaring into dark red, taking a blood tithe directly from his veins for whatever magic he is about to do.
"Pagondruxgal undruxgal galdonungon." Jack gasps and falls to his knees, pressure building as the words repeat.
"What are you doing to him!" Sara points the gun at Sam and he freezes, mid step toward Jack. Sara sighs and takes a pipe from her pocket. Crowley also sighs as he sees this.
"I told her to stop keeping that in there." It really should be in a leather holder or bag. At least it has a detachable stem. "It would be broken otherwise." True. As if hearing Crowley and my thoughts Sara rolls her eyes as she puts the pipe in her mouth. All three of us wholy ignoring the impossibility happening next to us.
"I know Crowe. Shut up." Sam breaks his frantic gaze from Jack as he kneels besides him and shakes his head slightly in surprise and looks at her once again in disbelief.
"Crowe. As in...Crowley?"
"I've known him since I was three Sam. Ed, we're good, I think he gets the point." The chanting stops and the pressure in the room lightens. Jack gasps. Sam kneels down next to him as Sara relaxes the taser again.
"Jack. Jack, are you ok?"
"I'm...I'm fine. I...couldn't move. It was like… father." Sam looks up from holding the nephilim and glares at Sara who is lighting her pipe after packing it.
"What did you do?"
"Ask Ed, not me. I don't mess with that stuff." Sam turns his ire upon the warlock.
"Hey, it's just a temporary binding and weakening spell."
"That can hold a nephilim? That's not just a binding spell. That's not just anything. Where did you find it?"
"Didn't. I made it."
"You...what?" Crowley's pride is matched only by Sam's confusion and surprise.
"That's my little apprentice."
"Your what?"
"Shh Squirrel. I'm watching years of hard work unfold."
Sam opens his mouth and furrows his brows in dubiety, a feeling that appeared frequently in this life dealing with the supernatural. Sometimes too much, sometimes not enough.
"How...How did you-" The sound of wheels interrupts the conversation as a gurney is pushed in. Sam helps Jack stand and moves him to a chair while both look at the sheet covering what can only be a body.
"Thanks Stan." Stan is an older man with black hair and a bionic eye and hand. He stops the gurney next to the table, then nods and turns to leave. "I'll bring you some sandwiches later!" Stan raises a hand as if the food doesn't matter, but is appreciated and walks back down into the bowels of the base, not even questioning the two new arrivals. Sara sighs and shakes her head but turns to the gurney. "Crowe, what the Hell." She looks at the puzzle box. "I really should leave you in there for a bit, the contract says I have a bit of time." Crowley swirls around happily.
"My little girl has grown up into a proper psychopath. How lovely." I chuckle. The contract did indeed have a clause about time, but was lenient for one very good reason. Sara looks at the two kids that stand silently in the door and the middle aged man who still has the water gun pointed at the 'visitors' and she deflates.
"Fine." She walks over to the gurney and throws the sheet off. It tumbles to the ground and reveals the 'newest arrival'. On the gurney lies Crowley's body. The shirt and peacoat gone, the suit jacket laid to the side. The chest has bright red words burned into the flesh, some leaking red, many just blisters.
'New job. Rescue mission. Target. Crowley.'
Sara puffs on the pipe and pauses, looking at the body and shaking her head. She looks at Sam and Jack. Jack is still recovering, his power having been depleted a more than a bit, maybe even stolen or blocked. He sits shaking in the chair, his eyes flickering gold as he tries to control his temper.
"Ted, get the nephilim a blanket. Sam… I'm gonna need that box." As the little boy runs off into the bunker Sam stares at Sara.
"What? No. I'm not letting you free Crowley." Sara frowns and the exhales smoke in a large puff from her mouth, chewing on the stem. "Look, you said yourself you have some time. How much?"
"Not enough. We've put off Bill's initiation for a long time already, too long." Bill nods and licks his lips. Sam looks nervously at Sara and then Bill.
"The… multi-generational contract?" Sara puffs on the pipe and raises a brow.
"So you know about that. Good, then you know why we need him back." Sam looks at Bill.
"What's...what happened?" Bill grunts at Sam and looks at Sara, as if reluctant to open his mouth.
"Vampire attack. Sire died before we could get his blood." Sam cringes and looks at Bill.
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, well, that don't help. He's our best sharp shooter and we need him to train the next generation. Can't do that if he eats them." George grunts.
"Why won't he speak?"
"Jack." Says Sam hushedly.
"No. It's a valid question." Sara holds the pipe in her teeth and rolls up her sleeve. Bill growls. "Ed?"
"I'm ready."
"Just in case Bill." He nods. Sara finishes rolling up her sleeve to reveal a rather large leaking bandage which Bill swallows upon seeing. Sam and Jack both look wide eyed at it. Crowley and I understand.
"What the Hell…"
"No Dean. That's what will happen if I don't get out of here. That's what will happen to those lovely two redheaded darlings if I don't get out there and do my job."
"Smile for the camera honey." Bill does, the telltale vampire teeth showing. Sara rolls down her sleeve as Bill closes his mouth and looks away. "Teeth won't go away now, not unless he gets a full meal, and he won't do that. He's been locked in his room except to eat and to hunt."
"That does not exactly explain why he won't talk."
"Talking requires air, brings scents over the tongue and into the nose. If he doesn't breathe, doesn't talk much, he doesn't smell us. He doesn't smell food. So he doesn't talk." Jack shivers but looks away from Sara to Bill.
"I can help." Sara chews the stem of the pipe for a second, annoyed.
"Talk to me angel boy, he won't respond."
"I can make him human again." Sara chuckles and holds her pipe, puffs and looks at Bill.
"You wanna be human again Bill?" Bill grunts and shakes his head. "Didn't think so. Y'see, with that vampire sight, he gets a near extra 400 yards of dependable accuracy. He gets a steadier hand, better sense of where the enemy is. He's taken down more fleeing monsters than any human ever could, so no. He just wants to not have the hunger, not have to make some human his juicebox. Can you do that?" Jack pauses.
"I… Do not know. Perhaps."
"No good enough. See we Know Crowley can. He can also give us weapons, like The Colt, or a demon to help out should we need one."
"What? They… just help?" Sara laughs at Sam's question.
"You kidding? The little geek he sends us rips through whatever we point him at like it's a damn hack and slash VR game. Fuckin loves it, comin to us is like a vacation even with the risks. Last one got taken out by a vampire priest who bought an angel blade online. Damn things are everywhere." Sara inhales and exhales, a large puff of smoke circling to the ceiling. This is the moment Ted runs back in with a rather large blanket nearly covering him. It's pink and quilted with various letters in enochian on it. The kid throws it at Jack, covering him completely.
"Oops." Ted pulls back the blanket from Jack to reveal his head and then quickly runs away.
"Go find your sister and practice your alphabet!" Sara calls after the fleeing feet.
"Aren't they a bit old for that?" Asks Jack wrapping the blanket around himself.
"The Canaanite alphabet. So, are you gonna give me that box, or am I gonna have to take the blanket away?"
"You realize that Crowley is Literally destroying souls, right?" Says Sam.
"Yeah, he showed me when I was 18. Ate the vampire I stupidly went after alone, saved my ass. Took me out for ice cream after, in Venice."
"What… you took her out for… fucking ice cream?"
"Dean, I took you out for hookers. I can take my 18 year old niece out for ice cream and a bit of torture. Besides, look what it got me."
"A crazy nut who smokes a pipe?"
"Loyalty." Pain flashes through all of us again. "And don't talk about my niece that way."
"Wait...Ice cream and torture?"
"Well, I didn't eat the vampire right away."
"Gross."
"We each prep our meals in our own ways, Squirrel."
"Gross!"
Sam has a similar reaction.
"Crowley….took you out for ice cream?"
"And a light bit of torture. On the vampire, not me Sam. Jeez, get your mind out of the gutter. So, yes, I know he's been killing human souls. One hundred a year, max. He promised that until he can't bear it, that's how many he would take. And he has yet to break a promise to our family."
"Until...he can't bear it?"
"Ask him. He said he'd come to renegotiate the promise when that happened."
I sigh and am immediately shot with a jolt of pain.
"Now Chew Toy, are you going to bark without my permission?" I sigh. Crowley, I think what I think, can't really help that. Just keep shocking me if my mind wanders that way.
"Wait. Crowley-"
I am immediately shocked again. I sigh as the pain leaves. Why not just throw me in another stomach?
"Because they aren't here in this smoke, you know that, unless you are just thinking for the benefit of our newest tenant… Besides, I wanted company in case I spent a hundred or so years here." Fine. Just, at least until you decide whether or not you're gonna let him leave, keep us separatish or occupied.
"Figured that out did you?"
"Wait, what?!" Dean, it's fucking obvious.
During this silent conversation the tension in the room outside the box rises. Sara puffs on the pipe and looks at Sam. Jack shivers under the quilt, Ed stands nearby. Bill's eyes are latched on Sam, on his throat.
"So. One last time. Is this going to get ugly?" The water gun clicks at Sara's statement and Sam and Jack look at Bill, who opens his mouth and breathes in, eyes flashing.
"Oh Hell no."
"Calm down Dean, your brother is usually reasonable. Ok that's a lie, but he's smart... Ok you're brother is going to die and get at least seven children killed."
"What?"
"Just wait."
Sara sighs.
"You don't let him out and at least seven other children, other than the two in here, will die."
"What? Are you threatening-" Sara plucks the pipe from her mouth and points it at Jack.
"Shut the fuck up and put your dick away, I'm not threatening kids. Jesus. No. Judy is on maternity leave, at home, with her other adopted daughter. Bill's wife. Bill's wife who was attacked by an dybbuk and near driven insane. His wife who doesn't tear out her hair or eyes and endanger her children, because of this contract. My mother, Donna, was bit by a werewolf 26 years ago. She's retired in Florida. She is very excited to go to her next door neighbor's birthday party next week. Her six year old neighbor." Sara looks at Jack. "Are you willing to give up eternity to... let me rephrase, I am not willing to Let you give up your life to stay here and heal us. You can do more good elsewhere, healing plagues and shit. I also know you're volatile, and I don't want you around my kids." Jack and Sam look at Sara.
"And you're willing to sacrifice one hundred people you don't know, a year, so that this can happen?" Sara puffs on the pipe with the most cynical look I have ever seen.
"Hey, they were stupid enough to make a deal with the King of Hell. Darwin Award material right there."
"I mean, she ain't wrong." Thanks Dean. "Well, you ain't dead." Yet.
Sara takes one more pull from the pipe and exhales before setting it down on the table and drawing a familiar pistol from her coat. The songshot.
"I'm bein nice, cuz you saved the world a bunch, but you're not here anymore. You Should not fucking be here. You are dead, and Jack left. This is our home, this is the way We do things, and You're fuckin with that by keeping Crowe in there. So." She checks the barrels and closes it before looking up at the two people at 'her' table. "Last chance before this gets ugly. And even now, I'm still bein nice, cuz we haven't gotten our painful shit out." Sam looks at Sara.
"He has my brother."
"And if you attacked him, that's your own damn fault. Not my problem. That's between you, and him. Now, open the goddamn box. And you." The gun points at Jack whose eyes have started flaring with more consistency. "Control your goddamn temper or I'll control it for you. I am tired, I was taking a fucking bath when the perimeter alarm went off. I'd like to get back to that, preferably with my vodka tonic and book and Not waste it washing blood off me. So. Open. The. Goddamn. Box." Sam takes a breath and nods to Jack who hands the box to him.
"Sam."
"I know. We'll figure out another way." Sam starts pressing the buttons as the red smoke whirls inside in taunting anticipation.
"Fuck you Crowley."
"Promise?"
It's then that the box opens and Crowley bursts out, swirling around the ceiling a moment before diving into the mutilated body on the gurney. Sara holsters her gun and nods to Ed and Bill as she picks up her pipe.
"Ed, go get the nephilim some tea or something to counteract that spell. Bill, get ready to pucker up and go see your wife." Bill nods, a small hint of a smile on his face as Crowley sits up.
"Hello boys." He snaps and both Jack and Sam flinch, though nobody else does. Crowley's coat and shirt appear on him from nowhere, clean and crisp. He stands and begins to button the shirt as the wounds on his chest heal, purposefully having left the shirt open to make them wait, show them him healing himself like it is nothing. "Give me a moment, gents. Pardon my appearance but I was just in a fight." Jack snarls and Crowley rolls his eyes. "You figure out a way to kill me, really kill me, and that man who just left to pack? He won't ever get to see his wife, his kid, or his unborn child, and that is the Least of the things you will muck up. So get some eye drops and blink a few times pretty boy." Crowley nods to Sara.
"Hello to you to Crowe."
"I'd tell you job well done, but-"
"But I don't give a damn. Just help Bill out and come visit me before you fuck off to where ever. I'll be in my bath. I assume you can handle these two?" Crowley looks at the two men across from him.
"I'd prefer if a voice of reason were here with me." Sara rolls her but shakes her head in annoyance and sighs heavily.
"Will you reheat my fucking water?"
"So you boil darling." Says Crowley with a smile.
"Fine, lemme get the fucking booze, I have a feeling we'll need it. What's your poison boys?"
"Uhm, beer." Says Sam a bit overwhelmed.
"Whiskey, got it. And you angel boy?"
"It is very difficult to-"
"Double proof moonshine, got it. You're on your own Crowe, I ain't got Craig or grapefruit or any fancy shit."
"I'm rather full anyway." Sam's mouth twitches at the comment. "Oh, right. One more moment before we start this lovely discussion." Goddammit Crowley you're just taunting them. "No, this is business Chew Toy, give me a moment." Crowley takes out his phone and speed dials Ranni. "Ranni. I'm texting you coordinates. Send the architectural team to take photos. They'll know. I want two set up in my above ground office; one on the roof, and one in a basement. Inlaid. Roof by tomorrow, ground floor by mid week, and one in the above ground courts by the next Friday. Gold for the roof, iron for the rest. It'll melt too easily. Any resources you need to figure out the physical components of the procedure. Yes. ...I'm fine, but thank you for your concern. Try to butter me up with saccharin talk like that again and I'll assume you're getting sweet and feed you to Growley. Subtle my dear, learn it or- yes. Learn it then. ...Of course I'm still showing up to the draft, don't be daft. Double the pot, I'm feeling lucky. Two thousand souls." Crowley hangs up in time for Sara to come back with a fresh bottle of whiskey, a rather large milk jug that is not full of milk, and glasses. Sam's face is stoney, and Jack's is blank as he sits beneath the blanket.
"What, you showed me a new toy and you expect me not to use it? Speaking of." Crowley looks through the phone and uploads a sound file to his personal cloud.
"On the roof? Why Crowley?"
"I'd like to sunbathe, is that a crime?"
"With your body, yeah it kinda is."
Crowley sighs and looks at Sam and Jack.
"Sorry, private conversation, unruly tenants.
"Let my brother go." Crowley looks up at Sam as Ed walks in holding a small vial.
"Hey Jack, this-"
"Here Ed. Not yet, I think the little nephilim could use some quiet time." Ed shrugs and tosses the vial to Crowley.
"Don't be too big a dick Crowley."
"Ed, you must really love me to give me such setups. I mean, there are so many innuendos there I'm having a hard time."
"I'm going to check on the twins Sara." Says Ed as with a roll of his eyes. As he leaves Sara pours clear liquid Crowley can Smell from 3 feet away in a small glass and slides it to Jack. Sam is about to open his mouth again when Bill walks in with a set of keys.
"Car packed Bill?" Bill nods at Sara and looks to Crowley. "You sign?" Bill nods again. "Good, then pucker up and you're off to see the missus." Bill nods and walks up to Crowley.
"Rip out his throat Bill!"
"Rude Dean. I doubt my blood would be appetizing to my nephew anyway. Bill?" Bill sniffs the air and makes a face. "See? Now, anyone with delicate sensibilities may wish to look elsewhere for...say thirteen seconds." Sara raises a brow as she slides a whiskey across the table to Sam and begins to pour her own.
"Crowe, I haven't had 'delicate' anything for a long time."
Crowley pauses from leaning toward Bill at this and looks at her.
"Really? I thought I taught you to use a knife better. Delicate but firm. Do we need another lesson?" Sara sips the whiskey and toasts Crowley. Dean exudes disgust beside me.
"Bring your favorite scalpel and it's a date." Crowley nods and leans toward Bill again.
"Aren't you married?" The question hangs in the air from Jack's lips for a moment and then Crowley pauses. The slightest smile appears on his face as he stands up straight again. Bill grumbles. Sara smiles.
This was going to be interesting.
"What? Why? Crowley? What did you do-" Pain shoots through every atom as Crowley once again shuts everyone up, and waits. Sara picks up her pipe and puffs on it again. She takes in one long pull and sighs the smoke out.
"I Was. Until five years ago." Says Sara.
"I'm sorry for your loss." It was assumed that if you were a hunter and you lost someone, they died fighting the good fight. Sam, is so wrong.
"Don't be. He didn't die in the field and he was a dick. He deserved that death." She takes a sip of her own whiskey and rolls it around on her tongue, tasting it mingling with the remnants of the smoke.
"I… uh...excuse me?" Sara sighs and sets down the whiskey at Sam's confusion.
"He was cheating us, so Crowley ate him."
"HE WHAT?" Not that hard of a concept Dean. "But, why would she let him?!" Sam and Jack are having similar reactions.
"You… had Crowley Eat your husband because he was cheating on you?"
"What? No. Jesus Jack I'm not that petty. But when our hunts go wrong because he tells the monsters we are coming for a payoff…"
"Oh… oh."
"He Was also cheating on her. I gave him the full spa treatment in Hell."
"Do I wanna know what that means?" There are a couple of 'spa treatments.' I woke up to one on the first of those three days when Crowley showed me his true form for the first time. What he could do with those double bladed fingernails... For hours. And it just got worse from there. So much worse. Crowley takes a half second to enjoy the horror rolling off Dean and then continues.
"I would have killed him for either but-" Crowley pauses at the looks. "What? She's my niece, if any one cheats her it's go-" There is a grunt as Bill's patience reaches its limit and he silences Crowley with the promised kiss.
Both Sam and Jack freeze at the boldness but Sara just laughs.
"Get him Bill!"
"Gross. I can feel it!" Oh Dean, you poor sheltered man. At the first sign of disgust Crowley immediately leans into the kiss. "Oh gross gross gross I can feel tongue." Bill grunts but doesn't break the kiss. Dean squirms but soon enough it ends. As it does we both feel the slight weight of the echoed soul get added to Crowley's collection. Bill straightens and sighs, then sits and lays his head down on the table, shivering. Sara pours him a glass of moonshine and sets it beside him for when he recovers from the change.
"What's wrong with him?" Jack asks concerned.
"His dna is being re-written, rather painful." Jack nods at Crowley's comment, familiar with the feeling..
"I understand." The comment hangs for a moment before Crowley claps his hands together.
"If that is all gentlemen?" Sam immediately stands.
"You have my brother Crowley."
"And?" Sam swallows at Crowley's lack of concern.
"And give him back."
"Yeah 'Crowe'. Fight's over. You won, for now, so let me out."
"Why should I? You attacked me, without provocation on my part. I'd consider this just payment."
"Do you boys really need me here for this?" The group looks at Sara who is sipping her whiskey and puffing on the pipe. "When Bill is ready I'd like to help him to his car, see you out of my damn house, and then get back in my bath."
"Sara, darling. Yes." She sighs and puffs on the pipe harder. Crowley returns his gaze to Sam. "Now. What would you give me for him?"
"You're head not-"
"Calm wing boy. You're still in my house. Civil discussions or take it outside." Says Sara pointing the pipe at him again.
"That's a good idea." All three look at Crowley. "You want to fight. Let's fight. Set some betting terms, a location, and have a bit of fisticuffs between little golden eyes and myself."
"I agree." Sam immediately tries to intervene at Jack's comment.
"Jack, we don't know what-"
"Great. You win, you get Dean's soul here, and I will make up an official contract that says I will only take 100 souls a year, or it's equal in relation to population growth."
"I'd take that boys, get what we have in writing." Sara puffs and pats Bill on the back, who is still sitting with his head on the table surrounded in the darkness of his arms.
"Sure, but what do you get if you win Crowley?"
"I win, I get all members of your club free will to sign a contract that says you Won't interfere with my plans."
"No." Crowley rolls his eyes at Sam.
"Or I could keep Dean's soul. I think the contract is a better deal than certain death by digestion boys."
"No." Says Sam. Jack is silent.
"This doesn't work if you don't play ball boys. I need som-"
"You can have me." There is silence as Crowley turns slowly to look at Jack.
"Jack, don't-" Pain jolts through everything as Crowley shuts Dean up and looks at the nephilim, wondering what that amount of power would get him, and if he wanted that over a contract from the hardy boys. Sam however…
"Jack. No. If you lose Crowley will get-"
"I won't lose."
"He can't die Jack!"
"But I can send him to the Empty."
"You really can't angel boy. Especially not with your 'bro' as a passenger. Unless you don't care if he hitches a ride?" Jack's eyes flare.
"I will win." Oh boy. Sam swallows and intervenes.
"Ok, but define win first." Crowley smiles at Sam.
"Good little lawyer, sure you don't want a job?"
"Shove it Crowley." Sam pauses and thinks, his mind reaching back a very long way to his college years. "I'd like to define win as 'getting pushed out of the circle.'"
"No. I've always hated sumo." Sam swallows. "How about one of us dying, even for a second?"
"Fine."
"Jack, no. Jack. you can't do this, if you lose-"
"Sorry Crowe, but I gotta agree with Sam here, that's a bit too much power even if you are my uncle." Crowley looks at Sara.
"And if I were to use it to manifest you a pony?"
"Well then I'll sign a check and get a stable. No Crowe, it's a bit much."
"It isn't a bit much for sociopath golden boy over here?" Sara looks at Jack and nods.
"Point. But he's using it to heal plagues and shit you'd-"
"Use it to 'heal plagues and shit.' I rather like having humans around. I kind of need them in fact." Sam stares at Crowely. "Really Sam, it's in my best interest to keep you monkeys alive. No humans, no souls."
"You sick fuck." Crowley and I ignore Dean.
"So. Meet me in Purgatory in...I'll give you a week to prepare."
"Fine."
"Jack!"
"Let the boy make his own choices Sam. Now, Bill. Time to go." Crowley touches Bill who gasps and sits up. "Go see your wife Bill, tell her the dybbuk was delicious." Bill swallows and nods.
"Thanks Crowe. I'll, I'll tell her."
"Good man. Don't go eating anyone I wouldn't."
"There isn't anyone you wouldn't eat Crowley." Crowley inclines his head and gives that slight false frown of agreement to Bill as he stands and leaves. Crowley watches him before looking to Sara.
"Heat up that bath for you?"
"Crowley, what is going on? You're doing room service now?" Crowley slowly looks to Sam.
"Suck my red dick Sam, I don't need your approval."
"Woah! Red dick? What kinda messed up STI you got Crowe?" Crowley smiles slightly at Sara.
"Oh that's right, you missed the fabulous fight earlier. Moose and Squirrel here summoned up a lovely bit of my home turf for me to play on. So they got to see me. My pretty face, my arms, all four, my athletic-"
"And your happy bits flapping in the breeze? Lovely."
"Well, it certainly felt nice. Everything is all hot and dry down there. Fresh air, well, I always did like my kilt."
"I am particularly thankful you're not wearing one old man." Crowley turns to Sara and smiles.
"Is that what we're doing now? Flirting?"
"No. We're sitting and drinking while my bath gets cold."
Crowley snaps and some ingredients appear on the table. Grapefruit, honey, gin, tonic. Sam and Jack stare.
"Well, if that's what we're doing."
"I ain't making your fucking drink Crowe. It's complicated."
"Why don't you just...snap it?" Crowley looks at Sam and shakes his head.
"Sammy. All that sulfur residue you find where demons have been, well, it leaves an aftertaste. Why, you volunteering to make it for me?"
"Sure. Will you free my brother?" Says Sam in annoyance. Crowley pauses, then nods.
"'Sure'. Why not." The room is silent as everyone turns to look at Crowley.
"What." I just chuckle at the confusion. I have a feeling I know what is going on. I had been with him too long to not start seeing ideas and loopholes for him everywhere. Even if they weren't the ideas he ended up using… he wouldn't want his enemies to know the possibilities I'd thought of. That meant, he needed Dean out or I might spill something.
"Partially correct Chew Toy. After all, I have what I want. Besides Sam still has to actually make the drink correctly. And you know what, let's try the newest one in the line up." There is a snap and the ingredients vanish and are replaced with vodka, holy water, a syringe, port, and a small vial of red that isn't nearly enough for the drink. A piece of paper is rolled inside a very tall glass that sits to the side. "Try that one. It's called The Crowley, for apt reasons." Sam ignores the spread before him and stares in disbelief.
"You're just going to give him back? No. That's not the Crowley I know, even the one who saved the world."
"Saved the world. Exactly my point. You're my insurance policy. If there ever is an apocalypse I can't handle, I'll just throw you two at it. That usually seems to do the trick."
"I bet your girlfriend ain't happy about that." Everyone looks at Sara. "What?"
"Dragoness?"
"No, Sammy, she is not my girlfriend."
"You have a girlfriend Crowley?" Asks Jack.
"Yeah, seriously. You never had any serious relationships while we were alive."
"That you knew of Sam. And I don't have a girlfriend. I have an affair with benefits."
"Don't you need to have a main relationship to have an affair?" Everyone blinks at Jack's statement.
"Good point angel boy. I have a fuck buddy with benefits. She has agreed that in dire circumstances only, as in apocalypses that are changing how things should turn out, you boys will be let out to play. You changed the rules boys, books don't end when people die anymore."
"Wait...are you… Are you still in a relationship with Billie?"
"Yes. I am currently boning death. Now. Samual. Get to work while I go heat up my niece's bath and see if she boils."
"Oh no. I gave up on that bath as soon as this conversation started telling me shit I didn't know. I've read that book twice, this stuff, I haven't heard." Crowley smiles and nods at his niece.
"Good girl, I suppose I'll settle in myself." Crowley pulls out the chair beside Sam and sits looking at him expectantly. "Well? Do we have a deal?"
"There's gotta be a catch."
"Of course there is, I'm a demon. So far, it seems fairly straight forward. I'll even give Squirrel a body."
"Why not just get his old one?" Asks Sara as she puffs on the pipe.
"Because he ate it." Sara glances from Crowley to Sam and back.
"It was crunchy and tasted like flannel."
"And what does flannel taste like?" Asks Sara between sips and puffs.
"Regret mostly."
"How can you be so calm!?" Jack stands with yellow angry eyes glaring at the matriarch and the demon.
"Woah. Jack. We got a good thing goin. Don't mess it up."
"Jack. Sit down. We, we can get Dean back."
"He could have killed Dean already!"
"I haven't. I don't make deals I can't keep."
"You ate my sister!"
"You what?" Asks Sara with raised brows.
"Sara. I averted a cliche apocalypse. It doesn't have a name, that is how cliche it is. A demon inhabiting a human fucking an angel inhabiting a human."
"Oh! A new thing! I call naming dibs! Uh uh. Demel? Like demon angel? Angon? Uh..." Shut up Dean.
"Shut up Dean."
"Wait...Dean… is talking to you Crowley? Still?"
"He is trying to name the spawn I talked of."
"My sister." Crowley ignores Jack as if the glowing gold eyes didn't look like they wanted to immolate him. Jack could do so in an instant. And Crowley could explode Dean into tiny pieces just as fast.
"Well, he's trying to name it an angon. Or a demel."
"Uhm."
"A camphilim? A nephbion?" Everyone stares at Sara. "What? Naming stuff is fun."
"No. It's called a...cliche. So I killed it. Now Samuel. Have you read the ingredients and instructions yet? You realize I have complete control over what every soul I've imprisoned experiences? So, it's in your best interest to get this right, for Dean's sanity. Because I do have a few things to take care of this week, in Hell." Sam tenses and nods, taking the paper from the glass and unrolling it. "Good Moose. Now. Sara. What are you smoking?"
"Cherry." Crowley holds out his hand and Sara rolls her eyes but passes the pipe across the table to Crowley.
"Smoking is bad for you."
"So is being in the same room as a demon and a nephilim, yet here we are angel wings." Says Sara as Crowley sucks on the pipe. The tobacco makes the smoke thicker and white. The cherry flavor is faint but present. Without the threat of cancer it's quite pleasant.
"I still don't understand why you're doing this." Says Sam as he's reading the instructions and ingredients.
"Smoking a pipe?"
"Letting Dean go. Apocalypse averting aside, you have these guys, who seem more than capable."
"Nice to be told that by a Winchester."
"Well, you held me for a moment." Says Jack.
"Ed did that, but I'll hold you for a moment longer if you want." Both Crowley and Sam look up at this quickly while Sara winks at Jack who looks a bit confused by the sudden turn.
"No."
"My turn to agree with the enemy Sara. It's-"
"No one controls who puts their dick in me, but me. Ever. So you all can shut your faces. He's cute, and I think a one night stand would do him some good. He's about to explode." Jack blinks.
"I-"
"AnyWay." Says Sam trying to regain control of the conversation. "Crowley. Why? You know we are going to come after you if you take Jack or Dean. You've been through that with Bobby. "
"Darlings. Samual. Jack. Do you know why I rushed to your side to help so frequently?"
"Yeah I did kinda wonder about that…"
"Because when I did there was literally nothing else vaguely interesting happening."
"So, when you didn't come…"
"There was something interesting. So, if I ever end our very interesting ménage a trois there will be an audience to watch the break up and the resulting fallout. I like an audience."
"Ew."
"Uhm….Crowley. This drink…"
"I'll provide the final ingredient. I believe you can provide the rest."
"Crowley, this says-"
"If Chew Toy, who was not a hunter or a fighter, but just a mildly masochistic occasionally suicidal excuse for a human, can bloody her hand by cutting herself on a Hellhound's stomach to make me a drink, you can withstand a needle Moose." Dude. I try not to share stuff about you. C'mon. Not cool.
Sam blinks.
"She designed this drink? Is she…" Insane? Yeah. Almost every artist is a little bit insane.
"The Hell is wrong with you?" Lots of things. Mainly Crowley.
"She says yes Samuel, she is insane. Now. Are you going to make the drink, or not?"
"What's the big deal about this drink?" Sam sighs and passes the paper to Sara. "Oh gross. How does this even taste good? Doesn't it hurt?"
"She designed it specifically for me."
"Could someone please tell me why this drink is problematic?" Says Jack, quite miffed.
"Let me read you the ingredients angel wings. Vodka. Holy water. Fresh blood. Ruby Porto. Garnish with 1/118th of a soul."
"And this...Chew Toy designed it? Where is she? She must be a demon to design something like this. " Asks Jack.
"Currently? Floating a bit above Dean. And she's human."
"Wait. A human designed this? What kind of broken being would design a drink that uses souls?" Ow. Jeeze. I mean, he's right, but ow.
"The kind who volunteered to have her own picked apart so specific parts could be used in the drink."
"Why? That sounds more than mildly masochistic Crowley." Says Sam as he mixes up the vodka and the holy water.
"She thought it might keep me occupied for a century or two, away from torturing other souls. If I liked the drink enough, maybe I'd get drunk and spend an afternoon lazing about." Nooot quite what I was thinking. "Besides, she just likes to Make things for me." Crowley, fuck you. I like to make things, period.
"So wait, you made him this drink, because you wanted to make something? That's sick." Pot kettle black mister hunter. Like you didn't jump at the chance to come down here and fight. You love hunting, it's a part of you; well art is like that for me. I got the chance I took it. So shut the fuck up.
Sam pauses mixing the small vial of blood with a shot of port and looks up.
"Demons can't get drunk, Crowley."
"I can. Also that is too much port." Sam blinks.
"How do you know? How did you expect me to know? The only measurement on here is the soul part."
"I suppose you'll have to taste it."
Sara hits the table and laughs.
"Oh you sick fuck Crowley! Give me back my damn pipe. You ain't drinkin that concoction and then putting my pipe in your mouth." Crowley raises his brows in amusement but snaps the pipe into Sara's mouth. She frowns and takes it out, wipes the stem on her shirt, points it at the King of Hell. "Now tell me about this true form of yours. I don't wanna watch Mr scientist here fumble around drawing blood and mixing it with port and then sipping it."
"He's drunk demon blood darling, this is nothing new." Sam glares at Crowley but readies the syringe. "Ah. Try golden eyes over there, add a bit of kick to the drink. Little Jackie wants his brother back as well. He should contribute something."
"Leave him alone Crowley."
"I believe it's their choice, Squirrel."
Sam glares but Jack immediately looks at the syringe with glowing eyes and it fills with blood.
"Nicely done. Be sure to taste it Sam."
"You are one sick fuck."
"Yes, I am. I'm glad we know each other so well. Now-"
"Why are you doing this?" Crowley pauses and looks at Jack.
"You're joking right? He's joking." Asks Crowley looking at Sara and Sam.
"No. I understand the drink as a challenge he could fail to make, but why make him taste it, use my blood, make it an ordeal?" Sam's face tightens as he injects the blood into the port mixture and holds it up. Crowley watches him and then looks back to Jack.
"Jackie, this is a torture session. Every time I play this game with the Winchester's it's a torture session. Almost every time we meet it's a torture session for someone. Payback for all the times they betrayed me."
"Don't I Know it."
"It's how I show love."
"It's how you have fun Crowe."
"That too. Well, that mainly. Drink up Sammy." Sam sneers at Crowley but adds a bit more port and regards the glass again, steeling himself. Crowley turns away as if it is unimportant. "Now. My true form. Over 20 feet now. Red gray skin. Lovely long legs that would make any car stop if I needed a ride. No feet despite having three points to touch the ground with, they are just as nice as any high heels I've seen."
"Fat." Crowley frowns and points at Jack.
"I have five stomachs, they need to go somewhere."
"What are you, a mutant cow?" Crowley looks angrily at Sara and then pauses.
"That's apt." He pauses and watches as Sam finally takes a sip, his eyes scrunched close and tensed, expecting a bad taste. His eyes open and he blinks.
Not bad, right?" I'm good at what I do, took a lot of practice and some really bad tasting stuff, but I got pretty good at mixing drinks. I remember I used to enjoy it, I think I'd like to do it again… I think. None of my drinks sound particularly appetizing now for some reason; Crowley's does though.
"Chew Toy wants to know what you think Sam." Sam swallows and pauses.
"It's...it's not bad."
"Not bad? Samual, you wound me. I let her name the drink after me, so it's brilliant, and you haven't even finished making it yet."
"And you made this for Crowley?" Yeah. "Can you do that for anyone?" I'm not a drink designer for people, making their perfect drink on command... but… I can try. Let's see...bloody mary, with ba- I am coursed through with pain and shifted away from Dean.
"Chew Toy, don't go bringing up memories better left forgotten."
Silence from the table cuts the air as conversation stops.
"Crow-"
"Shhh." He holds up a finger. "You keep almost slipping Chew Toy." I sigh mentally, tired suddenly. I have no idea what I can and can't say, if a fucking Drink recipe that has...Oh. Ok. Bacon. "Exactly."
"Crowley, what's going on?" Asks Sam, finally unable to bear the half silence.
"A private discussion. Continue your science project Sammy. I want that ready soon."
Just put me in another place for a bit Crowley. Crowley sighs but aquesces and goes over my thoughts now that they are away from Dean.
"What is going on Crowley?!"
"Quiet. What's it called Chew Toy?" I… don't know. Figuring out that recipe kinda...wore me out for some reason. Maybe...The morning after a midnight hunt. "Too long Chew Toy." Fine. Uhm. God this is hard for some reason. Uhm...Baby's Breakfast Bane. "Good enough."
"What's good enough? Crowley?"
"It's driving you insane, only being able to hear half the conversation, isn't it?" Sam swallows.
"Crowley. I don't understand this… this game! This lie!"
"What lie? Moose, you haven't been sampling too much of my drink have you?"
"No! Crowley, this this nice nature, I-"
"Moose, all pitchforks and no play make Crowley a bored demon. I'm your average demonic proto god. I watch TV. I read books. Torture a few thousand souls. I make conversation and put on my pants one ...well I guess I do snap those on. Still, did you ever sit down and talk to me when the world wasn't ending or you weren't trying to kill me? No. You don't know who I am, so don't say I'm acting out of character. I have a life outside of you, as hard as that is for you to fathom, although much of it was preparing for your next attempt on my life."
"Wait...what?"
Crowley huffs out a single laugh.
"Boys, you are the most annoying allies I have. We want the same thing, but you disapprove of everyone's methods but your own. Even when I try to play nice."
"Crowley, you've been-"
"So, you want to fight me over my methods, fine, but don't be a hypocrite. You put a few thousand souls in a bomb, what did you think would happen to those? Sam, don't make me bring out the heavy guns. What I would have done to you during that fight, nothing compared to what I can do here. Because I will use sticks, stones, and words to break every bone in your body and leave you twitching. And that's nothing compared to what I can do with Dean's damaged ego. Don't. Test. Me." Crowley snarls then leans back, head loose and feigning tiredness. He sits a moment then exhales, a white light coalescing in his hand, a small bit of soul. "So, finish my drink." Sam swallows as Jack's eyes flare gold in anger. Sara is ignoring the whole conversation, having gone through it 40 years ago and been satisfied with the result. She leans back and puffs on her pipe, mimicking Crowley's actions almost exactly with the smoke. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps not.
Sam takes a deep breath and takes the syringe, ready to inject the contents into the layered drink.
"So, you're red and got four arms? What other freaky shit you got?" Everyone blinks and looks at Sara. "What? I don't give a shit about this. I wanted to hear about Crowley's demon form before all you got distracted and in a huff." Sam laughs lightly in disbelief, shaking his head as he goes back to finishing the drink.
"Yes darling, I am red, a light red gray. I have a lovely second mouth right in my chest. Why don't you come to-"
"Nah. Nope. Don't wanna see it. Not until you get a kilt Crowe."
"Your loss."
"It's done." Everyone looks at Sam. The drink is almost finished, the red port sinks in the vodka and water, while the blood disseminates, whisping about the drink like the edges of smoke. It's an eerie visual, but it's not done yet. With a wave Crowley has the drink in his hand. Without looking he crushes the bit of soul in the other and drops it into the drink. Everyone shudders as the sparkling bits fall like stars through the liquid.
Once, he had required contracts to do that, now...Now it's a skill he could use at will. Still only to damaged souls… but terrifying nonetheless. There were still some things he needed a contract for-
"Now now Chew Toy. Don't go voiding your contract. As long as Dean doesn't pry, everyone should be fine." I sigh, I was back next to Dean and I hadn't even noticed.
"Don't pry? You still got secrets?"
"Of course I have secrets. I-"
"But Bobby told us-"
"Bobby told you what I said he could tell you Sammy. He's under contract. And before you ask, not with me, with Dragoness. That contract is the only reason I cannot, yet, destroy whole human souls. So thank him for that. Now, sláinte." Crowley holds up the drink and sips. He pauses, and nods. He snaps and Dean appears next to him; whole, unmarred, clothed, and with a soul. Dean shakes his head startled, looking around and patting himself down.
"How… how did you?"
"I had all the ingredients. Well most. Sorry but you might be a few pounds lighter… might even be going a bit more bald than before Dean." Dean freezes and holds up a finger.
"I am not… I am not going bald."
"Sure darling. Keep telling yourself that."
"How do you feel Dean?" Asks Sam standing up and tentatively touching his brother's shoulder.
"I...I feel dirty."
"Well you were in-"
"Crowley, I swear to god if you finish that sentence..."
"Don't be so sensitive, Squirrel."
"Sensi-. Sensitive? I just spent over 72 hours in your freakin gut smoke stuff. I'm allowed to be fuckin sensitive!"
"Very well." Crowley holds up the drink and offers some to Dean. "Do you want-"
"No I don't want some of your gross demon drink!" Oh Dean. Crowley shrugs.
"Well. Don't say I didn't give you the chance."
"Uh, Dean. You-" it's too late, Crowley toasts the group and downs it. Sam swallows and tenses as the shining glittering drink vanishes.
Jack stands to try to do something and Sara draws her song shot pistol...Crowley sets the glass down with a clink and nods.
"See you in a week, I'll give angel wings his tonic then. Bye boys."
"Crowe, don't-" And with a snap they're gone. "Oh thank god I thought you were gonna leave them here." Sighs Sara.
"Darling, and let them poison your beautiful mind against me?"
"Crow, you poisoned my mind at 19, ain't nothing changing that." Crowley smiles.
"Good girl. Here's your treat." He snaps and she vanishes. Where?
"In the bath, as promised. Now, let's go prepare for a fight."
