Chapter Twenty
Guilt Trips and Glenfiddich
December 26, 2009
Crowley groaned and rolled over trying to ignore the ringing in his head. He vaguely recalled being four bottles deep into his prized whiskey collection, but everything else was a blur. Well, everything but why he was drinking in the first place. Why would Azrial ever give him the peace of mind to get drunk without being part of the damn problem?
A tiny huff from his side caused Crowley to shoot up as he stumbled out of the bed. The body still in it didn't move, clearly exhausted as it curled deeper into the sheets. Crowley hissed as his head did a winning impression of a maraca before settling down once more. His dark eyes ran over the feminine form in the bed. She had mossy dark brown, almost black hair, and pale skin. Nothing impressive, and the sex certainly hadn't been worth the energy either. He scanned the room and found his clothes haphazardly tossed over a chair, and Crowley took a deep breath. He'd been wasted, on single malt whiskey no less, and clearly shacked up with the first warm body that was willing.
"Damnit."
He exhaled the word as he quickly dressed, not even bothering to fully button his shirt. He needed to be underground, not-
"Where the hell am I?"
Crowley sighed as he rubbed his temple and pulled back the shitty blinds to look outside. How did he end up in a Motel? He was never drinking that much single malt again. This reminded him too much of the night he died, and his utter lack of memories from that moment beyond being so so close to getting laid one last time by an utterly flirtatious drunk woman.
"You leaving, good looking?"
The twinge of Brooklyn accent had Crowley turning to the woman who was looking at him curiously. She'd sat up, not bothering to cover her chest as she stretched her arms.
"I was."
"That's good. I have to head to work. Don't worry," she winked, and Crowley realized she had icy grey-blue eyes that made him do a double-take. "I'll take care of the room."
Crowley watched cautiously as the woman crawled out of bed and grabbed her jeans and t-shirt. Somehow he expected an attack, it was her eyes he thought mutely, but she never did. She simply headed toward the bathroom and gave a slight wave.
"Well, see ya. Hope you work shit out with that girlfriend of yours."
The bathroom door shut just as he raised his hand to incinerate the woman, but he sighed and dropped his arm. No need to draw attention. Best just to leave and forget this whole string of whiskey induced bullshit. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
No missed calls. Zero messages.
With an annoyed hiss, he vanished from the rundown motel room and appeared in one of his lesser frequented hideouts. Painfully cold air was leaking through the poorly insulated cabin, and Crowley absentmindedly snapped his fingers to light the fireplace as he dropped his jacket onto the ratty recliner. The smell of whiskey still clung to his body, and it was an irritating reminder of what had occurred. He fell back onto the chair and tried to ignore the bone-breaking migraine.
You did this to yourself.
The tiny voice, certainly not his self-preservation, whispered in the back of his mind.
"She did this. Should have just let me die."
Great. Now he was talking to himself. He hadn't felt this crazy since he'd first crawled out of Hell centuries ago.
Yet you're all alone now. No friends. No allies. A death sentence on your head.
Crowley growled and shook his head. Demons didn't have friends.
"I like to think we're friends, Crowley."
He pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled Azrial's parting words three years ago. Friends. She, an archangel, had called them friends with far more affection than he'd heard in a long time. Even if he felt he had no friends, she obviously didn't. What did it matter though? He'd finally gotten rid of her. Finally.
And now you're all alone. Congratulations, Mother would be proud.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Crowley focused on the alcohol still lingering in his system in a vain attempt to forcefully get rid of it. If he was thinking about his Mother, this had gone too far. "She wasn't even that good in bed. Alone is far better, and far safer."
Is it though?
Crowley paused at that thought. He hated the regret that tried to crawl into his mind, but in this case, the question was worth asking. Was he safer with Azrial gone? In some ways, he was, and in others, he was so royally boned. If he were Azrial though, he'd have let him die. It was nothing personal, but Lucifer's death was more important than one person. Or it had been. Self-preservation seemed at war with the fear and unexpected pain he'd felt when she'd fallen.
She's not you.
And that was it, wasn't it? That's why he was struggling so much. He'd have let her die to further his goals, not realizing the cost until it was too late, and she'd give her life to honor their agreement.
Their Deal.
Not that the humans knew, or ever would know, that such a thing existed.
"Enough. She's gone."
He growled the words, and the blissful silence allowed him to shut his eyes. She was gone and that was the end of it. At least, that's what he told himself.
Line Break
Gabriel walked into his dimensional hideout to see his sister spread out on his couch in a pair of sweats and a worn t-shirt nursing a pint of Ben & Jerry's. His brows creased at the B rated action flick she was watching, and wondered why she seemed relatively at ease. She'd been an emotional wreck when she'd shown up three days ago. It seemed to be from her injuries and a jarring wake up, but he couldn't know for sure because Azrial wouldn't tell him. He made his way over to her and flopped onto the couch. She huffed scooting her feet out from behind him and dropping them uncaringly on his lap. The smell of sugar hit his nose, and he grinned seeing the marshmallows and chocolate and nabbed the pint from her mid scoop.
"Hey!"
The objection was muffled around a spoon full of pure sugar, and Gabriel ignored his sister in favor of materializing a spoon. He got the ice cream onto the spoon and in his mouth just as a fuzzy sock-clad foot was shoved against his cheek making him gag slightly.
"Get your own ice cream. Can't you see I'm busy?"
The lack of heat in Azrial's annoyed question made Gabriel snort and he shoved her foot away. She didn't try to wrestle the pint back, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Despite himself, he reached out one of his overly large wings to rest over her. It didn't matter if it remained in the astral realm, the effect was immediate and it was satisfying to see the minute tension melt from her back.
"What are you so busy with?"
The question was asked as he felt a wing reaching back and his lips twitched in response. Azrial didn't pull her eyes away from the TV as she responded.
"Plotting."
"Sounds ominous."
He frowned at the hum from his sister. Her fingers tapped her knee, and she added softly.
"I think I may have an idea on how to deal with Michael."
It felt like a lead weight dropped into his stomach, and Gabriel scrambled for a subject change. The only thing that came to mind may be just as dangerous though.
"How do you think Crowley is handling you up and leaving? He was rather-"
Gabriel's teasing comment was cut off by Azrial's laugh. She took another scoop of ice cream before casually answering.
"Do you want the honest answer or the one that makes it seem like I thought through sleeping with him?"
"The fact you have two different answers is very concerning."
Azrial snorted at his observation and poked him with her foot again. He batted her away with a smirk.
"Be honest with me, Sis. Can't be any worse than the shit I've pulled."
Azrial hummed and seemed to consider his words. The silence stretched on though, and she seemed to be lost in thought until he tapped her knee.
Azrial shook her head and sighed, "I'm sure he's fine. Feeling a bit paranoid and hiding out somewhere I couldn't easily get to, but fine."
"Does that bug you? I mean-"
His question was cut off by a sharp laugh, and Azrial's face pinched slightly with pain. It was gone a moment later as her laughter died down.
"Bug me? No. I knew what I was getting into. He's a demon, Gabriel, and to forget that would be a mistake. I certainly didn't sleep with him thinking anything more than sexual pleasure was being exchanged."
Gabriel bit his tongue as he watched Azrial's eyes carefully. She could hold a wonderful poker face, but her eyes could give her away in a second. They shined with something he couldn't place though. Bitterness? No. There was no malice there, but then what? She raised an eyebrow at him and Gabriel coughed.
"Well, was the sex at least good?"
Her laughter this time was genuine, and Gabriel watched it light up her face with a sigh of relief. As much as he hated it, it was time to focus. Maybe it was because the distraction failed miserably, but now the original topic seemed far safer.
"So," he began easily. "You have a plan for our big bro?"
The laughter died, and Azrial mirrored his seriousness as she sat up fully.
"I do, and I think we may be able to put a stop to this once and for all."
He sat up straighter at the confidence in her voice even as he tried not to get his hopes up. There may be two of them now, but they still had three siblings lusting for the end days like virgins at bandcamp. Still, maybe they had a shot. Maybe.
Line Break
December 28, 2009
Bobby stiffened and pulled his gun aiming it before the being fully appeared. He stared for several moments before slowly lowering the gun and sat back down glaring slightly.
"So you're alive?"
"Don't sound so disappointed, Singer."
He huffed and eyed the archangel. There was something off about her, and she seemed to be looking around his study with a distracted curiosity.
"Why the hell you here, princess?"
Azrial snorted but didn't turn back to him. There were two packages clutched in her hands, and she gripped them tightly at his words. Bobby wondered what the angel was playing at. It was the middle of the night, and she'd chosen a moment when all three boys were absent to show up. Why?
"You gonna answer me, or just stand there all night?"
"I need a favor."
Bobby stared for several long seconds waiting for the inevitable punchline. Azrial simply turned toward him with blank eyes and raised an eyebrow at his lack of response.
"And why should I do you a favor?"
Annoyance dripped off his question, and the emotionless facade cracked as Azrial's lips fell into a tight line. She walked forward, setting both packages on the desk, and leaned forward.
"Because Dean would be dead right now if it weren't for me."
Bobby stiffened at the flat response. There was no malice, just a matter-of-fact commentary on what had occurred. In a way, that was far worse than her maliciously holding it over his head.
"Beyond that," she sighed, and finally removed her hand from the packages and pushed the smaller one toward him, "I'm not in the business of asking something for nothing."
He frowned, but slowly pulled the basic brown wrapping off the package. His eyes narrowed on the aged leather holding the hand-sewn book together. The cover was blank and he carefully opened it and found himself staring blankly at the first page.
"This isn't real."
"Oh, ye of so little faith."
Azrial's amused exhale didn't help him tear his eyes away from the text that now lay on his desk. He had the urge to call Rowen just to clarify that while this text had existed, it was definitely destroyed centuries ago. Azrial leaned forward and tapped his nose making the hunter yank his gun off the desk and shove more distance between them than there had been before. She seemed bored and tapped a finger against the text with a knowing smile. Bobby glared, looking between the archangel and the literal gold mine now sitting on his desk with distrust.
"What the hell are you playing at?"
He growled the question and Azrial snorted. "I need a favor. Wasn't that clear?"
"You can't bribe me into helping you, princess. Take the book and leave."
He wasn't going to be tempted by a damn angel. Couldn't these overpowered bastards stay in their own lane? Azrial looked crestfallen at his refusal but didn't pick up the book. Instead, she stood up and seemed to lose every bit of her teasing nature as her hand rested on the other unopened package.
"Robert," he froze at her use of his first name but didn't stop glaring. "The favor is simple. You may not even have to do it. More importantly, it will keep those three trouble makers of yours far away from Michael and Lucifer."
Damnit. Bobby shut his eyes and finally groaned moving back to his desk and sitting down. He gently shut the book and turned his attention toward the serious angel.
"What do you want?"
She tapped the other package and calmly responded, "If I don't come to pick this up by the second of the New Year I need you to give it to Crowley."
"Do I look like a damn delivery boy to you?"
He expected his snapped question to be met with a laugh, but Azrial simply stared him down.
"You look like whatever your family needs you to be, Robert Singer. We have that in common."
Bobby bit his tongue. He hated that she was right, but he wasn't doing this without knowing the reason why.
"Why not do it yourself?"
"If I don't come back by the second I won't be coming back at all."
The words were said with such conviction, and it took Bobby a moment to realize what she meant. It was none of his business. None of his-
"And you can't just give it to the bastard now?"
Damnit. He didn't want to get involved. So she was going off to do something stupid, his boys did that all the time. He took in her somber mood and realized the difference. She had no hope whereas his boys seemed to be made of it.
"I don't know where he is currently, and I don't have time to go looking for him."
"Trouble in paradise?"
The question rolled off his tongue and Azrial looked away with a careless shrug. "We aren't attached at the hip, you know. I didn't know what he was up to for three years. That's not the point though," her eyes swerved back to him. "Do we have a deal?"
Deal. What a loaded word coming from her. His eyes fell to the book in thought.
"It's real?"
"From my personal collection."
Bobby sighed and looked back up at the archangel, "I'll do it."
Azrial smiled. It didn't reach her eyes but took away some of the darkness that clung to her.
"Lovely. The only other thing I ask is that you keep the Winchesters and Castiel as far from the Adirondacks as possible on the 30th. Can you do that?"
She didn't even have to ask. He didn't want those three anywhere near the shit show that was likely to follow Azrial. It didn't hurt that the boys were already westbound as it was. He gave a small nod and she sighed in relief.
"You have my thanks." She tugged a business card out of her pocket and placed it on the package. Azrial bit her lip looking at it for several moments before turning away with a half-wave, "I'll get out of your hair then."
Bobby watched her vanish from sight, and as soon as she was gone grabbed his cell phone. It was late, but hopefully, Rowen was still awake. The phone was barely on its third ring when the man picked up.
"Bobby? Is something wrong?"
The man's tired voice had Bobby looking back toward the book. "What can you tell me about the Gospel of Eve?"
Several seconds of silence before Rowen laughed quietly. "That it was destroyed. It doesn't exist anymore. Was lost sometime between the third and fourth century."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
Bobby flipped through the pages carefully and stared at the book on his desk. Rowen made a sound of annoyance and asked, "Bobby, it's late. What's going on?"
"An archangel just barged in and handed me the Gospel of Eve."
Silence. Bobby moved the phone away just in time for Rowen's shout to echo over the phone.
"WHAT?"
Line Break
December 29, 2009
Dean huffed as he pulled into the newest crappy motel for the night. Sam was barely awake in the back seat, and Castiel had been silent since they left Bobby's. Dean would pay a fortune to find out what had his friend so contemplative.
"Well kids, we're here. Everyone out."
Sam grunted as he slowly woke up, and Castiel shook his head and slowly stretched his neck as he got out of the car. Dean was about to tell them to hang out here while he got a room when a smooth voice interrupted them.
"Well, hello boys. Aren't you a hard lot to find?"
Dean spun around and had his gun cocked and aimed at the demon before his half-awake companions managed to do the same. Crowley had his hands up in a clear sign of peace, but Dean didn't lower his gun. The demon looked worn down, and far less put together than normal. Dean couldn't help but be a smartass, especially given his last experience with the uptight bastard.
"Lookin' a bit shabby their, Crowley. Your girlfriend stop setting out your clothes?"
The demon growled but didn't overtly respond to the insult. There was an air of mourning that clung to him, and the demon huffed.
"You wouldn't understand fashion if it bit you on the arse, Squirrel. May I recommend you idiots get out of the open? We're all on the most wanted list."
Dean hated that he found himself relaxing, but he couldn't keep a gun pulled on the demon in an open parking lot. Castiel was a quick enough draw that it shouldn't matter much anyway. He holstered his gun and leaned against Baby and stared Crowley down.
"Azrial's dead, isn't she? That's why you're here. You need a new hidey-hole."
It was a lie. Sam had mentioned Gabriel's flyby on Christmas, but he wanted to know if what the Trickster said was true. Crowley's blank eyes stared back at him before he snorted. A moment later a dark chuckle broke through the demon's hand as he rubbed his face.
"Not that I care, but she's fine. I'm surprised she hasn't come rushing to check on Feathers."
Dean shot Castiel a look and wasn't surprised by the momentary relief that flashed through his eyes. Neither Gabriel nor Crowley were trustworthy, but if they were agreeing on something it was likely true. Sam snorted, and Dean shot his brother a warning look but it was ignored as his brother rolled his eyes.
"Oh, you don't care?" Sam questioned, and Dean slowly unholstered his gun as Crowley tensed. "So that's why you ran off with her? Right. Makes perfect sense."
His little brother was in top form with bitchface #3 proudly on display. Crowley tilted his chin and somehow managed to look down on them despite being the shortest one in the parking lot.
"Think you know me, Moose?"
The challenge was clear, and Dean shot a look around the empty motel parking lot for cameras. This could get messy, and it would be hard enough to hold his brother back without having to cover the scene up.
"I think," Sam began with a tight smile as he eyed Crowley. "You're either lying about not caring, or you're being honest. If it's the latter, and let's be honest how can't it be, then you're as worthless as the rest of the demons running around."
Dean blinked at the venom dripping off Sam's voice and shot Castiel a worried look. Betray me once shame on me apparently, because Sam didn't seem keen for a second go with demonkind. Crowley's lips curled into a predatory smile and lifted his hand. Casy drew his blade, but it was too late as they were thrown several feet back by the demon.
"Worthless? No. Now as cold-blooded," Crowley paused and smirked at them. "No, even then I far surpass most demons. Take my advice or don't, boys. The world's about to go up in flames, and I don't intend to burn with it."
Dean pulled himself to his feet, but Crowley had already vanished. He huffed and rubbed his sore shoulder as he shot Sam a dirty look.
"Nice going, Samantha. Just piss off the powerful demon who could snap our necks."
"Bite me, Dean. I didn't say anything the two of you weren't thinking. Let the bastard rot."
Dean sighed and turned to Castiel, and the angel slowly nodded in agreement with Sam.
"I agree. We tried working with him. Moving forward, we would be better off making our own plans."
Dean grunted and slowly walked to the trunk pulling it open to grab his bag as he mulled over the situation. He tossed Sam his bag and grabbed Castiel's as he shut the trunk.
"Can't say either of you is wrong, but what happens if the bastard ends up having a solution again?"
Sam shouldered the bag as they made their way toward the motel office, and Castiel carefully fielded the question.
"Then we can reopen this discourse. For now, his one ace," the air quotes Castiel did make Dean snort. "Walked out. Crowley has nothing to offer us."
Dean nodded as he waved for them to wait outside, but added as a final thought.
"Just remember the world is burning. I'd love to go back to the days of shoot first, ask questions later, but right now we need all the intel we can get."
His brother and Castiel both gave begrudging nods and Dean sighed in relief as he stepped into the motel office with a charming smile. He hated to be the one to play devil's advocate, but someone had to and his family was far too biased to it right now. Hopefully, that bias didn't come back to bite any of them.
Author's Note:
There are now two chapters left in this story. The sequel is just about ready to start posting so stay tuned for more information on that. Thanks to all those who have read the story thus far.
Cassandra
