Chapter title is from song by Loveless.

76

A Gift to the World - Loveless

They were halfway across Arizona when Cas/Hannah suddenly sat bolt upright in the back, eyes glowing, filling the interior of the Impala with a blaze of light and wings.

"Something's wrong."

"HEY!" He hung on to the wheel by the skin of his teeth, one hand trying to brush a flurry of incorporeal feathers and fluff out of his eyes. "Hannah, stop. STOP. You're not doing any good bolting off into the middle of it."

Grace bright eyes turned to him, and he had to squint against the burn of it.

"They've been caught." For an angel, she sounded distraught.

"The Scoobies?" Sam asked.

"Eliam. Joanna. Jacob, and my vessel Annabelle. I have to…"

"No, you don't. Hate to break it to you, sister, but those combo-platter white smoke things are stronger than you now, remember? All you're going to do by going there is handing Cas to them on a silver platter."

The brightness subsided with a disgruntled puff, and Cas was Cas again.

"Cas?"

"Hurry, Dean. We have to get to them before," Cas broke off, Cas' face pale with what he'd guess were some pretty awful memories. "Before…"

He floored it.

The last thing he expected when he walked into the dimly lit bar was Crowley.

Crowley teleported himself across the room and seized on to his jacket with both hands.

"Make. It. Stop." Crowley grit out between clenched teeth.

Dean jerked back, away from Crowley, because Crowley was … a plume of white smoke. Only, not really? He straightened, then squinted, because the red smoke that was Crowley was dusted all over with disco bright flecks of light, twisted through with a shadow of something else, something that vanished when he tried to see.

Almost negligently Crowley threw up a hand, and the ear-splitting whine from across the room that was Hannah reclaiming her vessel was muted.

Beside him Sam stared at Crowley, because that was way more mojo than Crowley should have.

"They said this would work." Crowley jabbed an angry finger at the gaggle of angels clustered at the other side of the bar. "I was doing the thing you told me to do, when I ran across this lot…" Crowley glared at the Scoobies, Eliam and Joanna and Jacob, "…wandering the desert. I should have left them there."

"Crowley, what the hell are you talking about?" Sam interjected.

Crowley threw up his hands.

"When they offered a power boost, who could turn it down? We were all on the run. This way, we could all hide in plain sight. Win-win for everyone. I could move around freely, passing myself as one of them, and the Eye of Hope would pass us by."

Sam looked to him in confusion. Zee raised an eyebrow.

"He's the 'white smoke' we were detecting." Cas growled. "They," Cas pointed at Eliam and company, "gave him angel blood. It allowed him to pass for one of the Fallen."

Dean's jaw dropped. Crowley snarled.

"They said it wouldn't do anything bad. They lied. This grace…it's like HIVES. It's ITCHY."

Dean looked across the room at Cas' Scooby gang then back at Crowley.

"And that's why you've hiding them from Ramiel? Maybe even looking out for them?"

Crowley scowled and set his jaw. "If word of this ever got out…"

Dean snorted. Yeah. No shit.

"How'd you agree to this anyway?"

Crowley released him abruptly and threw up both hands. "It seemed." Crowley drew out the word and glared across the room at Eliam. "like a good idea at the time. A grace-full power up." Crowley narrowed eyes at him. "But power-ups never work out as advertised, do they?"

Dean grimaced, careful not to touch the Mark on his arm.

"This is why." Crowley turned and pointed an accusing finger across the room. "We have contracts. Terms. Stipulations. Fine print. That's where you tuck the caveats. Pre-conditions. Like how to break a spell that can't be reversed. How to…"

And Crowley clamped his lips together in a sharp stop, but not sharply enough for Sam, who crowded in aggressively.

"What did you just say?"

He had to hand it to Crowley, the angelically innocent look Crowley had perfected.

"Me? Nothing."

"The spell, Crowley." Sam's voice dipped, angry. "The fine print. You just said Metatron's spell could be broken. You told us the spell couldn't be reversed. But it can be broken."

Crowley's eyes got wider and he clamped his lips together tighter, shaking his head.

Sam turned to him.

He looked at Crowley narrowly, at the frantic, silent NOs Crowley was trying to glare him into accepting.

"Crowley? What didn't you tell us?"

He could compel Crowley to spill. He knew this. By his side Zee shifted, her fingertips just brushing the skin of his wrist. Crowley's eyes dropped to the movement, followed it back up to Zee beside him, lingered on Zee's anti-telekinesis hex, before Crowley looked back to him.

"I want it on the record I said this is a bad idea. An extremely bad idea."

Sam glared.

"Fine. Metatron's spell can be broken. Broken. Not reversed." Crowley over-enunciated each word. "As in, no putting Humpty Dumpty back together again, you understand. No shoving this lot back upstairs, except for the old fashioned, earn-your-virtue way." Crowley glared at the gaggle of angels across the room. "And from what I've seen, that might take a while."

Dean waited.

"Just remember, don't come crying to me when we're stuck with these wingless monkeys." Crowley scratched balefully at the back of his neck and scowled. "To break Metatron's spell, you'll need to neutralize the ingredients. One. Retrieve the grace of one angel." Crowley pointed at Cas. "Check. Two. Unstring Cupid's Bow." Crowley's gaze flitted over them again, right to left. "Never did like the wanker. Don't worry about him. Third. Heart of a nephilim."

Crowley paused.

"Look. I didn't know this was even going to be possible, okay? When you first asked me, I didn't know Dean here would go hulk up with the bloody Mark of Cain. You can't destroy a Nephilim heart. Especially not now, with the Book open. It's theoretically impossible. The power that would require…" Crowley studied him warily. "Are you sure you want to go testing the Mark, Squirrel?"

Make it burn. It echoed in his ears, in his eyes, a red hot flavor on his tongue. If he held out his hand now it would be fire, and he could see understanding or even pity in Crowley's oddly solemn face. His feet were at the edge of the abyss, and all that was keeping him in check was the touch of Zee's fingers on his wrist.

"Why?" It figured that Sam would have to ask. When Crowley didn't answer, Sam tried again. "Why can't you destroy a Nephilim heart?"

Crowley's gaze jogged up to Sam, considering, before Crowley heaved a sigh.

"Look. Where do the Nephilim come from?"

Sam squinted. "The Fallen."

"And what destroys the Fallen?"

"The Firs… " Sam cut off mid-word. "No. Absolutely not."

"Then you'd better get used to the New Normal, Moose. Because this, " Crowley gestured expansively around him, at the messed up world beyond the walls, "is what you've got."