Cht 8
Sterling once again stood facing Crowley in the mirror. The Winchesters had secured the blade at an undisclosed location and were not telling Crowley or Nate, just in case Crowley could weasel it out of him. In the meantime, they were on their way back to Boston where they wanted to personally exorcise Crowley from Sterling's body, or at least witness his departure. They would be arriving within minutes.
For Sterling's part, however, he was a bit hesitant after learning all he had about the man. He no longer thought of him as a demon, the darkness had ebbed to a murky grey that he had a feeling his own soul mirrored. There was so much insight into Crowley that Sterling felt almost that Crowley was a part of him and did not know how he would go on not knowing what would happen to him.
Crowley himself wondered where he would go. The day before, he blipped back to the throne room only to tell Guthrie good luck. He was abdicating, he said, and the whole pit could go to pot for all he cared. Let someone else worry. "Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown," he muttered softly as he traipsed through the halls to the sound of screams echoing off the stones.
Now he stood, facing Sterling in the mirror, the man whose life he had assumed for days and he felt a pang of both regret and jealousy. Sterling had both a career and friends. Crowley no longer had even a purpose, and definitely no friends. He could go back to the crossroads, he supposed. That did not hold any glamor for him there. He had already reigned as king of the crossroads and had done it well. Been there, done that. He still felt compelled, he thought with an uneasy shrug of his shoulders, to be Dudley bloody Do Right. He was not a nice person, he fully admitted, but grudgingly admitted now at least to himself, he wanted to be a good person. Bugger it.
"Can we talk?" Sterling's reflection said.
"Sure, why not," Crowley answered glumly.
The Winchesters arrived and Crowley decided he just may as well get down to it. He sat himself down in a chair, or sat Sterling's body down in a chair rather, and with the Winchesters keeping a close eye, he smoked right out and drifted away. Nate, who had promised to attend, rubbed a hand over his face and left the room, clearly unnerved by what he had seen. He too, in his own way, had formed a grudging attachment to Crowley.
For the Winchesters, just seeing the scarlet smoke drift away was nowhere near enough. Sam hastily drew an anti-possession sigil on Sterling's upper left arm and Dean urged him to get it tattooed on as soon as possible to keep Crowley—or any other demon for that matter—from being able to possess him again. They pointed out that Nate may want to do the same, as the other man stepped quietly back into the room and sat down facing Sterling.
"How are you feeling?" he asked his old friend.
"Fine, mate," Sterling replied with a sigh. "Just fine."
It was a strangely somber scene as the Winchesters packed up what little they had brought and left, the devil's trap by the door had long since been cleared up. The men shook hands, gave awkward one-armed hugs, and promised to keep in touch should either of them ever need the others' services. Both knew they never would.
"Good-bye boys," Nate said softly, as Sam closed the door behind them on the way out. Nate and Sterling, who had both been eyeing the door as the boys left, gave it a minute before they went to the balcony and watched the boys pull away in the street below.
"I suppose they're gone then mate," Sterling said first.
"I suppose they are."
And with that, they walked back into the apartment, closing the French doors behind them. Sterling rolled his sleeve back up, licked his finger, and rubbed some of the ink off, smearing the sigil. The minute they sat back down, scarlet smoke erupted from Nate's mouth and siphoned its way back into Sterling's. He resettled himself in the seat and his eyes flashed once. Nate looked at the man expectantly.
"Thanks ever so much boys," Crowley replied. "You won't regret this."
"Like I said before Crowley," Nate said gravely, "if I ever do, it's a priest, the Winchesters, or I'll find a way to kill you myself."
"Understood," Crowley nodded.
"You help Sterling with his cases, and help me and my team, and we don't say a word. The minute Sterling wants you gone, you're gone, no excuses, tricks or cons."
"None whatsoever."
"Deal?"
Crowley smiled sardonically, one side of his mouth quirking up. He cocked his head to the side as if pensive, then stuck his hand out to shake. "Deal mate."
Then he blinked, and Sterling took over. The demon had finally found a home. He even found love, of a sort, from men devious and cunning enough to understand his own mind and to allow him to be freely himself. For the first time, Crowley had friends and he was safe.
