Day 09: Mistletoe, Sam's room; Death & Crowley

Season: Season 12. Major spoilers for 12x23 and 13x05

A/N: I suddenly felt that this was needed to be done. Not really Christmas themed.

Also, oh my God. I'm so, so proud of this chapter. Please let me know what you think!

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"Come on, Crowley, you know whatever you try you're gonna loose."

"You're right..."

Crowley watched in satisfaction as the smug smile really did fade from Lucifer's face. There's was nothing left to do now – though he figured a final goodbye was to be called for.

He turned around to have a last look at them out of the corner of his eye. The disbelief in Moose's eye, and the lack of comprehension in Dean's made his stomach do a weird, unexpected flip.

"Bye boys."

No point in hesitating any longer, he decided, and made his move.

.

Crowley had expected a lot of things. Most of all he'd thought this would just be the end. Like all demons he had killed and watched being killed, he'd be gone in a split second.

There had been searing pain, for a moment, but then it faded away.

Crowley ran his hands down his suit and coat – wrinkled and dirty, but it still felt the same. There was a tear in his shirt right where he expected it, and no blood, which was normal enough to brush off. But all felt solid and convincingly real, and that certainly wasn't what Crowley had expected.

A probing shake revealed that the angel blade he had used moments ago to off himself was missing.

He must have let go of it when he fell.

Looking up, Crowley found himself in familiar surroundings. He stood in the Bunker library where he'd last sat with the Winchesters, offering to seal the Gates of Hell.

"Hello?", he called out, but there was no answer. Of course there wasn't. He gingerly set one foot in front of the other and began searching through the Bunker.

Crowley was mildly annoyed that he didn't appear to be dead. He had planned his end to be a final act of revenge, not some failed action that led to him reappearing in the Bunker. Besides, for some reason he couldn't leave the place, even though he tried.

Then there came a cough from farther down the hallway.

.

Pushing the door to the room open, Crowley stepped inside. It looked so meticulously orderly it was probably Sam's room. There weren't any weapons displayed on the wall at least, so no way it was Dean's.

A woman was going through the contents of the wardrobe. A box sat in front of her that seemed to contain Christmas ornaments.

Crowley remembered her well.

"Nice scythe", he said, "have you been promoted?"

Death raised an eyebrow: "Of all the things you could have said, Crowley..."

Crowley, who now knew that he must indeed be dead, merely shrugged: "I guess since this is my death, I can say whatever I want. Who's there to judge me? Besides, you're the one holding shrivelled up mistletoe in your hand."

Billie let go of the mistletoe and grinned: "At least you're not begging for your life back."

"Hell no", Crowley said, and he meant it.

"Good", she said and stepped closer, "because if you refuse to go, the spell you cooked up with Sam Winchester is not going to work. They will die. Since that is in none of my books, I'm glad you didn't put up a fight."

Crowley snorted: "But, if you allow me this question, why have you brought me here instead of just reaping what is left of my soul?"

Now it was Death's turn to shrug, which, as Crowley noted, made her look weird because of the scythe she was holding. It turned out to be a really lopsided shrug.

"Even I'm bound to honour some codes – like offering someone who sacrificed himself an out. They usually don't take me up on the offer, but I'm indentured to ask."

"And here I was thinking I was special. Please", Crowley said, "that wasn't a sacrifice. That was revenge."

Billie grinned smugly: "Of course it was."

Crowley's snarky remark died on his tongue and he closed his mouth without replying anything.

"So", he asked, "what are you still waiting for?"

Billie made another step forward so they stood within arm's reach of each other: "The question is: What are you waiting for?"

Crowley had to admit that he was hesitating. He hadn't been afraid when push came to shove, because he'd figured it would be over in a second. Now that it wasn't, some stupid, weak part of himself fought to hang on to what was left of him – fighting to find a reason to stay.

But Billie had already said that if he stayed, the spell to heal the rip wouldn't work. Sam and Dean would die, and Lucifer would make it back to Earth to regain his kingship over Hell. All of Crowley's work would be for nothing.

Setting his jaw, Crowley asked: "Can you promise me that if I go, that's it? No more Hell, no more demons, no more of anything?"

Billie, for some reason, looked sympathetic when she answered: "I can't promise anything. That would be telling."

Crowley hesitated.

"If it helps you, I can offer a deal – that's familiar territory for you, isn't it?"

"Such as?"

"If you decide to go and really mean it – and believe me, I'll know – I'm going to tell you what comes after. But, as you said, there's no getting out of it then."

Crowley, already honour bound to move on to keep the damned Winchesters alive and Lucifer away from things, decided he was ready for one last agreement.

"I'm a crosscroads demon – I tend to keep my deals", he answered and raised his head in defiance. He took a deep breath.

"I'm ready to go", Crowley said.

Death closed what little space was left between them and leaned forward to kiss him. They sealed the deal.

When they broke apart, Billie whispered into his ear: "After this... comes nothing."

Crowley kept his eyes closed and went.

.

The End