Anonymous Review Replies!
Asta: Hah, mythology "research" (putting it in quotes because peer reviewed, my sources are not...:P) is one of my fav past times! I especially like it when I can use it in any fanfic I write :) I think they mention he is the angel of Thursdays somewhere on the show, but the rest I got from different texts. Some also make him the angel of solitude and tears, but this is a *happy* fic, so that part gets ignored. XD Glad you like the relationship between Cas and Aziraphale, (and the bit of shipping - I once heard the most terrible joke in the world, which was that 'Good Omens is the coolest fandom, because we have A/C'...yeah...yeah, they went there...XD) I think especially Castiel deserves, like, one single angel that isn't a complete a-hole to him. Thanks for the comment, always looking forward to them! :D
Elspeth: Hey, you got a shout-out from reviewer Asta for Magic! whoo!:D And yup, getting to reuse lines from the show for jokes is fun game to play while writing, glad you like! ;)
Hi there! Okay, so just repeating what I said at the beginning, this is compliant with SPN only up until season 6-ish (which I was watching when starting to write this fic). Therefore, there might be some differences when comparing this one and later seasons, but they're hopefully minor. And off we go!
Chapter Twelve: You've Got A Bad Connection
"Okay. Now what?" Sam asked, still smiling slightly after Castiel had managed his dramatic 'assbutt' exit.
"How about you finally let us out?" Crowley drawled from inside his devil's trap, curiously somehow appearing to be lounging, despite there technically not even being anything you could lounge against.
"...fine," Dean said after a moment had passed. "But just so we're clear, if we let your scrawny demon ass outta there, you will help us defeat Alastair or I'll personally make a belt out of your snaky skin."
Crowley levelled a flat stare at him. "Tell me, how do the ladies resist you?"
"Okay, listen up, sunglass douche-"
"Or how does your angel sweetheart, for that matter." This was accompanied with a sly grin, that only vanished when Dean went for the holy water again, the demon suddenly at the very edge of his prison and making panicky hand gestures. "Okay! Okay! Touchy subject, obviously!"
Sam and Aziraphale exchanged glances for a moment and the younger Winchester somehow couldn't help but feel a touch of companionship – there was a certain something you shared with other people that had partners with the social tact of a dysfunctional wrecking ball. Sam glumly supposed it could be Stockholm syndrome.
"Alright, alright. I will help you against Alastair, if you help me against Hastur," Crowley said, still eyeing the water in Dean's hand warily. "Just no...aquatic accidents here, okay?"
"Your call," Dean informed him gruffly, before turning around and pouring the water over Aziraphale's flames instead. The angel smiled at him gratefully as he stepped out and Dean nodded toward Sam. "Okay. Scratch the paint and let's see whether we can actually get anything done. And you," he added, jabbing a finger at Crowley, "Don't try...anything, okay?"
The demon rolled his yellow eyes. "Fine."
After a last glance at his brother, Sam then knelt down and, in a careful, practiced motion used the blade of his knife to scrape just the smallest of gaps into the red paint, which was nevertheless enough to render the pentagram completely obsolete. Sam straightened immediately as Crowley smiled and sauntered out of his imprisonment, the tears in his clothes repairing themselves and new sunglasses appearing instantly as soon as he'd crossed the damaged line. Both Winchesters tensed up instinctively, but the demon didn't seem to do anything more dramatic than straightening the cuffs of his suit jacket.
Well.
That is, until Sam again looked to where his brother had last stood and only saw a very tiny gecko.
"Crowley!"
"Okay, okay." Crowley held his hands up in mock surrender, ignoring Aziraphale's indignancy. "Just thought he might enjoy the reptilian perspective of things, s'all."
"Be a dear, and turn him back. Now."
"I dunno." Now the demon shrugged non-chalantly. "He had fun yanking me every which way in that devil's trap. And plucking my feathers. Maybe I'll just keep him in a glass jar and let him climb ladders."
It wasn't quite clear how much human consciousness had been left in the gecko's mind at that, but it was now suddenly quite determinedly clinging to Sam's jeans.
"That's frogs, dear boy," Aziraphale corrected him. "And now look, his younger brother is getting all over-excited," - he briefly gestured at a tensed-up Sam Winchester who looked ready to stab either just Crowley or the two of them -"and someone is bound to get hurt, or," Aziraphale glanced at gecko!Dean - "well, squished, if this goes on any longer. And we do have Hastur and Alice to take care of."
"Alastair," Sam corrected automatically, then remembered he was supposed to be pissed at them. "Now turn my brother back!"
"Fine," an exasperated-looking Crowley snapped his fingers. "He was a rubbish gecko anyway. All flanel-coloured."
Next to Sam, the small reptile made a strange noise and then suddenly expanded, a soft 'whhomph!' accompanying the re-appearance of Dean Winchester, who blinked.
"...whu?"
"Eh...Dean? Everything okay?"
Dean took a moment to process that question. Physically, he felt fine, but for some reason suddenly couldn't shake the strange desire to start climbing walls.
"...yeah. I think. Why? Did something weird just happen?"
Sam and Aziraphale exchanged glances again, both of them already experts at calculating the likely outcome of telling the older hunter that a demon had just turned him into a gecko.
"No." Their answer came in unison.
"Okay." Dean frowned at this, but then seemed to dismiss the entire thing, instead surveying their general situation with a quick glance. "So, basically. On our side, we have Cas' weird foster parent and his demon...life partner, or whatever, while Alastair has gone and gotten himself a BFF hell duke that's supposed to be one of the nastiest mo'fos down there." The older Winchester made a grimace. "Now what?"
"Now we strike back," Crowley said, shrugging.
"Okay. How?" Dean asked, still looking at the demon warily, but apparently a lot more open to cooperation with denizens of hell if it involved slaying some of them at the same time.
"Well, I managed to get rid of Ligur back then with, uh, holy water," Crowley said, though curiously almost looking a bit awkward about it, as if even demons had limits to which they didn't want to sink. "I suppose something similar would be useful. Do you have any more of..." he waved in the general direction of the weapons in the Winchesters' hands and on the table," "...that?"
"Some in the Impala, some in the hotel," Sam replied. "You think any of that will be effective against Hastur?"
"It'll distract him at the very least," Crowley nodded. "I might be able to come up with something if I see what you've got." He gave a small grin that probably could be classed as licentious. "So I guess that means we're going to your place instead of mine."
"Seeing as your place burst into flames yesterday, yeah," Dean grunted as the small troupe walked out of the warehouse and towards their cars. Of course, the Bentley had technically been parked in front of Crowley's apartment, but because that didn't occur to its owner, it now stood next to the Impala. Both Sam and Aziraphale dutifully waited next to their passenger doors as Dean threw some of their excess weapons into the back and Crowley seemed to be rooting around for a tape before he'd let the angel in.
"So...Heaven doesn't mind?" the younger Winchester simply had to ask. "That you're currently helping a demon? I mean, Cas not getting on your case because you, I dunno, hatched him or something is one thing, but..."
Aziraphale looked upwards. "Well, there's still the smiting of evil involved, I suppose. Generally, they're in favour of that sort of thing. Though I don't suppose we can rely on any help if things turn...unfortunate."
"Right," Sam nodded. "Um, I guess thanks for helping, then. I think you're actually okay, for an angel."
Aziraphale smiled back for a moment, and was only interrupted by a simultaneous
"Angel! Get in the car!" and "Sam! We ain't got all day!" that meant that both book shop owner and hunter only exchanged another, long-suffering glance before joining their short-tempered partners in the car and letting them drive off, the Impala leading the way to the hotel with the Bentley following behind.
xxx
When they arrived at the hotel, Dean hurled a cassette out of the car window.
"What the HELL!"
Crowley hadn't even parked the Bentley yet, when the older Winchester was already at his window and looked like he was about to reach through and strangle the demon. He was holding another cassette in his hand, which he seemed to wish to shove somewhere.
Crowley looked at him over the rim of his sunglasses.
"Let me guess," the demon said slowly, "Suddenly Best of Queen collection?"
"I had put together music for my car," Dean said, and his growl sounded dangerous enough to let a hell hound seem more like a disabled Chihuahua in comparison, "Good music. And this isn't it."
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, getting out of the passenger side. "Really sorry. Your car must have stood next to the Bentley too long. It has this...uh, habit."
"What, turning music into Queen?" Sam asked, his lips twitching to show that it was meant as a joke, but neither of their two new companions smiled back.
Sam blinked. "Seriously?"
"We're not sure why," Aziraphale admitted, looking faintly apologetic. With a side glance to Crowley he added: "Did you know it was contagious?"
"I HATE THIS WEIRD COUNTRY!" Dean howled, before staring at the mismatched pair of angel and demon with wide eyes. "Seriously, what is wrong with you? Why does stuff like this keep happening here? Why is everybody insane?"
Crowley frowned. "Hey, this has nothing to do with us personally. 'sides, it's been like, what, three days since you're in town and we're down two burnt-out buildings, three cases of possession and one free-running duke of hell with Jack Nicholson Junior in tow?" The demon raised an eye brow. "They say some people throw with stones when they're in a glass house, but you're the first ones who seem to have brought a bloody rocket launcher."
"And when it comes to weirdness, you had that one episode with the racist truck," Aziraphale pointed out. When people turned to stare, he added, "I, ah, may have read one or two of their books. I thought it would be helpful research."
"Was it?"
"No."
"Yeah, remind me to kill Chuck the next time we see him," grumbled Dean. "So what now, your car...infected mine?" he asked. It sounded like he was accusing the Bentley of having gotten the Impala pregnant.
"I'd say it's temporary." Crowley shrugged. "If it isn't, your angel friend should be able to fix it when this is over."
"I hope so," Dean said sourly. "If I have to go on a road trip with no one but Freddy Mercury for eight hours straight, I'll drive us all over a cliff."
Sam made a definite mental note to get Cas to fix this before they drove anywhere again. The four of them walked into the hotel, Crowley leaving his car standing in the middle of the parking lot where it of course blocked the exits of at least three other vehicles. He and Aziraphale followed Sam and Dean up the hallway to their room, the demon making it a point to sniff at the dinghy corridor a little where he made up the rear of their procession.
"This is your secret base, then?" Crowley commented as he stepped through the doorway of the room.
In his opinion, it didn't look at all like it should.
There were two beds, one of them an unmade mess, the other done up neatly but with some sort of garish white dress on top, a table with a slightly banged-up laptop and some scattered maps and notes, more knives in the tiny bathroom than anyone should really need even for serious shaving, and a heap of jam-smeared pastry wrapping paper next to the unmade bed.
Crowley sighed.
Sometimes, humans had no style.
And then he abruptly froze on the doormat as if he'd walked into a wall.
The others turned around, because a demon banging its nose on an invisible barrier was not only noticeable, but also funny.
Crowley glared at them. "You put a devil's trap underneath the doormat, didn't you."
"Standard precaution." Sam shrugged. "Just a moment," he said, retrieving what was presumably paint thinner from one of the duffel bags. "Don't move."
"Very funny."
"We gotta take precautions, otherwise we're dead," Dean reminded him, sitting down in a seat and pulling out a beer while Sam carefully erased a part of the angry red line underneath the carpet and Crowley stepped out again.
"Charming. Anything else I should know?"
"Uh...maybe don't sit down on the bed," Sam said, because that's where Crowley had been headed. "Also, don't drink anything. And, uh, don't touch that. Or that. Maybe...maybe just stand there, okay?" the younger Winchester suggested, while the demon's stare was turning increasingly flat.
"I feel so welcome."
"You're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Dean shrugged, but seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this. "Anyway, we should get a plan going. So. What of our stuff is going to help against this Hastur guy?"
Crowley stalked through the apartment with the air of Indiana Jones in a reptile zoo as he looked at the various things the Winchesters owned, leaning down to peer at implements the way people might examine curios in a medieval torture exhibition. In the end, they determined that holy water probably would work, but Hastur would be on guard against that, the knife would definitely be effective, even if possibly not fatal, the suggestion of Sam drinking Crowley's blood for some demon-smiting powers only produced equally horrified looks from all involved parties, and their best shot apart from that would be an exorcism, which would be most effective if invoked by an angel.
"Not good," Crowley shook his head, frowning. "Exorcisms take too long. Aziraphale's going to have an angel sword sticking in his plaid chest before he's even finished the first half."
"Cas is pretty quick at those, actually. He just puts his hand on their head and they turn into Jack'O Lanterns," Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, but Trenchcoat Thursday also acted like he's basically that army leader from Mulan in his spare time." Crowley waved an irritable hand. "Me and the angel...we're not exactly close combat fighters, in case you couldn't tell."
"Not unless it involves muffins, no. I noticed," Dean retorted and Crowley didn't look like he'd grace that one with a reply, unless it involved turning Dean into a muffin.
"Anyway," the demon said. "If Aziraphale could get close, we'd have...some sort of a chance, at least. But..."
Crowley trailed off as he realized Aziraphale and, by extension the Winchesters, had stopped listening.
Which was not surprising, given that in their bathroom a widening circle of blue light had suddenly appeared and was now twinkling ominously.
"Oh," Aziraphale said. "Oh dear."
"What the-?" Dean began, as the angel quickly stepped past him and into the circle, standing a bit anxiously between the shower cabin and the bidet, and peering up into the light. The Winchesters turned to Crowley for an explanation, but saw that the demon was currently busy climbing into the closet.
"Hey! What is he doing?! And...and what are you doing?"
"He's going to talk to Metatron. And if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be a coat now."
"He's talking to...the voice of God...in our toilet?" Sam hissed at Dean, but his brother shushed him as suddenly, there was a booming voice filling the hotel room, drowning everything else out.
"Aziraphale."
"Um. Yes?"
"There seems to have been much strife and demonic wiling in this place in your care."
"Oh. Yes. Working on that, actually. There...there are demons quarrelling amongst themselves, I think."
"I see. And how are you helping our cause in this?"
"I am encouraging mortals to thwart their wiles," Aziraphale replied brightly, while the demon currently pretending to be a snazzy suit in the Winchester's wardrobe rolled his eyes.
"God-fearing mortals?" Metatron inquired.
"...possibly."
"Aziraphale..."
"Well, they don't seem to fear much, really. But they honestly don't like demons!" the angel added quickly. "I'm sure that today will be another victory for our side."
"...very well. For the glory of our Lord."
"Oh. Yes. Glory. Definitely."
"Amen," Metatron said. The blue circle of grace vanished and Aziraphale seemed to relax for a second, right before the divine light flicked on again like a faulty bathroom bulb.
"Oh, and Aziraphale?"
"Yes?" the angel asked, now wearing an expression not unlike Castiel's when it had been the older angel himself calling his name for one last time.
"There seems to be an ex-Satanic Vessel somewhere in the lands of the British Empire. You might want to do something about that."
xxx
"Ex-Satanic Vessel?" Crowley asked with one eyebrow raised as Metatron's presence had vanished again, this time for good. The taller of the two brothers very pointedly wasn't looking at him.
"Yeah, that would be me. Not what I had in mind at career day, okay?" Sam replied, a bit sourly, but also with a hint of wariness. After all, Metatron had just told Aziraphale to 'do something' about him. "I actually managed to get Lucifer back into his cage, you know? We had our own botched apocalypse some time back," he added, just so that Aziraphale, who was apparently cut off from most of Heaven's affairs nowadays wouldn't get the wrong picture.
"I see," the angel nodded. "Alright then. I'll let you live and Crowley can chalk it up as a wile, shall I?" Aziraphale smiled at Sam in a way that was only a bit unnerving. "And now that we've finished with that bit, we can start figuring out-"
And that was when suddenly, the TV in the hotel room sprang to life, only showing two glowing red eyes, Aziraphale shut the bathroom door with a bang! and Crowley all but fell out of the closet when the screen started talking.
"CROWLEY? THIS IS BEELZEBUB. ARE YOU THERE CROWLEY?"
Dean made a face like he was about to shout that this was a damn hotel and NOT communication central, but Sam just managed to clamp his hand over his brother's mouth, and the next five minutes were spent watching Crowley wheedling his way through a conversation not quite unlike Aziraphale's, with the exception that his mumbled 'Hail Satan's possibly sounded even more insincere than the angel's affirmations of loyalty.
"WHAT IS IT WITH THE UNAUTHORIZED POSSESSIONS IN YOUR AREA CROWLEY?"
"Look, this isn't me, this is Hastur-"
"WE HAVE ORDERS NOT TO DRAW ATTENTION AT THE MOMENT CROWLEY."
"Yes, I know, but-"
"YOU HAVE UNTIL TONIGHT TO GET THIS UNDER CONTROL."
"Argh. Yes."
"ALL HAIL THE KING OF HELL."
"Yeah. Hail him. Whoo," Crowley replied miserably.
The TV shut itself off and the demon slumped into the chair, assuming an air of boneless misery. Aziraphale poked his head out of the bathroom.
"So, a deadline, then, huh?" Dean asked. He was now more than curious what Hell might be planning that they were so gung-ho about keeping a low profile, but he kind of figured the demon would probably neither know nor be interested.
"Yeah," Crowley grumbled. "So by tonight either I can get rid of Hastur or I'll be dragged down to hell by him or them."
"Well, let's see what we can do that it doesn't come to that," Aziraphale replied soothingly and Crowley nodded, making a derisive noise that sounded too hissy for a human mouth.
"New management," he said it like the word tasted bad. "I mean, hell is run by a human demon now, can you imagine?" he asked Sam and Dean, who for some reason didn't seem that surprised, but Crowley ignored it, "Some bloke named Corey, or Rowdy, or something equally inane," the fallen angel grumbled. "And suddenly they're trying to micro-manage everyone. I mean half the time the tosser isn't even there and from us he wants bloody spreadsheets?" Crowley asked, right before he actually noticed the Winchesters staring at him.
"...what?" he asked.
"The...new king of hell," Sam finally said, slowly. "You think he is called Corey?"
"Yeah," Crowley replied with a frown. "Something along those lines, anyway. Why, what's it to you?"
But at this point the Winchesters had already burst out laughing, and Crowley only shared a rather confused look with Aziraphale, both already figuring there might be things about humans they would never understand.
To be continued...
Right! Fav parts? Terrible parts? Lemme hear it! :D Thanks for reading!