Crowley had information. Dean brought Bear with him just in case.
Sam was privately surprised the dog didn't start his usual growling the second Crowley walked up.
"I hear your sperm donor is getting close to a certain gun," said Crowley.
"Oooh... nice one," chuckled Dean.
Crowley looked at him oddly.
"We haven't heard that term used to describe Winchester before," explained Sam. It was offensive enough and described how they felt about John perfectly.
"So he's getting close to the infamous Colt. So what? Enchanting a knife is easier and it draws less attention from a cop," said Dean.
"So yellow eyes has taken notice... Coincidentally what the hell were you thinking, getting that close to his daughter?" asked Crowley to Sam.
"What?"
"I caught wind from his lackeys that Meg, Azazel's bitch daughter, almost managed to snag you," said Crowley.
"Wait, Meg is... dammit, I knew I should have had Bear with me..." cursed Sam.
Crowley looked at the dog. He didn't inspire much confidence in the demon, considering he wasn't even reacting to his presence. Seeing his look, Dean snorted.
"Bear doesn't regard you as a threat because I don't."
Crowley looked incredulous.
"You don't regard me as a threat," he said flatly.
"Let's face it, we're both just using each other. I'm using you to get information that we normally wouldn't, and you're using us to take out competition. You have no reason to try and take us out when we're doing you a favor," said Dean bluntly.
Crowley admitted he had a valid point.
"There's also the fact you aren't even trying to get on our good side, to make us trust you. We trust each other because we know that neither of us can trust the other party. It's a bit of a paradox, isn't it?" said Dean.
Crowley chuckled.
"Definitely. We get along because we know at some point the one of us will try to betray the other, all for business. Now that is some serious irony," said the demon.
"I think it's ironic that the two of you are practically friends, despite the fact you clearly have trust issues," said Sam.
Crowley and Dean both choked on their drinks.
"You think we're friends?" said Dean.
"Well yeah. Actually. You both admit you don't trust each other as far as you can throw them, but at the same time you get along better than a demon and hunter should. You use each other without hesitation but at the same time you haven't betrayed the other party," shrugged Sam.
"Why would I betray the one demon who's given me straight answers? Especially since we're doing him the favor of clearing out his competition?" asked Dean scrunching his eyebrows.
"And why bother betraying this idiot just yet when I still haven't figured out what the hell is going on?" asked Crowley equally confused.
"See? You're practically friends, or at least friendly enemies. Ironic, wouldn't you agree?"
"I think we covered that," said Dean dryly.
Crowley considered what Sam had said though. Dean was the closest he had to an actual friend in who knew how long. Since before he became a demon at any rate. It was a strange feeling and he wasn't sure he liked it.
Dean and Sam discussed whether to go beat John to the punch and get the Colt, until Sam had a rather...evil...idea.
"What if we met up after the fact and then made sure to hit a Mexican restaurant later?" asked Sam.
"Oh that is beyond cruel. I like it."
Hello petty revenge.
As Crowley would find out later, their petty revenge turned into something hilarious for him to play with in the Pit. Dean even lent him a few of the 'Bear Bombs-portable edition' to leave in the pit itself just to see the demon's reactions.
Crowley actually left one right next to Lucifer's cage and heard from the other demons that the bastard actually passed out from the smell. He hadn't laughed that hard in years, even if it had cost him a disposable new lackey.
Even better was when Azazel finally caught up to John and his former sons, Dean and Sam gassed the yellow-eyed bastard out while he was in John's body.
All because they had fed their mascot Bear Mexican food before they went to the house just to make their father suffer. They even wore gas masks which was how they knew Azazel had been in John's body...the demon couldn't stand the smell!
Crowley couldn't decide which amused him more. The fact that the two accidentally found and then killed the demon responsible for their mother's death, or the fact that the only reason Azazel had been caught was because they wanted to get back at their father in a way that couldn't be traced later.
He decided it was simply more amusing that they had done what their father had tried and failed to do...kill Azazel...all because he had pissed them off.
Death couldn't help it. Yellow-eyes was dead all because John had angered his sons in a way they could never forgive and when faced with the prospect of pranking their former father they had found out by accident that he was possessed and proceeded to knife the bastard.
Crowley wasn't the only one laughing at their stroke of luck. Death was too, and the best part was that the angels couldn't exactly complain because the dog was the reason why the demon had been killed in the first place!
Even God thought it amusing that a dog Dean had spared entirely by chance had been the cause of them killing the demon before anything really got started. Scratch that, he was just amused in general with what Dean called 'Bear Bombs'. He thought it hilarious that Dean actually thought to put them into containers as a way of petty revenge. Especially since it wouldn't actually kill anyone.
In the pit...
"You're telling me that idiot got killed because of a dog and it's inability to process Mexican food?" she said annoyed.
"Apparently the boys knew about that little issue and made a point to stop for wet burritos as a way to get back at their father for something he did. We're still not sure what he did to piss them off so badly," replied her partner.
"...Is this dog the same reason why none of us can no longer go near the cage?"
Everyone had heard of the mystery canister. Everyone. Lucifer still bitched about the smell.
"I have no idea, but somehow I have the feeling it is," he said blandly.
The demon who had brought the thing down that far had been killed on sight. Once they could get close enough that is.
"So who's taking over for him?" asked the female.
"How about that idiot who's always following you around? Ruby?" suggested the man.
"Then who is going to seduce the younger one?" said the woman snidely.
"Dammit. What about the idiot's son? Has anyone told him what happened?"
"I'd be surprised if he hadn't already found out," deadpanned the woman.
It was the talk of the pit how Azazel was killed. Several were still cracking up about it.
John looked irritated beyond belief.
The demon that killed his wife and set him on the path to being a hunter...dead because his own sons hated him enough to set him up with a flatulent dog his eldest saved and kept.
All that work he spent trying to get revenge, pointless. All the effort he spent getting the Colt, wasted.
Why was he even a hunter when his two sons managed to not only find out who the demon was (something even he hadn't been able to do) but even kill it all because of a prank?!
"I can't believe you two idjits killed this demon all because of how much he pissed you off," said Bobby deadpan.
"Come on Dad, even you have to admit it's hilarious!" said Dean grinning.
Bobby was trying not to laugh at the constipated look on John's face.
"What the hell did you feed that thing anyway?" asked John irritably.
"Mexican food," said the brothers in unison.
"Mexican food did all that?" said John incredulous.
"Wet burritos did that. Be glad we were merciful enough not to give him enchiladas too, or you would really have suffered," said Dean with a straight face.
Bear with wet burritos and enchiladas? As Dean had learned, it was not only horrifying, but the smell never left.
Dean called those canisters "Permanent Payback".
Dean, Sam and Bear were on the road heading towards the Roadhouse to get information on a new hunt when a semi hit them head on, deliberately.
Inside was a crazed teen with black eyes.
Sam was still conscious enough to be able to keep a hand on Bear's collar when the paramedics arrived.
"How is he?" asked Bobby. He had come to check on Dean and take Bear until they were sure he wouldn't start biting people.
"Critical condition. The last thing I remember seeing before I grabbed Bear's collar was this kid...he was possessed," said Sam.
"Didn't that contact of yours say that Yellow-eyes had kids?"
"Yeah, two of... you don't think?"
"Call and get some answers!"
Sam took Dean's second cell, which was the 'hunter' phone and looked under the contact list until he found Crowley.
"This had better be damn important Harvelle," growled the demon.
"Dean's in critical condition. Have you heard anything about yellow-eyes son?"
"This explains a lot. Dumb ass has been crowing about hurting the Winchesters... what did he do?"
"Hit us with a damn semi," growled Sam.
"I still have one of those delightful little toys Dean left me to play with. I'll be sure to leave him with a permanent version," said Crowley.
"I'll call if I have any news," said Sam. He knew Crowley cared, but appearances had to be maintained.
"Well?"
"Son. He's been bragging about 'hitting the Winchesters'," said Sam dryly.
"Winchesters? He hit John and Adam?" asked Bobby.
"Apparently word hasn't reached the pit about us hating John enough to abandon his name. The only demon aware is Crowley, and that's cause Dean told him."
"You're kidding."
"It gets even better. Dean likes Crowley enough to part with his 'portable Bear Bombs'...and the demon actually hit Lucifer with one."
Bobby choked.
"A demon hit Satan with those gas canisters Dean's always making?"
"He really doesn't like the guy?"
"... I ain't touching your weird relationships with a ten foot pole. Just keep me out of it and him far from my house," said Bobby finally.
"Fair enough."
To their eternal surprise, John found out about the accident, apparently from the news...and he showed up at the hospital.
"What happened?"
"What do you care?" asked Sam.
John hadn't given a damn about them in years, so why was he trying to start now?
John glared at him, still not happy with the fact that they had done better in killing the demon than he had...or the way they had done it.
"You really think so little of me that I wouldn't come to see my own flesh in blood after being attacked?" he said.
"Do you want the straight answer or the lie?" asked Sam snidely.
"Do your idiotic alpha male crap outside the hospital, right now we need to find out about Dean," said Bobby gruffly.
Dean took one look at the hospital, and then saw one person that told him all he needed to know about the situation.
John was there.
So he took a walk around, trying to see if he could get Mort's attention.
Seeing a likely candidate, Dean wandered over.
The girl's fake panicking wasn't fooling him for a minute. He had been around Mort enough to know a reaper when he saw one. And most hospitals had at least one to expedite the new souls.
"Look, cut the act already. I know you're a reaper and I know why you're here. Can you just get in contact with Mort already before I die a second time of boredom?" he said with a yawn.
The girl paused, and gave him an odd look. This was not how it usually went. And who did he mean by Mort?
Dean sensed Sam trying to contact Mort on his own, but he wouldn't know how to do it. And Dean was in no position to tell him...besides, his brother was far more likely to somehow get a reaper instead.
The reaper watched as Dean wandered around the hospital, utterly baffled with the things he was collecting.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Contacting Mort to see if this is permanent or if I need to fill out any forms to get out of what I can only assume is a near-death state," said Dean blandly.
"You're in a coma, and it's highly unlikely you'll ever wake up. You had best come to terms with it now so I can go back to my soaps," said the reaper.
"You got a name?"
"Tessa. Not that you'll remember it," she said.
Dean looked at his ingredients, then went to where Sam was. Then he remembered something very important from his days as Harry.
Magical ghosts can be seen by practically anyone. And they had more control over their incorporeal form than the nonmagical ones. And he was betting it would get Mort's attention pretty damn quick too.