Many people do many things when they're upset, some eat tubs of ice cream while watching rom-com or soap operas, some work themselves to the bone in order to forget whatever is troubling them, and the rest just ignore it, going about their day as everything is normal and nothing was wrong in the first place.
Crowley? Well, Crowley just sulks or sometimes even brood. Today he was sulking... and he's been sulking for more than a week.
Just lying in his bed, his legs hanging off at the bottom while his top half was nowhere near the pillows at the top of the bed, jacket carelessly tossed to the side somewhere in the room, glasses off and resting on the bedside dresser, and his eyes shut, but he wasn't sleeping. Not wanting to sleep, eat, read, watch TV, nothing. He just felt like doing nothing as he thought through all the fun times he had with his Angel. Usually messing with him.
Crowley made a noise that was some sort of mix between a groan and a sigh.
He will never, EVER, admit this to anyone, except for maybe Aziraphale, but Sam Winchester's actions and thoughtlessness hurt a little. He honestly didn't expect that from the kid. When he first saw Sam and saved him when he was a small boy, their little interactions together suggested Sam to be empathetic, very empathetic, and sensitive to the world around him.
Not very easy being a hunter with those personality traits, much less both.
Suddenly Crowley's phone began to ring.
Crowley groaned again, really just not wanting to move from his spot, but knew it was something important, he doesn't have the phone for fun sadly. No one but those he gives it to, has his number. No wrong numbers or awkward phone calls for him thank you very much.
With a resigned sigh, Crowley reached over to his nightstand for his phone, only to realize he'd have to make some effort if he wanted to grab the still damn-ringing thing. He growled in frustration, and with a snap of his fingers, the phone shot through the air and into his awaiting palm.
Without even looking at the caller Crowley flipped it open and answered it.
"Hello?", Crowley said in to the device, sounding done already, despite the conversation not even starting.
There was a beat of silence as Crowley listened to the caller from the other end.
Then he slowly sat up, sitting at the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees, a look of utter bafflement and exasperation on his face.
"You have what?"
…...
The first thing Crowley saw when he entered Dean and Sam's current motel room with a click of his fingers was Dean panting next to a smashed clock on the floor.
At first his eyes stayed on the clock, then it slowly moved to Dean, his expression stoic.
The reason for that was he was taking in the young hunter's state. His brow was covered in sweat, Crowley can still hear Dean's heart racing from whatever happened. If that wasn't enough, Crowley could feel the sickness coming from Dean, one that wasn't very common, that's it's rare for even his kind to hear of.
"You don't look too good.", Crowley commented, "You alright kid?"
Dean took another deep breath before straightening with a nod.
"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.", Dean said breathlessly.
Crowley nodded, wisely deciding against pointing out the fact that Dean definitely was not okay.
But he has a feeling there is something that'll at least take Dean's mind off the Ghost Sickness.
Crowley held out a plastic bag with a smug smirk, "You hungry? I've come bearing gifts."
Dean nodded, calming down some more at the thought of food, despite looking a little shaky on his feet.
Crowley noticed.
He shoved Dean, causing him to fall back and sit on the couch with a bewildered look on his face. Before Dean could protest or complain about the slightly rough treatment, Crowley placed the bag on Dean's lap. Shutting him up before he even got started.
"There is a fork in the bag.", Crowley said as he went into the kitchen, "I'll get yah a beer or whatever you drink over here."
Dean just raised a brow, an amused grin appearing on his face when he heard Crowley mutter something about a good bottle of wine, before turning his attention to the bag that Crowley brought for him.
"Is there anything in here for Sam?", Dean asked as he started to open it.
"Nope.", Crowley calls back as Dean found the fork first, "All yours kid."
Dean took out a big whole container of pie, his eyes wide, mouth open in shock as he stared at the desert that Crowley brought just for him.
There was a 'thunk' as Crowley placed an opened bottle of beer.
"Think of it as a reward for saving my ass last time when I was here.", Crowley wanted to say 'from your brother's carelessness.'
But he knew now wasn't the time, despite still being pissed about it.
He knew Dean was very protective of his little brother, he knew that the moment he saved the two boys from that vamp all those years back.
Dean did not need Crowley's usual demonic attitude and pettiness on top of the Ghost Sickness.
The door to the motel room opened as Sam came in with a takeout bag filled with, most likely, lunch. He first eyed the smashed clock, Dean enjoying his pie on the couch, and Crowley standing by Dean in front of the couch.
"Everything all right?", Sam asked casually, eyes flickering to the clock now and then as he placed everything on the table.
"Oh yeah.", Dean said casually, blatantly ignoring the clock on the floor, "Just peachy."
Crowley looked at the two boys for a moment before sighing. He flicked his hand, as if he were shooing a fly, and the renewed clock was back on its place on the wall, but there wasn't any ticking, and the hands remained where they were.
"What would you two do without me cleaning up your messes.", Crowley teased, remembering how he cleaned up Bobby's house after the rise of the Witnesses.
Sam smiled at the Demon gratefully, Crowley ignored it. Turning away and plopping himself on one of the plush chairs. Ignoring how Sam's face fell.
"Find anything?", Dean asked, purposely ignoring the interaction between the two.
He was well aware of what's going on. Dean had followed close behind the two when they left, wanting to make sure they would both be okay, and witnessed the entire confrontation that occurred in the alley.
Dean knew Crowley was still pissed about what happened. Hell, Dean was also angry about Sam's callous carelessness as well, chewed him out pretty good when they went to see Jack and tried to warn him. But Dean was actually grateful that Crowely made no move to bring it up.
Not because he didn't want to deal with what happened, he knew he needed to talk to Crowley about it as well when the two are alone again. But Dean knew that Crowley was keeping quite for him. Because Crowley knew how much Dean cared for Sammy.
It shocked Dean at how much, every time, the Demon just seemed to understand and did his best to help whenever he could. Even when he was under Hell's thumb, he tried to help with little he could.
And Dean knew that Hell was never forgiving.
"Yeah.", Sam replied, "Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated. So, I'm pretty sure she is not our Ghost."
Sam sat at the last chair that was placed across from Crowley, placing his feet up with Dean's on top of the coffee table.
Crowley raised a brow, before doing the same with an amused smirk, his snakeskin boots landing on top of the table with a loud 'thunk'.
Sam snorted his expression turned admonishing as he kicked at Dean's feet pointedly.
"Hey.", he scolded, "Quite picking at that."
Dean gave Sam an irritated look, but listened, and stopped scratching the inside of his elbow. Where, Crowley noted, marks were forming.
"How're you feeling?', Sam asked worriedly after being satisfied.
"Awesome.", Dean retorted sarcastically, "It's nice to have my head on the chopping block again, almost forgot what that felt like."
"Yeah.", Sam says quietly.
"It's freaking delightful."
"Yeah.", Sam said again as he sighed before looking over to Crowley pleadingly, "Is there anything you can do? Can't you stop it or something?"
Crowely stared at Sam for a moment, his face stoic, before sighing heavily, his feet falling off the coffee with a heavy thud as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Ghost sickness isn't a very common thing. It's a rare ability for ghosts to have, not to mention go through with.", Crowley explains, "In fact, Angels and Demons aren't able to get the sickness, so not many, if any, even know of its existence."
Sam sat quietly for a couple of minutes as he let the words sink in.
"So how come you know?", Dean asked curiously.
Crowely leaned back, placing his feet back on the table.
"I'm old, very old.", he answered simply.
His eyes, despite being hidden by his glasses, stared at Dean pointedly, "You have a very good idea just how old I am."
Dean returned Crowley's stare evenly, while Sam looked between the two confused. Wondering what Crowley meant and how Dean could know, or in Crowley's words, 'have a very good idea'?
Dean didn't forget how Crowely had introduced himself as the Serpent of Eden. But he wasn't sure if it actually meant what Dean thought it meant. Not very likely, though that doesn't mean he wasn't tossing the idea aside like trash. Just pushed it back to the back of his mind.
Which left Dean with many questions that he decided against asking.
Maybe he would. Further down the road. But not now, or any time soon.
"Of course.", Dean says coughing, returning back to the topic at hand, "Just my rotten luck, huh?"
"We'll keep looking.", Sam assures.
Crowley sat up straighter as Dean fell into a harsh coughing fit, choking as he coughed and gasped for air.
"Kid, what's wrong?", Crowley asked.
Only for Dean to not answer him, running off to the kitchen and coughing something out into the sink. Crowley and Sam stood on either side of him, all three of them staring down at the bloody wood chip in horror.
Dean picked up the wood chip, washing off the blood before staring at it.
"What the f...", Dean muttered to himself, trailing off as he was still in shock at the sight of the wooden chip he just spat out.
"We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have-.", Sam said breathlessly, "-You."
Crowley rolls his eyes at Sam's odd lack of sensitivity to Dean's growing horror.
"I don't want to be a clue.", Dean says, his tone sounding very child-like.
Causing Crowley's heart to twist as he remembers the image of a scared child-Dean, clutching tightly to his younger brother, when Crowley came back into the motel room after disposing of the vampire outside the closed door.
Trying to be helpful, Crowley gently, albeit a bit awkwardly, patted Dean on the back reassuringly.
"Don't worry kid.", Crowley told Dean determinedly, "We'll fix you right up."
"The abrasions.", Sam continued on, excitement as it clicked together for him in his head, "This- The disease, it's trying to tell us something."
"Tell us what? Wood chips?", Dean asked incredulously, finally snapping out of his shock.
Sam chuckles breathlessly, "Exactly."
Crowley's eyes flickered from Sam's excited expression to Dean's confused one before rolling his eyes fondly, like Creation he will ever admit it. He tossed his keys into the air, catching them with a smirk.
"C'mon boys, I'm driving.", Crowley declared, ignoring Deans sputtering protests with a smirk.
…...
The Bentley pulled up to the lumber mill factory. Crowley got out of the car with his usual swagger while Dean staggered out, looking petrified. Crowley may have terrified the poor man with his speedy reckless driving, almost running over a few pedestrians as per usual. Sam didn't look all that much better.
"You drive like a maniac!", Dean shouts breathlessly.
Crowley only chuckles with a wide smile as he leaned on the roof of his car.
"Oh c'mon~!", drawled Crowley teasingly, "I didn't once drive over seventy."
"That's fast!", exclaims Dean arms raised up beside him in a 'what the hell dude' gesture.
"That's slow for me. Usually go Ninety miles per hour or higher.", Crowley states matter-of-fact with a casual shrug, "Usually higher."
Sam laughs breathlessly at the demon's driving skills, even he was a little panicky at the speedy and reckless way the demon drove his precious Bentley. He's almost as bad as Dean when it came to Crowley's car.
Scratch that, he is as bad as Dean.
"You almost ran over several pedestrians.", Sam scolded.
Crowley 'pshed', brushing away Sam's concern with a wave of his hand.
"They were on the streets, they know what risks they're taking.", Crowley said off handedly.
"And Queens?", Sam raised a brow.
"According to Angel, they're better than bebop.", Crowley was quick to retort, pointing at Sam, "You can never go wrong with Queens."
Dean groaned as he bent over hands on his knees.
"I'm never getting into a vehicle with you at the wheel again.", Dean swore, "Never."
"Oh, quit acting like babies, I was a nanny, I should know.", Crowley scolded, "Angel can deal with my driving, so can you boys. Besides, we're here."
"Do you even have the supplies and equipment we need before we go in there.", Sam asked with a raised brow as he pointed at the run-down log mill.
Crowley pursed his lips as he 'thought' about it.
"No.", he says bluntly before hitching a thumb over his shoulder, "But I took the liberty of sending your guy's stuff ahead."
Behind him, parked perfectly in front of the mill was none other than the Winchester's black 1967 Chevrolet Impala.
"Wha- How? - Why-?", Dean wasn't sure what to ask.
"Knew you boys needed your stuff, but with how Dean is now you would've gotten here much slower than preferable.", Crowley explained, "Dean doesn't have that kind of time. So, I drove us here and miracled the Impala ahead of us."
"Huh.", Sam said, "Good job."
And with a pat on Crowley's shoulder Sam marched up to the trunk of the Impala, already opening up the secret compartment.
"Thanks.", Dean said with a small nod, despite still looking pale from the drive over.
Crowley snorted.
"Come on kid.", Crowley said with a friendly pat on Dean's back, "Let's go help your brother."
Dean was quick to join them, but he kept eyeing the factory warily.
"I'm not going in there.", Dean said, eyes shifting nervously from Sam and Crowley back to the factory.
Sam gave his brother an exasperated look while Crowley just stared at Dean expressionlessly, successfully keeping the amused smirk from appearing on his face.
"I need back up, and your all I got.", Sam said patiently.
"Why not Crowley?", cried out Dean, "Why can't he be your back up?"
They both turned back to see Crowley already swaggering away waving over his shoulder to the brothers.
"Sorry boys, Sam is right, you need back up.", Crowley said, turning to them standing in the open space behind his car door, "I'm just going to go pick them up."
And with that, the Bentley was speeding away leaving behind Sam with a very anxious and fearful Dean.
…...
He told them he left to get backup, that's true. But it wasn't the entire truth either.
Crowley left because seeing Dean like that hurt. It reminded him of the small little boy with too much on his shoulders. The scared little boy that was never given a chance to be a kid.
It made something deep inside Crowley's gut twist painfully.
It wasn't a feeling Crowley liked. Just further proof how much he is different from others like him. How much he isn't like a demon.
And Creation knows he is no Angel.
Crowley's grip tightened into a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, breaking every law on the road known to man.
He doesn't like seeing Dean like that.
Just like back then, Crowley was going to do everything in his power to save the scared little boy. He is going to get help like he said.
All so Crowely can save the little boy he sees in Dean from the past.
…...
A small boy with dark blonde hair, bright green eyes, and adorable freckles scattered across his nose, wearing large hand-me down clothes. He was sitting on a bench outside the door to a motel room.
Just able to see his dad still holding his little brother tightly as he blames him for his little brother's close brush with death.
The boy didn't even realize when everything around him silenced as the world froze around him. Only the boy unaffected, able to move freely. But he was so stuck in his own head, he never even noticed.
Then the bench creaked loudly as someone sat back without a care in the world with a loud sigh.
The boy stiffened, but made no other indication that he knew of the stranger's presence next to him. Maybe it's a monster that can put him out of his misery. Get rid of him so he would no longer make mistakes and get in his dad's way.
"It's not your fault you know."
The boy said nothing, but he did glance at the stranger out of the corner of his eyes. Only to do a double take when he noticed that it was the same man. The one that saved him and Sam from that vampire a couple of years ago.
"You're just trying to mess with my head.", the boy mutters, wondering why he was there.
The truth is, Crowley's people told him what almost happened to Sam.
And at first, besides having a moment of panic, Crowley was fine to leave it alone. But then he remembered how that boy, Dean, was willing to lay his life down for his brother, how when his father first came back, his first concern was the small boy peacefully asleep in bed. Not the clearly hurt little boy in front of him, who was glad to see him back after almost dying.
Crowley's hunches were almost always right. And something told him that John Winchester acted out, and made a nine-year-old boy feel guilty for the fact his little brother almost died from a monster.
It broke what was left of his heart to find that he was right.
'Why would I want to mess with your head?', Crowley asks with a raised brow.
Mentally saying 'your father did enough of that for a life time.'
But he knew that wouldn't help his case. It wouldn't help the sad breaking boy before him.
A nine-year-old boy that was breaking from all the weight on his shoulders that was placed there by his own shitty father.
Dean shook his head, eyes boring into the pavement before him.
'Because that's what monsters do.', he answered with finality, as if that was a fact.
'Ah, well, not all of us are so bad.', Crowley drawled, 'Some of us don't like that we are the way we are.'
Dean slowly looked over to see Crowley staring out in the distance, an expressionless look on his face.
'Some of us hate it even, some lash out, some let the extra abilities get in their head, and some of us just do the best that they can with what they have.'
He doesn't know what came over him, maybe this monster has some sort of hypnosis ability or mind control. But Dean couldn't find it in himself to care.
Crowley looked over to see the small boy looking up at him with understanding in his eyes as he shifted closer to the demon. He slowly, carefully, cautiously, leaned into Crowley, laying his head on the Demon's shoulder as he settled himself in the crook of the Fallen's arm.
Crowley's arm slowly dropped from the back of the bench and he wrapped it around Dean in a side hug. Embracing the scared guilty boy, ignoring the small wet spot that was slowly growing on his coat. Giving the kid the privacy and comfort, he needs. Holding him so as to try and hold the pieces they are slowly coming apart together.
Hoping to Heaven, Earth, and Hell that this helps, just at the very least a little.
That's all he wants.
To help.
Because only Someone knows this kid needs it.
...
Bobby Singer was just packing up the things he needed as he got ready to leave in order to go join and help Sam cure Dean of his Ghost Sickness, only for a loud, but polite, knock on the door to interrupt him.
The older man groaned as he quickly grabbed a blanket, throwing it over the multitude of weapons, hiding them from sight.
He stomped over to the door and opening it up, hoping to get rid of whoever was there quickly so he could leave. Dean is running out of time.
"What do you want?", he snapped, causing the person on his porch to jump in surprise.
It was a short man with a little bit of a belly, short blonde curly hair, bright blue eyes, wearing a light blue button up shirt, brown vest, plaid bow tie, dark brown pants, dress shoes, and a tan suit coat. On his left ring finger lied a thin golden band.
A married man then.
"Oh, sorry, hello.", the man said with a polite smile, looking Bobby up and down, his voice ringing with a British accent.
Studying him just as Bobby is studying the stranger.
"Sorry, I may have gotten the wrong address.", the stranger said, looking around Bobby as if searching for someone.
Bobby on the other hand looked behind the stranger to see that there was no new vehicle in the front. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the stranger who appeared at his home with no vehicle.
As if he appeared out of nowhere.
"This is Singer Salvage Yard, correct?", the stranger asked, snapping Bobby from his thoughts.
"...Yes.", Bobby said after a pause.
The man's face brightened by his answer.
"Oh good.", he said, sighing in relief with a hand on his chest, "I thought I accidently popped in on the wrong Salvage yard for a moment. Unlike him, I haven't flown across the pond in centuries."
This caused Bobby to falter.
"Him?", Bobby asked, starting to become very confused, and thus wary, from this stranger's words.
Suddenly a familiar old black car sped to a halt in the front of Bobby's yard.
Crowley jumped out of his seat from inside the Bentley.
"Oh good! Bobby meet Angel, Angel this is Bobby Singer.", Crowley states in a rush, practically making Bobby's head spin from how fast the words tumbled from Crowley's mouth.
'Angel', as Crowely introduced turned to Bobby holding his hand out with a bubbly smile.
"Hello, I'm Aziraphale.", Aziraphale says with a bright smile and Bobby shook his hand with dumbfounded look on his face, "Crowley called me over. I believe I may have a way to help you with your ghost and its ghost sickness."
"Angel get your books out of the trunk.", Crowley says opening the trunk of the Bentley with a snap of his finger as he runs over to the back.
"Oh right."
A snap of Aziraphale's fingers there was clatter sound, obviously from the books, as they disappeared from the Bentley's trunk.
"Right, there we go.", Crowley nods, satisfied as he slams the trunk shut, "Grab your stuff Bobby, we have little time."
While Crowley rushes to get his car ready for Bobby's stuff, Bobby rushes into his house with Azirphale close behind. Watching Bobby as he packs the last things, he may need in a large duffle bag.
"Another Demon?", he asks, though not believing it.
He has seen no Demon that dresses the way this man, although they all know that he is no man, does.
"An Angel, actually.", Aziraphale says, staring at Bobby, curious of his reaction.
Bobby zips the bag harshly in his surprise as he looks up incredulously.
"Really?", he says in disbelief as he left the room, Aziraphale staying where he was, "An Angel that married a human?"
"An Angel that married a Demon actually!", Aziraphale calls out, a mischievous smile on his face.
There was pause of silence, Aziraphale couldn't help the amused smile as there was a loud clatter outside caused from the bag dropping onto the porch steps.
He especially couldn't help the amused chuckle when he heard Crowley's confused exclamation from outside.
"Why are you staring at me like that for!?"
…...
Crowley was speeding down the road with Aziraphale sitting next to him and Bobby in the back.
"I would've been fine following you in my own car.", Bobby grumbled.
"You would be too slow.", Crowley tells him bluntly.
As if to prove his point, with a squeal of the Bentley's wheels, Crowley sped past multiple cars on the road. Aziraphale was clutching his door tightly, and Bobby was practically clinging to dear life in the back seat.
"Hell! I see what you mean.", Bobby grumbles, "Do none of you idjits know how to drive!?"
"Do you want to take the wheel?", Crowley shouts to the back sarcastically.
"I very much would so, yes. I would probably get us there in one piece.", Bobby retorted.
"That was rhetorical.", Cowley drawled, rolling his eyes from behind his glasses.
…...
Luckily, for Bobby's heart, they did get there quickly and in one piece. Not with the lack of trying in Bobby's opinion. But how Crowley saw it as 'all's well that ends well'.
Bobby honestly felt like hitting the demon for that.
But Crowley just dropped off Bobby and Aziraphale with Sam before speeding the car around so he could go and check on Dean. Because, honestly, Crowley thinks they can all agree, for different reasons, that that boy needs to have someone to keep an eye on him.
Crowley readily volunteers.
Without even saying a word.
And when I say dropped off? I mean the Fallen practically kicked the two out his car and was already driving away before they could barely even regain their footing, the needed supplies in hand.
But by the time Crowley got there, he found the boys motel room door busted open.
Crowley sprinted to the door, slamming into the doorframe during his haste to see the town's sheriff pinning Dean to the wall.
He marched forward, and slammed his hand down on the man's shoulder, holding it with an iron tight grip. The man practically jumped two feet in the air, turning to Crowley with wide eyes and open mouth.
"What on bloody Earth do you think you're doing!?", Crowley growled before, literally, throwing him off Dean, watching stonily as he crashed on top of the glass coffee table.
Smashing it to pieces. Crowley stalked slowly towards the man, Dean close behind him, tilting his head as he waited to see if the man would get back up and try to fight. Only to raise his brows in surprise as Crowley watched the man clutched his chest, breathing heavily.
"Get away from me!", he shouts, sounding petrified.
"Al, you gotta calm down!", Dean tries to tell him.
"Step Back!"
Somehow, his breathing got even faster in short gasps, as if the room was depleted from its oxygen. He was fisting his shirt in a tight white knuckled grip right over where his heart should be. His entire body tensing from the pain. Then with a choked sound, his body relaxed as he fell back, unmoving.
It didn't take much for Crowely to know that the man was dead.
His eyes quickly noticed the blood stains on the sheriff's shirt on his forearms. He turned to see Dean with the same marks.
"How much longer?", he asks quietly, studying Dean as if he may drop dead any second.
Someone, he hopes that's not the case.
"Uh, less than two hours?", Dean replied, but it sounded like a question and his voice was high, he was breathing heavily too.
Crowely nodded, "Right, why don't you sit down."
With a strong, but as reassuring as he could, grip on Dean's upper arm, he led the stupefied man over to the beds where he sat him down.
"Stay.", he ordered, before hurrying over to the closet.
He opened it up, eyes quickly scanning for what he needed before finding the spare blankets on top of the closet. Crowley grabbed one, and unfurled as he walked over to the Sheriffs body, laying the blanket over it.
He turned to see that Dean seemed to be slowly panicking more and more. Nervously eyeing the sheriff's body before frantically scratching at his arms. Nails biting painfully into the skin.
"Kid, stop that.", Crowley called out.
But it didn't sound like Dean heard him. Laser-focused on his arms as he scratched.
"Kid...", Crowely slowly called again.
But Dean was lost, his eyes flickering everywhere, glancing at his watch, the windows, his bags, the watch, the door, through Crowley, the watch. Dean thankfully stopped scratching only to desperately cover his watch.
But he only stayed like that for less than a minute before spotting something underneath the bed.
A Bible, Crowley noted with curiosity, and understanding. But he had to try and snap him out of it, calm him down. So Crowely slowly crept towards Dean, trying not to startle the already panicked hunter.
Dean clutched the book tightly, resting it against his lips in a desperate prayer.
"Dean.", Crowley says softly as slowly sat next to him on the bed.
This time it seemed Dean heard him, his eyes snapping open.
"No. No.", Dean turned to him gasping breathlessly before quickly turning away, eyes squeezed shut as he growled, "No."
Crowely didn't like the wide-eyed fearful look the hunter was staring at him with. It was like as if he could see him, but it wasn't Crowley Dean was seeing. And the demon was scared to know what the Winchester was seeing in his stead.
"Dean.", Crowley called out softly, "It's me, Crowley."
Crowley reached out, grabbing his shoulder reassuringly, hoping to try and ground him, "Whatever your seeing is not real."
Dean's head snapped up in surprise and fear, he looked like he wanted to run, but Crowley could see he was desperately trying to convince himself whatever he was seeing wasn't real.
"Dean, come back to me kid.", Crowely said, his voice came out almost as a growl from how quiet he's trying to keep his voice.
Dean awkwardly shifted away from Crowley's grip, he loudly gulped as he slowly walked away.
"You... You are not real!", Dean shouts pointing the book at Crowley without looking at him.
Shit shit shit. He's fighting but it's obviously not working. What's Crowley going to do if he lashes out?
His eyes flickered over to the sheriff's covered body.
Crowley can't fight back, look how well that turned out. He won't fight back if it comes down to it.
"Dean, I need you to try and listen to me.", Crowley tried, despite knowing it won't work, at least he can try to stall for time, "Whoever you are seeing, you're right, they're not real."
Crowley slowly stood up, and Dean leaned back, "It's Crowley, kid, it's Crowley. I'm not it."
Dean grunted as he slowly fell to the ground, clutching his chest.
Clutching his fists tightly, Crowely resisted the urge to check on Dean, knowing it would scare him even more, because whatever he was seeing, it wasn't Crowley.
"You are not real.", Dean manages to grunt out.
Dean suddenly looked up, tilting his head in what must be an uncomfortable if awkward way. His eyes were wide with fear and Crowely was beginning to panic, hating the helplessness that was consuming him.
"Why me?", Dean asks pleadingly, his eyes keep switching between cloudy and clear, "Why did I get infected?"
"... I don't know why.", Crowley lied through the skin of his teeth.
He knew full well why, he just didn't have the heart to say it on the off chance that Dean could hear him.
"What?", Dean grimaces before gasping and collapsing in pain, flinching in a timely manner.
"That's it!", Crowley lunged forward, unable to see anymore.
His hands placed themselves on the side of Dean's head, fingers spread meticulously so they rested on his temples. Crowley gritted his teeth in determination when he saw Dean's wide fearful eyes.
And committed the transference.
It happened in a span of moments, but felt like hours as Crowley felt sickness suck away from Dean, managing to concentrate and heal his forearms as well in the middle of the process, and forced the sickness away, dragging it kicking and screaming from the hunter and shoved all inside of himself.
Gasping when it was done, falling back, collapsing to the wooden floor, body twitching as he done so. Blearily, Crowley noticed his glasses were no longer on his face. Slowly, as if he was in molasses, Crowley turned his head to see his glasses laying on the other side of the room.
Funny, he doesn't remember ever throwing them off.
He could hear Dean gasping in surprise and relief, laughing breathlessly.
"They did it.", he gasped, "They did it."
Crowley wanted to tell him that, no, they didn't, he just gave them more time. But his tongue felt heavy, and Crowley was still gasping as he felt his heart bound relentlessly in his ribcage.
"Crowley?", Dean calls out warily, as if scared for the reason the demon was laying twitching on the floor, but motionlessly despite the harsh twitches.
That's when Dean seemed to realize that his arms were healed, which means that the others haven't fixed things yet.
"Crowley what did you do?", Dean demanded as he rushed to the groaning and gasping Fallen's side.
"Cou-Couldn't watch...", Crowley somehow manages to force out through gritted teeth, groaning again as his heart pounded hard against his chest once more, "Trans... trans..."
He breathed heavily, trying to regain his breath, "Transferred the sickness from you to me."
Crowley hissed this time, hands moving to clutch his chest.
"Are you an idiot!?", Dean shouts, his eyes wide in surprise, "Why the hell would you do that!?"
"Symptoms different for me...", he breathed heavily, hissing through his teeth again before continuing, "Won't kill me, won't hallucinate, but the pain would get ten times worse and won't stop... won't stop until the ghost is dead."
Crowley groaned as he rolled to his side.
"Oh... this is worse than I thought...", he chuckled, which sounded heavy and throaty though his labored breathing, "And thought it was goin-going to be pretty bad... Angel better finish soon or I'll kill... kill him."
Dean placed a hand on the demon's shoulder, his expression hard and determined, "Alright, enough of that. I stay here till you ride it out. The others should be done any second. Alright?"
Eyes squeezed tightly shut in pain, Crowley quickly nodded.
To Crowley, it felt like years, decades, before his body relaxed as it was released from the sickness, but in reality, it was only a couple minutes, five at most.
Crowely made a strange noise that was a mix between a sigh and a groan as he just laid there, in a star fish position, making no move to get back up. Dean smiling in relief when he realized it was over, panting a little himself as he tried not laugh.
"Ugh, don't run into anymore ghost sickness wielding ghosts' kid.", Crowely groaned, "That was bloody awful!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley saw Dean's expression fall a little in guilt. So, Crowley threw his arm over, causing him to lay on his side, patting Dean roughly, but not painfully, and comfortingly.
"You're totally worth it kid.", Crowley told him, proud that he got Dean to smile, "You were honestly scaring me. Do I even want to know what you saw."
"...Nope."
Crowley would always let it go, maybe, but the only reason the he did so this time, was because Dean paused to think about it.
And that was more than enough for the tired demon.
…...
"So, you guys, road-hauled a ghost...", Dean says as he hands two beers to Sam and Bobby, "With a chain?"
"Iron chain.", Sam corrected, "Etched with a spell word, courtesy of the angel."
"Hmm, that's new.", Dean commented as he sipped his beer.
"It's what he was most afraid of.", Sam said pointedly, "It was pretty brutal though."
"On the upside, I'm still alive, so uh,", he raised his bottle in cheers, ", go team."
Crowley chuckled as he goes to sip his as well, "Who's idea was it anyway?"
"That would be your husband.", Bobby states with a smirk.
Crowely raised a brow in surprise, while both Sam and Dean spat out what they just drunk in surprise.
"I'm surprised that was your idea, Angel.", Crowely says in shock, "Sounds too..."
"Violent?", Bobby guessed, not for one second taking his eyes off the sputtering brothers in amusement, "Out of character?"
"Messy.", Azirphale supplied with a smile.
Crowley snapped his fingers, pointing at Aziraphale as he nods, "That's the word."
He turns to the brothers to see them staring at him and Aziraphale incredulously, "What're the looks for?"
"You're married!?", Dean cried in shock.
"Yep.", Crowley popped the 'p'.
"For a couple of decades now.", Aziraphale replied in matter of fact.
"To an angel?", Sam added on, never seeing this coming at all, even when he still had visions, he bet he would have still never saw it coming.
The two raised up their left hands to showcase their respective rings.
"Match made on Earth.", Bobby joked.
"You have no idea.", Crowley agreed with a grin.
"Everything makes so much sense.", Dean says as he thought about some of the more cryptic things Crowley has mentioned.
"Nope, nothing makes sense at all.", Sam disagreed, but he decided to just shake it off, "How're you feeling by the way?"
Dean's eyes flickered over to Crowley, the two shared a small smile, the demon nodding discreetly.
"Fine.", Dean says, turning back to Sam.
No one noticed the exchange, not even Aziraphale, who was too busy studying the beer in his hand curiously. Still trying to decide, whether or not he liked the alcoholic beverage.
"You sure Dean?", Bobby asked, his lips twitched as he resisted a smile, "Cause this line of work can get awful scary."
Dean just stared at Bobby, unamused.
"I'm Fine."
Aziraphale lifted a fist to his lips as his shoulders shook with silent laughter, Crowley didn't even bother hiding his grin as he watched the teasing, highly entertained.
"You want to go hunting? I'll hunt.", Dean ranted defensively, Bobby no longer trying to hide his smile either, "I'll kill anything."
Sam turned to the trio with a smile, "Aw..."
"He's adorable.", Bobby agreed.
"Harmlessly little puppy.", Aziraphale teased, causing Crowley to guffaw in laughter, almost falling off his perch on top of the Bentley.
Bobby and Sam were quick to join in while Dean just ignored them, opting to take a drink from his beer instead.
"I got to get out of here. C'mon you love birds, you're my ride.", Bobby says as he gets up and moves to the door for the back of the Bentley, "You boys drive safe."
"You guys too.", Sam replied.
"With him at the wheel.", Bobby said incredulously jerking a thumb at Crowley, Aziraphale snickering in agreement which Crowley just rolled his eyes at, unbothered, "I'd have better luck hunting a nest of vamps by myself. Pray for me boys."
"Oh, don't be dramatic.", Crowley sighs as he gets in the driver's seat, Sam and Dean just chuckled.
"Nice meeting you Aziraphale.", Sam waved, Dean nodded in agreement.
"Lovely to finally meet you boys.", Aziraphale said with a wide smile, "You two are all he talks about.
"Same for you.", Dean replies with a smirk.
"I'd hope so."
Then Aziraphale grinned and finally got in the Bently.
"See you later boys!", Crowley called through the open door before shutting it and speeding away