Disclaimer: I don't own anything. A. N. At first, I wrote as disclaimer "I don't know anything"...which, I mean, isn't wrong. I am writing this story and I never know what they'll be up to. A little shorter than usual, but other projects bit. Hope I can be forgiven. ^^'''
Crowley was very happy with his own forethought in leaving that little listening device on. If he hadn't, he could have done something very stupid. Like overthink when Sam went no contact for an absolutely outrageous amount of time. Hell just stretched that so much further that he found himself missing Moose ferociously.
Perhaps he would have done something even more dumb, like trying to check on him in person. Or on Squirrel, maybe. Just to be sure he hadn't overreacted to the revelation, obviously.
But no, for a long, long time nothing had come through except the riffling of pages and the occasional bored sigh. Crowley tried to send a quick text offering entertainment, but when it went ignored, he assumed Sam didn't have his phone at hand.
Which meant Squirrel had indeed taken his brother up on that offer, huh? Kept him to make sure he hadn't been drinking something he shouldn't have. Not giving him a way to reach Crowley made sense, depressing as that was for both of them. At least this time Sam had something to pass the time, even if not riveting.
Crowley tried to focus on something else. Anything else. He couldn't spend all his time eavesdropping. Well, he could if he so chose, nobody was going to make a peep after last time, but still.
It wasn't good for his mood. And he didn't want to reach an annoyance threshold that might tempt him to vent on the wrong target. Like Squirrel. Would it kill him to trust his brother for once?
...Ok, he was in the picture. And he hadn't always been reliable, even if the boys were way more likely than he ever was to actually try and backstab you. It sure kept things interesting, though.
Happily, next time he indulged in a little check, he heard chatting about some restless spirit. Back to normal life, then. He hoped Dean had grovelled a little at his suspicions being proved wrong, but that was probably too much to ask.
When no text or call came...again... Crowley decided he should take the initiative once more. Sam had sounded so sure about wanting to see him, but that was before his brother set him up for boredom. Maybe he was reconsidering the convenience of it, if it'd set Squirrel off.
-What are you up to? he texted.
-Case. Unless your idea of a date extends to taking down wendigos, I'm not free.
- Well, you know I have nothing against watching you work.
It was true, though. Your run-of-the-mill wendigo wasn't exactly as momentous as the Ripper. - Or I could just send Juliet. She'd love it.
- Dean wouldn't.
Mmm...true. Then again, they were unlikely to have called the angel in for an ordinary case. And what Squirrel couldn't see wouldn't annoy him. And the sooner this ended, the sooner Moose would have time for him, wouldn't he?
He whistled, and Juliet perked right up. An order. and she was rushing off.
Crowley headed upstairs too. He was tired of time stretching like taffy. He wouldn't follow Juliet and pop up at Moose's location, since he didn't exactly get an enthusiastic invite. Besides, putting some distance between them when Sam realized he didn't listen sounded like the best plan. Not that the boy could actually kill him, of course. But best not give him the chance to do something he'd regret later.
Instead, he appeared in a random bookstore and started browsing. A peace offering might not go amiss. Two hours later, he had a selection of five interesting options, when his phone rang.
"I told you not to!" Sam hissed.
"Technically, you told me that Dean would be less than thrilled. Come on, Moose, you know that words matter. I don't answer to him, and you don't either. So."
"Seriously, Crowley, what are you trying to do? Do you think that making me argue with him is endearing? Because newsflash, it isn't." If the growl that came through wasn't so bloody sexy, maybe Crowley would be more contrite.
"I'm a demon, you know. Get used to the idea I'll misbehave every now and then. You can always make me pay for it, if it helps. I'm sure I'm capable of taking anything you'll be in the mood to dish out." Even if it ended up being a literal pound of flesh. Or two. Or - well, he wasn't going to give him ideas in the torture department unless Sam asked. Besides, he doubted that he would have to.
"You'd just enjoy it, so no, it wouldn't help." My, the boy was really pissed off at being disobeyed. Oh well. The course of true love never did run smooth.
"Come on, Moose, was Juliet that bad? Didn't get in the way or something, did she?"
A beat of silence, and then, "That's not the point."
He abandoned the books and knocked on Sam's door. Damn salt lines. He might have misjudged the level of his annoyance. Then again, that hesitation meant something. And he was tired of staying away.
Sam opened the door and glared at him. But then shut the phone and broke the line to let him in. That was already a win. A glance ensured him that there was no Squirrel anywhere. Probably somewhere sulking, then.
"What happened, Moose?" In his gentlest tone. He did need to win him back.
"Juliet was...helpful, really. Wendigos can be wickedly fast." A little unhappy sigh. "But we could have handled it."
"I'd never imagine the opposite. If she was a lovely girl, though, why was there even an argument?"
Bitchface n. 72. "Seriously, Crowley? Put a hellhound in the same fucking town as Dean... and unexpectedly, at that... It's a miracle she's alive."
"What?" He hadn't meant to yell. But he'd really thought Squirrel would be too dumb to notice her intervention. He'd assumed she'd be safe.
"Don't worry, she's okay. But, huh, Dean is less than happy. Look, it's - you might have to help me."
Crowley smiled. "Always thrilled to, Moose. With?"
"He's technically not wrong. Last time anything similar happened, they made me open the cage. And I know you haven't offered blood or...asked for anything except spending time that didn't involve attempting to kill each other. But if you want to continue our relationship, we need to convince him that there's no apocalypse coming...this time." Sam shrugged, ill at ease.
"We. I like the sound of that. I'm just not sure what we could possibly do that would persuade your brother. He doesn't have reasons to find me especially reliable, unlike almost any other person I've ever met."
Sam snorted. "Would you really stand by that? Almost any other person?"
"Yep. I have principles. Now, mind, they might not be yours, but - I deliver what I promise. Don't you know that?"
"Except when you promise what you can't give in the first place," Sam retorted, and - okay, he had a point.
"Not like you cared then." So what if he wasn't able to deliver the boy's soul? It was a miracle that slamming it back in hadn't been the stupidest decision ever.
Still, he deserved the bitchface he got...even if (because, perhaps) he was right. "Anyway, I thought you could talk anyone into anything. I'm surprised you can't imagine a way to convince Dean that your intentions are pure."
Crowley couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Moose, my intentions are definitely anything but pure. But thank you for the vote of confidence. I need the world to keep going, because otherwise it would curtail our entertainment considerably. But would your brother understand such basic reasoning?"
"He's smarter than you think. Even smarter than he thinks. Just- stubborn," Sam retorted.
That's when the door opened. Timing so perfect that, if he hadn't made a point of learning about Moose's talents, he would have considered the chance of a subconscious summoning. OK, technically you didn't summon humans. But with the right power you could absolutely compel them to come where and when you desired.
"What the fuck? Thought museums were closed by now," Squirrel sneered, managing to make the cultural institutions sound just a little filthier than your average sewer.
"One'd think someone with your travel experience would be aware of the existence of timezones, but I didn't actually come for a date this time. In fact, I'm here uninvited," Crowley admitted, before Sam could get a word in.
And now Dean was glaring at his brother.
"Did you really think the corridor was a better place for a conversation? Or for anything else, at that?" insisted Crowley.
Squirrel's disgusted groan was excessively loud, really. "You didn't:"
"No," Sam snapped.
"You came back early," Crowley cheerfully pointed out. "I barely got to apologise, and so not properly."
"What for?" Dean was at least looking suspiciously at him, this time. If he wanted someone to be angry at, he might as well find the right target.
"Juliet was bored. Sam had said he wasn't available for dogsitting, just...not specifically enough for my taste. Contracts are my specialty. I never miss a loophole. Unless I mean to."
Dean's grin was surprising. And worrying. "Well, glad I'm back then. I wouldn't want to miss this."
"What?" Sam asked. He seemed as baffled as Crowley felt.
"You're breaking up with him, right? What was you said? That he could take a no, or something? Didn't expect him to prove you wrong this quick, I admit. Thought he'd drag his plot out a lot longer...whatever it happens to be this time."
He'd heard it, even, but did he take it to heart? If Moose listened to his brother, now, Crowley would have deserved it.
"Well..." Sam drawled. He wasn't jumping at the idea? Oh, brilliant!
"You weren't dumping him?"
"Not without listening. One strike and done? It would be a little unfair, don't you think? And not like anyone would do well with that standard." Moose shrugged, and Crowley did his best not to look too smug. God knew that there were a lot of second chances given in the books. ( Of course he owned his own copies. Highlighted.)
"You want to hear it, Moose, fine. I'll confess...whatever plot it is, this time. I'm not even asking you to put on the priest garb first, even if you look so pretty in it." Crowley could see the anger mounting in his Moose. Oh. Less quipping, no matter how tempting it was, before his love of his own voice made that second chance slip through his fingers. "Truth is, I was trying to make a point. And from what you told me of the day, I half succeeded. "
"Which point?" Sam asked, voice clipped.
"That a hound could be useful for your work. Juliet's sister is pregnant, so." He shrugged.
Moose glared at him, but the waning worry about dark scheming and being manipulated by hell in the worst ways - again - made him visibly, physically relax.
Squirrel, instead, pulled a gun on him. Not the Colt though, so...basically he was threatening Crowley's suit. "Seriously? A fucking hound?"
Crowley smiled. "Yeah. One that'd listen to Sam. And you, if you could bring yourself to actually pet it once in your life. We're not speaking of a Manchurian candidate, here."
Dean turned to Sam. "Tell me you know he's lying. That you're not stupid enough to turn us both into chow."
"I wasn't going to adopt anyone without running it by you," Sam huffed. Crowley appreciated the pronoun used. Moose saw the puppy to come as a living creature, not a thing. Especially not as a device to be destroyed before it exploded on their faces.
Squirrel clearly didn't consider it enough of a reassurance, despite the promise. "Well then, case closed. You're going to keep your beasts away from us. All your beasts."
"From you, for sure. Unless you finally change your ideas and ask all pretty, mind. So close-minded of you, really, when she's been all helpful."
Dean glared...at his brother. Did he really expect Sam not to admit to him what had happened? "Is this a problem just for me, seriously? Really man, why would you take a risk like that? Hellhounds. You find one, you murder it before it can do you in. That's gotta be hunting 101. You trying to give me a coronary or something?"
"If it doesn't try to do you in, though. We've had the same conversation for years, Dean, about all sorts of monsters. I'm not going to kill Juliet unless she attacks someone innocent. Or one of us. And if Crowley learned his lesson..."
The king of hell nodded eagerly. "I did. Keep my pets away from bigots."
"Well, then... Strike one. I don't suggest you try to see how far you can push it."