I'm happy to start a new, mutli-chaptered mooseley fic! It's been way too long and I've had this idea rattling in my head for a while now.
I want to clarify and say that the Harry Potter universe will mostly be mentioned, such as the names of the wizarding schools. There will be no characters from the franchise, and there will likely be no travelling to those areas. That part may change, but we will see. Please give a review for what you like/would like to see in this story.
Also, if you have Mooseley prompts, please message Mooseleyfics on Tumblr! I can be a bit slow at answering them, but I try my best to get them done when I find my muse.
Sam wasn't sure when he had started to trust Crowley or even view him as a friend, but somehow it happened without his consent. For the first time in over five years, he started to trust a demon again.
They shared hidden looks, smiles, and conversations. His phone held numerous messages between the two, often just to check in on the other.
A few weeks ago, the thought would have made him smile to himself. Now, it only served to remind him how foolish he had been.
Angry tears burned his eyes as he looked at the message on his phone, something heavy forming in his chest as the world seemed to slow down around him.
Sam, I want you to know that none of this was my intention. I was never certain that the mark would turn your brother into a demon. There were rumors, but no one was for sure.
"Always trying to save your-" Sam hisses to himself, before stopping as he remembers Crowley standing in front of an Angel for him, punching the intruder in the face. He clenches his eyes shut as more tears fill his eyes, all the anger rolling away and leaving a sensation of defeat and hurt. He re-opened his eyes when his phone dinged again, a new message awaiting him that only made his conflicted feelings worsen.
I should have told you sooner, darling, and I am sorry that I didn't.
Sam reads the message, that familiar since of uncertainty hitting him. He reads the apology, the recognizable sense of numbness hitting him as he stares at the message unseeingly, wishing he had the energy to send a condescending message back. Part of him wants to lash out and let his scathing words cause the pain, but another part of him wants to ask why. He wants to know why Crowley didn't tell him about anything, despite Sam trying to get ahold of him for nearly three weeks. He wants to ask why Crowley had kept such a secret from him when the two had grown so close.
But he's too tired to ask those questions. He's too emotionally drained to let himself be vulnerable with a demon who had thrown away his trust like it meant nothing.
At the end of the day, Sam doesn't know what he's most disappointed in; Crowley for betraying his trust and friendship, or himself, for falling for a demon's manipulations again.
Since he was Sam Winchester and he had experienced disappointing people for years, he found it easier to be disappointed in himself.
I'm sorry you had to find out that way, Moose. I wanted to tell you differently.
Sam was brought out of his deprecating thoughts as his phone buzzed, a deep frown forming on his face as he recalled the harsh words from two hours ago. It had been nearly three weeks since Dean's body had gone missing, and between calling Crowley and Dean, he would only receive silence. For three agonizing weeks Sam had tried his hardest to get a hold of them, only for Dean to finally answer today and brutally tell him how happy he was now that he was a demon.
He maliciously told Sam that he was only holding him back in life, finally feeling free after so many years of being caged to him. Dean said being a demon was such a freeing feeling and that he wished he had died years ago if it meant getting away from Sam earlier.
Any thoughts he had of a demon possessing his brother's body vanished in a matter of moments, the words cutting so deep that Sam knew they belonged to Dean. Only his brother had the capability of hurting him so deeply with mere words, being able to break him down with a few callous sentences.
Usually, the words would cause a lingering pain, but it felt short-lived to the pain of Crowley's betrayal, which still stabbed at him even now. His chest constricted as he steeled his resolve, finally starting to send a response. He hoped it conveyed not only his pain, but his finality.
He was so tired of everything.
What's done is done. You made your choice, Crowley. Just take care of Dean, please.
With a resigned sigh he muted the conversation, shoving his phone in his pocket as he grabbed his laptop, ready to start looking for potential hunts again, even if the lingering pain in his chest never lessened.
He was too distracted with the ache in his chest to notice the lightbulbs exploding down the hall, darkening the pathway to the dungeon. He also failed to notice a stack of books levitating behind him as they landed beside him on the table.
And miles away, a demon was looking at his phone screen with a guilty expression, a frown on his face that didn't blend in with the atmosphere around him. He didn't take his brown eyes off the screen even when Dean plopped on the chair beside him, a smug grin on his face that didn't look right.
"C'mon, man. We've got twins waiting on us," Dean elbows him, a vulgar grin on his face that made Crowley want to role his eyes, growing tired of the constant sexcapades. He had enjoyed those activities years ago himself, but now they hardly interested him unless it was to make a deal. Wasting his time at a seedy bar wasn't how he wanted to spend his nights.
He would rather spend his nights with a different Winchester; helping him research, making him laugh quietly with secret jokes. His heart sputtered at his damning thoughts, the guilt resurfacing again as his heart sank to his stomach.
His brown eyes looked away from Dean, immediately looking back at his phone and the message Sam had sent him thirty minutes ago.
"Dude, did you not hear me?" Dean elbows him again, looking less amused than before. "I said we've got twins waiting on us. Are you-"
"You can have them," Crowley cuts in, silencing the other demon as he waves him off. "Not interested,"
"What the fuck, man?" Dean scoffs, crossing his arms. "We've got two beautiful women who want us, and you're more interested in your damn phone?" The former hunter shakes his head incredulously. "Come to think of it, you've been acting weird ever since I finally fucking answered Sam's annoying calls." Crowley withheld the urge to sigh, taking a moment to form his thoughts to not anger the demon beside him.
"I was hoping to break the news to him differently," Crowley begrudgingly admitted as Dean snorted again, looking unimpressed.
"Doesn't fucking matter now, does it?" Dean commented with a shrug. "He knows and now he'll hopefully stop calling all the damn time. Maybe he'll finally take the hint that no one wants him around." Crowley's jaw tensed at the words, eyes momentarily flashing with anger. "He's a stubborn piece of shit, but hopefully my words got through to him," Crowley failed to notice Dean leave, the demon walking towards the twins with a lascivious grin.
The anger he felt on Sam's behalf was brief as Dean words echoed in his head. Sam was stubborn at times, specifically for the things he was passionate about. His fleeting anger transformed into something somber as he looked at the message for what felt like the millionth time, unused to the stubborn man giving in so easily.
It bothered Crowley, unnerving him at how complacent the younger Winchester was being. The king of Hell had been expecting the furious, raging storm that was Sam Winchester. He had braced himself for hate-filled words, expecting a whirlwind of hurtful accusations. Crowley had been expecting a confrontation, already witnessing the depths Sam had gone for Dean before.
What he hadn't been expecting was Sam's simplistic and apathetic words, like he had no fight left in him. It was like he had given up-
The realization was like a crushing weight on his chest, his breath catching low in his throat as he closed his eyes in despair. His guilt, which had already been eating at him, only increased tenfold.
Despite his apologies being sincere, they suddenly felt inconsequential and lackluster.
He wished Sam had gotten furious instead. An angry Sam Winchester was at least something he had experience in dealing with. But Sam Winchester who was despondent and completely pulling away? Nothing could have prepared him for the pain the apathetic message would cause him, the message truly opening his eyes and reminding him that he had royally screwed up.
A lump formed in the demon's throat as he sagged further into the bar stool, waving to the bartender for another drink. Crowley hoped the alcohol would numb his damning thoughts that only seemed to intensify. All he could think about was how he wished he had done things differently, and how hurting Sam had been the last thing he had wanted to do.
As the bitter alcohol burned down his throat, the king of Hell made a promise to himself.
No matter what, he was not only going to protect Sam Winchester as best as he could, but he was also going to make it up to the other man eventually. Even if it meant groveling at his feet for forgiveness. He would do everything in his power to rebuild the trust that formed between them, which Crowley had secretly cherished more with each passing day.
Their tentative friendship meant everything to the demon, especially when he was privy to the genuine laughter and smiles that Sam kept locked away. The king of Hell would never tell another soul, but it felt like a room became brighter when Sam Winchester walked into it.
Six drinks later, Crowley was sending Sam another message, chest burning with a desire for the hunter to know just how much he was cared for, even if the demon's actions showed otherwise.
If you ever need me, please call. I know that I didn't answer you these past weeks, but that won't happen again, darling. I promise. I'll always come to your side if you need my help.
A week later, Sam finally had a case.
"Am I doing the right thing here, Cas?" Sam asked as he drove down the highway, his grip tight on the steering wheel. "Dean's a fucking demon and I'm…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. "I'm not doing anything about it. I thought about using the same ritual I had tried using on Crowley during the trials-"
"Which is too dangerous," Castiel butted in, glancing at Sam with an imploring gaze. "That ritual is for demons possessing a vessel, Sam. There could be consequences with using it on a demon who inhabits its own body," There was a heavy beat of silence which Castiel soon broke. "There is also the issue of your own health. That ritual nearly killed you the first time." Sam winces at the blunt words, knuckles white as he gives a small nod.
"I know." He sighed. "I wish there was more that I could do. I feel horrible for not doing anything." Again, Sam swallowed hard, thinking about Dean's harsh words when his brother learned he hadn't searched for him during his year in Purgatory. It felt like he was letting his brother down again.
"When you're not looking for cases you're researching rituals. I fail to understand why you think you're doing nothing," Sam cracks a small smile at the angel's words, the compassion in them helping ease his conscious. "Theres also the fact that we know very little about the Mark of Cain and the effect it has on demons." Sam winced again, the symbol making him think about Crowley.
"I really don't want to ask Crowley about it," Sam admitted with a groan, running a hand down his face. "There's no telling if he would even tell us the truth about it anyway." Castiel was oddly quiet, and Sam stole a glance at the angel, shifting uncomfortably when he realized blue eyes were boring into his face. "What?" He asked after a moment, growing nervous.
"Have you spoken with him anymore since the last time?" Castiel inquired, watching the tension form in Sam's shoulders as the man shook his head slowly, opening and closing his mouth.
"No," Sam settled on, forcing his fingers to relax their grip on the steering wheel as he exhaled deeply, a melancholic expression staying. "I don't…" Sam trailed off, unsure of how to word his thoughts to the angel beside him. He sighed again, unable to lie to himself or his close friend. "I still care about him, despite all he did, but I can't bring myself to talk to him yet," Sam admitted, thinking about all the apologies Crowley had texted him.
He had a suspicion that the demon had been drunk for some of the texts, but Sam couldn't deny that they had made him smile just a little, a warmth replacing the numbness in his chest for a brief moment.
"I haven't texted him back at all," Sam continued, trying to force himself to relax, still feeling Castiel's burning gaze. He wanted to text the demon back, but he couldn't bring himself to do it yet, Truthfully, he didn't know what to say to him and he was still deeply hurt by the man's actions.
"What about Dean?" Castiel asked after a few minutes and Sam grimaced, shaking his head again.
"I told him that he was still my brother and that I'd be there for him if he needed me," Sam confessed, hearing the small sigh the man let out. He didn't need to look at the angel to know there was a sorrowful look on his face. Anytime Dean was mentioned a depressing gleam would enter Castiel's blue eyes and Sam hated to see it. "He hasn't replied," Which wasn't surprising after the last time Dean answered the phone.
"I see." Castiel mumbled and Sam felt compelled to inform the angel about some of the things Crowley had been texting him.
"Even though I don't respond to Crowley, he does send me updates about Dean." Sam flushed to himself when those blue eyes went back to burning the side of his head. "Usually it's once a day, sometimes more if…alcohol is involved, I guess."
"Sam," Even though Sam was looking at the road, he could swear that Castiel was tilting his head and furrowing his brows. "Just how often does Crowley text you?"
"Every day," Sam coughed, face flushing the longer Castiel looked at him. "Usually it's just once, but it's sometimes more." Saying it out loud to Cas made his stomach swoop, that strange warmth returning to his chest. "I don't think I can even tell you the amount of times he's sent me an apology," The angel hummed again, head still tilted.
"Do you believe him?" The question makes his heart freeze, lips moving on their own accord.
"I want to," Sam said, his voice uncharacteristically small, a sliver of hope in his tone that Castiel caught onto. "I really do want to believe he's sincere, Cas." There was a sad smile on the hunter's face as he released a small breath.
"…Perhaps you should," Sam blinked in shock at the words, his lips parting in surprise as glanced at the Angel. "Crowley is not the type of person who apologies lightly," Castiel spoke, his words blunt. "And he certainly isn't one to continuously apologize," Sam let out another shaky exhale as he took the next exit, knowing his friend was right. As the words played in his head, Castiel had cleared his throat and said something important.
"He can be sincere with his remorse, but that doesn't mean you're obligated to forgive him," Castiel's words were surprisingly soft, the angel obviously speaking from experience.
"I know," Sam whispered and after a profound beat of silence, gave the angel a small, but genuine smile. "Thanks, Cas," Sam said, relieved when some of the weight from his shoulders lifted.
He pushed the thoughts away, unaware of the power buzzing around his body.
Castiel noticed, squinting his eyes with another head tilt. It wasn't the first time he had caught onto the strange occurrence, but after what happened last week, the Angel was keeping tabs on the younger Winchester.
Because he had no idea how Sam Winchester had restored his grace when a powerful blast of magic came from his chest.