@deanbitchwinchester you are killing me with those tags
No murder, only love.
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@deanbitchwinchester
@deanbitchwinchester you are killing me with those tags
No murder, only love.
"Good to see you're still kicking after all this time, grandpa." Lo and behold, it was the Elder Winchester out of the blue, all but smirking at the man in the suit. - deanbitchwinchester
He couldn’t help but laugh at that. After all the shockers he’d heard thrown his way over the years, ‘Grandpa’ seemed tame. Still, though... “I resent that,” he pretended to be outraged, though it was pretty obvious due to his laugh that he wasn’t fazed. “And where in the seven Hells have you been?” Hazel eyes glinted red briefly as they took in the other, Crowley’s grin very much still on his face.
Dean grinned, looking to the other as he leaned on the door casually, black tail sweeping behind him lazily. The flash of red snapped out the pure black eyes, only for familiar green to light up a ring in the heart of those orbs. “Oh, you know. Around.” the answer is almost coy, shifting off the frame to take a lazy step or two towards the other, horns happily on his skull like they were the most normal thing. “Feels like it was Purgatory. No clue really. But I’m back, so I count that the Winchester Luck of a Win, eh?” he threw his arms out, watching the shorter demon. “Miss me? You know you missed me. Come here.” He grinned, flicking his hands toward the other in a sign of ‘come here you know you want to’. It seems his arrogance hasn’t dwindled at least.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Lucifer felt his whole being linger on the edge of disaster, felt his whole existence hang on by the barest thread. He felt everything take breath and hold, waiting. It felt as if even Eden was frozen in time, though only for a heartbeat, it felt an eternity.
Then Crowley said it, said the one word that had the frail crystal of Grace burst. It was like an exploding star, power rocketing out and coiling around Crowley. Where once it may have harmed, instead it cradled, caressed and intertwined with the very core of the demon.
The moment their lips met Lucifer was on him, hands tangling at the vessel’s hair, giving back every ounce of passion he was given, renewed Grace begging to be accepted entirely.
Crowley kissed Lucifer back eagerly, all too willing to let out years of pent up sexual frustration and desire that he’d long since thought was unrequited. But this was more than Lucifer, this was more than even himself, Crowley felt complete in that moment and he felt reinvigorated and energised, like he’d been walking around with a gaping chasm inside him and it had just been filled.
It hadn’t been just Lucifer that was yearning to love and be loved in return, Crowley had ached for it as long as he’d had conscious thought, and know he had found his calling.
Crowley let out a soft purr of contentment, his hand moving up through Lucifer’s hair, pulling away to nip teasingly at his neck. “Lucifer,” he whispered softly, almost like a mantra, again and again, “I’ve always loved you, I’d do anything for you, anything at all. You’ll never know the meaning of loneliness again.” He promised, kissing him again and breaking away with a sigh, looking deeply into his eyes. Crowley’s eyes were hazel and with pure emotion, showing his love, his devotion, his desire and how much he meant every word.
The full acceptance, the true answer he had longed for had wings snap up, not with a sickening crunch of broken, used bones. But the burst of power.
For the first time in many millennia... They were healed.
They were brilliant stars perfectly unfolded, gleaming from the back of the Morningstar himself. They were full and with a flare, the once torn tagged skin was whole. Another flare of brilliant power, and they were full. So full, in fact, that feathers fell from behind him to gently caress the surface of the water behind him, floating away from the magnificent form.
A groan pulled from his lips, not of erotic nature related to the carnal sins of human flesh, but of a purer, more ornate sensation. The sensation, of being reborn, or more aptly, being reconnected with his true soul. Though his celestial form still bore horns as his demonic form had, they were smoother, sleeker, and protruded elegantly from the crown of his vessel’s otherwise untouched head. The wings, now coated in an array of coloured feathers, speckled with a shimmering stardust that spoke of aeons past, and still aeons to come. A small, hushed whisper wove between shimmering plume, like the stars and time itself spoke through the fluttering notes of a song the great six wings hummed to the sky.
He longed to fly, to feel wind across face and for sun, moonlight and even rain and snow to brush every quill upon his glorious span. But he focused on the here and now, lurched forward with a desperate need to thank the soul to bring him to his former glory. Brilliant crimson rings embraced by white encircling warm black cores shimmered, a briefest flicker of gold flitting in, as if another lived, and then the Morningstar was peppering dozens, near hundreds of kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Small prayers in a musical true voice caressed Crowley’s very essence, every sight and sound that would once hurt or kill the man, only acted to empower him.
It was as if Crowley himself, had become a God to the once Fallen Angel.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Lucifer’s host united with Dean’s, giving him a form without the Hunter’s features. It seemed, as if the Demon’s doing in the water had bore effect on Lucifer’s host’s form, was just in basic, long grey ash pants. They resembled that of what he had worn in Heaven, though he bore no fabric on his upper body, just let the glistening water coat warm, mortal flesh.
“Flattery gets you everywhere, little Demon.” he purred happily and shifted, looking up into Crowley’s eyes with a warmth to him. “The good thing about mortal bodies is that I can bear a slight resemblance to heat. Although, I believe Hunter and this Eden he has forged has to do with it as well.” he looked around, as if taking in home once more, then turned to Crowley.
“I asked my precious demon to build this place, to mould it to your needs. Hunter was my very first, when I still stood within Heaven. Even before Abbadon and others. When I still felt like I was a good person.” he scoffed at that, pulling his form from the water, back to Crowley, torn wings dangling uselessly at his side, but he seemed not to mind as he looked to the sky again.
“I wanted a safe haven for you and you alone. I knew nothing good will come for you. I wanted so desperately to rise from Hell, not to control or consume, but to live. To see what you saw every day. I wanted Sam to say yes so I could be by your side, without worry of my vessel burning out.” he laughed again, eyes falling shut.
“In the cage, when giving my wings to Michael’s fury, I heard my father’s voice again.” he seemed so serene, so at peace as he sat there. “He asked why I protected Dean, why I protected Adam and my vessel and Sam. Why I gave to Michael everything I held precious on my persons to keep humans I refused to pick over him rather than protect myself.” he remained there, kicking his feet like a little child in the water.
“I told him I had someone to get to, and if I myself couldn’t, I was going to make sure Dean did. Because he deserved a shred of joy. He asked me what I would give for that to happen.” he paused, looking to Crowley again. “I said ‘I have no Grace, and I have no kingdom to offer, but I would give my very last breath. I would give every atom of my being to get him back to his little Devil, his true place amongst those who wandered above.’“ Lucifer shifted, craddling Crowley’s face in his hands, a wicked grin pulling at his lips, but not in vehemence or anger, but rather, in amusement.
“He told me I would be united with Dean and my precious Hunter, that the three would unite to a full being of power, and be given to that which holds our hearts and sent on a mission we know nothing of yet.” he moved to almost straddle Crowley, eager and hungry for the Demon, yet his touch wasn’t ravenous, but rather revering, as if what he held between soft human palms was something even more precious than anything to behold.
“Last chance to say no to me. You know where I was birthed, you know our laws, the laws that even the Fallen must be bound to.” he whispered, lips now mere inches from Crowley.
He truly loves to go from zero to one hundred, even now.
Oh, I hope so, Crowley thought lewdly, his eyes finally going up to meet Lucifer’s, aware that he probably was hiding nothing by just ogling Lucifer so openly. He wasn’t merely looking all over his vessel though, it was as if he was looking through him, seeing everything that they’d allowed him to see, he was looking on in wonder of it all, wondering how in the world he could get so damn lucky, how a sinner like him could be blessed in such a perfect way.
He listened to Lucifer’s story, hanging on to his every word and his smile faded a little, but not out of disappointment, more so out of concentration. This… this was amazing, incredible, Crowley hardly believed that he was part of this grand master plan, the one destined to love the three and unite them for their true glorious purpose. The fact that Crowley himself was the one that was obviously foretold for quite some time, he wouldn’t have believed it if he didn’t feel the magnetic pull, if he hadn’t felt it when he’d first met Dean, if he hadn’t felt it when he’d thought about Lucifer all those times, the perfect red rose, the beautiful shining beacon of light, the Morningstar, Crowley never would have dreamed that he would be in such a situtation where Lucifer could return the feelings.
But as Lucifer grew closer to Crowley, taking Crowley’s face in his hands and looking at him with such intensity, lips inches away from Crowley’s, Crowley saw beyond the playful and mischievous devilish look in Lucifer’s eyes and saw the familiar aching longing expression that he’d seen reflected in his eyes so many times. Even before he saw it, Crowley knew his answer, and he’d barely hesitated after Lucifer gave him his last chance.
“My answer is yes,” Crowley responded. “My mind, my soul, my heart, my body, my everything is yours. And that goes for all of you.” Crowley added, affirming it with a hint of a growl of his true voice, as if that would carry through to the three beings. Crowley being Crowley figured that actions spoke louder than words, so he closed the gap between him and Lucifer, kissing him passionately and possessively wrapping his arms around his neck, holding him close.
Lucifer felt his whole being linger on the edge of disaster, felt his whole existence hang on by the barest thread. He felt everything take breath and hold, waiting. It felt as if even Eden was frozen in time, though only for a heartbeat, it felt an eternity.
Then Crowley said it, said the one word that had the frail crystal of Grace burst. It was like an exploding star, power rocketing out and coiling around Crowley. Where once it may have harmed, instead it cradled, caressed and intertwined with the very core of the demon.
The moment their lips met Lucifer was on him, hands tangling at the vessel’s hair, giving back every ounce of passion he was given, renewed Grace begging to be accepted entirely.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Do not thank me, though I swayed the mind of the Light Bearer. I may be made of shadow, but my heart sings with even the brightest of Angels.The demon’s voice was playful, cheeky even, scales gleaming and wings flaring wide, proud before settling.
The demon pressed lips to the crown of Crowley’s head before Light burst from his chest. Brilliant light that forced all to avert their gaze for fear of losing their sight shone. After images of a great hulking form gleamed before an all too familiar face - sans the torn flesh and sickly complexion - and the Devil perched on the edge of the pool’s lip, grinning almost wickedly to Crowley.
“Hello, Crossroads.” the voice was low, sultry even, long since ruined angel wings now on the mend spread behind him limply in the pool.
The Devil. The Morningstar. Lucifer. That was the ‘Bearer of Light’ the demon spoke of.
True enough, the being before Crowley bore the frailest gleam of Grace, a weak, fragile crystal of power. He was barely an angel, but not quite the Fallen Star he was last they spoke.
At least he didn’t retain Dean’s face in this form.
Light Bearer. Suddenly, Crowley’s mind seemed to shift back into gear and he felt as if time started to slow and speed up at the same time. He kept the same expression on his face, wings still slightly lowered, but despite the conclusion that Crowley was starting to come to, he still felt safe and he actually felt calm.
But he still closed his eyes out of reflex due to the light shining in front of him, only opening his eyes when he felt it was safe to do so, though it was still quite bright.
Crowley opened his eyes, his wings raised proudly, sitting up properly, a smile finding its way on his face. He took in Lucifer’s form, respectfully only giving Lucifer’s wings a slight glance, and then folding his own wings and making them vanish. He watched Lucifer for a few moments, the slight smile turning into a little smirk.
“Morningstar.” Crowley responded almost playfully. Perhaps it was the fact that after Alistair and Dick had broken him so brutally, but what Lucifer had done to him felt like nothing. And really, Crowley seemed to think something clicked audibly in his mind.
There was a reason he couldn’t stop staring at Lucifer, drinking him in like a drowning man gasping for breath. For a demon like Crowley, he was so passionate, so complex, his emotions were a flurry, he’d tried to kill Dean so many times and yet just as many times he’d thought about him in the heat of passion.
And then of course he’d been thinking about Lucifer even longer.
“Lucifer.” Crowley spoke softly, moving closer. He felt no fear, far from it actually. “You’ve never looked more glorious.”
Lucifer’s host united with Dean’s, giving him a form without the Hunter’s features. It seemed, as if the Demon’s doing in the water had bore effect on Lucifer’s host’s form, was just in basic, long grey ash pants. They resembled that of what he had worn in Heaven, though he bore no fabric on his upper body, just let the glistening water coat warm, mortal flesh.
“Flattery gets you everywhere, little Demon.” he purred happily and shifted, looking up into Crowley’s eyes with a warmth to him. “The good thing about mortal bodies is that I can bear a slight resemblance to heat. Although, I believe Hunter and this Eden he has forged has to do with it as well.” he looked around, as if taking in home once more, then turned to Crowley.
“I asked my precious demon to build this place, to mould it to your needs. Hunter was my very first, when I still stood within Heaven. Even before Abbadon and others. When I still felt like I was a good person.” he scoffed at that, pulling his form from the water, back to Crowley, torn wings dangling uselessly at his side, but he seemed not to mind as he looked to the sky again.
“I wanted a safe haven for you and you alone. I knew nothing good will come for you. I wanted so desperately to rise from Hell, not to control or consume, but to live. To see what you saw every day. I wanted Sam to say yes so I could be by your side, without worry of my vessel burning out.” he laughed again, eyes falling shut.
“In the cage, when giving my wings to Michael’s fury, I heard my father’s voice again.” he seemed so serene, so at peace as he sat there. “He asked why I protected Dean, why I protected Adam and my vessel and Sam. Why I gave to Michael everything I held precious on my persons to keep humans I refused to pick over him rather than protect myself.” he remained there, kicking his feet like a little child in the water.
“I told him I had someone to get to, and if I myself couldn’t, I was going to make sure Dean did. Because he deserved a shred of joy. He asked me what I would give for that to happen.” he paused, looking to Crowley again. “I said ‘I have no Grace, and I have no kingdom to offer, but I would give my very last breath. I would give every atom of my being to get him back to his little Devil, his true place amongst those who wandered above.’“ Lucifer shifted, craddling Crowley’s face in his hands, a wicked grin pulling at his lips, but not in vehemence or anger, but rather, in amusement.
“He told me I would be united with Dean and my precious Hunter, that the three would unite to a full being of power, and be given to that which holds our hearts and sent on a mission we know nothing of yet.” he moved to almost straddle Crowley, eager and hungry for the Demon, yet his touch wasn’t ravenous, but rather revering, as if what he held between soft human palms was something even more precious than anything to behold.
“Last chance to say no to me. You know where I was birthed, you know our laws, the laws that even the Fallen must be bound to.” he whispered, lips now mere inches from Crowley.
He truly loves to go from zero to one hundred, even now.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
I love you.
Those three words always spelled out the loss of another person in his life. He froze, the human inside screaming internally in panic, begging Crowley to stop talking, to shut up, to take it all back, but the Demon showed no signs of the human’s panicked struggle.
It just stood, and listened, letting the Demon speak his soul to him, to bear his weaknesses freely, without judgement or cruelty.
The first name had the screaming snap to silence as the human struggled with his own agonised memories connected to the demon of torture, his teacher, mentor and abuser.
The retelling of past agonies had Dean tense inside his own mind, ready to use everything he had learnt, anger boiling inside him, that other side of him a holy tide of fury crashing against the consciousness of the Demon who still patiently waited for Crowley to finish.
When words seemed to fall to silence, the demon moved, fluid like the water it bathed in, it reached up to cup Crowley’s face, large hands dwarfing the mans face, a tenderness to elongated features grew ever softer. It was something familiar, the touch. A presence known from upon first visit to this New Eden. A presence that always grew within it, that settled, warm and gentle, the heart and soul of this little place of Heaven, for the lost, broken and damned.
The place was not so much a place on Earth as it was a place born from the Demon before Crowley. A spawn of love and care for things beyond it’s reach, yet things that it’s power would always bring close to hold and protect. A god of its own, so to speak, given its title and stature with the grace and blessing of the Man Himself, to what one would often see as an abomination or devolved monstrosity.
You bear the heart of gold fallen from far higher grace than the Kingly place you know hold, dear Star. My place of care will always belong to you and you alone. Even the brother born of mortal blood and the Saviour of Heaven’s Decent will step not even a hair upon my place of solace. It has been, and always will be, you Heaven, your Eden. I brought you here upon the heart and call of the Mortal who gave me permission to merge with him. I tended to you without strength to show my form, only able to be here in spirit.the voice was like a whisper, a soft murmur of safety and love, forehead leaning in to rest more than press against the Demon’s Flesh Suit’s own.
I live amongst two others, all of which have bonded to your Star of a spirit, you have not a true soul, but something uniquely different, just as that of the Righteous Man’s essence. You and he are one and the same, and through that, you gain my brother of Light and myself. You have free will to say no, but know that we will not cease to exist, and we will not leave our precious human. We cannot anymore, regrettably. He must bear the burden of our Grace and Might. you must know that what the King before you and the Brother he took to his prison had left behind in their violent wake upon deal made by a desperate soul is now with him until time ceases to exist. He will not die, he will not age, he will never be alone.
The voice was tender, but held a weight, the world seemingly frozen, the wind’s breath caught as it awaited Crowley’s response. To know that even the Morningstar and Gods Right Hand played part in the birth of the being before him, another yet to be met, and the very survival of Dean Winchester to this very day, was far more weight than just a simple returned affections, of which sentiment lay thick in the soothing brush of thumb over tear stained skin of the King’s living skin.
Crowley felt as though he were rooted to the spot by the words that were being conveyed to him, he felt his wings sag down and relax by his sides, not in sadness, but as a sign that he was listening intently. His eyes remained hazel, but the crimson aura trails emanated from his eyes and from the edges of his hands and his body, and a light seemed to shine from within him. Just as a green gem seemed to glow from within Dean, a shining gold-red-white-black beacon seemed to glow from within Crowley as he listened, making the animal pelt ripple as if in a breeze that wasn’t connected to Eden.
There was another? He was not to be solely bound to Dean but to another? The idea terrified him, how could he not feel it, how did he not know? Had he already met this person, did he know this person? The idea made him feel sick, and he actually went a little pale at the thought, but immediately shook the sensation off, listening again to the calming tender voice’s words.
It was a no brainer really, though. And maybe it made sense. Because for as long as he’d had conscious thought he’d felt strangely lost, and he still had that strange lost feeling now, even as he looked into Dean’s eyes, even as he heard that voice. Maybe that lost feeling was that feeling of that missing link.
But Crowley knew his answer, he didn’t hesitate.
“My answer is yes.” He looked into the demon’s eyes, knowing the voice was Dean’s, knowing everything that this place had done for him, everything that he owed, he had no reason to leave, it was like his entire existence revolved around this entire moment, his universe was leading him here to this moment to say yes. “I will stay with him, and the other, whoever he may be. I feel the bond, even though I don’t know who he is, I can feel it. The loss. I’ve felt it for a while, but I assumed it was Dean.” He sighed, breathing in heavily. “Thank you. For everything. For saving me.”
Do not thank me, though I swayed the mind of the Light Bearer. I may be made of shadow, but my heart sings with even the brightest of Angels.The demon’s voice was playful, cheeky even, scales gleaming and wings flaring wide, proud before settling.
The demon pressed lips to the crown of Crowley’s head before Light burst from his chest. Brilliant light that forced all to avert their gaze for fear of losing their sight shone. After images of a great hulking form gleamed before an all too familiar face - sans the torn flesh and sickly complexion - and the Devil perched on the edge of the pool’s lip, grinning almost wickedly to Crowley.
“Hello, Crossroads.” the voice was low, sultry even, long since ruined angel wings now on the mend spread behind him limply in the pool.
The Devil. The Morningstar. Lucifer. That was the ‘Bearer of Light’ the demon spoke of.
True enough, the being before Crowley bore the frailest gleam of Grace, a weak, fragile crystal of power. He was barely an angel, but not quite the Fallen Star he was last they spoke.
At least he didn’t retain Dean’s face in this form.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
The demonic form paused mid wing flutter, head twisting to look at Crowley, green eyes a brilliant glow of curiosity, and it was then, blatantly clear that this was the demon, and the black eyed being was something… Different. Though how a demon became caretaker of the New Eden was a wonder in and of itself, between God and his strange ways.
And how said being had merged with Dean was another.
Head tilted, a curious hum thrumming from his chest before he dunked his wings under the water again and returned to grooming what he could, still clearly alert and listening to Crowley for his input.
Crowley sat down next to the waterfall’s pool, running his hand lightly through the water and feeling the gentle cool stream calm his nervous thought, his anxious energies, and the tension and hesitations he might have had about telling Dean. Dean was being honest, more than honest about what he was, he was showing Crowley a side of himself that Crowley didn’t know, he was cracking open his ribs and peeling himself open, exposing the heart of what he truly was.
“It’s because I’m in love with you,” Crowley began simply, before wetting his lips slightly, clearing his throat a little and continuing, “but it’s more than that. More than love. From the moment I first saw you I felt… connected to you. Bound to you. Almost like we were soulmates, even though I was told I didn’t technically have a soul, I still felt that connection from my side. Being away from you was torture, and I couldn’t deny that I loved everything about you, even if you were against me, even if you were hurting me, I still did.”
Crowley drew the pelts closer.
“I tried to stay away, because I knew if I kept around it would make you angry, and I didn’t think you’d feel the same because… well.” He shrugged. “But when I stayed away, something terrible happened.” He bit his lip. “I thought I was keeping it hidden, I thought that because I did things to antagonise you boys and your angel every now and again that it wouldn’t attract attention, but it did. And someone else found out. And someone else. Two people found out. Two horrible people.”
Crowley trembled, knowing he had to finish the story.
“Alistair and Dick. They found out I was in love with you. They… They pretended they were you, made me think you loved me too, and they… they…” Crowley’s voice broke slightly and he felt himself start to cry, but he kept going, fists clenched. “They kept me locked up in a Hellish place between Purgatory and Earth for what felt like centuries, raped me every way imaginable, tortured me, made me think you came to save me and then did it all over again over again. I broke so many times until finally after what felt like almost a thousand years I just…”
Crowley’s wings twitched again, more violently this time.
“I destroyed every inch of them, and broke Purgatory into a thousand pieces and came here. I don’t know how long I stayed here but this place was my sanctuary for a long time. Being back here… When I came here, my wings were in shreds. I used to have feathers a long time ago but they were ripped out. They’ll never grow again, Alistair made sure of that.”
Crowley looked up at Dean.
“I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. I had to see you again. I had to know it was really you and now I do. This is undeniably you.” He trembled slightly. “I love you, Dean. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same, I just wanted you to know. I’ll always love you, until the end of time, every part of me is yours.”
I love you.
Those three words always spelled out the loss of another person in his life. He froze, the human inside screaming internally in panic, begging Crowley to stop talking, to shut up, to take it all back, but the Demon showed no signs of the human’s panicked struggle.
It just stood, and listened, letting the Demon speak his soul to him, to bear his weaknesses freely, without judgement or cruelty.
The first name had the screaming snap to silence as the human struggled with his own agonised memories connected to the demon of torture, his teacher, mentor and abuser.
The retelling of past agonies had Dean tense inside his own mind, ready to use everything he had learnt, anger boiling inside him, that other side of him a holy tide of fury crashing against the consciousness of the Demon who still patiently waited for Crowley to finish.
When words seemed to fall to silence, the demon moved, fluid like the water it bathed in, it reached up to cup Crowley’s face, large hands dwarfing the mans face, a tenderness to elongated features grew ever softer. It was something familiar, the touch. A presence known from upon first visit to this New Eden. A presence that always grew within it, that settled, warm and gentle, the heart and soul of this little place of Heaven, for the lost, broken and damned.
The place was not so much a place on Earth as it was a place born from the Demon before Crowley. A spawn of love and care for things beyond it’s reach, yet things that it’s power would always bring close to hold and protect. A god of its own, so to speak, given its title and stature with the grace and blessing of the Man Himself, to what one would often see as an abomination or devolved monstrosity.
You bear the heart of gold fallen from far higher grace than the Kingly place you know hold, dear Star. My place of care will always belong to you and you alone. Even the brother born of mortal blood and the Saviour of Heaven’s Decent will step not even a hair upon my place of solace. It has been, and always will be, you Heaven, your Eden. I brought you here upon the heart and call of the Mortal who gave me permission to merge with him. I tended to you without strength to show my form, only able to be here in spirit.the voice was like a whisper, a soft murmur of safety and love, forehead leaning in to rest more than press against the Demon’s Flesh Suit’s own.
I live amongst two others, all of which have bonded to your Star of a spirit, you have not a true soul, but something uniquely different, just as that of the Righteous Man’s essence. You and he are one and the same, and through that, you gain my brother of Light and myself. You have free will to say no, but know that we will not cease to exist, and we will not leave our precious human. We cannot anymore, regrettably. He must bear the burden of our Grace and Might. you must know that what the King before you and the Brother he took to his prison had left behind in their violent wake upon deal made by a desperate soul is now with him until time ceases to exist. He will not die, he will not age, he will never be alone.
The voice was tender, but held a weight, the world seemingly frozen, the wind’s breath caught as it awaited Crowley’s response. To know that even the Morningstar and Gods Right Hand played part in the birth of the being before him, another yet to be met, and the very survival of Dean Winchester to this very day, was far more weight than just a simple returned affections, of which sentiment lay thick in the soothing brush of thumb over tear stained skin of the King’s living skin.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
The beast echoed the tunes, the wind carrying it through the clearing and into the forest surrounding them. There was a splash as the beast sunk into the water, fluttering wings, working to groom and clean them as best as a being can alone. He twisted like a cat, able to get just about anywhere, bar the space between his wings, where feathers had matted up over time.
The beast didn’t seem to mind, however, happily bathing, as if it stood alone, or with brethren of the same stardust. He was content now, the jittery feeling that drove a part of Dean to violence grumpily at ease in the space, allowing this new ‘personality’ to step forth and be at peace.
As Crowley ate the fruit and hummed softly to himself, he felt his skin grow warmer and the dark suit burst into harmless flames which didn’t touch the animal pelts that had been draped over him. When the flames died away he was shirtless but now had dark brown jeans that looked to be slightly torn. It was a sign that he was stripping away a layer of himself and leaving himself vulnerable. It was also a sign that he knew he could trust this place and that he could trust Dean to keep him safe.
Crowley opened his eyes, relaxing from his curled in fetal position and going to stand. He had some of the animal pelts still draped over him but the crimson wings were no longer shadows, drawn proudly behind him. If you looked closely though, the wings looked draconic but they had once had feathers, which had been torn out horribly by force, leaving some jagged scars in their wake.
When he’d first come to Eden, they had looked much worse, jagged pieces of flesh and sinew, he was dripping in Leviathan slime, he had been violated in every possible way imaginable. Sometimes he could still feel their hands on him, their teeth tearing him to shreds, their laughter mocking him as he begged them to stop.
But Crowley had got his own revenge, killing them so brutally and violently that there were barely any remains of them left behind. Even that was letting them off easy, though.
For now though, Crowley didn’t think of that, just slowly walking towards Dean, looking at him curiously.
“That’s not the only reason I don’t want to leave you,” Crowley said quietly, in a voice that sounded strangely broken. His wings trembled and he pulled the pelt closer.
The demonic form paused mid wing flutter, head twisting to look at Crowley, green eyes a brilliant glow of curiosity, and it was then, blatantly clear that this was the demon, and the black eyed being was something... Different. Though how a demon became caretaker of the New Eden was a wonder in and of itself, between God and his strange ways.
And how said being had merged with Dean was another.
Head tilted, a curious hum thrumming from his chest before he dunked his wings under the water again and returned to grooming what he could, still clearly alert and listening to Crowley for his input.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
The green eyes looked to him, a little huff as if to say he knew the other wasn’t going anywhere. He moved, wings folding as he dropped to all fours, snuffling around before darting into the forest, vanishing from view.
Moments passed before he returned, bearing fruits, an insistent voice chittering in Crowley’s mind to eat them before the demon scurried up the sheer cliff face, vanishing again, only to return with fabrics woven from fallen feathers and the pelts of animals who passed peacefully, giving their mortal bodies to the caretaker of the New Eden.
He took the fabric, wrapping Crowley up in it, forming a warm place for him to sit, moulded to every line in the demon for the perfect, comfortable fit, moving again to lay on the edge of the pool, finally settling with leg and arm dangling in the water beside his tail, wings fluffing up before settling at his back.
No anger resides within this place. Rest. You are safe and cared for. Any who enter with invitation is treated to the care they deserve. Any whom enter upon violence, force or against the caretaker’s wishes, will be punished accordingly. the words were gentle, the voice not quite Dean’s. So it seemed another lay within his body, one whom of which almost sounded Angelic. Come to think of it, a light shone on his soul, a light that put even Gabriel and Michael to shame.
Crowley just smiled, standing there uselessly as Dean vanished, waiting for him to return. He took the fruits that Dean offered, feeling too physically and emotionally exhausted to do anything other than obey, once again feeling the safety and comfort of this place and knowing that it was a good thing that they were both back here again.
He sat as prompted, eating the fruit and curled up in the pelts, saying nothing because nothing needed to be said. Crowley barely felt like himself at the moment, he felt like less than himself, he knew the longer he healed here the more he would become himself, the more he would feel whole and safe and well.
Instead of using words, Crowley just hummed his thanks, curling up pleasantly. The shadow of his wings curled up around him, keeping him curled up in the pelts almost as if he were a dragon guarding its hoard. As a light shone beneath Dean’s soul, a light seemed to shine in Crowley’s, a light that didn’t make sense, a bright darkness that glimmered with every colour in the spectrum, almost like a tiny star. It wasn’t technically a soul, it was something that had no name, something that defied explanation. Crowley was always more than a demon, after all.
But right now Crowley felt barely anything but safe and warm, the only thing haunting him were the anxieties and the memories that still lingered within him.
Though in time he would be okay, for now he just let his eyes closed and continued to hum softly, a song that had come to his mind when he had first come here, a song of peace and beginnings.
The beast echoed the tunes, the wind carrying it through the clearing and into the forest surrounding them. There was a splash as the beast sunk into the water, fluttering wings, working to groom and clean them as best as a being can alone. He twisted like a cat, able to get just about anywhere, bar the space between his wings, where feathers had matted up over time.
The beast didn’t seem to mind, however, happily bathing, as if it stood alone, or with brethren of the same stardust. He was content now, the jittery feeling that drove a part of Dean to violence grumpily at ease in the space, allowing this new ‘personality’ to step forth and be at peace.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
The clearing was still for a heartbeat, before the now more draconic beast burst down, landing on all fours, wings folding slightly, only to flutter, showing off the pristine black feathers. Before Crowley’s very eyes, the being shifted to the semi-human form once more, the man tilting his head, the demon trilling curiously at Crowley, bending down to his level.
He looked like a curious bird almost, wings fanning out slightly, the demon oddly… Curious, sweet almost compared to a moment ago where rage filled it’s very breath. Gleaming green eyes moved to the side, his body twisting to preen a folded wing, almost anxiously so, it’s movements rushed, like it had to be quick, drawing blood from sensitive skin beneath feathers in its near panicked haste.
Then it turned to Crowley, darting forward, wrapping something around the back of his neck and letting it fall to his chest delicately. It looked almost as if it resembled a dream catcher, with feathers and scales ripped from one pristine wings, a protective charm and a sign of trust and care.
Crowley watched speechless as Dean touched down, keeping his eyes set firmly on him. All trace of bravado and anger had well and truly left Crowley now and he felt strangely tired and weak now being here, though he knew it was just the memory of what he had been through the last time he had been here.
What Alistair and Dick had done to him. Crowley had never told anyone about what had happened, he’d kept it well and truly to himself and he’d tried to heal as best he could at Eden but there was only so much he could do, and he couldn’t very well heal away the memories and the pain of the memories involved and the emotional scars therein.
Hazel eyes met green as Crowley took the dream catcher, looking at it. He instantly felt calmer, though the memories and the pain still remained, he didn’t feel weak and like he was drowning in despair all over again.
“Thank you.” He said softly, smiling a gentle smile. He picked up a leaf from one of the bushes nearby and used it to pour some of the water from the waterfall into his mouth, drinking slowly. He let out a soft sigh, feeling a lot better, though there was still a way to go.
“I’m still not leaving you, you know,” Crowley looked over at him with a half-smile. There were more layers to Dean than he knew but then again there were more layers to Crowley than Dean knew as well. But they’d tell each other in their own time.
The green eyes looked to him, a little huff as if to say he knew the other wasn’t going anywhere. He moved, wings folding as he dropped to all fours, snuffling around before darting into the forest, vanishing from view.
Moments passed before he returned, bearing fruits, an insistent voice chittering in Crowley’s mind to eat them before the demon scurried up the sheer cliff face, vanishing again, only to return with fabrics woven from fallen feathers and the pelts of animals who passed peacefully, giving their mortal bodies to the caretaker of the New Eden.
He took the fabric, wrapping Crowley up in it, forming a warm place for him to sit, moulded to every line in the demon for the perfect, comfortable fit, moving again to lay on the edge of the pool, finally settling with leg and arm dangling in the water beside his tail, wings fluffing up before settling at his back.
No anger resides within this place. Rest. You are safe and cared for. Any who enter with invitation is treated to the care they deserve. Any whom enter upon violence, force or against the caretaker’s wishes, will be punished accordingly. the words were gentle, the voice not quite Dean’s. So it seemed another lay within his body, one whom of which almost sounded Angelic. Come to think of it, a light shone on his soul, a light that put even Gabriel and Michael to shame.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Dean’s form shifted, wings folding slightly at the touch of smoke, a rumble escaping the folded chest, the wings itching to fan out but trapped by the room. The Demon grew restless, angry even. Without pause or word, it recoiled from the smoke, not out of anything to Crowley, but out of a need to escape the trapment of the room.
It didn’t think much to the effects it would have, only snapped wings wide, breaking the building’s roof in, its folded form unfurled, stretching up to it’s staggering sixteen foot height. It jumped, clawed to the roof before wings snapped out and he took flight, the night sky hiding him well as he shot away, the Demon’s essence shrieking for freedom.
A small fragment of an image inched into Crowley’s mind, as if second thought by the demon. A meadow, warm and inviting, a waterfall off to the side with caverns twisting under smooth rock, a safe place, an oasis.
Then the demon was gone from sight, chasing that thought, that memory, to its safe place, it’s own little Eden.
For a moment, Crowley was worried he’d gone too far, that the smoke might have been too much, but the fragment of the image in his mind showed that there was at least part of Dean that wanted Crowley to follow him. Crowley looked down at his hands, still holding the first blade, his left hand cut up horribly, his right hand no longer smoky and now whole, and his neck healed up again.
He healed up his hand and put the blade in his pocket, before he stepped forward. Enormous dragon wings emerged from his back, crimson and black, glowing lightly with runes similar to Enochian but slightly different, a dead language lost to time. The wings beat once, twice and then with a sweeping movement Crowley vanished.
He touched down in Eden, emerging at the opening of the cavern, looking out at the waterfall. His wings folded and disappeared behind his back and he slowly walked towards the waterfall, frowning.
He remembered this place. So long ago. He came here to heal after being tortured and broken beyond anything Hell could offer. He didn’t think he’d be able to find this place again, as he’d retreated here when he had been so broken he’d barely known who he was.
Even as he found himself choking on memories he didn’t want to relive, he thought of Dean.
“Dean?” he asked softly, pulling his overcoat a little closer to himself out of instinct.
The clearing was still for a heartbeat, before the now more draconic beast burst down, landing on all fours, wings folding slightly, only to flutter, showing off the pristine black feathers. Before Crowley’s very eyes, the being shifted to the semi-human form once more, the man tilting his head, the demon trilling curiously at Crowley, bending down to his level.
He looked like a curious bird almost, wings fanning out slightly, the demon oddly... Curious, sweet almost compared to a moment ago where rage filled it’s very breath. Gleaming green eyes moved to the side, his body twisting to preen a folded wing, almost anxiously so, it’s movements rushed, like it had to be quick, drawing blood from sensitive skin beneath feathers in its near panicked haste.
Then it turned to Crowley, darting forward, wrapping something around the back of his neck and letting it fall to his chest delicately. It looked almost as if it resembled a dream catcher, with feathers and scales ripped from one pristine wings, a protective charm and a sign of trust and care.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Dean growled right back at Crowley, but the words made him hesitate, the ferocity behind them, no… The emotion behind them drew his attention and made him halt, made even the Demon curious.
Dean felt the presence of the true form on the edge of his mind, felt his own Demon spread out, black feathered wings flaring, a glittering Emerald scale underbelly to them fanning out in the room. The difference between he and Crowley, is the demon liked to break out, to replace the human.
Horns curled from his head, skin turning black as his feet snapped and reformed into animal hinds, claws pressed through his nails, tearing them from blackened flesh as fangs grew longer and eyes suddenly lit up a blazing green. His form, though folded and hunched in the confines of the building, was clearly larger, the blade dropped into the bloody embrace of the King’s fingers. Blackened tail coiled in the air behind him as he snarled, low and primal, the face still resembling Dean Winchester.
He too, had become draconic in nature, his skin being formed over by sleek scales glinting in the faint lighting as the form finally settled, a voice echoing into Crowley’s mind.
And still you wish to remain by my side? it was a challenge, a demand. The demon could never see the Winchester’s new true form, until now when he had revealed it to him, not through shadows and puppet play, but through the real worlds eye. Had even a normal human entered, they would see this monster before the King of Hell.
Crowley watched, blood dripping from his hand and neck as Dean’s form changed, less human and more demon. He took it all in with a curious gaze, not a gaze of fear, a gaze of wonder, like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, because it was. He’d never seen anything like it, and he’d seen a great deal many things in all his years.
He looked up at Dean, feeling his demonic smoke swirling around inside him excitedly, almost like his demonic essence and the essence that ran beyond it was reacting to Dean’s in a way he didn’t quite understand as of yet. Crowley clutched the blade in his hand, tightening it unknowingly and the blade dug deeper into his skin, though the pain was nothing to him at all.
He heard the voice in his mind and didn’t hesitate to respond.
“Always. This changes nothing,” Crowley promised. What Dean had seen of Crowley was only a tiny fragment of what he truly was, there was no true one form of what Crowley really was, it was ever changing, ever-frightening, hidden amongst the red smoke and hellfire.
Crowley’s hand lifted, and it was as if his hand melted away at the end into red smoke, which seemed to seep out to Dean’s Demonic face. The smoke curled curiously at Dean’s cheek, almost as if it was stroking it gently, a tender movement more intimate than that of human touch, a show of trust deeper than words could convey.
Nobody else could manipulate their demon smoke at will, and Crowley was an expert at it, it made sense as his was so different, so special, the very fabric of what he was and of so many other things that were lost in time.
Dean’s form shifted, wings folding slightly at the touch of smoke, a rumble escaping the folded chest, the wings itching to fan out but trapped by the room. The Demon grew restless, angry even. Without pause or word, it recoiled from the smoke, not out of anything to Crowley, but out of a need to escape the trapment of the room.
It didn’t think much to the effects it would have, only snapped wings wide, breaking the building’s roof in, its folded form unfurled, stretching up to it’s staggering sixteen foot height. It jumped, clawed to the roof before wings snapped out and he took flight, the night sky hiding him well as he shot away, the Demon’s essence shrieking for freedom.
A small fragment of an image inched into Crowley’s mind, as if second thought by the demon. A meadow, warm and inviting, a waterfall off to the side with caverns twisting under smooth rock, a safe place, an oasis.
Then the demon was gone from sight, chasing that thought, that memory, to its safe place, it’s own little Eden.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
iamyourking:
Crowley stiffened, feeling a flare of anger surge inside him. It was more frustration than anything else. He didn’t know what to do, if he told the truth, the stone cold truth, that he didn’t want to leave Dean because he had feelings for him, he knew that Dean would laugh at him, or stab him in the heart, and he didn’t know which of those would be worse.
“Because… because I can’t!” He repeated lamely. He shook his head, temper taking hold of him. He took the empty glass and slammed it into the wall, red eyes flaring. “You wouldn’t understand!” He snarled. Really, he had also had calls from Sam and Castiel asking him to keep an eye on Dean and he knew he could have just told Dean this but he still didn’t think Dean would want to hear that either.
Dean growled and spun on Crowley, surging forward to throw him up against the wall, blade to his throat, black eyes darker than any demon Crowley has met before, the depths colder than that of even Lucifer’s own.
“I’m so tired of people telling what I can and can’t understand! You may be King of Hell, but I’m here on Earth, you’re on my turf, so start talking or I’ll start cutting!” he snapped, rage boiling under his skin, the mark of Caine screeching and pulsating in his skin to feed its bloodlust.
This wasn’t Dean Winchester, anymore that Crowley spoke to. It was the Mark’s Demon.
Crowley sucked in a breath, eyes remaining red but the crimson auras trailing further, black pits blowing slightly. For a moment he just looked at him furiously, just as defiant, just as angry, just as stubborn.
He could gaze into those eyes forever.
“I don’t want to leave you,” he clarified, “I put that donkey jaw in your hand, I watched those eyes turn black, I was there when you first woke up, when you first spilled innocent blood. I didn’t leave you then, and I won’t leave you now.” Crowley pressed forward slightly so the blade pressed deeper into his neck, blood trailing slightly. “You want the truth, Winchester? I can’t leave you, because there’s nothing else for me to go to, nothing more important, nothing that could make me tear myself away from this moment. You, snarling and enraged, eyes dark as night, looking at me with murderous intent, you think nobody’s going to give a shit about you because you’re a monster? Is that why you walk alone? Too fucking bad. Because I’m a monster too. Hell, I’m the bloody king of them.”
For a moment the lights flickered and behind Crowley there was a towering monstrous form, a giant bestial form, a horned beast made of fire with dragon wings that spanned further than the room, further than the Earth, further than space itself could possibly imagine.
“I can’t leave you. I won’t leave you.” Crowley lifted his hand and pressed his fingers to the blade tightly, uncaring that they started to bleed. “You want to hurt me? Hurt me. But I’m not going. Because there’s nothing else in my mind, in my soul, in my everything that I’d rather do than be with you right now, even if it means ending in bloodshed. So go ahead.” He swallowed against the blade, staring him calmly in the eyes, his red eyes turning hazel and strangely calm.
Dean growled right back at Crowley, but the words made him hesitate, the ferocity behind them, no... The emotion behind them drew his attention and made him halt, made even the Demon curious.
Dean felt the presence of the true form on the edge of his mind, felt his own Demon spread out, black feathered wings flaring, a glittering Emerald scale underbelly to them fanning out in the room. The difference between he and Crowley, is the demon liked to break out, to replace the human.
Horns curled from his head, skin turning black as his feet snapped and reformed into animal hinds, claws pressed through his nails, tearing them from blackened flesh as fangs grew longer and eyes suddenly lit up a blazing green. His form, though folded and hunched in the confines of the building, was clearly larger, the blade dropped into the bloody embrace of the King’s fingers. Blackened tail coiled in the air behind him as he snarled, low and primal, the face still resembling Dean Winchester.
He too, had become draconic in nature, his skin being formed over by sleek scales glinting in the faint lighting as the form finally settled, a voice echoing into Crowley’s mind.
And still you wish to remain by my side? it was a challenge, a demand. The demon could never see the Winchester’s new true form, until now when he had revealed it to him, not through shadows and puppet play, but through the real worlds eye. Had even a normal human entered, they would see this monster before the King of Hell.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
iamyourking:
“Shame. I like seeing you in the heat of battle, watching you rip things apart,” Crowley smiled casually, continuing to watch him.
When he saw Dean’s demon eyes he let out a soft noise of appreciation, sitting up just slightly and blinking. He slowly looked down at the blade, then up at Dean’s eyes again.
“I can’t.” He said honestly, shoulders sagging a little.
Dean sneered for a moment before huffing, rolling black eyes in the way that only another demon would see the roll of the organs. “Right. Of course you can’t. And why is that, hmm?” he hissed before turning and shoving the last of his weapons into the bag, zipping it up so harshly he broke the handle of the tiny object clean off.
Another bag down for Later Dean to worry about. Right Now Dean had to deal with a pesky Devil.
Crowley stiffened, feeling a flare of anger surge inside him. It was more frustration than anything else. He didn’t know what to do, if he told the truth, the stone cold truth, that he didn’t want to leave Dean because he had feelings for him, he knew that Dean would laugh at him, or stab him in the heart, and he didn’t know which of those would be worse.
“Because… because I can’t!” He repeated lamely. He shook his head, temper taking hold of him. He took the empty glass and slammed it into the wall, red eyes flaring. “You wouldn’t understand!” He snarled. Really, he had also had calls from Sam and Castiel asking him to keep an eye on Dean and he knew he could have just told Dean this but he still didn’t think Dean would want to hear that either.
Dean growled and spun on Crowley, surging forward to throw him up against the wall, blade to his throat, black eyes darker than any demon Crowley has met before, the depths colder than that of even Lucifer’s own.
“I’m so tired of people telling what I can and can’t understand! You may be King of Hell, but I’m here on Earth, you’re on my turf, so start talking or I’ll start cutting!” he snapped, rage boiling under his skin, the mark of Caine screeching and pulsating in his skin to feed its bloodlust.
This wasn’t Dean Winchester, anymore that Crowley spoke to. It was the Mark’s Demon.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
iamyourking:
“If you say so,” Crowley shrugged, drumming his fingers lightly on the arm of the chair. “So, you’re here in this flea-bitten motel working a case, I presume? Or are you just trying to get away from everything?”
Crowley put down the glass he took a sip from, regarding Dean carefully, the trace of a smile still on his face.
He took in the hunter with a smooth gaze, as always enjoying what he saw. He’d been attracted to Dean from the moment he’d first met him, and his black heart had warmed to the elder Winchester brother, even despite all the hatred and the pain he’d tossed in his direction. Crowley was a stubborn ass, so it just made him like Dean even more.
“Just between us girls… what are you doing here?” He purred, still drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair.
Dean hated the way Crowley seemed to look through him like the next meal, and he shoved his bag closed and zipped it up. “Case closed now, actually. Skin walker, praying on women with men at war.” he snapped and moved to gather his guns in another bag.
The more Crowley stared, the more his body crawled, until he finally snapped and spun around, eyes a pure black, canines slightly sharper. “Will you quit looking at me and scram already?” he spat, blade in his hand, the one to kill Abbadon. So he did still have it then.
“Shame. I like seeing you in the heat of battle, watching you rip things apart,” Crowley smiled casually, continuing to watch him.
When he saw Dean’s demon eyes he let out a soft noise of appreciation, sitting up just slightly and blinking. He slowly looked down at the blade, then up at Dean’s eyes again.
“I can’t.” He said honestly, shoulders sagging a little.
Dean sneered for a moment before huffing, rolling black eyes in the way that only another demon would see the roll of the organs. “Right. Of course you can’t. And why is that, hmm?” he hissed before turning and shoving the last of his weapons into the bag, zipping it up so harshly he broke the handle of the tiny object clean off.
Another bag down for Later Dean to worry about. Right Now Dean had to deal with a pesky Devil.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Dean followed the other with his eyes as he sat. The lewd comment had eyes shooting to the sky as if mockingly begging God to save him right now.
“Why the hell do you care anyways. Wouldn’t you be overjoyed that Team Free Will is gone?” he jeered back, standing to begin packing his stuff up. He was going to spend the night catering to his tools of the trade, but now with a demon here, he felt jittery, felt the need to scatter quickly.
Crowley just chuckled, crossing his legs so that he was sitting more comfortably and looking at Dean with that same amused expression.
“You’d think so, after all, I am a demon,” he raised his hands with dramatic flourish. “But it’s not as much about them, it’s more that I want to keep my bestie company in this trying time.”
While Crowley knew it was likely dangerous to try Dean when he was feeling like this, he couldn’t find it in himself to tear him away from Dean. He was physically and emotionally drawn to him, and he had been for a while. It’d taken all his restraint to keep himself from him all this time but he couldn’t do it any longer. Besides, he wanted to make sure Dean was okay, even if it meant he had to get hurt in the process.
Dean stopped what he was doing to turn a sharp glare at Crowley, and he turned to level a whole body glare at the demon. “Crowley, we are not besties. The mark may have made me a demon too, but we are not friends, we are not equals, we are not anything. You are not my king or any of that crap. I am a Hunter. There is nothing else to it.” he spat the words, anger boiling up to cover the panic and fear.
He was afraid of not knowing who he was or where he stood in the world. This new stage of his life terrified him, but true to his nature, Dean was not going to admit it. So yeah, he fled Sam and Cas to keep them safe, blacking out to his demon self now and then and running from his actions.
Even now he could feel the demon itch at his mind.
“If you say so,” Crowley shrugged, drumming his fingers lightly on the arm of the chair. “So, you’re here in this flea-bitten motel working a case, I presume? Or are you just trying to get away from everything?”
Crowley put down the glass he took a sip from, regarding Dean carefully, the trace of a smile still on his face.
He took in the hunter with a smooth gaze, as always enjoying what he saw. He’d been attracted to Dean from the moment he’d first met him, and his black heart had warmed to the elder Winchester brother, even despite all the hatred and the pain he’d tossed in his direction. Crowley was a stubborn ass, so it just made him like Dean even more.
“Just between us girls… what are you doing here?” He purred, still drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair.
Dean hated the way Crowley seemed to look through him like the next meal, and he shoved his bag closed and zipped it up. “Case closed now, actually. Skin walker, praying on women with men at war.” he snapped and moved to gather his guns in another bag.
The more Crowley stared, the more his body crawled, until he finally snapped and spun around, eyes a pure black, canines slightly sharper. “Will you quit looking at me and scram already?” he spat, blade in his hand, the one to kill Abbadon. So he did still have it then.
The Devil That Won’t Go Away ||CLOSED||
iamyourking:
deanbitchwinchester:
Dean followed the other with his eyes as he sat. The lewd comment had eyes shooting to the sky as if mockingly begging God to save him right now.
“Why the hell do you care anyways. Wouldn’t you be overjoyed that Team Free Will is gone?” he jeered back, standing to begin packing his stuff up. He was going to spend the night catering to his tools of the trade, but now with a demon here, he felt jittery, felt the need to scatter quickly.
Crowley just chuckled, crossing his legs so that he was sitting more comfortably and looking at Dean with that same amused expression.
“You’d think so, after all, I am a demon,” he raised his hands with dramatic flourish. “But it’s not as much about them, it’s more that I want to keep my bestie company in this trying time.”
While Crowley knew it was likely dangerous to try Dean when he was feeling like this, he couldn’t find it in himself to tear him away from Dean. He was physically and emotionally drawn to him, and he had been for a while. It’d taken all his restraint to keep himself from him all this time but he couldn’t do it any longer. Besides, he wanted to make sure Dean was okay, even if it meant he had to get hurt in the process.
Dean stopped what he was doing to turn a sharp glare at Crowley, and he turned to level a whole body glare at the demon. “Crowley, we are not besties. The mark may have made me a demon too, but we are not friends, we are not equals, we are not anything. You are not my king or any of that crap. I am a Hunter. There is nothing else to it.” he spat the words, anger boiling up to cover the panic and fear.
He was afraid of not knowing who he was or where he stood in the world. This new stage of his life terrified him, but true to his nature, Dean was not going to admit it. So yeah, he fled Sam and Cas to keep them safe, blacking out to his demon self now and then and running from his actions.
Even now he could feel the demon itch at his mind.