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ammonitetheseaserpent · 23 days

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Here ‘tis

All things must come to an end. Death is not something people generally look forward to, and it usually takes a belief of a better place beyond their end - or a great deal of trauma and torment in one’s life - to change that for someone. However, there are those who hold within their minds a deep-seated fear of their own mortality. Now, any encounter with a demon comes with a high mortal risk, as their goal is to have you eaten once your fear levels are sufficient, but how does a demon best capitalize on someone’s fear when it is of that very end itself? To answer that, we must look to the demon Thanatorgrimm, and one of the victims who managed to live to tell their story.

This tale was told from a time the demon ventured into Spain to hunt down a local legend known as Puss in Boots - but came to him a little too late. From what Puss has told us, he was asleep by a campfire one night when vivid nightmares suddenly descended on him of countless scenarios where he died horrifically, including some of the previous deaths he had actually suffered. Then, when he awoke, there was a chill in the air giving him the feeling that each breath he took was a gift. These visions continued night after night - until the ninth night, where he jolted awake and finally got a glimpse of his tormentor. Its appearance deeply unsettled him, as he’s said; towering at a few times his height at the shoulder with a form so thin its bones showed through the skin; its body adorned with what appeared to be a white spine going up its back and ending in an exposed skull, with the hollow eyes so dark it was like looking down two endless chasms. A pair of devil-like horns crowned the skull, and the demon sported a long tail with a spade-shaped tip. Its most grizzly feature of all, though, were two long, spindly, scythe-like limbs protruding from its back, tipped with blood… and pointed right at its quarry.

Merely being in the demon’s presence caused Puss’s mind to fill with a deluge of intrusive thoughts of what might’ve been every single way his last life could end in this situation. The scenarios steadily got more and more gruesome and grotesque, and his life even started to flash before his eyes. The demon relished the torment its victim was being subjected to - however, there was one thing it hadn’t counted on. Sometime before this encounter, Puss had engaged in a bout with Death himself, and had won, vowing to never stop fighting for this last life of his. So while he was definitely disturbed by these images flashing through his mind, there also stirred within him an ironclad resolve. The demon sensed the shift in him and realized: this prey was not going down without a fight.

Puss drew his rapier and shouted out his signature challenge: “Fear me, if you dare!” The struggle was on. The monster feinted all around, slashing with its scythes, doing all it could to fan the flames of his terror until it overpowered his confidence, but with little success. Finally, the creature rammed Puss, knocking the breath out of him and throwing him to the ground. It lunged forward to gore him, and Puss, though dizzy and out of breath, just managed to grab the horn a few centimeters from his chest, before pulling a leg back and kicking his opponent squarely in the face. Caught off guard, the demon lurched back. Puss gathered his rapier and approached Thanatorgrimm, pointing the weapon right between the demon’s fathomless eyes. The bested monstrosity lowered its head as its quarry hissed under his breath, “You… will… not… have me.”

#tried to mimic the way christian writes the demon episodes #as you’ll probably notice #popcross studios #multiverse tales #puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #pib tlw #random snippets of my day

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kissthegogo-goat-witch · 3 years

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Misery of the Vampire: Chapter two.

I'm posting chapters of my novel on tumblr, an autobiography of a vampire. You can find chapter one here: https://kissthegogo-goat-witch.tumblr.com/post/655648021868134400/misery-of-the-vampire-chapter-one

Now it is not entirely a myth that vampires sleep in coffins, for they did up until the end of the Victorian era. Now it is seen as obsolete. Being described as sleeping in coffins is also quite offensive to a few. My first time in a coffin was horrid. I felt claustrophobic as my body was trapped. I could feel its rough wooden surface create splinters as I struggled. If that wasn't bad enough, the two cysts were my sire had bit, finally burst. The horrid stench of puss filled the confined space. I released a cry of agony which was met with his fist pounding against the lid. I suddenly realized that my life would be dictated by this lunatic. How did I know? It was a feeling deep within my own body that I could not explain.

My fate than was determined as I heard a piano play softly. Every single key he had stroked pounded inside my head. When you are reborn as a vampire, your own hearing becomes painfully sensitive. The faintest of sounds could cause you to cringe in pain. Even after weeks, months of being turned, you will not stand even a pin dropping. He knew this. He knew my condition, the pain I was in, and how I was forced to feast on corpses. My sire had placed me in so much peril, and the reason why you may ask? Well, like I said before. I myself have no answer, but I believe that he was lonely. Soon the music had stopped and I could feel my body grow weak.

My whole being screamed at me to shut down, hibernate for the sun was rising. But I was too frightened. As I laid inside my prison, it begins to shake. His body, I could hear, sprawled across the coffin. Heavy breaths caused me to grimace. Never have I felt so humiliated in my long, wretched life. Finally, I surrendered and succumbed to the darkness swallowing me up. my sire's obsession with myself was evident. Never could I have been alone with his constant presence. This was a burden for when I was deprived of my own dignity. I admit that he had dressed me such as the wealthy, and our living was a far cry from those in the streets such as I was. But I was a prisoner.

Leaving was out of the question, for I had none of the skills that a vampire needed. Cliche it sounds, for it had been overused for centuries, but the bloodlust created a danger to mortal men. My very own morals won over my freedom. I suppose he wouldn't have allowed me to leave. One night we were both on his balcony, overlooking the ocean as waves crashed below us. The moon was full as she had shone down upon the both of us. Our bodies were entangled with one another, bare skin against the cold stone. It was a sin in this time and age, but why would we care? Haven't we already fallen from the Lord's grace?

"How many times must I tell you, why must I repeat?"

He asked softly. His fingers entwined into my hair, yanking softly so that my neck would be exposed. I knew what was to come next, and deep inside I shuddered. The feedings were forceful, painful, and degrading. I had no rights in our relationship, slave and master so to speak. Or at least that is what I thought. Suddenly, I had felt the same pain, the pain that was expected but yet I was still of no use to. To this day I still shudder when my neck is touched. He was rough, vile with how he fed. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Feeding on another vampire without their consent is the equivalent of sexual assault. With each day I was violated. His act was finished, and the pain was over. He carried me back to our shared coffin. I could not look into his face as he did so. For this man was not only insane, but a true monster. We laid there that night with dried blood between us, stained against our skin and stained on my soul.

I shall spare you from the worst of details, for some things that went on between us should never be spoken about. It is the least of dignity I have left. For many years I was trapped with Giovanni, learning and growing stronger, but not strong enough to be independent of him. Our relationship had grown to be more intimate, even if society did not allow it.

The night I escaped from Giovanni, was a night I shall never forget. The feeling of being finally free, like a bird released from its cage for the first time in all its life. I felt the ecstasy, the rush, and fear of being on my own. It started as a spark of rage from my sire. Having been lit as he accused me of wandering out into the night without him. For when he opened my coffin, I was not inside. Of course, I wanted a taste of freedom, for the many years were miserable enough. I have thought of myself grown enough as a vampire to be able to see our own world. But it was met by his own form punishment which turned into a fight for my own life.

Upon my return I found him on the balcony, still and silent as his figure loomed over. His face was stoic, no expression, empty of emotion. Like a ticking time bomb, he did not go off until the very last second. Upon reaching for him, he snapped. His fangs baring with a low hiss escaping. A gloved hand grabbed my wrist and snapped the bone as he jerked it over. I cried out in pain but was only silenced. I had not realized his intentions until there was a murderous gleam in Giovanni's eyes.

They turned black upon his attack. It was too late to avoid his wrath, for half of my face was torn off by his claws. I still remember the searing pain of my own skin being ripped off. The flesh underneath exposed. In a blind side of rage, I lashed out back at him with my free hand digging into his eyes. They were torn out of his skull with the stolen blood of mortals pouring out of its socket.

This was my liberation, my freedom which had been granted. But I took it with reaching into the fireplace, pulling out a burning piece of kindling like a torch and setting my blinded sire on fire. But alas, he survived. I would not have known this until the trial. Giovanni was sure to have been destroyed as the flames consumed our once, plush, home. I took my leave upon running with madness into the night. Smeared in blood with only half of a face, twas glorious. For people now feared me, instead of I fearing them and living as a house pet. I have caused a group of men on the streets to scream in terror. Their high pitched shrills gave me a thrill that I couldn't have imagined was ever possible. I feasted upon their fresh blood until I could no more. That very night I took on a metamorphosis and transformed into a true monster.

#personal #vampire #vampire novel #writing #writeblr #chapter #novel chapter #chapters #vampire writing #novelist

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jae-writes-fanfiction · 4 years

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Paper Faces (on Parade)

Luke X Reader - 1580 Words - More Freaky Fics

Warnings: Alcohol use, Cigarette use, descriptions of violence and horror things including: rotting skin, blood, illnesses, a masked killer. Enjoy responsibly ❤️ (most of these things are only referenced, unlike later fics that will be fairly intense)

- - -

There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to successfully survive... 1. You can never have sex- Sex always equals death, 2. Never drink or do drugs. The sin factor. It's an extension of number one. And 3. Never, ever, ever, under any circumstances, say 'I'll be right back.'

- Scream (1996), Dir. Wes Craven

The Villa overlooked LA and dwarfed the surrounding homes. You had done your best to dress for the venue including the lace mask that rested over your face. Yet nothing prepared you for this level of grandeur. Your hand clutched the cryptic invitation inviting you to a private and painstakingly exclusive party. The letter gave no clue to its composer but promised safety in numbers- something going out of style in the rest of the world. Stepping into the palatial courtyard you heard the large iron gates secure behind you.

The doorman fastened multiple chains and locks, “ ‘s for your safety,” he reiterated, “wouldn’t want to let the riff-raff in with you decent folks. Who knows what kinda stuff they could spread.” His gruff and heavily accented voice reminded you of British detective movies and offered no actual assurance. His quick and uneasy movements sent a shiver down your spine as if he was locking you in instead of locking them out.

The courtyard had seen better days yet the stately doors ahead beckoned with so much light you didn't notice the oppressive foreboding that set in under your skin, the instinctive warning you desperately needed but would never realize already came. The doors opened for you, the doorman slipping behind you to once again fasten the deadbolt and secure the locks.

The room you had stepped into was swathed in blue decorations and lights that diffused about the room resulting in a softly colored experience. The Villa’s sprawl demanded the existence of many other rooms, you assumed it must be so as this one was empty. You were late.

Your shoes clicked bodily against the floors as you sped through the next few rooms. The pink room held only two couples seated at a card table, the green room only an older man seated across from a perpetually empty seat with two place settings. Neither group looked up upon your intrusion and in your haste, you neglected to notice they couldn’t do so anyway. The locket and handkerchief clutched in the old man’s hand were splattered with blood, and the couples lay slumped together with matching exit wounds, the one’s face already covered in mottled blotches of puss ridden decay.

Within the room, your enigmatic Host watched from a hidden corner as you ran past the recently deceased. Inconsiderate, Tardy, Rude. Their grotesque mask hid their disappointment at just another sinner to keep track of. They had no tolerance for filth in any form, the old man’s illness posed a threat to everyone. A mortal sin. They moved after you slowly and unseen as if they could glide through the air soundlessly.

The Villa’s hallways twisted and turned until you were sure there were no more rooms and you had simply missed the night’s festivities. A soft pool of golden light flashed from an archway as you rounded another corner and drew you into a dimly lit room filled with dancing people. he orange lights pulsed along with the music and made the entire room feel like a dream, like some impossibility that wasn’t really happening, no matter how much you wanted it to.

The crowd put you at ease, everyone knew there was safety in numbers. Unfortunately with the masks, you couldn’t recognize anyone- a sea of paper faces swirled around you. The bar situated against the farthest wall of damask curtains offered comfort that the unknowable masses couldn’t. The bartender greeted you silently, a drink already in hand. Apparently, there would be no cocktail menu tonight. You thanked them and despite the full face mask you though they smiled.

The liquid had no specific taste yet it felt so warm, so bright; that you almost tasted spices. Something in the drink sparked inside you and every cell in your body oozed with heat. Your throat ran dry, demanding you drink more which only worsened the heady feelings taking over you. As you were drinking a man sat next to you.

He was tall, his hair fell around his face in a disheveled cascade of golden curls and behind the half mask, you could see bright eyes that betrayed an even brighter smile. When he spoke, his voice carried an accent and at the same time sounded like music.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stand not talking to you.” He spoke with a lazy yet instantly charming smile that made your heart skip a beat.

You scoffed lightly, “nice line. You tell that to all the girls?”

“Only the ones in lace,” he said with a wink that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You laughed openly. The lace mask itched your nose as you smiled.

“Well mystery man, care for a drink?”

“Mystery man?” He laughed briefly, “ I’m Luke… I’d love a drink but only if you promise to dance with me after.”

You agreed and happily clinked glasses together. You were thankful to find a friend among the strangers, even if you’d only just met. The strange spark from the liquor made you feel like moving. You were quick to down the drink and pull Luke’s hand into your own. You had opted out of wearing formal gloves and the second your skin touched his for the first time that night you were thankful for that choice. It felt as if you’d already known exactly how it would feel as if you were puzzle pieces who still fit together. The feeling was intoxicating.

Life moved in slow motion as the music started again. Luke’s hand found the small of your back but itched to dip lower and hold you tighter. You spun in well-drawn circles, weaving between the other dancers. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the feeling of Luke pressed against you that made your head spin in the most delicious way. In that moment you felt again like a flame, overstuffed with kindling. You had never burned as bright.

The song ended and you stumbled back. Luke looked lost, and you knew he felt the same magnetic pull that bewildered you.

“Fuck, I need some air,” you said breathily.

“Me too,” Luke said, frowning,” but I’m pretty sure they already locked the exits.”

Luke huffed and thought for a second before pulling you off the dance floor. You anxiously looked around the crowded room wondering if it would be best to stay with the group for now. You swallowed the thought, you just needed a little space to process. You’d be right back. He brushed aside one of the damask panels to reveal a darkened passageway. You didn’t think to question how he knew when the doors locked or that the passage was there. All you knew was that he felt like the antidote to whatever fire was ravaging your body.

The corridor was little more than a servant’s passageway and demanded you walk pressed together, his hand rested securely on your hip urging you forward and downstairs that seemed to curl on forever before you reached another door that in turn moved another damask panel. Behind was another themed room that appeared as if someone had forgotten to turn on the lights. The only light filtered into the room through a gothic stained glass window.

He walked past you into the room, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. The lighter cast odd shadows across his face and for the first time you felt fear. You had no idea who he was or where you were, you’d followed a stranger into the depths of an unknown Villa and for a brief moment you could’ve sore you heard screaming far off in the distance.

Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about his hand in yours, and what that electricity would feel like tracing over the rest of your body. As quickly as the uncertainty entered your mind, it left as Luke turned back to you. The low light made the hints of glitter on his mask shine, and the silk of his shirt gleam. He looked like an angel.

You smiled softly and walked to his side, taking in the plush velvets and wrought iron embellishments around the room. The closeness felt right.

He passed you the cigarette and you laughed.

“So much for fresh air.”

You took a long drag off it and savored the bitter taste. Your fingers grazed Luke’s as you handed it back and you longed to kiss him. You inched closer placing a hand on his shoulder as the cigarette turned to ashes littered on the tile floor. With no regard for the home around you, Luke dropped the spent butt on the floor and crushed it under his heel, his hands immediately returned to you. He looped an arm around your waist, and your hand tightened around his bicep as you pressed together. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face, your lips almost touching.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered reverently.

Your tongue darted out across your bottom lip, “am I?”

The moment lingered for only a second before you closed the space between you. The itching in your veins worsened and spread until you couldn't take your hands off him. The kisses deepened and the passionate passes of hands became desperate. Within the anonymous dark room eager hands tore at clothes and blissful groans drowned out the sounds of terror you had aptly recognized before.

The Host had finally descended upon the stragglers left in the ballroom. They summoned everyone for a reason, those who followed the rules would thrive. Stragglers, rule-breakers, and sinners of all shades would pay the price. Even you, wrapped up in your one-time lover, would have to learn your actions have consequences.

#freakyfics #luke x reader #rpf #5SOS #anon request #this ended up as an accidental masque of the red death AU sorry not sorry

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hekate1308 · 7 years

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The Wheel Has Come Full Circle

Saving Crowley. Hunting The Writers. The Fandom Business.

They arrived at the portal at sundown.

Without surprise, Crowley realized he would actually miss Mary.

She seemed to be thinking along the same lines because she said, “We’ve been through much together in the last two years.”

They had. Him waking up human after having killed himself as a demon for reasons he had yet to understand, him finding the last remaining humans, finding out Mary had joined them as well, all teaming up to get rid of Lucifer, finally bringing peace to this world by negotiating with both the angels and the demons...

It almost made him dizzy to think about it.

And then, after almost twenty-four months of non-stop fighting, they’d learned about the portal. The portal that could bring exactly one human back to their world.

Their home.

He’d tried very hard not to think about the world he’d come from like this, but he couldn’t help it. As little as they had ever cared about him, Dean, Sam and Castiel had been the only friends he’d ever made in his life – both mortal and as a demon.

He was certain Mary could tell he yearned to step trough the portal himself. To return home.

And as a demon, he would have done it.

But he wasn’t a demon anymore. He was human, with all teh guilt, regrets and emotions it entailed, and he knew he couldn’t keep the boys from reuniting with their mother.

“You want to go back, don’t you?” Mary asked quietly.

Lying was pointless. She’d come to know him too well. He nodded.

She dropped her bag.

“I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see me”.

“I’m sure they will.”

When she didn’t answer, he added, “At least they’ll be much gladder than if I suddenly knocked on the bunker’s doors again.”

He could just imagine the distain on the boy’s faces when they realized he actually needed a place to sleep for the night, how they’d clean out the room farthest from their own, how he’d be expected to leave as soon as possible.

And yet not even those expectations made it easier for him to watch the portal close behind Mary.

After a pause, she said, “I’m their mother. I only wanted what was best for them. I still do.”

“Being a parent entails difficult decisions” he agreed, as always with a pang – stronger than when he’d watched him walk away, courtesy of his human emotions – as he thought of Gavin.

“At least” she began, her voice breaking.

She cleared her throat.

“At least this time everyone agrees I am doing the right thing”.

He couldn’t recall any lengthy discussions. Everyone had just known what the discovery of the portal meant.

But then – maybe she hadn’t wanted Crowley to hear them. Because she knew. Of course she knew.

She knew how desperately he wanted to go home.

But he couldn’t.

The things he’d done...

He still had nightmares. None of the other campers had ever mentioned it.

Mary held out a hand.

��Goodbye, Crowley”.

He grasped it firmly. For two years, longer than the boys had got to spend with her, they’d fought side by side, and sometimes each other when they didn’t agree with their respective plans; and he liked to think she’d remember him as something like a friend.

“Good –“

It happened suddenly. In his defence, it never could have happened if she hadn’t taken him by complete surprise.

But with one twist and one shove, she’d thrown him right into the portal.

The last thing he heard before everything went dark was a cry of “Please look after them, Crowley!”

When he came to, he was lying in the woods.

And that was enough to remind him what had happened. There had been no more forests in that other world.

He got up, groaning.

She’d actually done it.

Mary had shoved him through the portal, the one that would have closed behind him again, and told him to look after the boys.

He didn’t understand. In what world would they be better off with him than with their mother?

Mary’s duffle bag was lying a few feet away from him. She must have thrown it after him immediately.

He opened it to find his suspicions confirmed. She’d filled it with his clothes and the few odds and ends he’d acquired during their struggles instead of her belongings.

At least this time everyone agrees I am doing the right thing.

That was what she had said. And suddenly, their departure this evening made sense.

Of course the whole camp had shown up to bid Mary Winchester goodbye. Ever since she and Crowley had managed to take down Lucifer together last year, they’d been something like the unofficial leaders, alongside this universe’s Bobby Singer, of course.

“Mary” he began, “We’ll miss you. But we get it”.

Mary smiled.

There was melancholy in her eyes.

It was easy to understand.

She’d adjusted far quicker to this apocalyptic world because she had to, and had made friends in it; but still –

She’d go to get home.

Crowley quickly looked away as she talked with the other Jody Mills, as he’d come to call her (they’d never become close; guilt had finally reared its ugly head now that he was mortal again).

He turned away to find Bobby Singer looking at him.

This version was rather close to his counterpart. The boys would have loved him.

“Crowley. You’re accompanying Mary?”

“Yes. She asked me to”.

He couldn’t quite figure out why. Another annoying thing about being human: emotions tended to get in the way of rational thinking. He was too busy wandering what would happen if he went through the damn portal instead to completely grasp Mary’s motives.

Bobby nodded.

“Good. Wouldn’t want anyone stumbling out there alone.” He cleared his throat. “You’re a good fighter.”

“Just doing my best to show these demons what true majesty looks like”.

His former kingship had long been turned into the camp’s longest-running joke.

Bobby grinned before drawing him into a quick hug, taking him off guard.

“See you, Crowley”.

Looking back, it was easy to see everyone had made a point of telling him goodbye, not just Mary.

They’d all been in on it.

He swallowed as he grasped the handle of the duffle bag strongly enough for it to cut into his palm.

He was home.

They’d sent him home.

Mary’s last words –

For some reason, she’d become convinced that it would be better for her sons if Crowley came back.

But it was probable they’d not even let him into the bunker.

As a human, he was of no use to them.

But still –

He owned nothing but the things in the bag.

Yet he was home.

And Mary had given him a purpose.

He’d make his way to the bunker.

He had to try.

After he’d walked for a while, he thankfully stumbled onto a highway. Following it, he soon arrived at a small town – thankfully not small enough that people looked at every stranger suspiciously, although he did catch a few confused glances in his direction.

Small wonder, when he finally saw himself in the dirty mirror of a gas station bathroom.

The other universe hadn’t been exactly the cleanest. Or the most comfortable.

There was only so much he could do about his appearance now, though. First, he needed money and a car. Then he’d drive for a few hours and find a cheap motel.

Crowley sighed remembering the old days of thirty-year-old Craig and luxurious bathrooms.

He was still as adept at pick pocketing as he had always been though, and two hours later found him in what he would have once called a “pimp car” (he had miserably eyed a Mustang in the same parking lot, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself) on the way to Lebanon.

But as quickly as he wanted to get to the bunker – the very next day, as he was going through the local news, he heard about something sounding suspiciously like ghost activity.

He bit his lip.

Seemed like a quick salt and burn.

That night, he was on his way to the grave of the ghost. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out it was the old town drunk taking revenge.

Only when he arrived at the grave, someone else was there already, digging.

“Dean?” he asked before he could stop himself.

The hunter whipped around. Crowley had only a second to register the utter rage and disdain on his face before Dean threw himself at him.

Crowley, even as a human, had become an excellent fighter: the necessity of staying alive in the parallel world had ensured that. But he didn’t want to harm Dean in the slightest, and so it was only predictable that he ended up lying in the dirt, the hunter hovering over him, a silver knife pressed against his throat.

Dean still had the same expression on his face.

Seriously, what had Mary been thinking?

“It’s not even been a year” Dean hissed. “And you think you can just come here and impersonate – “

It was at this point, Crowley trying to figure out how Dean had decided that he was shifter of all things, when the ghost attacked.

He would have torn through Dean’s back if Crowley hadn’t thrown him off, feeling a slight nick on his neck, and rolled to safety himself.

He grabbed the iron bar he’d brought with him.

“The bones, Squirrel!”

Dean froze for a second, but then scrambled into action while Crowley kept the ghost at bay.

A few minutes later, it was all over.

Dean looked at the jarred remains of the bones, then back at Crowley.

He wordlessly handed him his knife.

“Alright. I’ll give you a chance to talk. Who are you?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’d say “take a guess” but –“

“Everyone would know he used to call me Squirrel” Dean mused. “But if you’d really wanted to fool me you’d have worn a suit and you wouldn’t look so butch”.

“You try to keep your weight stable in a puss-filled apocalyptic nightmare” he spat.

Dean unexpectedly chuckled.

“You got his accent down, I’ll give you that.”

“You know what? You don’t believe me, ask me anything, anything only I would know”.

Dean studied him for a moment with something like – fear? in his eyes.

“What did Crowley tell me when I came back down the elevator after he’d tricked me into letting several demons beat me up?”

That was easy enough, even though he winced at the memory.

“That’s what you get working with a demon”.

Dean’s eyes were wide as he approached him. He raised a hand and touched his shoulder.

“Crowley?”

“Yes.”

“You’re – alive – “

“And human, in case you’re wondering.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright.”

Crowley wasn’t surprised he didn’t take long to process the news. This was Dean Winchester, after all.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but how?”

He was shocked when he realized Dean meant it.

But he really didn’t want to explain that his mother had decided to abandon him once again in an old graveyard.

He cleared his throat.

“Don’t get me wrong, Squirrel, but this talk definitely should not be had sober”.

“I’d been checking up on Garth when I read about this case, so I figured I might check it out –“

Crowley coughed.

Dean had decided to pick up the tab for tonight, so naturally he’d gone for a glass of Craig, only to realize that he’d only had light beer in the last two years.

Dean laughed.

“Oh my God, you’re a freaking light weight!”

“I will have you know I stabbed Lucifer in the chest.”

“Good for you”.

He eyed his shoulder.

“You got a tattoo?”

“Several. Have an anti-possession one on my collar bone, too.” Crowley shrugged. “Just realized I liked them”.

Dean nodded.

Then, after a pause, he asked, “What happened?”

“It’s been six months, right?”

He’d seen the date on a newspaper this morning.

When Dean nodded he said, “It’s been two years for me”.

“Huh.”

“When I stabbed myself, I was convinced this was it. I didn’t have anything to live for anyway. I hated Hell, my son and my mother were both dead – “ and the only ones I would have called my friends despised me, he wanted to add, but it seemed only pointless. Dean was apparently really happy to see him.

“And then I woke up human. I have no idea how, or why.”

“And so you killed Lucifer.”

“I wasn’t alone. Your mother...” he trailed off.

Dean swallowed and looked down at his glass.

“She dead?”

“No”.

And Crowley did his best to explain what had happened.

“Son of a bitch” Dean muttered in the end.

“Dean...” he began, unsure what to say. He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to mother-son relationships himself.

“You know what’s making me angry? It’s not even that she chose to send you instead of going to find us herself.”

Dean stood up; his chair scrapped along the floor.

“It’s that she was goddamn right.”

Crowley didn’t know what to say.

“I need some air”.

Dean stormed out.

Crowley sighed.

After five minutes of nursing his drink, he went to look for him.

He was in the parking lot, talking on the phone.

“Yes, Sam, alright? I’m damn sure. You are the one who never lets me forget our “Summer of Love”” he snapped. “But you know what? Let her out. If it’s him, she’ll come running”.

Crowley withdrew into the shadows and waited until Dean hung up. Only then did he step up to him.

“Are you...” he stopped.

Dean chuckled.

“The former King of Hell just asked me if I’m alright...”

He shrugged.

“I have no idea, to be honest”.

“I could say the same.”

Dean grinned.

“Got a motel room yet?”

“No.”

“Wanna share?”

And that was how they ended up sharing a motel room.

Crowley was wondering who Dean could have been talking about on the phone. Was an angry Sheriff Mills about to descend upon him? But why would Sam have to “let her out?”

He was still pondering these questions when they heard a scratching noise at the door.

“Damn it, she’s fast” Dean said and before Crowley could ask, he went to open it.

The next thing he knew, there was an invisible but very happy hell hound in his lap, slobbering all over him.

He couldn’t even bring himself to feel annoyed.

“Juliet?”

She barked excitedly.

“Juliet!”

He patted her.

“Did you miss Papa?”

More slobbering.

Dean grimaced.

“Showed up at the bunker a few weeks after you – well. Didn’t feel right to get rid of her. Do you know she drinks Craig, by the way?”

“Of course. Only the best for my little girl.”

“Your – you know what, she’s sleeping on your bed.”

Of course she was.

He soon figured out that Dean wasn’t quite as annoyed by Juliet as he pretended to be, but he still put his foot down the next day.

“No. Dogs. In. The. Car. I don’t care if she’s invisible – she’ll be there sooner than us anyway.”

“Alright” he acquiesced, more out of surprised that Dean would so readily accept him as a passenger than anything else.

He crouched down.

“You be a good girl and go back to the bunker, alright? Papa’s going to be there soon. I promise”.

She licked his hand and left.

Dean shook his head.

“You and your hellhounds...”

“I will have you know they are very useful pets.”

“I know. One day, a group of ghouls tried to invade the bunker when we weren’t there.”

“How did it end?”

“What do you think? We came home and cleaned up ghoul bits for weeks.”

He grinned.

That was his girl.

They drove all day and way into the night to get to the bunker. Crowley’s biggest surprise was when after lunch, Dean mustered him once more up and down then handed him the keys to the Impala.

“Knock yourself out.”

“You’re letting me drive your car?”

“I’m tired. Plus, I’m curious about your driving. Bet you never got a licence.”

He shot him a glare. Dean winked.

“Knew it”.

It kept surprising him how comfortable his and Dean’s impromptu comradeship was.

They arrived late at night.

As expected, Juliet was waiting by the door for them.

Crowley petted her as Dean used his keys.

Sam and Cas were waiting for them in the dining room.

There was something... different about the angel.

He realized it was he was studying his tattoos.

“You’re human too, Cassie?”

“Long story” Dean said tiredly.

“Let’s just say baby Lucifer brought him back human so he could “enjoy paradise properly” and then I stabbed him when he started babbling about world domination”.

“Alright then. Hello, Moose.”

Sam shuffled his feet, obviously intent on saying something.

“No” Dean suddenly announced “We are not doing this.”

“But Dean he was – “

“I know, alright? I know. I also know the guy saved me from a ghost and got all teary-eyed when his freaking dog came to greet him. This is a good thing, okay? For once, we got a good thing, and I’m not going to ruin it. Crowley, you’re with me”.

“I didn’t get teary-eyed” he said petulantly as they strolled down the corridors, Juliet at his side.

“Sure you didn’t. Now, this is mine, Cas’, Sammy’s, Garth took that one, Claire declared this one her own, better not risk it, but the other should be...”

“You’re giving me a room?”

“I assumed you’d want to stay.”

He did. There was no denying it.

He reached down to pet Juliet once more as he nodded.

“Well then. Take your pick.”

In his room that night, he made a promise.

I will look after them, Mary. Come what may.

#my writings #crowley #dean winchester #mary winchester #fix it #post-12x23 #human!crowley #human!cas

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