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It might be one of the craziest thoughts he’s ever had, but damn it, he’s just done. Done with losing people, done with the constant cosmic catastrophes going on, done with it all.
And so, after Crowley stabs himself, he darts forward, never mind Sam’s indignant cry, and grabs his corpse, slinging its over his shoulder, before legging it back.
Lucifer has been thrown back by the sheer force of whatever Crowley made happen, so they are safe for now, and of course once they are through the portal…
Cas is blinking at them clearly confused by everything that’s been going on, but at least he’s alive and it seems that for now, they’ve actually gotten away.
Well, except for…
He lets Crowley’s body drop on the floor and takes a deep breath.
Sam lays a hand on his arm, probably remembering their Summer of Love, as he insists on calling it, and Dean wonders if he actually suspects…
But that’s not the point.
“We’ll burn him. He’s earned this much.”
He shakes his hand off. “No. He’s gonna need a body when he gets back.”
“Gets –“ Sam frowns. “Dean, he stabbed himself. He’s gone.”
“Yeah, I know. At the moment. But this is Crowley we’re talking about. He’s not one to just stay dead.”
And they have to agree with him there because, again, Crowley is Crowley, and he always has a trick up his sleeve – for God’s sake, how often has he escaped Lucifer until now, and suddenly it’s supposed to be the end? No, that makes no sense at all.
Therefore, Crowley can’t be dead and gone. It’s as easy as that.
And so, they’ll take that body with them and do what is necessary to preserve it because one, Dean has really gotten used to that particular meat suit, and just like Cas, it would be weird to see him in anything or anyone (hah) else, and two, it’s here and it’s free and they might as well use what they have.
Sam and Cas don’t put up much more of a resistance – he knows better than to think this is it, certainly they’ll stage some kind of intervention down the line, but who cares. He’s made a decision and he’s sticking with it.
The other seems surprised at his reaction, too, as if it means nothing that Crowley is gone, as if they didn’t know the bastard for years, as if he didn’t help out when they called… every time lately, now that he thinks about it. Just remembering the hell hound –
Oh God, the hell hounds, what if Juliet shows up? Dean still doesn’t like dogs, but she was Crowley’s favourite, he can’t –
He’ll deal with that when it comes to it, he decides – there are so many more important things… for example the body lying in their car, but that –
They bring Crowley home, lay him down in one of the unused bedrooms (Actually, it’s a good thing he’s not al – awake because Dean can imagine how he would complain and complain and complain about the mattress, just like he did back when – )
He doesn’t have time for that: he has to set a plan in motion.
Sam, predictably, looks at him like he’s gone insane when he gets a goblet out of one of the store rooms, fills it with cheap wine – he draws the line somewhere, and this is it, Crowley would agree that one shouldn’t waste good alcohol on stuff like that – and sprinkles it around the bed. “Dean, what are you doing?”
It’s Cas who answers because of course he does. “He’s dedicating the corpse to Hades, indicating that proper burial rites will follow”.
“Only they won’t” Dean says as cheerfully as he can. “And I am counting on the gods being very, very pissed about that.“
“But what –“
“So you see, then Crowley can complain that we aren’t doing anything, and they’ll send him back to fix it, and then we can keep him. Have to be careful, but you know –“
“Dean –“
“It worked for Sisyphus, so why shouldn’t it for us?”
“Si – how do you even know –“ but for one, Dean doesn’t feel like making up an excuse of having caught a TV special or something. He’s read Homer, so be it. “But Dean – you do realize that he was eventually –“
“Like I said, we’ll have to be careful, but really, what does that even – we’ve been through much harder stuff.”
Cas nods as if it makes sense to him, so either Deann hasn’t gone completely insane or they are as bad as each other, which is sadly not out of the realm of possibility, but if this leads to anything, he’ll take it.
“Dean –“
“Sammy, just let me try. There’s no harm, is there? Cas has already preserved the corpse” it hurts to refer to Crowley as such, but he will do what he has to do “And if – I promise if it doesn’t – then we can burn him.”
Sam looks at hum, nods once, twice. “Fine. But not – let’s say a week.”
A week. A week is plenty of time. For someone like Crowley, at least. He’s always had a plan up his sleeve, so he ought to be already trying, scrambling around to get home. So what’s a week? He’ll jump on the chance.
He makes the promise.
It dawns on him that time travels differently on different planes – he really should have remembered that, seeing as all members of their merry little band have been to Heaven and Hell and everything in-between at some point – when a day, two days, three days –
The point is, Crowley is not waking up when he expected it to happen any second at the beginning, and he’s starting to think that it just won’t, but he won’t allow himself to think like that because that would mean –
Sam is starting to hint at –
Cas still tolerates all of this, thankfully, but he can’t say for how long that will last, or if they won’t just burn Crowley eventually when Dean needs to sleep.
Part of him knows that they are right – that if nothing should happen, it would be best for them all if he let go – but somehow, he can’t, he won’t, not after all of this. Somehow, Crowley is just a step too far. Maybe it was bound to happen eventually – Dean just snapping and refusing to accept whatever fate or God or anything else threw at them. Be that as it may, this is the hill he is willing to die on.
Again.
Things finally change at exactly the moment when he’s convinced himself that they won’t, because of course they would. That’s Crowley for you – nothing if not dramatic – how could he think that he would not make a great entrance?
Fine, maybe great is a bit of an exaggeration, but well – as great as it can be, anyway.
Now, it begins with the lights flickering. Of course they do. Now, there was a time when Dean would immediately spring into action at such a sign, but this the bunker – it’s so well-shielded that normally, nothing should get in unless they had taken a haunted object, like a corpse, with them and not taken any precautions when it comes to that particular object, which admittedly is exactly what happened because there was no reason to make it difficult for a guy who offed himself for them –
The point is, he’s sitting up with Crowley, of course, reading Vonnegut, when the lights start to flicker.
Good then, he found the way out.
Yes, more flickering, excellent – he throws a glance at the door to make sure he didn’t salt the room accidentally just because he’s used to it but no, everything should be –
“I cannot believe you actually kept my meat suit around like a perverted version of Snow White.”
Dean closes his eyes, feels a grin spread across his face, then turns to face Crowley – as a ghost, yes, but clearly him.
“Unless you were doing something far more nefarious than that, in which case I very much disapprove, there should be some decorum involve considering –“
“So how do we get you back in there?” he asked. “I assume they let you out because we kept you, like in the myth, so we will just have to –“
“Wait, you did this so I could get back?”
He’s done it now – this is Crowley’s expression when he can’t understand that someone actually did something nice to him, or paid him a compliment, or likes spending time with him… “Yeah… decided it would be better to have it ready. For once, you know it and that must be more comfortable, plus we can just introduce you to others –“
How Dean came to that conclusion, he will never know, since those who knew him as Crowley, like Jody Mills, will clearly not be too happy to see him again…
“Anyway, so… can you just… There you go.”
“Just one problem” he recalls – he was rather confused by the fact that Dean waited for him, but now… He explains why he is here to begin with, which again, doesn’t seem to surprise Dean all that much, or at all. “The God of the Underworld thinks I’m here to punish you.”
“Yeah, know him – met him –“ no surprise there “But the thing is, I’ve thought it through and… they don’t really have any power if they don’t put you on trial, and how do they know when you’ll punish us? Maybe you’re just biding your time.”
“Maybe I am.”
There’s a glint in Dean’s eyes that lets him know he is very aware that he is only bluffing. “That’s what I meant. So we have to be careful – nothing new there. We’ve pissed off so many gods and mythical creatures and whatnot, it’s a miracle we’re still kicking anyway.”
“What about Moose and Feathers?” he asks because he can’t help but think they will have a different opinion than –
“They can suck it up. This is a win, so get in there.”
He really has no other choice, not that he would make a different one, but still –
He looks at Dean once more; he shrugs and he does as he is told, for the first and last time in his life.
He realizes he’s really still ghosting around, which really is not the way to do it, and slips into the body, and he has to admit Dean was right – it almost feels like coming home, which is ridiculous of course because he looked nothing like that inn his mortal life, but he really did carry that literary agent around for quite some time…
He opens his eyes as Dean grins at him.
And suddenly, Dean feels like he can breathe again. Belatedly, he realizes he’s done nothing about the wound, but Crowley snaps his finger and it’s healed anyway.
“So, how did it go?” he asks because he’s genuinely curious. “Did Hades get all pissy because I didn’t finish the rites so he sent you back?”
“Yes, like Sisyphus. Just as you said. You really took a clue or two from him?”
Dean nodded.
“Shoddy handwork. He would have done much better with a deal.”
And suddenly Dean laughs out of relief because this sounds exactly like something that Crowley would say because of course it is, Crowley is back, and this time, he won’t just let him beam off again. “Yeah, yeah, you can tell me all of that over a drink. Come on.”