log: crowley+lustiel WHO: Crowley and "Castiel" WHEN: After this thread WHERE: Outside Mount Weather WHAT: Crowley is screwed :D but not in a way he likes D: WARNINGS: Typical SPN-style innuendo and threatening behavior with sexual overtones; mild violence. MASSIVE SPN season 11 spoilers.
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Castiel was acting… weird, even for Castiel, which was saying something. It had Crowley perplexed, and that made him curious to know more. Since when did Castiel not rise to the bait when Crowley talked about Dean, and especially about being Dean's demon ex complete with albums full of sordid memories? So it was weird.
But weird was nothing to be afraid of, especially since Castiel was incapable of harming a big ol' demon like Crowley-- and, exceeding expectations, even thinking too hard about harming Crowley. Great job, Crowley. Thank you, Crowley. Crowley, you're too kind. (Someone had to appreciate his work.) Best part was that Castiel had willingly imbibed the grace-- okay, not knowing about the bonus, but Castiel had known it was risky, and it didn't cause Castiel any pain or suffering unless Castiel wanted to inflict it himself. Crowley didn't actively do anything to make Castiel hurt; it was all on Castiel. If anyone in the know raised a stink, it could be argued that this wasn't really a poisoning or anything like that because it was Crowley's self-protection against someone who wanted him dead, more like installing an invisible fence and electronic collar to zap the dog if it tried to leave the yard. Nobody else in the mountain was going to protect Crowley, after all, including the supposed upholders of the law who themselves had threatened to maim and/or murder and/or sue his pants off. Crowley protected himself.
There was therefore no risk involved in meeting with Castiel outside and away from any devil's traps or angel wards, so long as Castiel didn't invite any Big Brothers along for protection. Crowley's healthy sense of self-preservation told Crowley to never dick around with archangels.
After a quick teleport, Crowley stood waiting for Castiel to arrive, amusing himself by adding captions to some of the more explicit photos in his collection.
"Crowley."
Castiel's voice was gruff and familiar, and it came out of nowhere. The little angel that could had his wings clipped, which meant anywhere he went was preceded by footsteps.
Maybe Crowley had simply been too busy playing on his phone.
Castiel stood just behind him, brow furrowed as he peered over Crowley's shoulder to look at the photo on display.
"Castiel," Crowley returned, just as familiar and gruff as always.
He didn't let it show outwardly that he was slightly unnerved, made more unnerved by the fact that he couldn't identify his own reason for feeling unnerved. The suddenness of Castiel's appearance must be it; that wasn't the usual these days. Maybe Castiel had gotten a bit of a tune-up after Gabriel showed?
"Did you get a lube-job? Not like this one," Crowley indicated the photo, "but something's different about you."
"You think so?"
Castiel reached around Crowley and grabbed the phone from his hand, turning away to start flipping through the photos. A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Oh, no."
Crowley's eyebrows shot up; he'd expected Castiel to hurl the phone away or shut it off if he ever got his hands on it, not voluntarily look at even single photo.
"Yes, I do. Something's seriously off-- 'oh, no' what?"
"No, no, no." Castiel waved a dismissive hand in Crowley's direction, not bothering to look up. "This is precious, look at you two."
If Crowley had been an actual cat instead of just making Grumpy Cat faces, he might have raised his back and puffed his fur out. He had no idea what exactly was going on, but Castiel was not being his usual self at all. Crowley didn't like Castiel to be unpredictable. Much harder to manipulate him that way. He also didn't like his instincts screaming "danger" when he knew Castiel was less threatening than a kitten.
"'Precious'? Change of heart, or you've developed an appreciation for the finer depravities that your boyfriend used to enjoy?"
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, should I be crying? Should I be enraged with jealousy?"
The angel turned back to Crowley, dangling the phone between his fingers. "You'd really like that, wouldn't you. Just once, you'd like to win."
"Yes, actually, just like you usually are when you think about that, having to convince yourself Dean only would do such naughty things if he's a demon." Crowley scowled and reached for his phone. "Who says I've only won once? Now give that back."
Castiel's hand snapped out and shoved at Crowley's face. He kept him at arm's length, extending his other arm to keep the phone out of his reach. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." He shook his head. "That's not very nice. What did we learn about sharing? What's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine."
The angel should have been doubled over in pain by now. Shoving Crowley wasn't particularly violent, but it was under the list of things that Castiel wasn't able to even think about doing without feeling like he was burning up from the inside.
As physical assaults went, a shove in the face was nothing-- if it'd been from anyone else. For Castiel to even exhale in Crowley's direction with violent intent shouldn't have been possible. Crowley stumbled, wide-eyed, and ducked under Castiel's shoving arm to snatch his phone out of Castiel's hand as he got his footing back. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Had Gabriel negated the effects of the tainted grace? Had--
Oh. Forget theorizing about how Castiel had been able to do it. This was not Castiel, was it? No wonder he was acting like such an unusually confident dick. But if one of Crowley's style of demons had shown up and taken occupancy, he'd be able to tell. This was something else entirely wearing Castiel's meatsuit.
The drawback to touchscreen phones was the complete lack of tactile feedback as you texted. Made it really hard to fire off a message by feel. He mashed in the recipients' names as best he could and relied on autocomplete to figure out the correct people. "Mother must have skipped that lesson, who the hell are you?"
Castiel — or whoever was wearing him — tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers, tipping his head to one side. "Really? Really, Crowley? I'm crushed. Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to text while someone else is talking?"
A flick of his fingers, and the phone hurtled from Crowley's hands and into the nearest tree. "No. I guess she didn't."
Crowley's fingers uselessly stretched towards his phone as it went flying away from him. He started backpedaling where he stood, preparing himself to teleport away from whoever-the-hell-this-was. "She was a little absent when it came to everything. Who. ARE. you?"
The grin that spread across Castiel's features most certainly did not belong to Castiel. He shrugged, spreading his hands. "Oops. Looks like you caught me. My bad."
He rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms, wiggling his fingers. "Good, the last thing I need is pretending to be Heaven's stupidest angel while you show off all your amateur porn."
He paused, like he was waiting for a response, his gaze flickering over to Crowley. "Really? Nothing? You have no idea."
That smile resurfaced, and the cool air around them was suddenly frigid. "Daddy's home."
The wide-eyed bewilderment on Crowley's face instantly changed into pure terror as realization snapped into place. He made a futile attempt at teleporting away-- but he wasn't going anywhere. There was no fleeing when a power greater than his own prevented it.
Lucifer.
Oh, Crowley was fucked.
"There we go, there it is." Lucifer chuckled, giving Crowley a few slow claps in appreciation.
He stalked forward, giving Crowley a slow once-over before circling around behind him. "You look good, Crowley. Better than last I saw you." He gave Crowley's ear a painful little flick just because he could.
"You want to tell me what's going on?"
"How'd you get out of the Cage?" That was the first thought that came to Crowley's mind after it finished screaming at him about how thoroughly and utterly screwed he now was. He'd frozen in place-- not completely out of fear, though; once he found that he couldn't escape, his options for saving his hide had dramatically shrunk down to "go along with Lucifer's game" and "pray." Obviously, the latter wasn't going to happen. He winced and resisted the instinct to clap a hand over his own ear. "Last I knew, that's where you were."
Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "Yes, well. The boys got themselves in over their heads, and they needed the big guns. So, they came to yours truly. You know how they are, only knocking on your door and playing nice when they need you."
He shrugged. "Anyway, deal went south, Sammy didn't want to be my prom dress, and then in comes Castiel the wildcard, asking if I really have the power to defeat the Darkness. Which I do. Sort of. In part."
"They came to you? How? You aren't exactly hanging out on the boulevard, easy to stroll up to for a chat." And he did know very well that the Winchesters only showed up when they wanted something, but showing up in Hell, in the Cage... "... I must have helped them somehow. Bugger. How do I kick my own future arse for that? So you tricked the moron into saying 'yes' by letting him believe you can do it all as a solo act."
Lucifer lifted his hand and mimed ringing an imaginary bell. "Ding-ding-ding! Give the boy a prize."
He folded his arms, leaning back on his heels. "So you can imagine how surprised I am that one moment I'm rummaging around the boys' bunker trying to find something that might kick Auntie in the metaphysical ass, and the next, I'm here. And so are all of you, but you've been here for months. What am I supposed to do with this?"
For a crazy moment, Crowley wondered what would happen if he smoked out. No, bad idea. Lucifer could still destroy him. Why oh why had he "helped" Mother take that Mark off of Dean? If he'd known it could lead to Lucifer jumping out, he'd never.
"There's not much at all to 'this'. It'll probably bore you to… the sky raining tears of blood, can't imagine you'd shed your own. Best just find a way back if you can. There's not a lot to work with."
Lucifer raised his eyebrows. The way he spoke was light and jovial, just on the border of crazy, but it was something he was able to shut off in an instant. It was when he went still that he was most frightening of all.
"I'm sure there isn't," he said, reaching out and brushing his fingertips over Crowley's cheek. "But it's freedom, nonetheless. And I don't have any responsibilities. I can take a little vacation out of the Cage and we can all just live and let live, can't we?"
He brushed his thumb over Crowley's lower lip. "Or are we going to run to the Winchesters and cry for help?"
It took a conscious effort for Crowley to avoid flinching when Lucifer grazed his cheek; he couldn't keep it in when the thumb went to his mouth. "I won't. I won't go to them. But… You have to be careful. They say they give amnesty here, but it has limits."
Lucifer narrowed his eyes curiously, tilting Crowley's chin upward to get a better look at him. "Go on."
Whatever Lucifer might be looking for, Crowley hoped he wouldn't find. Or put there. "Just about everyone 'gets a second chance' to fuck or not fuck up before they assemble an army. Kill or maim anyone, though, and they'll start screaming for your metaphorical head. They might not like you wearing Castiel even though he consented. He's got that whole 'pity me' vibe going. Meanwhile nobody cares when Sam goes dark side and exorcises me. They're a bit on the inconsistent side with their ethics. Live and maybe let live."
"Tell you what. Nothing would make the Winchesters more angry than these people giving me amnesty." The wheels were turning in Lucifer's head. "I get my freedom out of the cage, I have a vacation, and I get to make them miserable without harming the hairs on their chinny-chin-chins. Makes me happy, makes you happy, makes everyone happy."
He reached up and ruffled Crowley's hair. "Be a good puppy and I won't leash you," he murmured. His grip tightened on Crowley's hair and tugged.
"Oh, they hate that they can't just kill me, so keeping their hands off of you… Yes, we'll be very happy with that." No point in disagreeing with that. Crowley cringed at the contact, head pulled back with his hair. "I'll be good." He stopped short of calling himself anything close to Lucifer's… anything.
"I don't say this to imply you couldn't handle any problems that come up, but there's something I should warn you about if you don't already know."
Lucifer frowned. "What."
"You aren't the only archangel here. You aren't even the only Lucifer here."
"What do you mean, I'm not the only Lucifer?" He was the only one. The Morningstar. Maybe it was some human who thought himself special and gave himself a pretentious name. There was no way there was another Lucifer.
"Whatever it is that brings us here sometimes brings, for lack of a better term, 'counterparts' of the same person from an alternate universe. God's factory rejects, perhaps. This one hasn't been here very long."
Lucifer bristled, unable to control the obvious chill in the air or the ice crystals forming around their feet. "Interesting," he said. "We'll have to see where that goes."
He had enough of Castiel's memories to understand that what Crowley was saying was true, and it didn't require much explanation. He'd have to think about this. He'd have to confront this other creature and, for the time being, learn to play nice.
He clapped his hand against Crowley's shoulder. "Good talk," he said, grinning. "This was fun."
"Sure. Fun." Crowley winced a little and tried to discreetly dislodge the ice on his shoes. "But I'm sure you have more interesting things to be doing, so I'll just be collecting my phone and going…"
"No, no, please, go ahead, don't let me keep you." Lucifer backed off, innocently putting up his hands. "Run along. I've got a date with Deano, but don't be a stranger."
Crowley wasn't going to miss a chance to flee, although he tried to do so with a tiny bit of dignity. He hurried for the phone instead of scrambling on hands and knees, for instance. "Oh, you wouldn't want me in your hair."
"On the contrary, Crowley." Lucifer watched him, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "I want you where I can see you. I don't believe for a second that you're my ally. You were King of Hell, you were baddest bitch on the block, and there's still a little part of you that thinks of me as the monster under the bed. Scary, but not really there. Something to frighten lesser demons. You're not a lesser demon, are you."
There were some interesting places around the planet that Crowley could stand to flee to; sure, they lacked a population to keep him mildly entertained, but they didn't have Lucifer staring him down. He was very strongly considering his vacation options. "If I'm not your ally, 'not your ally' doesn't necessarily mean your enemy. Sir. No, I was King of the Crossroads before I was King of Hell, sir." Don't kill me, sir? "I know you're very, very real."
Lucifer finally moved to Crowley, stepping over to him and resting a hand against the small of his back. He leaned in to gently murmur in his ear. "Do you know where you are back home, Crowley? Caged, collared, and leashed, like a good little dog. I let you out when I want to pet you."
Normally, and not when it was Lucifer, Crowley would have retorted with something like "kinky" or "what's stopping you now?" Instinct won out over common sense this time; Crowley's conviction that Lucifer was going to snap and kill him at any moment overrode the knowledge that he'd be kept alive as long as he stayed useful. So, unwisely, he attempted to escape. The moon seemed reasonable right about now.
"Ah—" Lucifer flicked his hand, and just like he'd thrown the phone against the tree, he sent Crowley to slam against it. "Bad dog."
He kept him held in place, seemingly effortless as he stalked toward him with a frown. "Really? I'm disappointed in you." He stepped right into Crowley's personal space, walking his fingers up his chest. "I only told you that little story so you'd realize how nice I'm being. It doesn't have to be that way here. I can let doggie go free and go piss on any tree he wants, as long as he does what I need."
Crowley attempted to struggle against the force that kept him pinned, but he knew it was a wasted effort, just like knowing he should have known better hadn't helped keep him from stupidly trying to flee.
He'd personally seen to it that the Winchesters had what they needed to put Lucifer back in the Cage. Of course he wasn't getting away.
"What... do you need me to do... sir?" Okay, so his teeth were clenched, but that was understandable, right?
"'Sir'. Oh, that's adorable." Lucifer booped Crowley on the nose with a fingertip. "You decide to submit when it's convenient for you. I get it. I understand. We can work with this. I can work with you."
He leaned back a little, hand pressed against Crowley's chest even if it wasn't necessary to keep him bound against the tree. "Does it make things better or worse if I tell you Rowena's dead?"
"If there's something you'd prefer I call you, just say the word. Sir." It was a very dangerous balancing act, Lucifer seeing right through him but having to put on the show anyway because if he was just straight up, he'd be straight up dead. He crinkled his (very boopable) nose. The hand, of course, didn't have nearly the pressure behind it that Lucifer's power did, but the gesture made the point.
For all that he was focused on his own skin at the moment, he was not expecting that news and it made everything else blur for the moment. "... what?"
Lucifer cringed, hissing in sympathy. "Surprise?"
"Who… Was it me?" It was hard for Crowley to know his own motivation behind the question. Would he be more upset if someone else got to kill his mother before he did? Did he not want her dead after all?
"You?" Lucifer started to smile. "No, sorry. Me. But you were there, if it makes you feel better." He patted Crowley's cheek affectionately.
"It... does. Yes." That was probably partially true. If Mother was going to finally snuff it, and he wasn't there to see it happen, was she really gone? She'd been presumed dead for centuries before that. But killed by Lucifer... "Was she throwing herself at you?"
"I was flattered. Really. But she was the only one with information I didn't want used, so…" Lucifer shrugged. "You know how it is."
He tipped his head, smiling faintly. "So you're going to be good for me while I'm here, right? I'd like to keep you free and happy, doing … whatever it is you're doing here."
This was no time to start scheming-- maybe later. Okay, definitely later. Right now, though, Crowley's job was to nod vigorously. "Nothing that would interfere with you, whatever you might wish to do."
"That's right." Lucifer chuckled. He backed off several steps, and Crowley was released from the tree. "Run along, little doggie. We'll talk later."
Crowley staggered slightly as the pressure keeping him pinned abruptly vanished. He didn't try to get a last word in or wait to see if Lucifer would say anything else. He was given the chance to "run along"; he took it.