Ah, hell. Barely past lunch and already the angry pounding on the door had started. He hadn't even gotten into the good stuff yet.
Crowley remedied that at once, opening the door with a fresh glass of Scotch in hand and an exaggeratedly polite smile on his face. "Ah. If it isn't Winchester the Elder, I might have guessed. Something I can do for you?"
As far as he could remember, he hadn't done anything lately that should have got the young moron in a lather, unless Dean had some sort of violent objection to Sinatra.
Dean had nothing against Sinatra and when Crowley opened the door the hunter just glared at him.
"Cut the crap, Crowley." The hunter didn't wait for an invitation but instead pushed past the demon and in to the room. He snatched out those notes from Sookie and tossed them on the table.
"What the hell has Sammy been comin' to you for?" The hunter knew the drill, he'd probably have to make a deal, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay if he could find Sam.
Crowley blinked at him. "Sorry, haven't seen Gigantor since the big singalong," he said, quite honestly, shutting the door.
He glanced at the notes. "You do know interfering with mail's a Federal offense, right? I'll go out on a limb and guess it was your brother's brain that was picked by our mysterious Lady Jane?" He shook his head. "Careless of him, honestly. But if he did have in mind to come talk to me, he hasn't done it yet."
He set another glass on the table and filled it, shoving it Dean's way. "Not that I'd necessarily be at liberty to divulge the details if he had, mind you. ...Here, settle yourself down before you burst a blood vessel. It can't be as bad as all that."
"Yeah, exactly what I thought." Dean stepped in, he wanted to yell as loud as he could, threaten but he knew that wasn't going to work with Crowley so he reigned himself in.
Oh the tension was still there "Yeah, you just stay the hell away from Jane and Sam." The hunter was studying the demon as he continued to speak, he was trying to tell if Crowley was telling the truth.
As his hand closed around that glass of whiskey he still wasn't sure "Let's cut the crap" The hunter slammed back a heavy shot of that alcohol "I need to know where the hell Sam is and I'm bettin' you can find out. So what is it you want?"
He felt like he was working against a time clock here and while he initially wanted to confront Crowley about what him and Sam had been talking about, he noticed one thing, either Crowley had nothing to tell or he was not going to tell or else he may have struck up a bargain.
"Since I know you ain't gonna tell me if he was here."
Crowley gave the man a look of vast amusement. "You know, contrary to your narcissistic impression, I don't spend my every waking moment fixated on you and yours. The girl owled me, not the other way around. I'm not sticking my head down a rabbit hole and ignoring the world for the sake of your neurosis."
He leaned on the table, regarding Dean a bit more seriously. "So this is a business call. I can try to track the Moose down for you, sure. But as to what I want, what are you offering?" He raised his eyebrows. "The soul trade here's just not as lucrative as it is back home, and yours in particular is notoriously slippery anyway, so I'm open to other reasonable propositions."
Frankly, Dean Winchester had nothing he coveted especially, but he was always up for a bit of wheeling and dealing. And it happened he did have an interest in talking with Sam...not that he had any intention of sharing that information with the man's pathologically overprotective sibling.
Dean knew he didn't have any thing he wanted to be honest and when his soul was mentioned and subsequently rejected the hunter snorted "Yeah, you bitches been tryin' to get your hands on it, heaven too, but think it's past it's expiration date now." No apocalypse looming, he and Sam had already seen to that, Dean figured his soul had out ran it's usefulness to the opposing teams, at least as much as a soul could, they'd no longer be fighting to get at him. Just to get revenge he figured
( ... )
Crowley considered the offer for a few moments, then nodded. "Fair enough. Half a moment, then." He went to a shelf and took down a map of Hogwarts and its grounds (not perfectly accurate, of course; that was physically impossible in this place, but it was accurate enough for their purpose,) then rummaged through a few drawers and a cabinet and brought several bottles, a mortar and pestle and three large black candles to the table.
Spreading the map out flat, he mixed and prepared the necessary ingredients. "No fee if the spell fails, naturally...but you will owe me a new map." He lit the three candles, set them around the map and said offhandedly, "Stand back if you don't want to lose your eyebrows."
With that, he launched into the necessary Latin invocation, lighting a corner of the map with one of the candles and shutting his eyes as the flame crept across the paper.
When his eyes snapped open again, they were a blank expanse of poisonous green, dancing flames reflecting eerily where his irises should have been. "En ye,
( ... )
Dean actually expelled a relieved breath when he saw this deal was not going to be sealed in the way he had belatedly thought of. He quirked up an eyebrow watching the demon as he performed the ritual. When his eyes came open, their color caused the man to start slightly and actually move back some. That was just god damn creepy and Dean Winchester knew creepy
( ... )
Typical. He considered offering to check Scotland at large or the London area (as the Hogwarts Express ran there,) but the larger the map the less precise any result, and Crowley frankly doubted that Sam Winchester would go to the trouble of disappearing without thinking to cover his tracks properly.
"I'll just send you a bill when things have simmered down a bit, then," he said mildly to the empty air, smiling slightly as he waved a hand to shut the door Dean had left standing ajar.
Crowley remedied that at once, opening the door with a fresh glass of Scotch in hand and an exaggeratedly polite smile on his face. "Ah. If it isn't Winchester the Elder, I might have guessed. Something I can do for you?"
As far as he could remember, he hadn't done anything lately that should have got the young moron in a lather, unless Dean had some sort of violent objection to Sinatra.
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"Cut the crap, Crowley." The hunter didn't wait for an invitation but instead pushed past the demon and in to the room. He snatched out those notes from Sookie and tossed them on the table.
"What the hell has Sammy been comin' to you for?" The hunter knew the drill, he'd probably have to make a deal, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay if he could find Sam.
Reply
He glanced at the notes. "You do know interfering with mail's a Federal offense, right? I'll go out on a limb and guess it was your brother's brain that was picked by our mysterious Lady Jane?" He shook his head. "Careless of him, honestly. But if he did have in mind to come talk to me, he hasn't done it yet."
He set another glass on the table and filled it, shoving it Dean's way. "Not that I'd necessarily be at liberty to divulge the details if he had, mind you. ...Here, settle yourself down before you burst a blood vessel. It can't be as bad as all that."
Reply
Oh the tension was still there "Yeah, you just stay the hell away from Jane and Sam." The hunter was studying the demon as he continued to speak, he was trying to tell if Crowley was telling the truth.
As his hand closed around that glass of whiskey he still wasn't sure "Let's cut the crap" The hunter slammed back a heavy shot of that alcohol "I need to know where the hell Sam is and I'm bettin' you can find out. So what is it you want?"
He felt like he was working against a time clock here and while he initially wanted to confront Crowley about what him and Sam had been talking about, he noticed one thing, either Crowley had nothing to tell or he was not going to tell or else he may have struck up a bargain.
"Since I know you ain't gonna tell me if he was here."
Reply
He leaned on the table, regarding Dean a bit more seriously. "So this is a business call. I can try to track the Moose down for you, sure. But as to what I want, what are you offering?" He raised his eyebrows. "The soul trade here's just not as lucrative as it is back home, and yours in particular is notoriously slippery anyway, so I'm open to other reasonable propositions."
Frankly, Dean Winchester had nothing he coveted especially, but he was always up for a bit of wheeling and dealing. And it happened he did have an interest in talking with Sam...not that he had any intention of sharing that information with the man's pathologically overprotective sibling.
Reply
Reply
Spreading the map out flat, he mixed and prepared the necessary ingredients. "No fee if the spell fails, naturally...but you will owe me a new map." He lit the three candles, set them around the map and said offhandedly, "Stand back if you don't want to lose your eyebrows."
With that, he launched into the necessary Latin invocation, lighting a corner of the map with one of the candles and shutting his eyes as the flame crept across the paper.
When his eyes snapped open again, they were a blank expanse of poisonous green, dancing flames reflecting eerily where his irises should have been. "En ye, ( ... )
Reply
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"I'll just send you a bill when things have simmered down a bit, then," he said mildly to the empty air, smiling slightly as he waved a hand to shut the door Dean had left standing ajar.
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