Where do risen demons go?
Summary: Crowley goes up against Lucifer. Then, he comes back to Bobby.
Characters: Crowley, Bobby, Castiel
Pairings: Crobby, if you squint a little.
Wordcount: 524
Warnings: Lots of blood. Plotnessless.
Bobby knew Crowley was going up against Lucifer, all on his own. He knew the demon didn’t stand much of a chance, too. But he’d come back. Come right over and appeared in his front yard.
Bobby hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected the ice cold stab in his chest, like he got with Sam or Dean or Rufus or Cas, when Crowley swayed with blood bubbling out over his dry lips, a few drops falling to stain his crisp, pink shirt and his tie. He hadn’t expected the urge - the instinctive, irresistible urge - to dash forward and catch Crowley as his knees buckled and he began to crumple to the floor.
Bobby caught him under the arms, lifting the demon just slightly so that his head was in the crook of Bobby’s shoulders - and Hell, but he could feel the blood dripping from Crowley’s mouth and his nose.
Crowley was strangely light, unnaturally so, Bobby though as he brought the demon inside and laid him down on the sofa, slightly to the side so he didn’t just lie back and choke on his own blood.
Crowley was blinking wildly, red staining his clothes and his face, and he looked so undignified and Bobby had never seen him this way and hehated it.
The demon took a heaving breath and spat out a little more blood with a horrible choking sound, even though it was half-clotted and clinging to his lips and his teeth. But then the blood stopped frothing forward and Bobby relaxed, if only slightly. He passed Crowley a glass of water, and the other - Bobby realized for the first time, in an odd sort of hysterical way, that Crowley was shorter than him - spat out the stained liquid into the glass after swilling his mouth with it.
Bobby took the glass from him again, but Crowley could barely keep his eyes open. He slept, then, though he didn’t look peaceful. Not that Bobby thought Crowley could ever look peaceful. His shirt and tie were dotted over with blood, and Bobby noticed the rips in Crowley’s suit jacket, and the tears in his trouser knees, and the clear claw mark over one of his wrists. Bobby left him, letting him sleep, and hopefully, recover.
When Castiel came, later, he stood and just stared at Crowley where he lay.
Somehow, he didn’t know how, he knew what Castiel was going to say before the angel uttered the words. Could hear it in the curve of his jaw, the tight purse of his lips, and the now normal tilt of his head. Even that dirty, old trench coat and his unkempt, too-tight tie and his off-white shirt screamed the words at Bobby long before the other had opened his mouth.
But then Cas did open his mouth, and said the words in half a whisper as he looked at Crowley, maybe as an abomination, maybe as a newly kindred spirit - Bobby could never be sure what the angel was thinking, though he could see wonder and fear and an odd emotion he couldn’t even classify swirling in the angel’s eyes.
“Where do risen demons go?”